Rivals
Most students at the prestigious Worthington Preparatory School had a competitive nature, which was only natural since these boys were the offspring of some of the richest and most powerful men in the country, if not the world. In the long history of Worthy Prep, as it was affectionately called by its alumni, no students were more competitive than Aubrey Dodsworth and Montgomery Alden.
On the surface, these two lads—just six months apart in age—were the best of friends. Underneath their chummy exteriors, however, they were fierce rivals. Since early childhood, one had tried to outdo the other in grades, sports and school honors. Usually, but not always, Aubrey would score slightly higher than Montgomery in academic achievement, while the latter would often best his rival at athletics. All in all, though, the two boys were fairly well-matched.
Not long after reaching puberty, they began competing for the affection of young ladies. Here, they were equally successful since some women preferred Aubrey's intelligence and wit while others favored Montgomery's strong physique and physical prowess.
In the spring of 1890, the two former Worthy Prep students graduated from Harvard and took their place in New York society as young scions of "old money" families. In the fall of that same year, the two friends met Camilla Winston, a beautiful and intelligent young woman and the daughter of the most successful banker in the Northeast. Aubrey was immediately smitten with her. Naturally, Montgomery, seeing his friend's interest in the girl, began to court her, too. Both men were relentless in their pursuit, showering Camilla with gifts and wooing her with music and poetry.
After six months of romancing, Aubrey came to the conclusion that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Camilla. One evening he took her to the newly rebuilt Madison Square Garden, and they dined and danced the night away. Afterward, they went for a carriage ride in Central Park where he planned to propose marriage. Aubrey was so confident Camilla would accept his proposal that he tucked in his breast pocket an engagement ring he had purchased at Tiffany's the previous day.
"I have a gift for you," Aubrey announced as the two enjoyed the warmth of the spring night.
She smiled coquettishly, but when she saw the small jeweler's box in his outstretched hand, she frowned and turned away.
"Is that what I think it is?" she asked in a strained voice.
"Yes, it is, my darling. I suppose I should get down on my knee and ask you properly, but I don't see how I can in this carriage."
"I had no idea you felt this way about me."
"Why do you think I've been taking you out all these months?"
"Monty told me it's because he's interested in me, and you two have always been competitive."
"That's nonsense! Sure, we've sometimes gone after the same women just to see who would win, but I certainly would never propose marriage to compete with Montgomery Alden."
Aubrey tried to put his arms around Camilla, to get a kiss and hear the long-awaited "yes" to his proposal, but the young woman evaded his reach.
"Don't be like that," he said, mistaking her behavior for jealousy. "Those other girls didn't mean anything to me. You're the only woman I've ever loved."
"Please stop!" she cried. "It won't do any good. This is one contest you're not going to win."
Aubrey stared at Camilla, fearful of what she was about to say.
"While I do enjoy your company, I love Monty, not you. I only admire you as a friend."
Although he felt as though his heart would literally break, Aubrey kept control of his emotions, for coupled with his fierce sense of competitiveness was an immense pride. He would never let either Camilla or Montgomery know how deeply he was hurt. Instead, he laughed.
"You win some; you lose some," he said, tucking the jeweler's box back into his pocket. "Looks like Monty beat me this time."
Eighteen months later, Aubrey attended the wedding of his long-time friend and rival. Even though he had not gotten over the loss of Camilla, he maintained the outward appearance of composure. He even wished the bride and groom the best of luck after the ceremony.
Within six months, Aubrey married a pretty and amiable debutante, the daughter of a real estate tycoon, and while he felt no great love for her, he believed the marriage would be a mutually advantageous one.
* * *
As the two men settled into married life and took their places in the world of business and finance, their rivalry by no means diminished. Each of them purchased an elegant townhouse in New York, and their mansions in Newport were as grand as Vanderbilt's Breakers. Like many in their social circle, they collected artwork and often fiercely bid against each other at auctions. The most serious rivalry between the two old schoolmates was their annual birthday celebrations. Each year, the parties became more expensive, more elaborate and eventually more outlandish.
"All this fuss over birthday parties!" Aubrey's wife complained one year. "Honestly, you're getting more childish as you grow older. When are you going to grow up and stop trying to prove you're a better man than Montgomery Alden?"
