“No, Hilda, not necessarily; think of the whore with a heart of gold character in literature and the movies. She’s a beloved figure, a key dispenser of advice on the vagaries of life and what ails the human spirit.”
“Hmm.”
“And there was Mary Magdalene, the repentant prostitute who was loved by Jesus more than any of the other disciples.”
She removed her glasses, checked the lenses, then put them on again without responding.
“Repentance is the key to redemption, Hilda, just remember the three parables on this subject in the New Testament: the Parable of the Prodigal Son, the Parable of the Lost Sheep, and the Parable of the Lost Coin.”
“For a Jew, Eddie, you certainly seem to know a lot about the Christian Bible.”
He shrugged. “I’m not a believer but religion has always fascinated me for some reason.”
“I’m still unconvinced; to put it mildly.”
“At your introductory press conference as the ‘repentant’ Great Whore of Wall Street, the first thing you’ll do is ask the public’s forgiveness for all the damage that Wall Street has done to the U. S. economy and to peoples’ IRAs and 401-Ks.”
“They might throw stones at me.”
“Not a chance; the world loves nothing better than a confessed sinner seeking to rejoin the ranks of the righteous.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s one of those hard-to-wrap-your-brain-around concepts, Hilda, you’ll have to trust me on this.”
“The last man who asked me to trust him, Eddie, swindled me out of $55,000. And I almost married the charlatan before I came to my senses.”
“Allow me to explain my idea in more detail.”
“Ok, but speak slowly and in words of few syllables.”
He took a moment to collect his thoughts. “First, as I said before, I’m talking BIG BUCKS!”
“You did, Eddie, but where’s the money?”
“This could be the start of a business empire for you.”
“I still don’t see any money!”
“The money trail begins with a caricature or artist’s sketch of you as The Great Whore of Wall Street.”
“Not a cartoonish caricature, I hope?”
“No, Hilda, it will have to be serious and eye-catching to grab the public’s attention.”
“Hmm.”
“And that graphic image will become your company’s logo for all future advertising and marketing activities. We’ll trademark the visual so it can’t be copied by anyone else.”
“I’m going to form a company?”
“Yeah, ‘The Great Whore of Wall Street Corporation’, Hilda, a holding company for the many different businesses you’ll be in.”
“I see a problem right off the bat, Eddie, we don’t know what a Great Whore looks like. So how do we construct a caricature of her?”
“That will be my job, Hilda, to come up with your signature look for the caricature.”
“What’s a signature look?”
“It’s an in-the-trade fashion industry term for a look that is unique only to you. All true celebrities have one.”
She drew in her breath. “Are you going to make me into a celebrity, Eddie?”
“Yeah, I’m going to sprinkle a little stardust on you.”
“You can actually do that?”
“I definitely can,” he said with a confidence he hadn’t felt in years.
Her fingertips brushed wisps of hair from her face. “I … I never thought I’d ever be a celebrity.”
“Think again.”
She smiled for the first time in the conversation. “I’d enjoy that, Eddie, really I would.”
“I spent forty years in Public Relations and I’m telling you that The Great Whore of Wall Street will be a sensational marketing vehicle.”
“It seems a slutty and vulgar sounding name to me.”
He nodded in agreement. “Slutty and vulgar is in vogue today, Hilda, just consider the rapidly growing number of trashy Reality Shows on TV.”
“It’s all part of a conspiracy to dumb-down America, Eddie, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, it could be … and it’s working.”
“People who lost their jobs and their savings in the stock market might hate me.”
“Let them! It’d be wonderful publicity for you.”
“But it would be bad publicity, Eddie.”
“No, Hilda, when you’re selling merchandise there’s no such thing as bad publicity, unless, of course, your product ends up killing somebody.”
“Are you saying that all publicity is good publicity?”
“I am!”
“Ok, Eddie, so what kind of merchandise will I be selling?”
He massaged the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Well, at first, we’ll imprint The Great Whore of Wall Street logo on tchotchkes : mugs, hats, napkins, dolls, T-shirts, key rings, playing cards, coasters. And you’d sell this stuff over the bar here at the Bull & Bear.”
She grimaced. “That’s so tacky.”
“Most people are tacky, Hilda, tacky is also in vogue today.”
“I’ve always tried to run a high-class establishment, Eddie, selling that crap in here will cheapen the place.”
“Unfortunately, Hilda, you have to adapt to the hard economic times we live in.”
She sighed wistfully. “I wish I could go back to the good old days.”
“Don’t we all?”
“All right, Eddie, continue.”
“Once the Great Whore logo gains traction, you’ll be able to sign up distributors to market these tchotchkes nationwide for you.”
“Fine,” she said, not showing much enthusiasm.
“Crowds will start dropping by the Bull & Bear to have a drink and their picture taken with The Great Whore of Wall Street. Of course, you’ll charge a fee for the photographs.”
“It comes across as a cheap publicity stunt if you ask me.”
“The whole world is posing today, Hilda, and so will you.”
“I’m hating it already.”
“The paparazzi and shutterbugs will take notice and make this place a downtown destination.”
“I’ll be a freak like the Bearded Lady in an old carnie sideshow.”
“That’s showbiz!”
“I’m in the bar business, Eddie, not in the entertainment business!”
“Wrong! If you interact with the public today, Hilda, you’re also in the entertainment business, whether you want to be or not.”
She held her forehead. “This is all too much for me.”
“Next on the agenda, you’ll develop your own line of private-label Great Whore beers, wines and whiskeys. Consumers are label-conscious today and this will