Kitabı oxu: «Once Upon a Time in America (The Hoods) / Однажды в Америке (Бандиты)»

© Шитова Л. Ф., адаптация, сокращение, словарь, 2022

© ООО «ИД «Антология», 2022

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Chapter 1

Cockeye Hymie leaned across his desk. “Hey, Max. Listen, will yuh¹, Max?” he pleaded.

Big Maxie looked at our teacher, old Safety-Pin Mons, sitting sternly at her desk at the head of our seventh grade class. He put his paper-bound Western on his lap and looked disgustedly at Cockeye. His eyes were sharp and direct; his manner, calm and authoritative. His tone was scornful.

“Why don’t you just read your book and shut up?”

He picked up his Western and muttered, “Pain in the ass².”

Cockeye gave Maxie a hurt look. He slouched in his seat, feeling abused. Maxie eyed him good humoredly over the top of his book.

He whispered, “All right, all right, Cockeye, what’s on your mind?” Cockeye hesitated.

“I dunno. I was just thinking,” he said.

“Thinking? About what?” Max was getting impatient.

“How about we skip school³ and go out West and join up with Jesse James and his gang?”

Big Maxie gave Cockeye a look of deep disgust. He stretched his long muscular arms, far above his head. He yawned, and nudged me with his knee. In wise-guy fashion he spoke through the corner of his mouth: “Hey, Noodles, did you hear the dumb cluck⁴? Go ahead, you talk to him. Jesus, what a schmuck⁵.”

I leaned over to Cockeye, with my usual sneer of superiority, and said: “Why don’t you use your noodle⁶? Them guys are dead, long ago.”

“Dead?” Cockeye repeated, depressed.

“Yeh, dead, you cluck,” I sneered.

He said, “You know everything. You got some noodle on your shoulders. Hey, Noodles?” I ate up his flattery. “You’re smart, that’s why they call you Noodles, hey, Noodles?” He laughed again in the same fawning manner.

I shrugged in false modesty, and turned to Max, “What else can you expect from a putsy⁷ like Cockeye?”

“Expect what, about Cockeye, Noodles?” tough-looking Patsy asked. He sat on the other side of Max.

Miss Mons shot a warning angry glance in our direction. We ignored her.

Patsy brushed his black hair away from his bushy eyebrows. He asked: “What did the stupid cluck say this time?”

Fat little Dominick, closest to Cockeye, gave the information. In his high-pitched voice he said, “He wants to go out West and join the Jesse James Mob. He wants to ride a horsey.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue.

Cockeye smirked in embarrassment. “Aw, fellas, cut it out, I was only kidding.”

“Pssst. The old battle axe⁸,” Patsy whispered.

An enormous disheveled figure came down the aisle. Her big hips were covered with a multitude of black skirts fastened with safety pins. She stood looming over us. “You – good-for-nothing⁹ young tramps – what are you up to¹⁰?”

Miss Mons was bursting with rage¹¹. She snatched the Western thriller out of Cockeye’s hands. “You… you… hoodlums! You… you… gangsters! You… you… East Side bums¹², reading such trash! Give me that filthy literature immediately.”

She stuck her hand under Maxie’s nose. Slowly, impudently, Maxie folded the Western and put it in his back pocket.

“Give me that book instantly!” She stamped her foot¹³ savagely.

Maxie smiled sweetly up at her. “Kish mir in tauchess¹⁴, dear Teacher,” he said in distinct Yiddish¹⁵.

I could see by her shocked expression she understood what part of the anatomy Max wanted her to kiss.

For a second the class sat in shocked silence. Then a chorus of suppressed giggling started. For a moment she glared angrily around the room. Then she retreated to her desk, her backside bouncing in angry rhythm.

Dominick slapped his left hand on the middle of his stiflyf extended right arm: an obscene Italian gesture.

Maxie made a vulgar noise through the side of his mouth. The whole class broke into a laughter. Miss Mons stood in front of her desk watching the noisy scene. She was shaking in uncontrolled fury. After a moment she became quiet and cleared her throat. The class became still.

