Brazil Street by Robert Hunt

Author:Robert Hunt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flanker Press
Published: 2017-05-16T16:00:00+00:00

Shorty and Conk

In the days of the old Hotel Newfoundland on Cavendish Square, Dickie White and I would go there to do messages for the Americans stationed at Fort Pepperrell. We often wondered why they had us deliver messages when a phone call was easier, but we didn’t care as long as they paid us. We just took the notes, envelopes, and parcels and delivered them, no questions asked.

To say the hotel was elegant wouldn’t do it justice. It was by far the grandest hotel in all of Newfoundland. Over the years, people from all walks of life went through its doors. I’m sure it was the only hotel that catered to the rich as well as the middle class. Rich and famous people like Frank Sinatra, Bob Hope, and even Winston Churchill frequented the old hotel during the 1930s and 1940s, when the Second World War was at its height. Dignitaries and prime ministers have stayed there. Its grandeur and service were unmatched.

Once the Americans got to know us, we were treated like part of a family. We didn’t cause any problems there. John, the elderly man who worked on the door, was always courteous to us. When we had a message to deliver, we had to grease the busboys’ palms, but then we had the run of the hotel. Of course, we had to let them know what we were doing there first, and we couldn’t enter without notifying the staff.

In those days, we gave nicknames to many of the employees at the hotel. Just about everyone had an alternative name. We gave good names to those we liked, and other names to those we didn’t get along with. We named one of the bellhops Conk, and the other we named Shorty. They were two of the good guys.

Conk was a name given to someone who had a face that was a bit hard to look at, as in “Look at the conk on that.” When we were growing up, we saw a few people who could scare the crap out of you just by looking at you. They were fighters who could go a round or two with Cassius Clay if they had a few beers in them. Some of the guys from Mundy Pond or the Brow were like that. Conk the bellhop was a nice fellow . . . just scary-looking. He had a lot of expensive-looking rings on his fingers. His nose was slewed and didn’t seem to be a natural part of his body. It was about four inches long. His ears were big and looked deformed. He was broad and always looked like he had just been in a fight. We guessed the hotel hired guys like him to handle any unpleasant situations that came its way.

Conk was nice but also a bit stern. He was anywhere from twenty-five to thirty years old. One always had to follow his rules while in the building. He was kind to us when we were there, but we knew he was in control, so we followed his orders.

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