The Hanging on Union Square
Page 5
“Mr. Nut, are you growing a beard, too, to imitate me? A beard alone won’t make you wise. Say, I had better sell you my brain. How much can you offer?”
Mr. Nut moved his lips a little but didn’t say anything.
“What makes you so quiet? I know. It is Miss Digger who’s bothering you. It’s more than three months already and you haven’t forgot her yet. Do you remember the Four F Theory regarding the technique of handling a woman? The last principle of the four, you know, is Forget. If you’ve gone through the Third, you should forget. Because you’ve already had what you wanted. In other words, you’ve got your money’s worth. If you haven’t experienced the Third Principle, you should forget also. Because maybe your management of the Second Principle was not so good. Maybe you didn’t know how to fool her. Sometimes, money alone won’t work. The thing to do now is to find another girl.”
Mr. Nut was hungry. He wished that Mr. Wiseguy would ask him to have something. Having heard Mr. Wiseguy “nut” him, he had to open his mouth himself: “You know, Mr. Wiseguy . . .”
“I know what!” Mr. Wiseguy interrupted. “You mean you’ve found a new one. Or do you mean that you have got what you wanted from Miss Digger? Say, don’t bluff me. I’m a wiseguy. Say, be a friend of mine, won’t you? Tell me where Miss Digger is. I’ll go with you. I wouldn’t double-cross you, Mr. Nut. I’ve got plenty of girls.”
“You know, my friend, Mr. Wiseguy, I’m in some trouble.”
“What’s the trouble? I know. I am a wiseguy. You’re afraid that I will spend your money. No. Though I, Mr. Wiseguy, have done lots of services for others, I’ll never ask for a reward.”
“No. No. . . .” said Mr. Nut.
“For instance, once we went to a restaurant together and I didn’t ask you to pay the bill. It was the waiter who gave you the check. Another time we went to a speakeasy and I didn’t ask you to pay. It was when I went to the washroom that you paid the check. Can you tell me that when I go out with you, I shouldn’t go to the washroom? Another time I misplaced my purse. I told you that you should hold the check for a while. You were in a hurry, and you paid it. Whose fault was that? Even in a small matter like carfare, you always took advantage of the time when my shoelaces were loose and put a nickel in the slot for me. Could I take your nickel out of the slot?”
Mr. Nut didn’t hear clearly what he said. But he noticed that the face of Mr. Wiseguy had become very serious. For heaven’s sake! How could he get a nickel from him. Mr. Nut was hungry. But he said merely: “No, that isn’t my trouble at all.”
“I am a wiseguy. I can study your mind. You always smile. And today . . . See I know . . . Here is my purse. You see! What is in it? What color is the bill? I have plenty of bills. Now—you get me?”
When Mr. Nut saw the dollar bills in Mr. Wiseguy’s billfold, he could not control himself any longer and poured everything out. “Mr. Wiseguy! I am sorry. I pawned everything at the pawnshop that the Uncle would take. I came here at two o’clock this afternoon. I had coffee and doughnuts. For I had one dime and a nickel, when I came in. Later, I searched and searched and I could not find my dime. I have been here about seven hours. I haven’t eaten anything since those doughnuts. I’d like to borrow a dollar from you. Maybe I can find a job tomorrow. Then I’ll pay you back. You’ve known me for about a year. Can’t you trust me?”
Mr. Wiseguy was listening. He felt that the city he was in was no longer New York City. The month was no longer April. He felt as if he were in Little America, by the South Pole; he was being chilled. His blood was freezing. His fingers were trembling. He would have liked to stop Mr. Nut from pouring out his sad stories. But his breath was so short, he could not raise his voice high enough to make Mr. Nut hear. Finally he said: “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I never told a lie in all my life,” answered Mr. Nut.
(No.—He had lied three times to the Russian Brat.)
“This is the first time in my life that I incorrectly estimated a situation.” Wiseguy spoke to himself; then he turned to Mr. Nut:
“By the way, I’ve been here for twenty minutes and I haven’t got anything yet. So excuse me just a minute. Do you want anything?”
