Admiral
Hun, her step mother Jean, and I were in Galveston Texas on an Easter weekend
boat cruise. We were participating in the Texas Mariners Cruising Association
(TMCA) cruise to Moody Gardens Marina.
The social director of the cruise had made arrangements for the group to
have dinner at Saltwater Grill on Post Office street in the Strand
District. The social director also had
made arrangements for Moody Gardens to provide the dock to door and return
transportation in one of their shuttle buses.
Donning white and pink Easter Bunny ears we embarked on an evening on
the town.
The
group meal, which usually has a tendency to run long because of the size of the
group, went exceptionally well this particular evening. We found ourselves with additional time left
before the Moody Gardens shuttle was scheduled to pick us up and return us to
the marina. The Admiral, Jean, Doc
Mulloy, Monica Mulloy and myself found ourselves on the street with time to
spare. Doc suggested that we all go down
to the Tremont House Hotel for a nightcap.
He said that he knew the piano player down there named Omar. Doc boasted that he guaranteed that Omar, a
talented musician would play the song “Three Coins In The Fountain” upon the
sight of Doc. Doc related to us that
ever since he put a rather large gratuitous tip in Omar’s tip jar it was a sure
bet that Omar would come through with the song as he had so many times before. We all agreed on the idea of an after dinner
drink and scurried down Post Office street and down three blocks like a covey
of quail. We arrived at the entrance of
the grand hotel that was housed in a historic 1879 Victorian building, complete
with a horse drawn tourist carriage out front.
The antique vehicle was the fancy type with a floral and garland
decorated carriage, decorated horse, and oil burning lanterns on each corner,
which are so common in the Strand District of Galveston.
I
held the entry door for the other revelers.
Being last in line gave me the opportunity to negotiate the few steps up
into the grand foyer and admire the beautifully appointed foyer with fine
furniture and detailed marble floor.
Just as Doc had predicted there was a piano straight ahead, but it was
not Omar playing. The scene seems almost
surreal to me as I recall it. The piano
player was seated at the piano facing the entry door and a very attractive
young lady, to his left, also faced the entryway. She was attempting to sing
whatever tune it was he was playing, and an old man sitting in a single easy
chair to the girls’ left intently listening to the slightly off key
singing. I caught up with the group just
as Doc whispered, “That is George Mitchell over there, he owns the hotel”,
looking at the old gentleman seated in the chair. Doc continued to look back over his shoulder
as he walked toward the lobby bar located on the left side of the foyer. I gave Doc my typical disbelieving “Yeah
right” response. All facts being known,
George and wife Cynthia Woods Mitchell own about half the buildings in the
Historic Strand District. Doc has been
known to stretch the truth on occasion and all the more reason for my scoff,
indicating my disbelief.
The
five of us arrived at the lobby bar just about the same time and gathered like
a heard of cattle at the water trough anticipating a quenching drink. The
bartender was a white haired, rather distinct looking older gentleman dressed
in a tuxedo. Doc caught me by surprise
when he struck up a conversation with the bartender and made some reference
about the formally dressed employee being Irish. Damn, if Doc was not right. They struck up a short conversation about
their ethnic backgrounds, and I think Doc even finished the conversation with
some Irish saying. The bartender took
our drink orders and began to walk away just as Doc kibitzed “ I would pay that
girl over there $100 just to stop singing”.
The bartender stopped mid stride and turned on his right heel and spun
around facing his newly acquainted countryman.
“I would not do that if I were you, sir” he quietly cautioned. “That’s
George Mitchell’s granddaughter singing, and that is George Mitchell sitting in
the chair”. He did not have to tell us
who George Mitchell was, because if you are a Texan from these parts you know
who that is. This caution was just
enough to ignite the “bad boy” in Doc.
Doc got up from his bar stool just as the serenading Granddaughter
finished the tune. He began to praise
her and ask who she was and where she was from. Before she could even respond
he was requesting that everyone in our party have their picture taken with her
because he was sure that she would be famous and Hollywood bound. The twenty something young lady was overcome
with joy that someone outside of the family would take notice of her singing
ability. Several pre-success pictures
were taken of the young woman as her smiling Grandfather looked on.
Doc
has another link to the Tremont House Hotel besides Omar the piano player and
the song “Three Coins in the Fountain”
Doc tells me that the bar in the Tremont used
to be in 7th Street Tavern where all the medical students went to drink Pearl
beer after tests every Friday. A lady named Judy owned 7th Street Tavern and
she helped float the medical students through school by actually loaning them
money. He tells me that he would write a
check and she would ask –“Shifty (aka Wayne Mulloy), do you want it in the cash
register or on the mirror”. He would say “On the Mirror” and she would stick
the check on the mirror; and give him the cash. At the end of the month after working some
side jobs, he would come in and say Judy give me that check off the mirror, and
he would hand her the cash. Then
Saturday evening he would go back and start studying. “What a way to go”, Doc says. Doc said that he owed a debt of gratitude to
Judy. The mirror that held his checks is
the same mirror at the Tremont House bar today.
Dr.
Wayne Mulloy is the man that saved my life in 2004. I attribute his availability to me, and quick
diagnosis of my health that has extended my time here on earth.
In
conclusion I would like to pass on Doc’s typical salutation, “Happy Trails, Never Call Retreat”
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