They Shoot Horses, Don't They?

by Horace McCoy

  ‘Have we?’

  ‘Well, you don’t seem to think so,’ I said.

  She shook her head, not saying anything to that. ‘More and more and more I wish I was dead,’ she said.

  There it was again. No matter what I talked about she always got back to that. ‘Isn’t there something I can talk about that won’t remind you that you wish you were dead?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘I give up,’ I said.

  Somebody on the platform turned the radio down. The music sounded like music now. (We used the radio all the time the orchestra wasn’t there. This was in the afternoon. The orchestra came only at night.) ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Rocky said into the microphone, ‘I have the honour to announce that two sponsors have come forward to sponsor two couples. The Pompadour Beauty Shop, of 415 Avenue B, will sponsor Couple No. 13—James and Ruby Bates. Let’s give the Pompadour Beauty Shop, of 415 Avenue B, a big hand for this, ladies and gentlemen—you too, kids …

  Everybody applauded.

  ‘The second couple to be sponsored,’ Rocky said, ‘is No. 34, Pedro Ortego and Lillian Bacon. They are sponsored by the Oceanic Garage. All right, now, a big hand for the Oceanic Garage, located at 11,341 Ocean Walkway in Santa Monica.’

  Everybody applauded again.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Rocky said, ‘there ought to be more sponsors for these marvellous kids. Tell your friends, ladies and gentlemen, and let’s get sponsors for all the kids. Look at them, ladies and gentlemen, after 242 hours of continuous motion they are as fresh as daisies … a big hand for these marvellous kids, ladies and gentlemen.’

  There was some more applause.

  ‘And don’t forget, ladies and gentlemen,’ Rocky said, ‘there’s the Palm Garden right down there at the end of the hall where you can get delicious beverages all kinds of beer and sandwiches. Visit the Palm Garden, ladies and gentlemen …Give,’ he said to the radio, turning the knob and filling the hall with noise again.

  Gloria and I walked over to Pedro and Lillian. Pedro limped from a game leg. The story was that he had been gored in a bull ring in Mexico City. Lillian was a brunette. She too had been trying to get in the movies when she heard about the marathon dance.

  ‘Congratulations,’ I said.

  ‘It proves somebody is for us,’ Pedro said.

  ‘As long as it couldn’t be Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer it might as well be a garage,’ Lillian said. ‘Only it seems a little queer for a garage to be buying me underclothes.’

  ‘Where do you get that underclothes stuff?’ Gloria said. ‘You don’t get underclothes. You get a sweatshirt with the garage’s name across the back of it.’

  ‘I get underclothes, too,’ Lillian said.

  ‘Hey, Lillian,’ said Rollo, the floor judge, ‘the woman from the Oceanic Garage wants to talk to you.’

  ‘The what? …’ asked Lillian.

  ‘Your sponsor, Mrs Yeargan—’

  ‘For crying out loud,’ said Lillian. ‘Pedro, it looks like you get the underclothes.’

  Gloria and I walked down by the master of ceremonies’ platform. It was nice down there about this time of the afternoon. There was a big triangle of sunshine that came through the double window above the bar in the Palm Garden. It only lasted about ten minutes but during those ten minutes I moved slowly about in it (I had to move to keep from being disqualified) letting it cover me completely. It was the first time I had ever appreciated the sun. ‘When this marathon is over,’ I told myself, ‘I’m going to spend the rest of my life in the sun. I can’t wait to go to the Sahara Desert to make a picture.’ Of course, that won’t ever happen now.

  I watched the triangle on the floor get smaller and smaller.

  Finally it closed altogether and started up my legs. It crawled up my body like a living thing. When it got to my chin I stood on my toes, to keep my head in it as long as possible. I did not close my eyes. I kept them wide open, looking straight into the sun. It did not blind me at all. In a moment it was gone.

  I looked around for Gloria. She was standing at the platform, swaying from side to side, talking to Rocky, who was sitting on his haunches. Rocky was swaying too. (All the employees—the doctor, the nurses, the floor judges, the master of ceremonies, even the boys who sold soda pop—had been given orders to keep moving when they talked to one of the contestants. The management was very strict about this.)

