I was only fourteen at the time, it was mid summer when it happened. The words were just so sudden. So sharp it cut.
"He, Died." I dropped my black tipped brush to the floor as the color drained from my face. It was unbelievable, nay unacceptable, but I followed the voice regardless.
For blocks I walked listening to it, wondering to myself, was it true? That's when I saw him as I rounded the block.
The coroner had already gathered mom and Gustav around the body. Only his legs were visible. But as I approached I saw his face, stricken with pain.
He looked so scared.
It is kind of I funny I think, the fact that I paid attention to the most. It was not the fact that he died of a stroke like the coroner explained, but that he was grasping a newspaper. It was unbelievable I thought, he died just trying to get the paper. Just a newspaper.
That was it.
That was what he died for.
His entire life, all his dreams, his hopes, his achievements, lost to a newspaper.
I just fell right on my knees by the sidewalk and wept. Even without looking I could hear mother was doing the same.
I did not know how to feel. I loved him so much, even if he was a hard man. I never was told any stories from him of his parents or grandparents, or what his passions were besides work.
But he was my father, my dad, he raised me. Provided care for me with Mom when I broke my arm. I was in shock.
It was a routine for all of us, just ignoring the obvious after our shared grief.
The very next day after I was just conflicted and filled with anger. Like a hot nail, driven deep in my heart it sunk. I knew then that it would never go away.
"Why him, for something so pointless?" I asked god, and I received naught but silence in return. As expected.
Looking back, I understand why my dad gave me that macabre piece of advice. "A man is never a man until he buries his father."
I honestly thought that it was bullshit, a guilt trick of some kind. Just another word of advice that would be proven wrong with time.
Like his idea's on politics, or marriage advice. But I was the one clearly in the wrong.
As I learned so much when I buried him. Proving he had some amount of wisdom in life.
It was just so aggravating.
He had his entire life and he pissed it away by drinking, smoking, and cheating. He worked as a customs officer for 40 years, doing nothing of note.
But he provided for us. He gave a lot to our family. But he died for nothing. The only reason he is remembered is that Gustav and I live.
A god damn newspaper.
After he was put under the ground by a oak tree as we said our goodbyes. I comforted Mother some. She had a broken look on her.
That the wind could just blow her over. After the service, me and Gustav just sat there staring at the grave.
just looking at what he had become. He just had a blank face, I could tell he was sitting there, just thinking like I was. About his life and his death.
That moment, just sitting there by his grave, is when I made a promise that only I would know until now.
That I would never live a wasted life like him, no drinking, no cheating, no smoking.
Most of all, that I would die for something. Not for nothing. Not a fucking newspaper and a hot cup of coffee.
No matter what it would take. Never like him, I was certain with everything that I had in spirit and body.
Not a god damn newspaper.
I would try.
Normalcy
After the funeral service, my life was upturned by law work for just a week. The least tedious of which getting the death certificate certified.
Inheritance was a non-issue as he did not have a will. So, we just let the Austrian civil code handle it with no work on our family's part.
But what was most helpful out of the legal work was that Gustav managed to convince our mother to apply for survivor benefits.
It would give a noticeable tax reduction on whatever money we would make for two years.
But most importantly it offered a large sum for Me and Gustav to go to any university located in the Austro-Hungarian Empire whenever we were ready.
I had almost completed my primary education at this time while Gustav was already out speculating and trading on stocks legally as an adult.
Completely ignoring the fact that he was illegally doing just that for years prior.
The only reason Gustav could trade illegally between 1896 and 1904 was just the way stocks were traded. It was all physical before these new electronic computers.
Gustav would explain to the owner that he was trading under his "Father." Which really was a British businessman he had made a deal with.
It was a very restrictive deal though, mainly out of necessity. He was never able to take any real financial liability at the time.
Due to any leverage requiring some proof of identity or some proof of collateral, atop the fact that options trading was not formalized in any manner at that time.
Now of course this information does not even matter, as the physical stock market is being done away with as more and more of these new computers are released. (They can even fit on desks now!)
Gustav and I, with this sum of money we received, decided that it would be split equally. But there were some problems with our idea.
Primarily, the government required the full amount to be spent on education.
The check would have to be signed off by a government official to be valid. So as to prevent frivolous spending.
I must admit that I had no idea this scheme of Gustavs' was even possible at the time until he explained it to me.
Before any readers have a genius idea of doing so with their pensions, college funds, trust funds, company payments, or something related to taxes.
You must know such a thing would never work in the current day and would be considered evasion under the law.
Extremely Illegal.
