Law Offices of Allison & Cranford
Norfolk, Virginia
November 25, 1945
On the Monday after Thanksgiving, Walter
stopped by the law offices of Allison and Cranford. He needed to
pick up some materials before setting sail for Europe that
afternoon. He also hoped to meet Eugene Allison and at least try to
find out who was behind all this.
Like the mysterious foundation it represented, Allison and Cranford seemed a bit mysterious also. Despite having an address on Norfolk’s prominent Neptune Road, the small law offices were not visible from the street, but instead faced an alley in the back of a three-story office building.
The receptionist area was small but elegant, with mahogany furniture, a leather sofa, and brass lamps. An attractive and well-dressed young receptionist who looked to be in her early twenties was seated behind a desk in the waiting room. Behind her in the next room, Walter saw several law clerks milling about with papers in their hands.
“I’m Walter Brewer. I’m here to pick up some paperwork for a trip to Europe.”
“Yes, you’re the grant recipient,” she said with a pleasant look on her face. “We’ve been expecting you. Mr. Allison asked me to give this to you.” She handed him a large, leather satchel. “Inside you’ll find a travel itinerary, tickets for the voyage across the Atlantic, tickets for the trains once you get there, a memorandum from the War Department on procedures for travel in Germany and a basic German phrase book. You may want to double check to make sure everything’s there.”
Walter thumbed through the package as the receptionist looked on attentively.
“Looks like this Reunification Foundation is an organized outfit,” he said.
“There’s one other package you’ll need, Mr. Brewer.” She handed him another envelope. “Please count this right now.”
Walter had never seen so many greenbacks all at once. Fifty crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills had been clipped together inside. Just like the letter said.
“I count five thousand dollars,” he said.
“Very well,” she said. “Sign here acknowledging receipt.”
“I sure would like to know who to thank for all this.” He scrawled his name on the transaction log.
“No thanks are necessary, Mr. Brewer. The donor wants it that way. Secrecy is necessary to the success of this charitable organization.”
“Donor? I thought the letter said this foundation was founded at the beginning of the war by donors.”
The woman’s face turned ashen. “To tell you the truth, this office handles so many charitable trusts that we can’t keep all our donors straight. Don’t read anything into what I just said. I can’t say anything else.”
“But you seem to know something about this organization,” he said.
“Please, Mr. Brewer, I could lose my job if I say anything to undermine the privacy of our clients. Please just forget that silly comment. There was no significance to it.”
“I’m sorry, Miss, I didn’t catch your name.”
She hesitated and looked down.
“I won’t bite. I promise. I would just like to know who I’m talking to,” he said.
“I’m Jane Swain.”
“Miss Swain, I was wondering if I could have a moment with Mr. Allison.”
“Uh, Mr. Allison is very busy today.”
He leaned over the desk and whispered, “Miss Swain, I don’t know what the big deal is, but I promise I won’t breathe a word to him about anything you just said.”
She looked into his eyes for a moment.
“I promise. I want you to keep your job. Your secret is safe with me.” He flashed a disarming smile at her.
She hesitated. “Your face looks honest. All right, follow me.”
They walked down the hallway to a large office where he was greeted by a trim, middle-aged man with wire-rimmed glasses.
“Welcome to Norfolk, Mr. Brewer. I’m Gene Allison.”
“I know you’re busy, Mr. Allison, but I wanted to thank you before I leave the country this afternoon.”
“I wish I could accept your thanks. But our firm is just a conduit carrying out the wishes of our donors. Anyway, we wish you well.”
“Mr. Allison, I know you can’t tell me who’s behind this, but there’s something I want to say anyway.”
“Go right ahead.”
Walter noticed Jane Swain looking down at the floor. Her hands were trembling.
“It’s about your receptionist.”
“What about her?”
“I just met her, and—”
“Um, maybe I should excuse myself,” Jane said.
“No, please stay, I want you to hear this,” Walter said.
“What about her?” Eugene asked again.
“I find her to be extremely professional and courteous. She’s a credit to your firm.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brewer. We feel like we’ve got a good one,” Allison said.
Walter noticed the look of relief and the smile on Jane Swain’s face. “There’s something else I need to say before I go,” he said.
“Say anything you’d like.”
“Two years ago, I was in England in the Army. We were training for the invasion of Europe. One Friday afternoon, I got off duty and came back to the manor house where I was quartered with three other officers. When I walked in the front door, I had a surprise visitor. It was my wife, Jessie. I couldn’t believe it.” He stopped as his eyes started filling with tears. “I took furlough and we spent that weekend together in London. It was the most wonderful weekend of my life. Jessie felt the same way. It was also the last time I saw her alive. She died during premature labor in June. I was in France. My last memory of her alive was this most wonderful visit. Your foundation provided the money and laid the groundwork to make it possible. Thank you.”
“I’m glad the Foundation was able to help,” Allison said.
“I realize that the donors wish to keep their identities a secret, but I wanted to thank them in a way that doesn’t compromise their identity. So I’ve written a letter. Could you make sure they get it?”
“I’ll be happy to forward it to the appropriate parties.”
“And if there is any way I could personally thank them for the last memories they gave me with Jessie, I’d give anything. You’d have my word I would never reveal their identities.”
“Mr. Brewer, I appreciate your persistency and I know you’re sincere, but I’m afraid that would never be possible. The attorney-client privilege requires that I maintain my clients’ confidentiality.”
“Would you at least pass on my request anyway?” Walter persisted.
Allison put his hand on Walter’s shoulder and smiled. “Mr. Brewer, as a husband myself, I understand your need to know. If I were in your shoes, I’d ask the same questions. Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll ask the client if they would like to meet you. But don’t get your hopes up. My best advice is to go to Europe, deliver this letter to Mrs. Schultz, and then let it drop. Don’t worry about things you can’t control.”