* * *
—
Mr. Wiseguy left.
Mr. Wiseguy returned.
With one glass of water!
IX:
A FEELING OF NOT ENOUGH
“A ten-cent check,
I had my coffee an’
I have only a nickel
In my hand.”
It was ten o’clock.
Nut could not go out of the cafeteria.
And he was starving in the cafeteria.
* * *
—
Miss Digger was passing outside of the cafeteria.
She had met Mr. Nut three months ago in this very cafeteria.
They had walked arm in arm, to a speakeasy on Second Avenue and Twelfth Street.
No, Miss Digger didn’t tell Mr. Nut that they were going to a speakeasy. She knew Mr. Nut might be afraid and refuse to go. For in days like these, how could a plain workman afford to go to speakeasies.
She had just told him she was thirsty and would like to go somewhere to have a glass of beer. For fifty cents they could get a large pitcher of it. And that pitcher would last for hours. Then they could have the place to talk in. To talk over many things! It was January, then. The weather was too cold to stroll on Fifth Avenue.
For Mr. Nut, it was the first time he had with him a girl who was so friendly. And she was a beautiful girl. Nut was very happy.
While they were walking along Fourteenth Street, down Fourth Avenue and then to the left, Mr. Nut felt that his arm was heavily insulated by his coat and overcoat and also the coat and dress of Miss Digger. Nevertheless, he felt that a certain part of the muscle of Miss Digger along the upper part of her arm was soft, tender and warm. And such a softness, tenderness and warmth gave him a feeling of not enough.
He put his arm a little lower and so made the back of his hand touch the very part underneath it. That meant that Mr. Nut was one coat and one overcoat nearer to her. He felt better. Meantime Miss Digger didn’t protest. She held the hand of Mr. Nut tighter. To Mr. Nut that meant: “You are heartily welcome.”
As they were walking on, Mr. Nut again had a feeling of not enough. Miss Digger pushed his hand away with her hand and murmured: “Stop! Please don’t!” Mr. Nut understood that she meant: “Please do not stop.” So he stretched his arm across her back and placed his hand under her shoulder, almost as if they were automobile riding. For a few minutes, everything was quiet. Mr. Nut was enjoying it.
A few minutes more, and Mr. Nut again had the feeling of not enough. He stopped walking. He asked for a kiss and tried to take one. Miss Digger turned her head away and told him that he was in too much of a hurry.
Mr. Nut didn’t say anything. They began to walk again.
A few minutes later, Mr. Nut again stopped. This time he didn’t ask. He just kissed her. This time Miss Digger didn’t say anything in protest, either.
So they kissed. They kissed in just a movie style.
Mr. Nut was smiling. For he felt better.
A few minutes later, Mr. Nut stopped again.
Miss Digger looked at him and was wondering what he was going to ask. Nut told her he wanted a real kiss in a true, realistic, progressive, wet way. Miss Digger knew what he meant and said coyly: “There’s plenty of time yet.”
Mr. Nut began to realize that he was too greedy. And that he had got more than what he had paid for. That Miss Digger’s twenty-cent check in the cafeteria.
“By the way, may I inquire what is your definition of a kiss?” highbrowed Mr. Nut.
Miss Digger was stuck.
Then he dug a piece of paper from his hip-pocket and read this to Miss Digger under the street-light:
Of no use to one,
Bliss to two:
The small boy gets it for nothing,
The young man has to steal it,
And the old man has to buy it:
To a young girl it means cash-Out,
To an old maid it means cash-In.”12
“Say, it’s an old story, but why should you be sarcastic,” asked Miss Digger.
“No. No. I am now—what shall I say—very romantic,” answered Nut.
* * *
—
Finally they reached the beer-place.
They sat down. A waiter came and mentioned all those fancy names. Mr. Nut ordered: “Beer! Nothing but beer! Beer for fifty cents! No more! No less!”
As the beer began to be poured from the pitcher to the glass, he thought that they had had the first act of a romance on the way to this place. Now the second act had just begun. And the third act was yet to come.