The background of the scheme was working with the "Accredited Institutions." Basically, before modern standards, universities could be accredited legally, even if they had no academic worth.
You would pay a lump sum and the college would give you a degree with a full academic background. Grades, classes, and all.
You would pay for a full University ride and just get the degree without the knowledge.
Gustav had a friend whose father ran one of these Institutions.
What Gustav would do is write a check to the college giving him his entire share of the fund, and in return, he would be given ninety-five percent of his money back. In cash, to spend on whatever he pleases.
I honestly had some doubts about his plan. I had the fear that the money would just be taken. While what he was doing while not illegal, would have gotten him in trouble with the government.
Nothing was stopping the fake university from just taking it and causing a fuss.
But when he showed me the money in full a whole month later I was just so proud of him. He was going to move to either London or America.
As it was always a dream of his to make it big, and this was his chance to do so.
He has been planning this for years with mom and dad. Against their large initial disagreement he did manage to convince them of his plans.
Even if it took showing just how much Krone he had (illegally) already managed to procure in total to do so.
The government money was just enough when he added his savings and liquidated all stock positions to travel to and play the markets in either London or America.
It overcame a huge problem of his. You see, while his English was excellent, the Austrian-Hungarian Krone was very weak in comparison to either currency. (I believe it was something ridiculous like 25 Krone to the pound.)
If he wanted to try and play the with or against the invisible hand he could finally begin.
1904 -- 1906
Having already told us his plans for years Gustav made a final call.
He decided that he was moving to London, much to our mother's agreement and mine.
The reason as he explained was primarily the gold trade and what he could do with it. London had the largest gold trading market in the entire world.
He could get ludicrous leverage with less than legal means over there.
Between five times to even twenty depending on how much he was buying and how much he was willing to risk his life.
There was a never-ending stream of rich folk trying to make money underhandedly. It was not exactly the stock market, but it was the same in all but name.
Just high differing amounts of volatility. When gold prices changed there would be minuscule differences.
Due to this fact, most banks and speculators considered It to be amazing collateral on loans or something to invest in on someone else's behalf. Even if they broke speculator laws.
He would abuse this fact when trading in full.
After opening positions with (illegal) leverage on gold, he would use his illegal positions on paper to accrue even more (legal) debt from the banks with (fraud).
All it took was for him to wear one of his fancy suits with some chicanery to convince the banks that he was a sound investment.
To me at least his scheme was extremely impressive at the sheer scale he did it.
(After all, within just a season, he had already gained a thousand plus pounds. What could he do with more money?)
Gustav would then just buy almost any stock he could get his hands on. Firmly in the belief that the year would end in a bull run.
He was correct in his prediction. He would be rewarded handsomely with a mind-boggling sum of four thousand and three hundred pounds after paying debts, cuts, and taxes.
That was enough to buy a small manor, in his first year! Yes, it was ill-gotten gains, but he won.
When he wrote to me and mom how much he had made that first year I was happy for him at first. Then I became scared for his wellbeing.
That much debt with that many people was no joke, even one mistake… I specifically wrote to him to not try any more aggressive and (illegal) strategies.
He could play it safe and before he was 28 be retired in a house with a full staff in Vienna. I thought it was sheer greed that pushed him forward after that.
Chasing money for the sake of it. I would later learn that it was not money that drove him. But a dream like mine.
Because in early 1905 he had already traveled abroad in search of loans. He went from France, Spain, Germany, Austria, and even to America using the same strategy.
Using money to gain leverage on gold and using his gold to get loans. He was planning to win again, and win he did.
By the new year of 1905, he had thirteen thousand pounds sterling which is equivalent to 325,000 Krone. Or the value of a hundred large houses.
The only consolation that I received in early 1906 was that he was going to lessen his leverage ratios. In Gustavs' own words, he needed to downsize his portfolio.
Apparently, around the time he wrote to me; the market was starting to get turbulent. He needed to be much more selective in his purchases and more conservative at closing debt.
What he did was honestly the most aggressive (illegal) trading strategy I have ever seen in my entire life.
From 2000 Krone to 325,000 in just two years. Many lifetimes of work just like that, it was hard to comprehend.
A one hundred and sixty two point five hundred percent increase in value. (162.5X)
Honestly, I find it crazy that he was not caught by the British authorities looking back.
It was in the total of somewhere between one and a half thousand or two thousand pounds he used that was not even his just in that year alone.
Be that banks trying to hedge or affluent individuals trying to make what would be almost sure money without paying taxes.
I was not so lucky in the financials department between 1904 and 1906.
I was dedicating myself to painting and I could honestly say that I was doing an amazing job.