“You five hoodlums will get your just deserts¹⁶,” she said. “All through the past term I have had to put up with your filthy, vulgar East Side conduct. Never in my entire teaching career have I come across such vicious young gangsters. No, I am mistaken.” A triumphant smile played on her lips. “Years back I had some scalawags¹⁷ of like character.” Her self-satisfied smile broadened. “And I read in last night’s paper all about the illustrious end of two of them. They were rufaif ns exactly like you.” She pointed her finger dramatically at us. “I’m sure that you five, in due time¹⁸, will also complete your careers in the same manner as those two – in the electric chair!”

Our teacher took a heavy brass watch out of the folds of her black skirt. “Thank goodness, only fifteen more minutes before the bell,” she said.

She sat looking at us with a half smile on her face, pleased, enjoying the end she had predicted for us.

Maxie took his Western out of his back pocket. With an insolent look at the teacher he slouched down behind his desk. The rest of the class went back to work.

I listened to the familiar noise of New York’s lower East Side through the open window: the outside commotion was like a dissonant operetta. The police trafifc whistle was the orchestra conductor’s starting signal. The blare of truck and passenger car horns were the wind instruments¹⁹ playing up and down the scale²⁰. The whining of hungry or sick infants was the sad music of the violins, and the distant rumble of the trains was the beat of the bass viol²¹. The mixture of voices in a lot of dialects was the background chorus, and the thunderous singsong of the peddler calling his wares, was the male lead.

Forever after these sounds of the streets of the East Side stayed in my memory.

I came back to reality after a few moments. I looked around at Big Maxie, Patsy, Dominick and Cockeye Hymie, wondering what they were thinking. I visualized all of us on horses, six-shooters²² in our hands. That would be fun, I thought. I laughed to myself – me, Noodles, having kid ideas. Another few months I’ll come of age²³. And I still have these silly thoughts, like Cockeye Hymie. I laughed to myself.

“What’s funny, Noodles?” Max put his book away and looked at me. “Nuthin’, just thinkin’. I dunno²⁴ – about Cockeye joining the Jesse James Gang.”

“Yep, pretty dumb, that Cockeye. We join up with them, them small town guys.” Maxie smirked. “When we get started, we’ll show them.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “We’ll make a million bucks robbing banks and then quit.”

Dominick asked, “A million for the five of us, Max?”

“Nah, a million apiece²⁵. How would you like a million bucks, Noodles?” Maxie was very serious.

“A million? Yeh, I would like it, but maybe a half a million is enough and we quit. A million bucks is a lot of bucks, Maxie,” I said.

“Maybe a half million is a lot of bucks for some guys, but for me it’s gonna be a million.” Max looked defiant.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeh, all right, so we’ll go out for a million. What the hell’s the difference now?”

“We gonna quit when we get a million?” Patsy asked.

“Yep, we’ll quit and move up to the Bronx and be big shots²⁶.” Maxie’s tone was final.

“Hey, fellas.” Cockeye leaned over. “How much is a million bucks?”

Maxie slapped his head in disgust. “How d’ya like that question? The guy is past thirteen and he asks how much is a million bucks?”

Dominick cut in, “Cockeye, you’re a real cluck, a million bucks is a million bucks.” “Yeh, that’s right,” Cockeye smiled, “but how much is it? You tell me, Dommie. How many thousands?”

Dominick scratched his head. “I think a million is ten thousand bucks.”

“Whattcha²⁷ talkin’ about, it’s more than fifty thousand, ain’t it, Noodles?” Patsy jeered.

I was proud. I knew all the answers. That’s why they called me Noodles. I said importantly, “It’s ten hundred thousand bucks!”

Pat smiled. “Yeh, I was just gonna say that.”

The bell rang; we grabbed our books. The rest of the pupils stood respectfully to one side as we made for the door. Miss Mons stood up. She put her hand out to stop me as I passed.

“You!” she said authoritatively. “Who, me?”