He moved the glass to Miss Digger. Then he filled his own glass. They drank together.
While they were drinking Mr. Nut was figuring. Twenty cents he had paid in the cafeteria. Now fifty cents for the beer. And a few cents more for a tip. The whole evening would not cost him more than a dollar. He would still have eleven dollars left. He would still have money for his rent, laundry and the expenses of the rest of the week. He was safe.
When Miss Digger finished the glass, she told Mr. Nut that the beer was all too light for her and if he didn’t mind she would like to have a glass of mixed drinks. Yes, Mr. Nut did mind. But Mr. Nut could not afford to say so.
He thought that one glass of mixed drinks might cost him just another fifty cents more. And that he would still have ten dollars and fifty cents left.
Nut ordered the mixed drinks for Miss Digger. He stuck to beer himself.
Miss Digger finished the mixed drinks. She flattered Nut a little, and asked for another glass—got it and drank it. But Nut could not understand how she could finish those two glasses so easily, easier than he did his beer.
Suddenly Miss Digger looked drunk, rang the table bell drunkenly and without asking Mr. Nut, ordered one glass after another. Now Mr. Nut had to tell her that he had only eleven dollars. He did tell her.
Miss Digger, on hearing this, suddenly changed her face and said to him:
“So you tell me you have only eleven dollars. Why don’t you tell me the real reason. The real reason is that you’re a piker13 and a cheap one, the kind that doesn’t want to spend one rusty penny on a girl! You don’t deserve to go with any girl, you cheapskate, you! I hope you’ll have enough money to go with others! You’ll get yours! You haven’t got hold of the right party yet! And when you do, God pity you . . .”
The check was coming. Exactly eleven dollars.
That was the story of what had happened to Mr. Nut three months ago, while he was working.
* * *
—
Tonight Miss Digger entered the cafeteria again.
Miss Digger took a seat at the table of Mr. Nut and Mr. Wiseguy.
Mr. Nut saw Miss Digger entering and sitting at his table. She sat opposite to Mr. Nut and just opposite to Mr. Wiseguy.
But Mr. Nut no longer had the feeling of not enough.
X:
OUT IN A NO-WAY-OUT WAY
“A ten-cent check,
I had my coffee an’
I have only a nickel
In my hand.”
It was a quarter to eleven. A Scottsboro Defense meeting in Irving Plaza had just adjourned.14 Communists and sympathizers, a whole crowd, passed by the window. Many went home directly. Many came into the cafeteria and Comrade Stubborn was one of the people who came in.
* * *
—
Stubborn noticed and was interested in Mr. Nut right away. When she had met him in the Party cafeteria to get a contribution from him, he had been bourgeois-looking. Now he seemed much more proletarian. And he had a Communist Children’s Magazine. What progress in a period of three months!
She moved to the empty seat just across from Mr. Nut.
She didn’t talk to Mr. Nut right away. She acted as if she could not get any other seat and that therefore she had to sit there.
* * *
—
Mr. Nut knew that this girl whom he had met twice, three months ago in the Communist cafeteria, was coming again to sell him some propaganda stuff. Since that Russian Brat had caused him enough trouble already early that evening, he had to be careful this time. So he held the Communist Children’s Magazine high in order to hide from Stubborn.
* * *
—
Miss Digger looked at Stubborn attentively as if she had met her somewhere before.
She looked.
She looked.
Finally Miss Digger asked:
“Are you the girl who two years ago worked in the same movie-house where I worked? Didn’t you, two weeks after you came, slap the boss, Mr. System, and leave? Tell me, are you Stubborn?”
“Yes. Stubborn is my name.”
“For heaven’s sake! Oh, gee! I am so glad to see you again. I’m Miss Digger. I knew you had become a Communist. But I never saw you here before. I am so glad. Oh, gee! Life in New York is so funny. Coming together and separating are so uncertain. Oh, what a machine age!”15
“Miss Digger, I’m so glad to see you,” answered Stubborn.