Aubrey rolled his eyes and gave his wife the long-suffering-husband look of resignation. His marriage had not gone as smoothly as he hoped it would mainly because his wife proved to be a strong-willed woman rather than the pliable, starry-eyed virgin he imagined. The two sons she bore him delighted his family and provided legitimate heirs for the Dodsworth family fortune, but neither his wife nor his children brought Aubrey any happiness.
Montgomery's marriage had not fared any better. Shortly after the wedding, Camilla discovered that her husband had a roving eye and often indulged his weakness. Too late, she realized that he never really loved her, that she had been nothing more than a prize in his ongoing competition with Aubrey. Deeply depressed, she began to drink. One night after returning home from a late-night party, the inebriated woman fell down the staircase of her Park Avenue home and broke her neck.
The not-so-grieving widower never remarried, not because he suffered from a broken heart, as many people theorized, but because he did not like the constraints of marriage. He realized that his parents expected grandchildren, yet he much preferred to let his younger brother provide the requisite progeny.
* * *
The year he turned fifty, Montgomery Alden planned the ultimate bash. No expense was spared, and though the guest list was relatively small, the cost was exorbitant. For the occasion, he rented one of the most expensive hotels in New York, flooded its courtyard with water dyed blue and had backdrops specially painted to resemble the city of Venice. The artificial canal was illuminated by more than three hundred Venetian lamps, and thousands of roses and carnations floated on the surface of the water. Two dozen guests, including Aubrey Dodsworth, were seated in a large, silk-lined gondola. Fifteen master chefs from around the world created rare delicacies, which were served by waiters dressed as gondoliers. The entertainment at the party culminated in an operatic aria performed by the great Enrico Caruso.
After Montgomery gave a speech and thanked his guests for attending the festivities, the birthday cake, an elaborate five-foot-tall confection, was brought in on the back of a baby elephant. As the host cut into the cake, a hundred white doves were released from concealed cages and took to the air. When the evening came to an end, Montgomery stood at the foot of the gangplank and bid each of his guests goodbye.
"I've got to hand it to you," Aubrey declared enviously. "That was a great party."
Montgomery smiled and shook his rival's hand.
"I know. Let's see you top this one."
It had been well worth the expense to hear his friends praise the event as the best party they had ever attended.
Surely, my fiftieth birthday celebration will be remembered for years to come, he believed.
* * *
With only six months until Aubrey's turn came to mark the passing of half a century, New York society eagerly awaited word of his party plans. Even those people who had no hope of receiving an invitation were exceedingly curious. The rivals' parties always appeared in the society columns and titillated newspaper readers.
Since the night of Montgomery's Venice-in-New-York celebration, Aubrey racked his brain, trying to find a way of trumping his friend's success. Ironically, it was something Montgomery himself said that gave Aubrey the inspiration he needed. The two old friends had been invited to the opening of a new gentlemen's club and were shown into a drawing room where the stuffed heads of several wild animals were mounted and prominently displayed on the walls.
"I feel as though we're being watched," Aubrey joked.
"Or worse—hunted," Montgomery replied with a chuckle. "Had I known we were going on safari, I'd have worn a pith helmet."
Consequently, Aubrey's fiftieth birthday bash centered on the theme of an African safari. The floor of an elegant banquet room in one of New York City's finest restaurants was covered with sand, and huge potted tropical plants and trees were arranged to give the place a jungle-like atmosphere. The Bronx Zoo was persuaded to lend several of its wild animals for the occasion, provided, of course, the animals were safely kept in cages and treated humanely. Aubrey even hired the cast of a minstrel show to act the role of African natives, while exotic dancers with skimpy costumes, which were little more than leaves from jungle trees, entertained the diners.
Only one thing was missing: Montgomery Alden was not in attendance. Several guests inquired about him during the evening.
"Don't worry," Aubrey promised. "He'll be here. He hasn't missed a single one of my parties since we were in knee britches."
But as the hours passed, there was still no sign of him.
"I hope he hasn't met with an unfortunate accident," the mayor said.
"He'll be here," Aubrey insisted. "Now, eat up, gentlemen."