I was ready to push her aside. Maxie stood beside me ready to help. “Yes, you, young man. Mr. O’Brien wants to talk to you.”

“The principal, again?” I said in dismay. “What for?”

“None of your questions, young man. You just march upstairs.”

I turned to Maxie. “Wait for me, I’ll run up and see what the old cluck wants.”

Max walked with me to the stairway. “We’ll be outside if you need any help,” he said. “Holler and we’ll come up and throw the old bum out the window.”

“Nah, he’s all right, he ain’t such a bad guy, this O’Brien.” “Yep, for a principal he ain’t too bad,” Max agreed.

He walked outside. I waited until he was out of sight. I did not want him to see me take my cap off. I knocked on the door. A pleasant bass voice said, “Come in, please.”

I stood politely at the open doorway. “Did you want to see me, Mr. O’Brien?” I said.

“Yes, yes, come in.”

His large red face smiled a welcome. “Come in and shut the door. Have a chair, young man. I was looking through some of your test papers; they are very good.”

He looked at me. He frowned. “But your application for work papers²⁸ is a disappointment to me.”

I sat opposite him, feeling uncomfortabe. He pushed his chair away from his desk and tilted his chair, rocking back and forth with his hands behind his head.

He took his time about talking.²⁹ He just looked at me. Then suddenly he stopped rocking and leaned across his desk.

“According to your school reports, you are an exceptionally intelligent boy. I thought I would talk to you —”

He stood up and began pacing the floor. “Now don’t take this as another lecture. You haven’t many more months of school here, so your behavior one way or another isn’t too important to us – but,” he raised a finger dramatically, “your conduct from here on is very important to you and to you alone. This moment may be a turning point³⁰ in your life. I repeat, if you weren’t an intelligent boy, I wouldn’t try to make you understand the road you and your companions are following – the road that leads to no good. Believe me.” He said it earnestly.

I sat thinking, let the old man talk himself out. What does he know about boys, an old guy like him? Yeh, he’s at least forty-five with one foot in the grave. He’s a good Irishman, though. And for a principal he’s the best we ever had.

The principal continued, “Your environment is partly to blame. Do you understand what I mean by environment?”

For a moment I forgot myself. “Do I know what environment means?” I sneered. He laughed. “I forgot, you’re the one they call Noodles; you know everything.” Quickly, I changed my manner. I mumbled, “Environment. You mean the East Side?”

“Well, yes and no. Very many successful and good people have been born and brought up in this neighborhood.” He stopped and looked at me for a moment. “The last scrap³¹ you and your friends were in – what was the real reason for it? Why did you boys do it?”

I shrugged.

“Do you know what I’m referring to?”

I shook my head. I was lying. My face was burning. How did he know about it? “You know what I’m referring to.” His voice sharpened.

“I’m talking about Schwartz’ candy store, the one you and your friends broke into a few days ago.”

I wanted to sink through the floor³². So he knew. So the hell with him³³.

“Don’t you realize that if it wasn’t for your rabbi and the priest of your Catholic friends, and a little help from me, you boys would have been sent to an institution of correction³⁴?”

I shrugged. That’s what he thinks, the cluck. He don’t know who squared the rap³⁵ for us. I wonder if I should tell him it was Big Maxie’s uncle, the undertaker, who squared it? He went to Monk, the gangster, and Monk went to the Tammany district leader, and he’s the guy who gave the judge his orders, before the rabbi, the priest, or O’Brien ever spoke to him. Dumb clucks, all of them. Monk and the district leader – there’s two guys to keep in with. They’re everybody’s boss – police, judges, everybody.

“I’m talking to you, young man. Why don’t you answer?”

I shrugged my shoulders. I couldn’t look him in the face. He continued pacing up and down. “I ask you, why did you do it? For the mischief? The money? Tell me, boy, do you get any spending money from your parents?” “Sometimes, when my father works,” I muttered.

“Is he working now?” I shook my head.

