February 6, 1948: New York, NY:
"I will not be intimidated. I can do this," Jean Barrell said, only realizing she'd spoken aloud when she saw the sidelong looks a few of the people streaming past on the sidewalk threw in her direction.
She was standing on the Madison Avenue sidewalk in front of a tall building. She wondered if they built anything but tall buildings in Manhattan. Realizing that she had formed an island in the stream of people walking up and down the sidewalk, and suddenly self-conscious about it, she turned towards the building. She had to navigate the cross-stream of people to actually get into the lobby, but she got there.
There was a directory on the wall. She knew where the offices were, but she looked at the directory anyway. "Anderson, Klein & Trask, 19th Floor," she read and then headed for the elevators.
She nodded briskly to the elevator operator, a serious-looking man who stood outside his elevator. She stepped inside and turned around to face the doors. Several other people were in the car, and several more entered before the operator stepped inside. "Nineteenth floor," she replied when asked what floor.
As the elevator made its way up the shaft, she felt a mix of nervous energy and excitement. The fight had been long and hard, but eventually, Marie Barrell had been convinced by Jean, her daughters Aggie and Vera, and her husband Jack to allow Jean to leave Toronto and take a job in New York. Now she was here, it was her first day, and she looked forward to starting her own life away from her mother's watchful gaze.
The doors opened on the nineteenth floor. She thanked the elevator operator and stepped off into a hallway. The floors were marble, and there was the smell of fresh flowers in the air. At one end of the hall was a door whose glass panel read "Anderson, Klein & Trask, Advertising Agency." She turned and headed that way.
Inside the agency, she was greeted by Mr. Anderson himself. He was, of course, one of the firm's partners, and he had been impressed by her portfolio and hired her himself. She hadn't met either Mr. Klein or Mr. Trask, but Mr. Anderson had told her they'd all been impressed with her illustrations.
Anderson showed her around the office, eventually leading her to the desk she'd call her own as part of the firm's creative department. As Jean sat down in her chair and began to soak up her surroundings, Anderson perched on the corner of her desk and picked up the telephone on it.
"Lisa, this is Mr. Anderson. Have Mr. Lee meet me in creative," he said and replaced the receiver. He looked at Jean and smiled. Anderson was, in Jean's estimation, about her father's age. He wore spectacles and was a bit overweight. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, shook one loose, and popped it between his lips. As he reached into his pocket for his lighter, he held the pack towards Jean. She shook her head and said, "No, thank you. I don't smoke."
He nodded at her and lit his cigarette. After blowing a cloud of smoke into the air, he said, "Jean, we have a fantastic opportunity for you. We want you to collaborate with one of our top ad executives, Gene Lee, on a campaign for a new beverage client called 'Sunburst Sips.'"
Jean's eyes lit up with enthusiasm, "I'm thrilled to work on it, Mr. Anderson! I'll give it my all."
An attractive, confident-looking man joined them a moment later. Anderson looked at him and said, "Gene, this is Jean Barrell, our new, brilliant artist. You two will be working hand in hand on the 'Sunburst Sips' campaign," Mr. Anderson introduced. Jean blushed a little when Anderson referred to her as "brilliant."
Gene extended his hand with a warm smile, "Great to meet you, Miss Barrell. I've heard wonderful things about your talent."
Jean shook his hand, feeling an instant connection. "Likewise, Mr. Lee. I'm excited to work together and create something exceptional for 'Sunburst Sips.'"
Anderson laughed. "I'm sorry, I just made the connection when you two were referring to each other as Mr. Lee and Miss Barrell. You have the same first name!"
Gene Lee laughed, and Jean found it so infectious she joined in. Gene noted, "Well, not really boss. That is, assuming you don't spell your name G-E-N-E, Miss Barrell."
Jean shook her head. "No, it's J-E-A-N."
"There you go. They're homonyms," Gene said with a nod. "But Mr. Anderson's right. We'll have all kinds of trouble with this 'Gene & Jean' stuff around here. I'll just call you Miss Barrell, or maybe Barrell?"
Jean bobbed her head. "Sure, that'll work. And I'll just call you Lee?"
Anderson laughed again and clapped his hands once. "It appears you two have it all worked out. I'll let you get to work. Gene... Lee, that is... please get Miss Barrell up to speed. I look forward to seeing what you two come up with for Sunburst."
With that, the boss stood up and walked away.
Gene perched himself on the corner of her desk, right where Anderson had been. He looked at her and said, "So... Barrell? You related to Rufus?"
Jean was taken aback. "How do you know Rufus Barrell?" she asked.
Gene laughed. "Ah, answering a question with a question. Good move, Barrell." He nodded, and the smile remained on his face as he said, "I was a ballplayer, and there aren't many ballplayers who don't know Rufus Barrell, or his many sons."
Jean shook her head. "I've heard my father mention this," she said. Gene's quizzical look prompted her to continue, "My father's Jack Barrell, and Rufus is his father - my grandfather. My father's the coach of the Toronto Dukes, but he did play some minor league baseball when he was a young man."
They talked about Gene's baseball career. It was brief. "I had two cups of coffee," he admitted. "Really small cups. I played in four games for the Cougars, two each in '44 and '45, and had three total at-bats. No hits, never got on base, but also never struck out. I'm proud of the last bit, at least." He'd been a catcher, and the Cougars had released him after the 1945 season. "With the war over and everyone coming back, they didn't have room for me." He shrugged. "I miss the competition, but I always had a creative streak too, and I really enjoy the advertising game," he said, then asked about her.
She related her experiences explaining that she'd always enjoyed drawing, and then dabbled in painting. "I had a bit of an infatuation with Sal Pestilli," she admitted, relating the story of the painting she'd done that had eventually made its way to Sal himself. "Of course, now he's with the Cougars," Gene said with another warm laugh. Jean nodded. "We moved around a lot. My father played hockey through most of my childhood and then became a coach. I've lived in a bunch of places: Montreal, Toronto, New York, Chicago, Detroit..." she trailed off.
"That must have been... tough?" Gene asked.
Jean nodded. "It was, but my Maman - she's French, so she's always been Maman to me and my sisters - was... is, a rock. With Papa gone a lot, she kept it all together." She described her family - stoic, dependable Jack at the helm, her fiery but loving mother Marie, her flighty and equally fiery older sister Agnes "we call her Aggie," and her kid sister, the quiet and confident Vera. "Poor Papa," Jean said, "having to live with four women. He has nine brothers, you know."
Gene whistled and said, "Well, I know of a few of them. Dan, Fred, Tom, Bobby, and Harry - they all play, or played, ball, so..." he trailed off.
Jean admitted, "I never really enjoyed sports. Baseball itself wasn't a big part of my life, for obvious reasons, and even though I've attended hundreds of hockey games, I never enjoyed them like my mother and sisters." She explained that Aggie and Vera were both big fans and that Aggie was actually dating one of the Dukes players.
They chatted for a few more minutes, then Gene stood up and said, "I suppose we'd better get to work." Jean took a deep breath and nodded. "Sounds good to me. I'm new, so I'll just follow your lead... Lee," she said with a grin.
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Jean Barrell at work, 1948