The Hanging on Union Square
Page 16
—
“I am not at all bothered by the word ‘human,’ my dear sir,” said Mr. System. “But we have to be reasonable. We cannot afford to be antagonistic to the general public.”
“Don’t try to bluff me,” responded Mr. Wiseguy. “In the last World War, ten million men were killed and twice that number of them were crippled and became useless.9 And what did the so-called public say about this? And how many workers get killed every year because of the speed system10—and does the public get sentimental about that?” Mr. Wiseguy now combed his beard.
“Well,” inquired Mr. Ratsky, “why don’t we start another war? A war would eat up all the goods we have left and would finish up all the unemployed workers. And what an exciting game a war would be! Airplanes in the sky! Poison gas in the air. Hooray!”
“Sooner or later,” contributed Mr. System.
* * *
—
“Let’s get down to business,” remarked Mr. Wiseguy. “I don’t think the hanging alone would be so interesting. We have to do something besides.” And Wiseguy considered and considered.
* * *
—
“Well, what’s on your mind?” questioned Mr. System. “Have you discovered anything? Tell us about it and tell us quickly. Time is money!” Mr. System started looking at his watch.
* * *
—
“As a matter of statistics for the record, it will take fifteen minutes and twenty seconds to have a normal person properly and completely hanged. But during these fifteen minutes and twenty seconds, we could do lots of things. You know, we Americans like jazz. So the first few minutes, Mr. Nut could have his hands and feet—his whole body—swaying to the rhythm of a waltz. In the beginning, Mr. Nut would go slow—taking things easy. Then a fox-trot would be played—and Mr. Nut would go a little quicker. For his breathing will be shorter and he’ll naturally go quicker.—Then a tango will be played and you understand, when Mr. Nut begins to feel pain he will have to go faster and faster. And finally when there is no more breathing, and the oxygen in his system is exhausted, he will be at ease and take life just as it is. Naturally, at this time, the ‘St. Louis Blues’ should be the tune. The members of Society present on Union Square will right after this sing ‘Home, Sweet Home.’—What an entertaining program!—Indeed, an unparalleled amusement!”
Mr. Wiseguy here took out his cigarette case and had a cigarette.
“You have shown me the typewritten contract,” remarked Mr. System, “but I cannot understand why just because we use Mr. Nut, we have to let him share the profits.”
“You said it, that is what I want to know, too,” Mr. Ratsky chimed in.
“Maybe,” Wiseguy replied. On his face was an easy and sarcastic smile.
“Say things straight out, you,” exclaimed Mr. Ratsky angrily. “One more of your wise-cracks and I’ll flatten your nose.”
* * *
—
“You fellows keep quiet, for my sake,” said Mr. System pacifically.
* * *
—
“Why should we let Nut make money? Couldn’t we use some jail-bird—some guy we don’t have to pay?” Mr. Ratsky suggested, eagerly.
“The hanging of Nut,” affirmed Mr. Wiseguy, “will be called an inspiration to every ‘Forgotten Man,’ ‘Little Man,’ ‘Average Man’ and all the unemployed fellows in this country. It will give them hope and cheer!”
* * *
—
“Tell me,” protested Mr. Ratsky, “why this show has to be held in Union Square? Why not in Madison Square Garden? There are too many Reds, Socialists, Anarchists, and what not around Union Square.” This was Mr. Ratsky’s last protest.
“Just because,” answered Mr. Wiseguy, calmly, “there are so many Reds, so many Socialists, so many Anarchists and so many ‘What-Nots’, that is why every atom of the air around Union Square and every inch of the ground have been deeply cursed! We must do something to clean the un-clean. Union Square is a historical spot. Our historical adventure must take place there!” While Mr. Wiseguy did his explaining he looked at the calendar.
“Mr. Wiseguy,” said Mr. System, “I think there is too short a time in which to get things ready!”
‘‘I’m going to use what’s called American efficiency,” replied Wiseguy. “In six days God made the world. In six days, we are going to remake the world! I saw Nut on Sunday night. At twelve o’clock this Saturday night we are going to complete our job of saving the world from becoming Bolshevized. Next Sunday, we are going to rest—just as God rests.”
XXXIX:
“YOU CAN CALL ME BASTARD!”
“There is heat in the sun.
Vertically, at any time,
Horizontally, in any space,
Things must be done.”
The whole building containing the Rich Men’s Club was closely and secretly guarded.
Nut had the best teacher in town to teach him his dance steps—the preliminary Hanging Technique.
“I wish you all the good luck and success in the world, Mr. Nut,” said the dance-instructress to him in a congratulatory tone. “I hope you will make lots of money by your hanging.”
* * *
—
At this time, Mr. Wiseguy was resting on a sofa in the room.
Mr. Ratsky was snoring on another sofa.
Mr. System was watching.
* * *
—
The telephone rang.