“How many times have I told you it is impolite to shake your head or shrug your shoulders. Speak up.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

He threw up his hands in despair. “Oh well – there’s another thing I’d like to know.” He hesitated for a moment. “All term I have been curious why it is you and your companions do not eat the hot free lunches provided for in the school? Instead, I have noticed you boys play basketball in the yard every day at lunchtime. You’re pretty slim, and I imagine you could do with³⁶ hot soup at midday.” His tone was kindly and hesitant. “Tell me, is it because it isn’t what you call kosher?”

I shook my head. “Nah, it don’t mean a thing to me, kosher.” “Why then? I’m interested to know. What’s wrong with the lunch?” “Soup,” I said derisively.

“Soup?”

“Yeh, charity soup,” I muttered.

“Hmmmm… yes, unfortunately, it does seem that soup and bread is the main dish to be supplied free of charge³⁷.”

“Soup schools,” I said contemptuously.

He smiled sadly. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard that before. Soup schools. Well, let’s forget soup for the moment, shall we?”

I nodded.

“All right, all right, where were we?” he asked, smiling. “Oh yes, your father is one of the unfortunate unemployed?”

I nodded. He shook his head sadly and sighed deeply. “That’s why you put in your application for working papers? And why you aren’t going to finish public school? You want to go to work and make money to help your family?”

“Yeh.”

“It’s very good, but wouldn’t you rather continue school?” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Well, yes or no?” I shrugged again.

“Look. I want to help you. I can help you if you change your ways. Keep away from your companions, continue going to school. Only by learning —” I cut him off. “I can’t finish school. I gotta go to work. My father ain’t working.”

“How long has your father been out of work?”

“How long? About three months.”

“Hmmmm.” O’Brien rubbed his chin. “Well, I have an idea and I’ll do it in your case. You’re intelligent and fundamentally all right.”

He hesitated. Then he added, “I think, you can still develop into a good and successful citizen. I’ll have a social agency look into your case and help your family, so that you can continue your schooling. Keep away from bad companions.” A confident smile broke over his face. He thought he’d solved the problem. “Well? Isn’t that a good thing? They will help you to help yourself. You will continue your studies, and by behaving yourself you can succeed. I see you’re pretty good in mathematics. Why not continue and try to be a bookkeeper, possibly an accountant? Specialized knowledge is like a sharp knife. It will help you cut your way through the problems of life to your goal. To success. You understand what I mean?”

Yeh, I knew what he meant, but I played dumb³⁸. “Yeh, I’ll get myself a big knife,” I said.

He got angry for the first time.

“Damn your stupidity,” he exploded. “I thought you knew what I was talking about.”

I shrugged. I was getting annoyed.

“Well?” his voice was agitated.

“What?” I made out I didn’t understand.

He stared at me. I lowered my eyes. Then he knew that I understood what he meant.

Yeh, I knew what he meant. He wanted me to continue school, break away from Max and miss out on the million bucks we’re gonna make on heists and everything. I’m gonna get help from a social agency? Huh! Everybody will look down on us. Charity, feh. What good is education? I had enough for what I wanted to do. I can write. I know arithmetic. I can read. I’m smart. I use my noodle. Yeh, that’s why people call me Noodles. Yeh, and I’ll get me a real sharp knife. That’ll be my knife of specialized knowledge.

O’Brien stood in front of me, a stern expression on his face.

I stood up. I felt heroic. “I don’t want or need your charity. I’m quitting school.”

He was a pretty good guy. I felt sorry for him. He seemed so sad for me, for all of us kids.

“All right, all right, that’s all, son.” He patted me on the back. I walked towards the door.

I turned and said, “Well, will I get my working papers?”

He didn’t answer. He just looked at me and sighed hopelessly. I was insistent. “I want them, Mr. O’Brien,” I said.

He nodded sadly. “You will have them.” My friends were waiting downstairs.

“What did the old cluck want?” Maxie asked.

“Nothing much. He was talking to himself mostly. He wanted me to continue school.”