I was improving every single year, and it was noticeable the quality difference between the seasons.
I had even started selling some of my street art for some Krone in 1905.
As I had deemed my work to be of high enough quality. I was so proud of myself.
Even though Gustav was the breadwinner sending money home I was starting to succeed in my dreams.
Life was looking good for me.
But much to my chagrin mom had started asking me to go to art school. I completely understood her point of view.
Gustav was already making something with himself in the world and I was just a grown man painting for a few Kroner at the street corner.
Even the point that it would improve my art style. I would be taught by the experts; I would get to learn color theory and understand why styles were what they were.
But I hated the idea of leaving her. After our father's death, she had gotten sick, not as quickly when moving, or even waking up later. The small things made it noticeable.
Even though she swore it was nothing. It was doubt that made me want to stay, but eventually, through weeks of nagging, I decided to apply completely of my own volition.
My school of choice was the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts. My application would then be seen in January of next year.
I would have to show a culmination of my life's work.
I had 8 months to prepare.
6 months left until deadline
Honestly the hardest thing at the time for me was selecting what I wanted to show to the board. Vienna Academy was very prestigious, so I was not going to take any chances.
I had gathered all my works from the back room and laid them out on the main floor, much to Mom's annoyance.
I made sure that they were perfect with no obvious mistakes on the canvas, tears, smudges, or lack of detail with some others. (Depth, field of view, scale, orientation, etc.)
Then I had them sorted by the strategies I used. (Reference, freehand, night painting, day painting, oil painting, "regular" painting, an upwards field of view, or a downward cast field of view.)
I wanted enough variance that would show the skills I had gathered in almost 9 entire years of dedication to my form.
In my eyes, and hopefully to my panels, I needed to show a great depth to myself and the work. That I was not just some one-trick carnival act.
But I needed balance, even if my art showed great technique, it might still be rejected. So, I followed one of Gustav's main tenets, which was to take feedback.
I knew my mom would be biased in my favor as, well, she was my mom.
But as I brainstormed how I would get enough feedback in so little time, I remembered something. There was a public art gallery in Linz just 24 miles away.
It was not a great building in any sense of the imagination as it was running on public donations.
But since I knew the owner there, I could probably have a display put up with some boxes to gather ratings.
And that was just what I did for the next five months.
Every three weeks I would rotate them out with the help of the owner and collect responses about which piece was loved the most out of the group.
It honestly worked like a charm with exactly 790 responses, which was honestly way more than I thought would be gathered in just 5 months.
With only 25 days left until my application's review. With only being allowed three examples of mine, I had to make extremely tough choices.
All but one of the trees and hills were out. The only exception was a particular piece that had the viewpoint cast upwards toward the sunset from the bottom of the hill.
I was most proud of how the leaves on the singular oak tree reflected the different colors in the merge towards the centerline.
It showed a great understanding of light and finding that unique viewpoint. It also showed that I could solve a time crunch, as such sight would only last for minutes.
All in all, it was one of the better works I had created during the spring of 05.
The second one would be one I had made on top of a building in 1904 on that business trip to Vienna.
I picked it primarily because it could show that I was capable of scale and quality of detail. There was just so much going on with a downcast view of a city that any mistakes would be highly noticeable.
It was very hard to get that balance of doing it all perfectly, but also striking that balance of diminishing quality with distance. All in all, another great example of my skills.
My last selection was one of a creek that I used to play around when I was a small child. It was not created when I collected feedback, so it was just based on my personal preferences.
I understand that it might have probably made more sense to include the more "Impressive" rendition of the dilapidated castle I drew at night.
But I honestly did not care at the time, my nostalgia was more important. I already included two generally high technical ones. I did not need another.
So, after taking the paintings in hand with wrap and a few words of goodbye. I then boarded a train in what would be a defining moment in my life.
22 days left until deadline
After I had arrived in Vienna and left the station the sun was already dropping.
I had made my way to one of the financial districts in the north and paid in full for the three weeks required for my stay.
It was a highly expensive one, multiple room's combined with free room service and even a built-in restaurant. I will honestly say it may seem extremely hypocritical of me.
The man who loves to make remarks on individual responsibility and living by one's means.
To spend over half a month in an affluent part of the city when I could only make half a hundred Krone in a month of hard work.
But it honestly felt like a waste not spending the money on something fancy. For an entire year and more, Gustav had been sending us money.
But we only ever spent a small portion of it on food and upkeep for the house.
The rest of it just sat there, because neither I nor Mom knew enough about stocks and none of us believed that turning it all into bonds was worth it.
It just gave me a bad feeling of guilt, like I was turning down Gustav's generosity by throwing it away.
