The Notice

Bennet Mason Jr. was born in 1902, at the turn of a century barreling towards industrialization. 

The small local merchant was soon passé. Goods could now be made at factories and shipped by railroad. Who needed a horse and buggy when Henry Ford’s model T could ferry you from place to place? 

Bennet was born in a mansion on 5th Avenue in New York City. Nannies and butlers saw to his every need. His parents, though often absent as they flitted from party to party, fawned over him. 

Bennet’s father made his fortune in real estate, and during the Roaring ‘20s, his business was booming. He made sure his family—his wife, Lily, Bennet Jr., and his two younger children never knew want. 

In the late ‘20s, Bennet Jr., now nearing 30, lived like the party would last forever. He sailed through life as carefree as his golden decade.

If Bennet had been called upon to list a profession, it would have been “world traveler.” He partied in all the hot-spots of Europe, socializing in Paris with the likes of Gertrude Stein, Ernest Hemingway, and Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. He lived on his parents’ liberal allowance, with additional funds as needed.

Bennet Sr. was never a big player in the Stock Market. He marveled at the recklessness of the ‘20s, where your average Joe became wealthy by buying on margin, never paying full-price for stock up front. People expected the stock to earn so much that it would pay for itself while they continued to buy, buy, buy. They thought stocks would rise forever, that the bubble would never burst.

On Black Tuesday, October 29, 1929, Bennet was on the Olympic, a ship bringing him back to New York from Europe. People started receiving dark telegrams about the Stock Market crash. That day, $14 billion in stocks was lost. The hedonism of the ‘20s was over. People would now be in a fight for survival.

Bennet’s telegram was from Lydia Blake, his fiancée. His father had informed him of his engagement. Bennet and Lydia had courted for a few months, her family had the perfect social standing, and it was time for Bennet to settle down.

The telegram from Lydia was shocking. Whole fortunes were being wiped out. People were actually jumping out of windows in New York. Bennet did what Bennet always did. He started drinking. He drank all the way home.

At first, Bennet thought his family fortune would be unaffected by Black Tuesday. They didn’t play the market, after all. But his meeting with his father showed the seriousness of the situation.

“People who are suddenly impoverished do not buy real estate.”

Bennet’s father said their 5th Avenue mansion might have to be sold for far less than it was worth a month prior. The family would move to their vacation home in Connecticut. All the children would have their allowances cut to one-third.

Bennet was still digesting this horror when his father added, “Lydia’s family is coming to dinner tonight. Her father is more financially stable than I. I suggest you marry her as soon as is feasible; he can probably give you a job.”

“So, I’m the entree at dinner tonight,” Bennet said wryly.

“You need to grab this opportunity before they wise up to the reality that you’re a spoiled, do-nothing drunk,” his father replied. “Oh, and I cancelled the order for your new coat. The coat you have is perfectly fine.”

The last remark was particularly harsh, Bennet thought. Not only was his father arranging his marriage, he was also ruling over his wardrobe.

“Is that truly necessary?”

Bennet Sr. replied, “This family has to cut corners where we can. It’s a new reality.”

Cutting corners was something the younger Bennet had never experienced. He walked the streets of his formerly affluent neighborhood, fuming. How dare his family get him used to his extravagant lifestyle, only to restrict him in this way. He didn't want to marry Lydia, to be the sacrificial lamb.

As he walked, he didn't notice the people crying in the streets, the panic in the air--partially because he had consumed several glasses of Scotch, partially because he wasn't used to noticing others.

Bennet suddenly came across a haberdashery shop. It was a used men's clothing store, a place that he never would have visited before.

On a whim, he entered. Maybe he could replace his coat after all. Several men were in the shop--not to buy but to sell. They were selling anything they could, just to make ends meet.

"I'm sorry; we can't buy any more items today," he heard the clerk say.

He wandered the store. He knew he was already late for the dinner with Lydia's family. His father would be incensed.

Bennet saw a rack near the cash register. On the left of the rack, he saw a threadbare coat. The coat was in a deplorable condition, only suitable for a dumpster.

"You purchased this coat from someone?" Bennet asked the clerk, laughing.