We walked down the street. Suddenly, we stopped and stared: there was the biggest man in the world. He was bigger in our eyes than George Washington was to most school kids. He was looking right at us.

“Hello, kids,” he said.

We stopped in awe³⁹. Maxie answered, “Hello, Monk.” It was Monk, the toughest man on the East Side, and, as far as we were concerned⁴⁰, in the world.

“I want you kids to do me a favor⁴¹,” Monk said.

“Anything you say, Monk,” Max said.

“O.K., follow me.” He gestured with his hand.

We would have followed our hero to hell if he had ordered. He led us into a saloon on Ludlow Street where ten husky guys were sitting around drinking beer.

Monk laughed and said to them, “How do you like my new gang?”

They looked at us and smiled. “Tough looking gang, all right, Monk. How about some beer, kids?” one of them said.

It was the first time we had drunk the stuf.f It tasted awful, but we drained our glasses, feeling a little dizzy and important.

Monk Eastman explained what he wanted us for. We were given two baseball bats each and told to meet him and his gang in Jackson Street Park. A gang of Irish hoodlums⁴² had made a habit of coming to the park and annoying the old Jews who met there. This time, the Irish were in for a surprise⁴³. Monk had gathered together the ace man from every neighborhood on the East Side for this event. It was an all-star gang, all big-name guys.

If Monk and his men were to carry the bats through the streets and into the park, it would be a giveaway⁴⁴ to the cops and to the Irish mob. That was the reason we were invited along.

Monk and his men got into the park one by one. They sat on benches, with the older members of their religion, took Jewish newspapers out of their pockets, and buried their heads deep in the papers so they wouldn’t be recognized. We stood a little distance away ready with the bats. We didn’t have long to wait. From the river side of the park we saw the Irish coming – about fifteen tough-looking guys. Immediately, the religious Jews left the park.

Abie Cabbagehead, one of Monk’s gang, was closest to the advancing mob⁴⁵. Abie was famous for his large head, which wasn’t soft like a cabbage. It was as hard as a rock. The biggest of the Irish gang walked over to Abie and growled, “Out of the park, you goddamn kike⁴⁶.”

Abie rose slowly from the bench, as though he was about to leave. Then, with his head lowered, he charged in like a bull⁴⁷. We didn’t wait for any signal from Monk. We ran in with the bats. Monk and his men jumped off their benches. Each grabbed a bat from us, and the slaughter began. We stood watching, with rocks in our hands. If an Irish head came into view, the five of us would conk⁴⁸ him. We were having a hell of a good time.

That’s where we first laid eyes on Pipy, Jake the Goniff, and Goo-Goo. Maxie was the first one to notice something strange. Three kids about our own age were jumping in and out of the thickest part of the fighting. Max said to me, “Watch them, they’re working together. They’re up to something⁴⁹, sure enough.”

They would be in the middle of one fighting group; then they would break away and dive into another.

I said, “They aren’t fighting, what are they up to?” Maxie shrugged his shoulders.

The police wagon finally came along, the cops in their high helmets swinging their clubs. Everybody who could, ran.

Maxie and I grabbed a bat apiece. Max shouted for the rest to follow, and we started chasing the kids. We cornered them by the East River.

“Didn’t we have enough fighting? Let’s be friends,” one of them said.

He stuck his hand out, introducing himself. “My friends call me Pipy, and these are my two pals, Jakie and Goo-Goo.”

Maxie said, “Noodles, go through their pockets.”

I gave Patsy my bat. We were amazed at what their pockets held. There were three wallets and four watches. We took the money out of the wallets, about twenty-six dollars. Maxie handed Pipy, Jake and Goo-Goo two bucks each. After considering a moment, he threw them each a buck more.

Jake the Goniff was a tall kid. Pipy was short and stunted. Goo-Goo was squat with enormous, questioning popeyes. They were so difef rent in appearance, I thought them a peculiar combination. But underneath they were alike. They were beginners from different countries, but with the same humor and instinct for thievery.