  ‘You looked very funny standing out there on your toes,’ Gloria said. ‘You looked like a ballet dancer.’

  ‘You practise up on that and I’ll let you do a solo,’ Rocky said, laughing.

  ‘Yes,’ Gloria said. ‘How was the sun today?’

  ‘Don’t let ’em kid you,’ Mack Aston, of Couple No. 5, said as he passed by.

  ‘Rocky!’ a voice called. It was Socks Donald. Rocky got down from the platform and went to him.

  ‘I don’t think it’s very nice of you to razz me,’ I said to Gloria. ‘I don’t ever razz you.’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ she said. ‘I get razzed by an expert. God razzes me …You know what Socks Donald wants with Rocky? You want some inside information?’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘You know No. 6—Freddy and that Manski girl. Her mother is going to prefer charges against him and Socks. She ran away from home.’

  ‘I don’t see what that’s got to do with it,’ I said.

  ‘She’s jail bait,’ Gloria said. ‘She’s only about fifteen. God, with all of it running around loose it does look like a guy would have better sense.’

  ‘Why blame Freddy? It may not be his fault.’

  ‘According to the law it’s his fault,’ Gloria said. ‘That’s what counts.’

  I steered Gloria back to where Socks and Rocky were standing, trying to overhear what was being said; but they were talking too low. Rather, Socks was doing all the talking. Rocky was listening, nodding his head.

  ‘Right now,’ I heard Socks say, and Rocky nodded that he understood and came back on the floor, winking wisely to Gloria as he passed. He went to Rollo Peters and called him aside, whispering earnestly for a few seconds. Then Rollo left, looking around, as if he were trying to find somebody, and Rocky went back to the platform.

  ‘The kids only have a few minutes left before they retire for their well-earned rest period,’ Rocky announced into the microphone. ‘And while they are off the floor, ladies and gentlemen, the painters will paint the big oval on the floor for the derby tonight. The derby tonight, ladies and gentlemen: don’t forget the derby. Positively the most thrilling thing you ever saw—all right, kids, two minutes to go before you retire a little sprint, kids show the ladies and gentlemen how fresh you are—You, too, ladies and gentlemen, show these marvellous kids you’re behind them with a rally—’

  He turned up the radio a little and began clapping his hands and stamping his foot. The audience joined in the rally. All of us stepped a little more lively, but it was not because of the rally. It was because within a minute or two we got a rest period and directly after that we were to be fed.

  Gloria nudged me and I looked up to see Rollo Peters walking between Freddy and the Manski girl. I thought the Manski girl was crying, but before Gloria and I could catch up with them the siren blew and everybody made a dash for the dressing rooms.

  Freddy was standing over his cot, stuffing an extra pair of shoes into a small zipper bag.

  ‘I heard about it,’ I said. ‘I’m very sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Only she’s the one who did the raping …I’ll be all right if I can get out of town before the cops pick me up. It’s a lucky thing for me that Socks was tipped off.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

  ‘South, I guess. I’ve always had a yen to see Mexico. So long …’

  ‘So long,’ I said.

  He was gone before anybody knew it. As he went through the back door I had a glimpse of the sun glinting on the ocean. For a moment I was so astounded I could not m
ove. I do not know whether I was the more surprised at really seeing the sun for the first time in almost three weeks or discovering the door. I went over to it, hoping the sun would not be gone when I got there. The only other time I ever was this eager was one Christmas when I was a kid, the first year I was big enough to really know what Christmas was, and I went into the front room and saw the tree all lighted up.

  I opened the door. At the end of the world the sun was sinking into the ocean. It was so red and bright and hot I wondered why there was no steam. I once saw steam come out of the ocean. It was on the highway at the beach and some men were working with gun-powder. Suddenly, it exploded, setting them on fire. They ran and dived into the ocean. That was when I saw the steam.

  The colour of the sun had shot up into some thin clouds, reddening them. Out there where the sun was sinking the ocean was very calm, not looking like an ocean at all. It was lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely. Several people were fishing off the pier, not paying any attention to the sunset. They were fools. ‘You need that sunset worse than you do fish,’ I told them in my mind.