Nut picked up the phone.
“This is the President of the North Atlantic Rope Corporation. We should like to offer the services of our ropes. We shall pay you the advertising fee at twice the New Deal rate.”
“You bastard!” Nut hung up the phone.
* * *
—
The phone rang again. Nut answered it again.
“You call me a bastard when you are hanging and I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars more.”
“You bastard,” Nut shouted laughingly.
“You should speak politely, Mr. Nut,” said Mr. System. “Good Will Means Money!”
* * *
—
The phone rang. Nut took the call once more.
“Call from the Worst Suit Company. We have the latest Parisian Designs in Monkey Coats and Donkey Trousers! Our representative will be at your place any minute.”
“Another advertising stunt!” exclaimed Nut. “Monkey Coats! Donkey Trousers!”
“A real Yankee you are!” said the dancing-instructress. And she approached Nut and held him tighter.
* * *
—
The phone rang again. Nut answered again.
“This is from the Roast Tobacco Company. Our offer is half a million dollars if you will smoke one of our cigarettes when you hang! Our representative will be down any minute!”
Again:
“This is from the Mild Tobacco Company. We will give you half a million and one cent. Our representative will be down any minute!”
Again:
“This is from the Real Tobacco Company. We will give you a half a million and one cent and a half. Our representative will be down any second!”
“I never smoked in my life,” said Nut laughingly. “I don’t need their cigarettes. And I don’t care how much money they are going to give to me. And three companies . . .”
* * *
—
“When those guys come,” said Mr. System, “we’ll sign contracts with all of them.” And Mr. System tapped the shoulder of Mr. Wiseguy, resting on the sofa. So Mr. Wiseguy began to teach Mr. Nut to smoke three cigarettes at a time—one in the left corner of his mouth, one in the right corner, and the third in the middle of his mouth.
* * *
—
Again the phone: Mr. Wiseguy answered it this time.
/> “This is the World Newspaper Syndicate calling. We want Mr. Nut to write his autobiography in a hundred thousand words. It must be completed in forty-five minutes, so we can telegraph it to our papers throughout the world for immediate printing. Our representative will be down any minute!”
“It can’t be done,” replied Mr. Wiseguy. “The time is too short.”
The Syndicate answered:
“We have plenty of autobiographies and biographies on hand. What we’ll do is change the name Dog to Beast, or Cat to Rat. That is all.”
* * *
—
Nut was still dancing. The dancing-instructress held him tighter and tighter.
“No matter how you do it, dearie,” she said to Nut charmingly, “please mention my name—did I squeeze you, darling?—at your hanging. I am going to go into vaudeville and make one thousand dollars a week—Gee! Won’t that be swell? Do you know Mrs. Diamond—Fifi to you!—Oh! Hold me tight!” the dance-instructress said as she squeezed him with all her might.
And because of her squeezing, the floor became wet—and smooth.
* * *
—
The phone rang: Mr. Nut took the call.
“I’m the president of the biggest institution of learning in the world. Because we are the biggest we are the best. The point of my words to you, however, nevertheless, is academically unacademic. May I have the honor of offering to you the highest degree of our Institution, Ph.D., L.L.B., M.M.C., Y.Y.Z.? If you can present our institution with an Endowment, we shall build a Nut Hall in which we shall teach the unemployed the trade of ‘How to Hang Profitably.’”
* * *
—
The phone rang: Mr. System took the call.
“Is that you, Mr. System? Oh, thanks a great deal for thinking of me and sending me that complimentary stock in your Hanging Corporation. I will do anything I can in the Senate and House.”
* * *
—
In the meantime Nut was getting along with his dancing nicely. Mr. Nut was acting nuttily. His eyes, however, were expressing deep thoughtfulness. He was acting nuttily as a soldier off for a war. But he was thoughtful as a soldier when he turns his gun.
* * *
—
The phone rang: Mr. System took the call.
“Mr. Nut, No, Dr. Nut! Telephone. A certain girl says, ‘Comrade’ and ‘Class-conscious’! It must be that Communist, Stubborn.”
Hearing the name “Stubborn” made Nut’s face look different.
* * *
—
To be?
Or not to be?
To be.
When the dancing instructress heard Mr. System announce that “A certain girl is talking,” she became a little bit jealous and she held Dr. Nut still tighter.
Mr. Wiseguy, hearing the announcement of Mr. System, jumped up and stopped Mr. Nut from using the phone. He took the receiver himself and said: “You Communist, Stubborn, go to hell, Stubborn!”
* * *
—
“Dr. Nut,” said Mr. System suddenly, “hide yourself quickly! The newspaper reporters and Park Avenue ladies have broken in the door. You will be mobbed. Your body will be torn into pieces. And we shall have nothing to hang on Union Square!”
XL:
THE HANGING ON UNION SQUARE
“There is heat in the sun.
