Cry Freedom by David Thompson

Author:David Thompson [Thompson, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4285-0636-7
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Published: 2008-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

St. Louis was a bustling beehive. The people never seemed to sit still for two seconds. Or so it seemed to Winona King, who was always amazed by the frenetic energy her husband’s kind showed in their tireless bid to acquire that which they valued most: money.

St. Louis had been built on the money reaped from trade. Specifically the beaver trade. During the heyday of the trappers, the city raked in over four million dollars. Once the fur trade faded, St. Louis switched its focus without breaking financial stride and became a leading port and major link between the civilized East and the untamed West.

Winona insisted on taking strolls around the city every chance they got. Nate didn’t mind. He could use the exercise.

The city’s riotous bedlam of seething humanity was divided into districts. Not so much by design as circumstance. Along the waterfront were the establishments that catered to the rivermen who plied the inner waterways and the seamen who brought in goods from far shores. They thronged the taverns and grogshops, drinking, gambling, and chasing skirts with zestful abandon.

The poor lived close to the waterfront, where shabby apartments and flea-ridden hovels could be had for a week’s wages, if not more. Often, as they trudged about their daily drudgery, their eyes rose in envy to the fine homes and estates above the levee where the rich and generally well-to-do lived, some as lavish as palaces worthy of kings and potentates.

Sumptuous mansions, many three and four stories and made of limestone, boasted their owners’ wealth with mahogany furniture and crystal chandeliers.

Nate had been to a few of the mansions and was duly dazzled. One was the home of William Clark, the same Clark who accompanied Lewis on their historic trek. Clark’s main parlor was so huge, Nate jokingly swore he heard an echo when he talked.

St. Louis had cultural trappings to go with her commerce. Several newspapers competed for readers. Theaters put on popular plays. Haberdasheries catered to those with expensive tastes in apparel. Half a dozen establishments were devoted to dressing ladies’ hair.

A steady stream of traffic plied the city’s streets and alleys. Wagons of every type, carriages in gilded finery, riders on horses both fine and sway-back, and a legion of pedestrians flowed ceaselessly from dawn until dusk.

At night the city’s pulse quickened and the timbre of her character changed. The orderly beat of business gave way to the carnal pursuit of pleasure and vice. Glitter and greed shined bright.

At night St. Louis literally glowed. But for all her luster, those who were abroad after the sun went down did well to remember that the city had its dark side. Crime and violence were epidemic. It was said that St. Louis had more cutthroats and thieves than any city in the country and Nate King didn’t doubt it. On his first visit years ago he had nearly been robbed, so now, as he and Winona strolled about admiring the sights, he kept one hand on a pistol at all times.

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