We had never needed that much money, nor did I or mom had any renovations we wanted done on the house or property. We were happy as we were.
But even I understood the concept of inflation.
Even though the transition between silver-gold to just a gold standard had made the currency almost completely stable there was still an upward trend.
Hundreds and thousands of Krone going to waste just because we have nothing to use it on.
So, I made the most of what I had. I spent all the time I had preparing my demonstration and relaxing.
The food was pretty great too. But tomorrow was my day!
The day.
The first thing I noticed when entering the campus was the academy was very hard to navigate.
The maps were scarce and confusing with the buildings as numbers instead of any identifying characteristic.
With only being told to go to the building behind the art gallery from my letter, I was completely lost.
I had to stop multiple times to ask for directions from what could have been either students or faculty members based on how they dressed.
But I would eventually arrive on time just a few minutes early.
The only way I could describe the atmosphere of the building was, in a way, odd. It had modern conventions such as swing windows and electric lighting.
But the walls and ceilings had an archaic look to them, it was like I was stepping atop the 15th century.
It was a mix of factory precision and hand-crafted surfaces.
The paintings were also odd choices. A mix of the new modernist-esoteric style, with less sharp edges and the painting having no obvious definite form or purpose.
With some lacking more form than others. In one I could recognize what looked to be animals if I squinted, but another was a building with no edges.
Even one where I could make out nothing but rectangles and circles. It was just so confusing, what I was supposed to understand. Where was the emotion? The passion? The spirit?
All in all, the building was something I had never even considered possible. It was just so different from anything I had ever looked at.
And I was honestly unable to tell if that was in a good way or a bad way. I was feeling more intimidated by the atmosphere it set than anything else.
But I walked ahead towards my application anyway, towards the door which was cracked open by a door stop.
As I entered the room, I was pleasantly surprised. Instead of a room lacking purpose, like a spare, or some kind of bland or generic meeting area.
I was met with a lounge. It had a somewhat small but cozy interior. The wallpaper had a orange floral design to it.
The red carpet floor had been matched with red chairs in a semicircle around oak table. Infront of which a station sat where I would assume my art would go.
In the red chairs were three men in suits looking a bit tired.
They would all be my judicators'; this was obvious from the fact they started looking at me up and down with their blank faces from my entrance.
Most likely checking my attire and nervousness which showed in spades. The one on the right, who I will call judicator number three, began speaking with a frown; "We don't have all day then, show what you brought us to demonstrate."
I just stood there for a moment confused, I thought I was supposed to introduce myself, maybe give an exposal why I applied to this school, and finish with a closing statement before presenting.
I guess I was completely wrong, was this normal? I had honestly no idea.
I grabbed the one I made of the creek, as I began to unwrap it in a nervous manner I spoke as clearly as I could. "This is my most recent work, I do not currently have a name for it yet, but I—"
"We do not want backstory, either explain the work or let us judge in silence." Judicator number two spoke with an audible amount of exasperation.
They just looked at it and wrote it down in their notebooks. I chose to stay silent throughout this process, worried that speaking out would push them into a more negative mindset.
From my point of view, it looked like they were mainly focusing on the water. But before I knew it, they were done, the passed time had only really felt like seconds.
But was honestly most likely minutes.
Instead of being met with a request I was given a hand gesture by number two. I immediately placed my second artwork, which was the sunset drawing.
I was honestly quite surprised when there was no interruption on their part.
I was allowed to explain where I made it and what techniques I used to create the hard lighting effects on the tree but still allow it to keep a distinct shape.
I even got a nod for it by number one. But after a while, they stopped writing completely and asked for my final canvas to be demonstrated.
So, I did as I was told, the previous two wrapped back up at my feet, with the third and final placed on its station for viewing. It was my rendition of downtown Vienna.
With a sudden focus on his eyes, I could tell number three recognized the street I painted. While number two just began to frown.
I immediately started to sweat, a usual even set face changing to something so negative was a bad sign. Did I make a mistake? Had I damaged it during transit?
I honestly could not think. Even after looking back at the painting, I did not find anything obvious.
But when all three of them rose from their seats I was taken out of my haze. Had the time passed so fast? Yes, as I checked my watch, almost a full two hours.
On my way out, number one told me that I would receive a letter in the coming weeks of their judgment.
If I would make the cut or not. I was torn the entire train ride home. Did I make it or not?
I had gotten quite a few nods, and a lot of notes taken, even some questions asked about how I did the lighting on the tree.
That had to have meant something, right?
Even though it was over that nervous feeling never went away, even after I got home.
It would only leave me when I received a response.