Then we stood around listening to some of Pipy’s deeds. That was our mistake. Whitey, the cop, came running over. First he hit Jake on the backside with his club.

“Hand over those wallets and watches,” he said.

He went through our pockets. He took all our newfound possessions. “Go ahead, beat it⁵⁰ before I lock you up,” he said. Sullenly we walked away.

“That goddamn Whitey,” Maxie muttered bitterly, “he’s a crook⁵¹. I’ll bet he don’t turn that stuff back. He keeps it for himself.”

“What did you think?” I said sarcastically. “Don’t you know everybody’s a crook? Everybody’s illegit⁵²?”

“Yep, you’re right,” Maxie said.

“Hope to see you fellows again,” Pipy grinned at us. He, Jake, and Goo-Goo walked away in the direction of Broome Street.

“Yeh, come around,” I called to them. “We hang around in Gelly’s candy store on Delancey Street.”

“Yeh, we’ll be seeing yuh⁵³,” Jake the Goniff called back. We walked down the street. We had already forgotten the unpleasant episode with Whitey.

It was Friday afternoon. The sun, the streets, the people, everything seemed different on a Friday afternoon. We were happy and carefree. We had all eternity before us: two whole holidays, wonderful days with no school. I was hungry, and tonight we ate the big meal of the week – the meal of the Sabbath⁵⁴, the only substantial meal of the week. No stale bread rubbed with garlic, washed down with tea tonight. Momma baked. And there’s hot chaleh bread⁵⁵ and gefuellte fish⁵⁶ and fresh horseradish for supper. My mouth was watering.⁵⁷ Boy, was I hungry.

We walked through Orchard Street, where the pushcart peddlers were gathering up their wares to get home early for the Sabbath. They eyed us warily. They recognized us. After a few sly maneuvers, Max and Patsy clipped an orange apiece. The peddler shouted curses after us as we ran.

As we shared the oranges we strolled into Delancey Street, the street I lived in. “There’s Peggy,” Cockeye stuttered excitedly.

On my stoop, leaning against the door, was blonde Peggy, the janitor’s daughter.

“Hi, boys! Give me a piece of that orange, Noodles,” she called out. “I’ll give you a piece of my orange if you give me a piece of your…”

Patsy didn’t finish his sentence; he stood there smiling hopefully up at her.

“Fresh boy.” She was giggling, pleased with the idea. She waved him away. “Later, not now, get lost⁵⁸. But not for an orange, bring me a charlotte russe⁵⁹ if you want me to give you a good one.”

I walked past Peggy, giving her a feel⁶⁰.

“Oh, Noodles, stop it, not here, let’s go under the staircase,” she whispered. I was young. I said, “Not now, I’m hungry.”

Maxie shouted after me, “Meet us at Gelly’s after supper, Noodles.” “I’ll be there!” I shouted back.

I ran up the five flights of creaky stairs into our dark flat. It was full of nice baking smells.

“Supper ready, Momma?” I yelled as I threw my books in a corner. “It’s you, my good boy?”

“Yes, Ma, I asked is supper ready?”

“You asked?”

“Yes, Ma, I asked is supper ready?”

“Yes, yes, it’s ready, but wait till Poppa and your brother come home from schul⁶¹ and I light the candles.”

“I’m hungry, Ma. Why do I have to wait for the candles, and Poppa?” “Because if you was like Poppa and your brother, you wouldn’t be in trouble all the time, and maybe you wouldn’t be so hungry all the time, and think of schul once in awhile, maybe.”

Momma gave a deep sigh.

“I think of food, and making money, a lot of money, Ma, a million dollars.”

“A million dollars? You’re so foolish, sonny, believe me. For the millionairies is the million dollars; for the poor people is the schul. Now don’t bother me, please, I have to finish the wash so we can all take baths in the washtub before we have dinner. And don’t forget to remind me: I got to rinse your head with kerosene.” “Did Poppa borrow any money for the rent, Ma?”

I could hear Momma sighing deeply from the kitchen.

“No, sonny.”