Vertically, at any time,
Horizontally, in any space,
Things must be done!”
“For it is said that He will come.” Now He was coming. And coming on that day.
* * *
—
The Flagpost in the center of the Square was arranged like the conning-tower of a battleship. The stage was three feet and nine inches from the top. The top of the Flagpost was green—like a Christmas tree on Christmas Day.
The stage was big enough to hold two people.
From the top of the Flagpost, a rope ran down. A loose knot was at the end of the rope.
The loose knot of the rope was one foot below the Stage.
Not only was radio apparatus attached to the stage, but also a television mechanism to enable the world to see Him.
And, surrounding the stage, things were so arranged that the members of Society who had come were able to see Him without using opera-glasses. And the places near the stage, according to the law of Supply and Demand, had by now become unobtainable.
It was going to be a dark night. Better so. For then in about the middle of the night the stars and Mars would arise in the East and illuminate the great event.
As the night would be dark, searchlights of three different colors and from three different directions were centered on the hanging spot. Light came from one searchlight on the Empire State Building. Another searchlight was on the Tammany Hall Building and another atop the Riverside Church.11 Business, Politics and the Holy Spirit formed a new Trinity.
On the Square, the cement pavement had been so treated that it was smooth and oily; and when the members of Society danced on it, Society’s feet were keyed up and stimulated.
On the grassy spaces of the Square water-tanks were placed, so that the Square was a land and was a sea.
On the right side of the Flagpost was a stand for the diplomatic representatives of the Foreign Powers.
On the left side of the Flagpost was a stand for the Army and Navy Bands.
And, aloft, the motors and propellers of airplanes in curling motion, made a natural Air Band.
To the north and south of the Flagpost were seats for the editors of newspapers of the whole world, Russia excluded. Every detail of the hanging was to be studied and recorded.
The cheap buildings around the Square had become priceless and every inch of the territory in the Square was an inch of diamonds. For on this territory were the theater-boxes of Society, from which it could see the hanging.
Every entrance to the Square was gated. Each gate was in Napoleonic style.
But the finishing touch, and the best touch of the whole scene was the arrangement on top of the Flagpost. The last and highest touch was a Wheeling Dollar.
Across this Dollar Symbol were two mottos, namely:
“The Dollar is Might!
The Dollar is Right!”
There came the blessing of fair weather; it had been a soft and sunny day. The whole Saturday was in holiday spirit.
Everywhere one could hear:
“Prosperity is coming back!
Happy days are here again!”12
Fat, old, pearl-necked ladies were saying:
“He is coming! Our Lord!
Amen!”
At about ten o’clock all seats were taken in the Square.
Every street leading to the Square was packed.
Many persons had sandwiches in their overcoat-pockets.
Now came a parade. It was led by many and many bands. The drums beat rhythmically:
“Go to the bank, go to the bank!
Having money, you’re in First Rank.”
On the sidewalks, children were screaming.
Women fainted.
“Here’s a kiss!” a movie-crazy office-girl called. “Hello, Dr. Nut.”
“Isn’t he cute? He’s smiling,” said another.
“We’re with you! You’re making money!” said still another.
* * *
—
At half-past eleven, Nut, led by Mr. System, Mr. Wiseguy, Mr. Ratsky and Company, approached Union Square.
* * *
—
Nut was acting nuttily. His eyes, however, were expressing deep thoughtfulness. He was acting nuttily as a soldier off for a war. But he was thoughtful as a soldier when he turns his gun.
* * *
—
; They reached the base of the Flagpost.
All of Society rose. The bands played.
* * *
—
One step and then another, Mr. System and Mr. Nut ascended the ladder to the top of the Stage.
Both Mr. System and Mr. Nut wore Monkey Coats and Donkey Trousers.
“It is twelve o’clock Saturday night,” Mr. Wiseguy announced! “The Program will now begin!”
* * *
—
And now Mr. System spoke:
“Mr. God in Heaven, Ladies and Gentlemen on the Square, and Representatives of All Powers. Ladies and Gentlemen of the air:
“I, Mr. System, have the greatest pleasure in doing my duty towards saving this civilization!
“The unemployed of this country and of the world at large are day by day becoming more and more burdensome to our leading statesmen. The only way in which we can solve the problem of the unemployment is to hang all the unemployed. For otherwise they will suffer more.
“But this country is a land of freedom. And our philosophy is based on Individualism. And our motto is Profit for everybody. So today, a Forgotten Man, a Little Man, an Average Man, Mr. Nut, Dr. Nut, is doing his bit! Of his own free will, he is hanging himself on Union Square.
“His hanging is real. For he will really hang. No fake business here. Honesty is the best policy!
“What is more important is, that this hanging is a symbol. For it will give inspiration to the rest of the unemployed. And this hanging is also a challenge to the barbaric and savage system whose philosophy is based on Hate. Our system is based on Love!