  The door flew out of my hands, slamming shut with a bang like that of a cannon going off.

  ‘Are you deaf?’ a voice yelled in my ear. It was one of the trainers. ‘Keep that door closed! You wanna be disqualified?’

  ‘I was only watching the sun set,’ I said.

  ‘Are you nuts? You ought to be asleep. You need your sleep,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t need any sleep,’ I said. ‘I feel fine. I feel better than I ever felt in my life.’

  ‘You need your rest anyway,’ he said. ‘You only got a few minutes left. Get off your feet.’

  He followed me across the floor to my cot. Now I could notice the dressing room didn’t smell so good. I am very susceptible to unpleasant odours and I wondered why I hadn’t noticed this smell before, the smell of too many men in a room. I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on my back.

  ‘You want your legs rubbed?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m all right,’ I said. ‘My legs feel fine.’

  He said something to himself and went away. I lay there, thinking about the sunset, trying to remember what colour it was. I don’t mean the red, I mean the other shades. Once or twice I almost remembered; it was like a man you once had known but now had forgotten, whose size and letters and cadence you remembered but could not quite assemble.

  Through the legs of my cot I could feel the ocean quivering against the pilings below. It rose and fell, rose and fell, went out and came back, went out and came back …

  I was glad when the siren blew, waking us up, calling us back to the floor.

  … carrying with it the extreme penalty of the law …

  chapter seven

  THE PAINTERS HAD FINISHED. They had painted a thick white line around the floor in the shape of an oval. This was the track for the derby.

  ‘Freddy’s gone,’ I said to Gloria, as we walked to the table where the sandwiches and coffee had been set up. (This was called a light lunch. We had our big meal at ten o’clock at night.)

  ‘So is the Manski girl,’ Gloria said. ‘Two welfare workers came and got her. I bet her old lady burns her cute little bottom.’

  ‘I hate to say it,’ I said, ‘but Freddy’s leaving was the brightest spot of my life.’

  ‘What had he ever done to you?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, I don’t mean that,’ I said. ‘But if he hadn’t left I wouldn’t have got to see the sunset.’

  ‘My God,’ Gloria said, looking at her sandwich. ‘Ain’t there nothing in the world but ham?’

  ‘To you that’s turkey,’ said Mack Aston, who was in line behind me. He was kidding.

  ‘Here’s a beef,’ said the nurse. ‘Would you rather have a beef?’

  Gloria took the beef sandwich, but kept the ham too. ‘Put four lumps in mine,’ she said to Rollo, who was pouring the coffee. ‘And lots of cream.’

  ‘She’s got a little horse in her,’ said Mack Aston.

  ‘Black,’ I said to Rollo.

  Gloria took her food over to the master of ceremonies’ platform where the musicians were tuning up their instruments. When Rocky Gravo saw her he jumped down on the floor and began talking to her. There wasn’t room there for me, so I went around to the opposite side.

  ‘Hello,’ said a girl. The shield on her back said: 7. She had black hair and black eyes and was rather pretty. I didn’t know her name.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, looking around, trying to see whose partner she was. He was talking to a couple of women in a front row box.

  ‘How are you making out?’ No. 7 asked. Her voice sounded as if she had been well educated.

  ‘What is she doing in this thing?’ I asked myself. ‘I guess I’m doing all right,’ I replied. ‘Only I wish it was all over and I was the winner.’

  ‘What would you do with the money if you won?’ she asked, laughing.

  ‘I’d make a picture,’ I said.

  ‘You couldn’t make much of a picture for a thousand dollars, could you?’ she asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

  ‘Oh, I don’t mean a big picture,’ I explained. ‘I mean a short. I could make a two-reeler for that, maybe three.’

  ‘You interest me,’ she said. ‘I’ve been watching you for two weeks.’

  ‘You have?’ I said, surprised.

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen you stand over there in the sun every afternoon and I’ve seen you with a thousand different expressions on your face. Sometimes I got the idea you were badly frightened.’

