High School for the Performing and Visual Arts - Images Yearbook (Houston, TX)

Page 42 text:

Bill Portal, said Portal, stand- ing. Come on in. I was iust talking with this man from the paper. . Go right ahead. We'lI need time to set up. Could I get a picture with the wife and kids? asked Charlie, the photographer. Oh, gosh! cried Mr. Portal. We haven't told Bill, Jr.! I'II call the school right away, said Mrs. Portal. She tried to shut the front door, but it was blocked by a man's hand. Excuse me, she said, looking out. l'm John Carmichael from the JOURNAL, said the man standing outside. I was supposed to talk to a William Portal? Oh, come in, said Mrs. Portal. He's in the living room. Carmichael led his photographer into where Mr. Portal was. Maybe if you sat over here, one of the TV men was directing. What about MY lighting? demanded Charlie. 38 We've got enough lights, said the TV man. What do you plan to do with the money? asked reporter Ford. Well, I haven't made any defi- nite pIans, said Portal. I guess I could do about anything I wanted. The phone rang. l'Il get it, called Mrs. Portal. John Carmichael, Kirkville JOURNAL, said Carmichael, try- ing to get Portal's attention. We talked earlier. . Oh yeah, sit down, directed Portal. I was lust saying to Mr., uh, Ford that I didn't have any defi- nite plans for the money yet. . The doorbell rang, and Mr. Por- tal apologized to the two reporters, and threaded his way around an increasing pile of lights, cameras and sound equipment. Could you show us your wall plugs? asked one of the techni- cians. Sure, hang on, said Portal, and went to answer the door. Mr. Portal? said the man who was waiting outside. I'm Fred Johnson, Chicago TIMES, and I wonder if I could talk with you for a moment? 3417 Lincoln Drive was a single- story house in the middle of the block on a narrow street that was now choked with an assortment of cars, vans, trucks, and trailers. Spring flowers and thick grass alike had now been trampled by the assembly of news media now packed into the Portal home. It was 3:30, and most wives had already cleared away lunch. A fly settled on the eggs in the Portal kitchen, until he was dis- turbed by Mrs. Portal rushing to answer the phone. Hello, she said desperately, then called into Mr. Portal, Honey, it's for you! Mr. Portal got up from the dining room table, which was now blos- soming with a centerpiece of micro- phones, and came into the kitchen. Hello, he said wearily. Bill? Who IS this? I don't know any cousin John. This is cousin John.

Page 41 text:

Yes, it is. Oh! he said and covered the mouthpiece. This is Channel A, he hissed to his wife, they want to send out a camera crew. l'll have to clean up the house, she began, but her hus- band was already back on the phone. Come on out, he breezed, we'll be waiting for you. Good- bye! Well, if you got to clean up, clean up, he told his wife, but make it quick. They'll be right out. Mrs. Portal got up from the breakfast table and smoothed her robe. l'll change first, she said, and went to the bedroom. While she was dressing, the doorbell rang. l'll get it, said Mr. Portal, and when he did he found a short man in a brown leisure suit. Mr. Portal? the man asked. Sure thing. l'm James Ford, Kirkville SUN- TIMES, and I wonder if you'd mind my coming in to talk to you for a bit? Not at all, said Portal. Come right in! O.K., Charlie, the reporter called back, Come on in! A nonchalant photographer crawled out of a white chevy and, wrapped in cameras, followed Ford into the house. Nice place you have here, Ford said, but I guess you'll be moving into something a little more elegant? Oh, sure, but we don't really know anything for sure yet . . . why don't we sit here in the living room to talk? Ford sat down on the coach, Por- tal sat in an armchair, and the pho- tographer busily took readings and set his cameras. Now then, Mr. Portal, began the reporter, when did you first learn of the inheritance? Well, it was iust at breakfast, when the phone rang . . started Portal, just as the phone obligingly rang. l'll get it, called Mrs. Portal, as she sidestepped the photographer on her way to the kitchen. Phone's been pretty busy ever since, apologized Mr. Portal. Well, these lawyers called and said that a Phineas P. Portal had died and left 31 million dollars to a cousin named William T. Portal, and that's me. Were the two of you close childhood friends? Well, actually Portal began, interrupted by his wife. Honey, it's the men from Chan- nel 9, and they want to know if they can come out and interview is US. Sure, tell 'em to come on. Now, as I was saying, Portal said as a flashbulb blinded him, l really don't remember this cousin too well, but I guess he knew a lot about the family to remember me. The doorbell brought Mrs. Portal running. Tell me how you felt, said Ford. Gosh, we just couldn't believe it. This has got to be the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. A tall man in a blue suit entered the room, followed by two men in blue ieans carrying large cases with a stylistic four emblazoned on the sides. Hi, said the tall man, l'm Bert Hodges from Channel Four.

Page 43 text:

Well, old John sure didn't for- get you, said the supposed cousin, and since the wife and I have been having so much trouble lately we iust knew you'd remem- ber us in our time of need. Mr. Portal angrily hung up. Mary! he called. In here, she called back from the living room. The newly-made millionaire went to talk with her, and was greeted by a burst of flashbulbs and chorus of questions. Mr, Portal, what do you think you'Il buy first? Where is the money now? Are you going to retire? Where is your restroom? Can I use your telephone? The telephone, though, was already ringing. Mrs. Portal brushed by Mr. Portal, who was try- ing to answer everyone at once. It's for you - some woman, she reported, with a strange look on her face. HelIo? said Mr. Portal. BiII? Who is this? You know who this is, said a husky voice, and if you don't send me a million dollars everyone will know about us. Mr. Portal hung up in disgust and tramped back to the living room, taking his place beside his dazed wife. Could you iust give us a state- ment, said a network broadcaster. Mr. Portal thought a moment as the cameras whirred and clicked. I never thought it would be this much trouble to be rich, he said, and a glazed look came into his eyes. I . . . I iust wish everyone wasn't so interested all of a sudden. A technician stuck his head out the kitchen door. Mr. Portal - phone for you. Bill Portal wearily went to the phone to answer it. Mr, Portal? Yes. I guess you've been pretty excited all day. Uh. . .sure. Well, l've got some disappoint- ing news for you. Hold it. Mr. Portal shut the liv- ing room door. What is it? Well, there's been a kind of mix-up . . . the William T. Portal we were looking for lives in Chi- cago. Uh . . . I hope this isn't too hard for you. Mr. Portal listened to the cacoph- ony of reporters in the living room trying to get the furniture out of the way. A policeman was trying to get the street cleared, and his wife burst into the kitchen in tears. Listen, he said, when you call that guy, give him all my sym- pathy. And as Bill Portal went back to the living room, he didn't mean for the death of a rich cousin.