(Alex in yellow shirt and shorts)Well readers, I planned to return from vacation having put a rather depressing September behind me, only to find the Dow even lower (wow!) and to learn of the death of my mentor Alex.
Its unfair that the only pic I have of Alex is as such an old man who can't use his legs ‘cause this guy was probably the most live guy I ever met. Not only the best investigator I've ever seen but the guy who taught me everything I know.
One thing about Alex is that he was a systems guy, by which I mean he had a very structured way in which he handled his business. The first time I visited his house he instructed me to sit in a chair by his desk and simply watch and listen while he worked cases from his home office.
So I sat in the chair and watched him work the phone. He wore one of those shiny Adidas sweat-suits seen so much of in the 1980’s, only this day was hot so he wasn't wearing a shirt. He probably weighed a bit over 250 pounds, but at one time he'd been as heavy as 400, so he had a big pair of granny-tits with hair on them that jiggled as he gestured with his arms over the phone and jotted down his meticulous notes.
Alex had all his day's tasks compiled on a list of paper. He'd start at the top of the page and work his way down, and each time he completed a task he'd cross the item off the list. Only he wouldn't just cross it out. He'd take a ruler and use it to measure the height of the first letter of all the tasks he'd written on the list. Then, once he determined the half-way point in terms of height, he'd use that same ruler to draw a horizontal line through the item so that the line perfectly bisected each word in equal parts above and below. Not only that, but he'd cross out each item, even the last item that no longer needed to be crossed out since it was last one on the list. But no, he'd still cross out that last item as well, just as he'd done the others. Then he'd look at that completed list with each task crossed out and give a sort of smug, satisfied smile before folding the paper in half, and then quarters, and then eighths prior to throwing it away in the trash can which he always emptied in the outdoor dumpster when he walked you out.
Of course you can see how a mind like that would be useful in the field of investigations, but it had other useful applications as well. Like in horse racing.
Alex was a degenerate gambler and back in the day (were talking about the early 1960's ) he'd spend his mornings at the track. He'd do this before heading to work at the insurance company. He'd start his day with a cup of coffee and drive over to Yonkers so he could time horses while they did their laps. He'd talk to the jockeys, check out the track conditions, read the local weather report, review the history of each horse in the racing forums. Like I've explained, he was a systems guy. O.C.D. before anyone had coined the term. The man did his homework and he checked it twice.
But the odds are always going to be against you--even for the best of gamblers. They don't build those casinos and stock em with ho’s by catering to winners. So eventually Alex got himself into trouble:
One month the insurance company performed a surprise audit and found that Alex's expense account was overdrawn by a good $5,000.00. Again, this was back in the 1960's, so $5,000.00 was like...a lot of money. Course nowadays he'd have been fired in an an instant with all kinds of litigation and whatnot, but this was back in the day. Before management was loaded with pencil-necked college kids with partial law degrees and a self-righteous attitude. Everybody loved Alex and back then that was good enough. Best investigator in the city and had a heart of gold. The guy had a problem, that’s all it was.
So they worked out a compromise. The company would take $100.00 out of Alex’s check every month until the debt was repaid and in exchange he vowed never to visit the track again. A mature resolution. People were grown-ups back then. Looked out for each other and sealed deals with a handshake.
So everything was back in order.
Except that every addict's gonna relapse at least one time and that’s what happened with Alex. Just how often he’d fallen off the wagon no one will ever know, but I could almost envision that legendary New York morning I’ve heard about so many times from all the old-time investigators when Alex strolled into the office amongst that sea of smiling faces and distant, gossipy stares and probably figured it was just karma and good fortune and the positivity of a life well lived until his boss called him into the office and sat him down.
"Hey Alex," I imagine the boss said, "You're in good spirits."
"Can't complain," Alex may have answered, keen enough to sense an awkwardness to the boss' tone.
"What you been up to lately?," the boss might have continued. "Anything going on I need to know about? Seems like we haven't talked in awhile."
“..Nothing to report here. I've got my caseload under control, all my appointments are set up. ..Lot of stuff up in White Plains next week. White Plains and Yonkers.”
I imagine the boss nodded his head in mock approval as he reached under his desk.
“Well that’s good Alex,.‘cause I couldn't help but notice the morning paper here and it says you won $48,000.00 at the track last night."
And at that the boss turned the newspaper round toward Alex to reveal his beaming picture on the cover of the New York Post. Not the SPORTS page or the LOCAL section, but right there on the front page. The whole story--how he'd won the trifecta and the dollar amount and even his girlfriend clutching his arm for the world and his wife to see.
Well, needless to say that was Alex's last day at that job; but combined with an infinite number of other chance events it led to our professional relationship. So I guess we were both winners that night.
R.I.P. Alex--you made me better!!
Day I left New York (Wow!):
Day I Came Back (Wow!):
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