  ‘You must be wrong,’ I said. ‘What’s there to be frightened about?’

  ‘I overheard what you said to your partner about seeing the sunset this afternoon,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘That doesn’t prove anything,’ I said.

  ‘Suppose …’ she said, glancing around. She looked at the clock, frowning. ‘We’ve still got four minutes. Would you like to do something for me?’

  ‘Well … sure,’ I said.

  She motioned with her head and I followed her behind the master of ceremonies’ platform. This platform was about four feet high, draped with heavy, decorated canvas that fell to the floor. We were standing alone in a sort of cave that was formed by the back of the platform and a lot of signs. Except for the noise she and I might have been the only people left in the world. We were both a little excited.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. She dropped to the floor and lifted the canvas, crawling under the platform. My heart was beating rapidly and I felt the blood leave my face. Through the balls of my feet I could feel the ocean surging against the pilings below.

  ‘Come on,’ she whispered, pulling at my ankle. Suddenly I knew what she meant. There is no new experience in life. Something may happen to you that you think has never happened before, that you think is brand new, but you are mistaken. You have only to see or smell or hear or feel a certain something and you will discover that this experience you thought was new has happened before. When she pulled at my ankle, trying to get me beneath the platform, I remembered the time when another girl had done exactly the same thing. Only it was a front porch instead of a platform. I was thirteen or fourteen years old then and the girl was about the same age. Her name was Mabel and she lived next door. After school we used to play under the front porch, imagining it was a cave and we were robbers and prisoners. Later we used it to play papa and mama, imagining it was a house. But on this day I am speaking of I stood by the front porch, not thinking of Mabel or games at all, and I felt something pulling at my ankle. I looked down and there was Mabel. ‘Come on,’ she said.

  It was very dark under the platform and while I crouched there on my hands and knees trying to see through the gloom No. 7 suddenly grabbed me around the neck.

  ‘Hurry …’ she whispered.

  ‘What’s coming off here?’ growled a man’s voice. He was so close I could feel his breath against my hair. ‘Who is that?’

  I recognized the voice now. It was Rocky
Gravo’s. My stomach turned over. No. 7 let go my neck and slid out from under the platform. I was afraid if I tried to apologize or say anything Rocky would recognize my voice, so I quickly rolled under the curtain. No. 7 was already on her feet moving away, looking back over her shoulder at me. Her face was white as chalk. Neither of us spoke. We strolled onto the dance floor, trying to look very innocent. The nurse was collecting our dirty coffee cups in a basket. Then I discovered my hands and clothes were filthy with dust. I had a couple of minutes before the whistle blew, so I hurried into the dressing room to clean up. When that was done I felt better.

  ‘What a close shave that was,’ I told myself. ‘I’ll never do anything like that again.’

  I got back on the floor as the whistle blew and the orchestra began to play. This was not a very good orchestra; but it was better than the radio because you didn’t have to listen to a lot of announcers begging and pleading with you to buy something. Since I’ve been in this marathon I’ve had enough radio to last me the rest of my life. There is a radio going now, in a building across the street from the court room. It is very distinct. ‘Do you need money? …Are you in trouble? …’

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ Gloria asked, taking my arm.

  ‘I haven’t been anywhere,’ I said. ‘Feel like dancing?’

  ‘All right,’ she said. We danced once around the floor and then she stopped, ‘That’s too much like work,’ she said.

  As I took my hand from around her waist I noticed my fingers were dirty again. ‘That’s funny,’ I thought. ‘I just washed them a minute ago.’

  ‘Turn around,’ I said to Gloria.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

  ‘Turn around,’ I said.

  She hesitated, biting her lip, so I stepped behind her. She was wearing a white woollen skirt and a thin white woollen sweater. Her back was covered with thick dust and I knew where it had come from.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she said.

  ‘Stand still,’ I said. I brushed her off with my hand, knocking most of the dust and lint loose from her sweater and skirt. She did not speak for a moment or two. ‘I must have got that when I was wrestling in the dressing room with Lillian,’ she said finally.