“What has become of your professor-back? How did you straighten that out, Stubborn?” Miss Digger used her hand to feel Stubborn’s back, who was sitting beside her.
“If I can’t straighten out a professor-back, how am I going to straighten out this crooked world?”
“That is great. Sounds heroic. Oh, gee!” commented Miss Digger jokingly.
“I’m sorry. I meant how are we going to straighten out this crooked world,” added Stubborn apologetically.
“That’s right! We . . . the people . . .” Mr. Wiseguy interrupted with his Oxford and Harvard accent.
“No, I mean we, the WORKERS, are going to straighten out this crooked world,” said Stubborn scientifically.
“Don’t you see I am a Socialist. Here is the New Leader,16 our paper.”
“No, I would not read that yellow sheet,” replied Stubborn, revolutionarily.
“That is the trouble with you Communists. You’re so fanatic!” said Mr. Wiseguy.
“Say, Mister,” demanded Stubborn, “Can’t you cut out that Oxford and Harvard accent. It hurts me.”
“That is the trouble with you radicals. You fight too much among yourselves. If you so-called workers stopped hitting one another and worked together, maybe, some day, you’d get somewhere,” remarked Miss Digger, compromisingly and broadmindedly.
* * *
—
At this moment Mr. Wiseguy thought that now his opportunity had come to show his generosity in the presence of two girls. So he opened his leather billfold and took a nickel out of it and told Mr. Nut: “Here is a nickel, which I’d like to give you. Now you have ten cents in your pocket and ten cents on your check. You can go out. And get some fresh air outside. It’s not a loan. I am running no bank. I just give it to you.”
Oh, boy, how much prestige this nickel might bring to him—Mr. Wiseguy.
Hearing this, Mr. Nut suddenly became Nut-like and exclaimed to Mr. Wiseguy: “This won’t do. If you don’t want to give me a dollar, don’t give me a nickel. I want no charity. I want a loan. I am no bum. I am just a worker who is out of a job. That is all! You know how damn little you’ve spent on me before this. And Miss Digger, you should take off that sarcastic smile. You know why!”
“That’s O.K. to me! That saves me a nickel. A nickel is five cents.” Mr. Wiseguy took the nickel back, looked at it, at Miss Digger and said to himself: “It served the
purpose.”
“Say, Comrade,” said Stubborn, “you contributed twenty-five cents for the Scottsboro Defense Fund in the Party Cafeteria. I can help you to a nickel. I wish I had more.”
“You helped black people, now black people help you,” said a Negro, who had been selling a Communist paper outside and had come in for coffee.
“Say, Comrade, if you are out of work, why don’t you join the Unemployed Council?” Stubborn said again, while she was handing Mr. Nut the nickel.
“I, Nut, will take no money from a girl. I’ll take no money from a Red. I won’t sell my Flag for five cents. I will take no money from a black man. I won’t disgrace the white race! I’m just out of work and just happened to lose my dime. I won’t pay the check. Send the check to Wall Street. Send the check to J. P. Morgan!17 What can the boss of this cafeteria do? Call the police? I’ll go to the Police Station! That’s O.K. I’ve got no place to go to, anyhow!”
* * *
—
When Mr. Nut began making noise, the boss, Mr. System, signaled with his eyes to the gangster and the dicks18 who were inside of the cafeteria, to give Mr. Nut a few punches right away.
Two policemen came in. They took Nut outside and hit him just in front of the window-glass of the cafeteria, so that the patrons inside could see what happened. This prevented Nut’s blood from soiling the cafeteria floor and at the same time warned others what would happen if they did not pay their checks.
Some who went outside to help Mr. Nut were clubbed also. Among them were Stubborn, a Negro and a worker in that very cafeteria.
The worker, besides, lost his job next day, because he had minded somebody else’s business.
A few curious spectators also got hurt, accidentally.
* * *
—
Mr. Nut now began to realize that the policeman’s Irish club clubbed his very Anglo-Saxon, Teutonic and Yankee head the same as other heads.