The clerk looked sad. "I couldn't turn the poor bugger away. He was desperate. He needed to buy some food for his kids."

Bennet ceremoniously pulled out his wallet. "Well, I will take it off your hands, good man."

The clerk looked at him oddly as he took the money. When Bennet got a bit closer, his alcohol breath explained the curious purchase.

Bennet's family, along with Lydia's family, had already sat down to dinner when he arrived. His parents' mortification only increased when Bennet showed up drunk.

Bennet walked in with a flourish, wearing the threadbare coat. He leaned down to give Lydia a kiss.

"Hello, my dear, so sorry I'm late. I was picking up my new coat."

The room was silent.

"Can you believe some poor fool sold this coat at a haberdashery shop?"

Bennet then fell down laughing, ultimately passing out on the floor.

Bennet Sr. stood, his face red. "You must excuse my son. He hasn't been himself since he returned from Europe."

He hastily had the servants help him move his son to a guest room to sleep off the liquor.

When his son woke up, Bennet Sr. was sitting next to the bed.

"Well, you managed to end your engagement. Lydia and her family want nothing to do with you."

Bennet leaned over and threw up in a waste basket.

"Your allowance has just been cut down to one-fourth. Also, I have packed you a bag. You will no longer call this your home."

In the father's mind, he was being quite generous. He couldn't cut his son off without a penny. That would be cruel. He and his wife hadn't raised their children to support themselves.

The butler drove Bennet to a small rooming house; a room had already been reserved for him.

Bennet continued to sleep off his alcohol binge.

When he woke, he looked at the unfamiliar surroundings. He remembered through a fog the events of the prior night.

Looking across the room, he saw his recent purchase--the ratty used coat.

With effort, he stood up and picked up the coat. He looked at the lining. It was a fairly good brand, but it was so old and worn that it was funny when worn. He saw a piece of paper sticking out of the inner pocket. He opened it up to read it.

Dated five days previously, it said, "Dear. Mr. Lemming, this notice is to inform you that your house payment is two months overdue and is in foreclosure. You must vacate the premises within 31 days of this notice." The address of the unfortunate recipient was typed above the bad news.

Well, some people are truly worse off than me, Bennet thought.

It took awhile for the events of the previous night to sink in. He was uncoupled from Lydia--a good thing--he was estranged from his family--not such a good thing.

After a few days, Bennet came to realize that he couldn’t subsist on one-fourth of his allowance. He might have to actually get a job. This would be a challenge, but he still had his family's good name, as well as a Yale degree.

In the back of his mind, he kept thinking of Mr. Lemming and the countdown to when he would have to vacate his home.

One afternoon, Bennet found himself walking to the address on the notice. It was a ramshackle place, half falling down.

He knocked on the door, which was answered by a young woman.

"Yes, I was looking for Mr. Lemming," said Bennet.

"That's my father; he's not here right now."

"Well, I found his coat in a shop and wanted to return it."

Three small children looked out from behind the young woman.

"So, you're not from the bank?" the woman said.

"No, but I found this notice in the pocket."

The young woman, who said her name was Nell, offered him a seat.

"My mother died five years ago. My father lost his job recently; that's why the bank wants to take away our home."

Bennet looked around the bare domicile. It looked to be only two rooms--two rooms to hold five people. His entire mansion held five people, along with servants. For the first time, Bennet was seeing how the other half lived.

In time, Mr. Lemming arrived home.

"Sir, I'm glad to have finally met you. I brought your coat back to you."

Mr. Lemming was suspicious of the obviously well-to-do man standing before him.

"I'm having an epiphany, Mr. Lemming," Bennet said. "I've lived a selfish, privileged life, but I'm going to try to change my ways. I understand that you're out of work. Well, so am I. I'm going to make you a promise. I'm going to give you half of the money I get from my family, and when I get a job, I'm going to give you half of my salary--until you and your family are on your feet."

"I don't accept charity," said Mr. Lemming.

"This isn't charity," said Bennet. "This is atonement. It is atonement for a life wasted until now. I have seen the error of my ways. I want to help you and help others if I can. You must allow me to do that."

The Lemmings agreed, and for the first time, Bennet felt he was a rich man.