"You don't have to tell me twice," the senator replied. "I have no idea what I'm eating, but it's delicious!"
"The menu is authentic African cuisine," the host noted proudly. "The stew was made especially for our little dinner."
None of the guests noticed that the host had little appetite himself.
"Well," a notorious robber baron exclaimed, "when I was in Texas I ate buffalo and rattlesnake. I don't imagine tiger or giraffe meat is much different."
The meal ended, and the men were given brandy and cigars. Their appetites sated, they raised their glasses in unison and toasted the guest of honor.
"May you live another fifty years," the mayor said.
His salute was followed by a chorus of "Here! Here!" and then "Speech! Speech!"
The guests then fell quiet as Aubrey rose from his chair.
"Like most of you in this room, I was sent to the finest schools, married a young lady of wealth and social position and took my place in my family's business. I was, by all outward appearances, a success, mainly because I added several more millions to the family coffers and fathered two children to continue the Dodsworth dynasty. I have therefore done my duty."
He stopped his oration to take a sip of wine.
"Most of the people in our great nation envy men like us. They see our tailor-made clothing, expensive cars and elegant mansions, and they believe we are happy. Poor deluded fools! We know no more about happiness than they do; we just know how to make unhappiness more comfortable. After all, isn't it better to be lonely and miserable in a seventy-room cottage in Newport than in a fifth-floor walkup in Hell's Kitchen?"
The guests, who thought Aubrey was leading up to a witty punch line, nodded and chuckled. But Dodsworth was not joking; he was baring his soul.
"True happiness—if it exists at all—is a rare commodity indeed. In my fifty years of life, I only came close to it once—briefly. It eluded me, however, and I never so much as glimpsed it again."
Now several of the guests looked at one another uneasily. They were all proud, successful men and not used to maudlin displays of emotion by one of their own sex.
"I never told another living soul this, but when I was a young man right out of Harvard, I fell in love for the first and, as it turns out, the only time in my life. As luck would have it, the woman in question fell in love with and married my childhood friend. I lost every chance of being happy when those two were wed."
The clink of fine crystal could be heard around the room as embarrassed men refilled their glasses.
"I stand here before you tonight on the fiftieth anniversary of my birth to tell you that it will be the last one. Four months ago, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer."
Several guests stared at him, open-mouthed, hoping this would prove to be an elaborate, albeit tasteless, joke.
"I decided if I must die, then I want my death to mean something. When my long-time rival proposed to Camilla Winston, she believed that he truly loved her. He didn't, however; he only married her to best me. As though that wasn't bad enough, he made her short life a lonely and unhappy one with his indifference and his frequent infidelities. I have waited years to avenge her misery as well as my own."
"What are you saying?" the senator demanded to know.
"I'm saying that if I must go to my maker before my time, I will not go alone."
A cold, malevolent smile spread on Aubrey's face.
"I told you Montgomery Alden would be here tonight, didn't I?"
The host laughed as only a man who has nothing left to lose can laugh.
"Well, my dear childhood friend, Monty, my life-long rival, was the main ingredient in your authentic African dinner: cannibal stew."
* * *
Aubrey Dodsworth was arrested on the evening of his fiftieth birthday celebration for the murder of Montgomery Alden. No doubt one of New York's high-priced defense attorneys could have saved him from execution on the grounds of temporary insanity, but the unhappy millionaire succumbed to his deadly disease before he could be brought to trial.
For nearly half a century, Montgomery and Aubrey were engaged in an ongoing contest, but for the latter, the challenge and thrill of competing ended when he lost the woman he loved to his rival.
To his dying day, Montgomery Alden had prided himself on having been the winner in the life-long contest. He considered his Venetian celebration the most stellar social occasion in the history of New York society. He never learned that his party would soon be forgotten and that it would be Aubrey Dodsworth's ill-fated safari feast that would be remembered for decades to come.
The Venice-in-New-York party described in this story is based on one held by George A. Kessler on June 30, 1905 at the Savoy Hotel in London. Kessler gave himself extravagant birthday parties, in competition with his childhood friend.
If you look up "party animal" in the dictionary, you'll find Salem's picture.