I picked up a copy of Robin Hood that Maxie had loaned me and began reading it over again. I was a hungry reader. I would read anything I could get my hands on.

I could still hear Momma rubbing clothes at the washtub. Gradually the light grew dim. It was difcif ult to read by it. I struck a match and climbed on a chair. I tried to turn the gas on, but no gas came out of the fixture. I called out, “Ma, there’s no gas.”

She sighed heavily. “I used it all up for the baking and the hot water for the wash.” “So give me a quarter⁶² for the meter, Ma.”

“I’m sorry, sonny, the quarter I can’t spare.”

I slammed the door and went out to the hall toilet used by all six of the families living on the same floor. In a hidden niche above the watercloset, I had a box of cigarette butts I had collected from the gutters. I smoked three butts to kill my appetite.

I heard footsteps coming my way. I waited hopefully. The toilet door opened. Yes, it was Fanny, who lived down the hall. She was my age.

“Oh, it’s you. Why don’t you lock the door like you’re supposed to?”

She smiled coquettishly.

I bowed mockingly. “Come in, come in, said the spider to the fly.”

She stood in the doorway smiling. “What for, you fresh thing, so you can feel me all over with your fresh hands?”

She giggled. She put her hands on her wide hips and swayed back and forth. She smiled provocatively. Her tight short dress demonstrated her plump round breasts and her fat, full little figure. It got me all excited. I reached down through the top of her dress. I fondled her warm, smooth young breasts. Gently I squeezed her nipples. She swayed with her eyes closed, breathing quickly.

“Come in,” I whispered in anxious excitement, “so I can lock the door and play around good with you.”

I grabbed her around her soft, large buttocks and pulled her in with me. I was about to lock the door. A deep bellow sounded from the other end of the hall.

“Fanny, Fanny, hurry up with the toilet.”

Fanny whispered, “That’s my Momma. Better leave me go. I’ll let you play with me some other time.”

I was reluctant to let her go. I was too excited.

I went downstairs, hoping to meet Peggy. I went down the cellar. I looked on the roof. She was nowhere around. Disappointedly I stood on the stoop watching the girls, making obscene remarks as they passed by.

Big Maxie came hurriedly along. He waved to me. “Come on, Noodles.” I ran down the stoop.

“What’s up, Max?” I asked.

“Come on, we grab a ride with my uncle.”

“The uncle picking up a stiff⁶³ with the hearse?” I asked delightedly.

“Yep; up in Harlem. Madison Avenue. We give him a hand.⁶⁴ He’s got an unexpected job.”

We reached the office all out of breath, just in time to give his uncle, the undertaker, a hand carrying the long wicker basket out to the hearse. Proudly we sat on the large front seat. Driving on upper Fifth Avenue along the park, Maxie’s uncle pointed out the rich homes.

Sarcastically, he commented, “Just like down the East Side. I’ll bet they’ve barely got enough to eat in those houses.”

The remark reminded me of my chronic hunger. I whispered to Max, “Maybe we can promote your uncle for some hot dogs or something.”

Maxie nodded and winked. He nudged me. “Some day we’ll be able to buy plenty of hot dogs.”

“It can’t be too quick for me,” I said.

“You kids like a couple of hot dogs?” Maxie’s uncle grinned. “O.K., I can take a hint⁶⁵, after we pick the stiff up.”

Riding back to the East Side after we had picked up the stif,f Maxie’s uncle stopped at a hot dog wagon and bought us each two frankfurters. We leaned against the hearse, eating our hot dogs. Back in the hearse, as a joke he handed us cigars. To his surprise, we took them, lit up and puffed away. He chuckled in admiration.

“You kids are okay.” We helped him into the funeral parlor with the body. “Thanks, boys.” Then he chuckled and corrected himself, “Thanks, men.” He tossed us each a quarter.

Maxie said, “Glad to have been a help to you, uncle. Any time you need us, let me know.”

He looked fondly at Max. “You’re growing up to be a big boy.” He patted him affectionately.

“Thanks for the ride and everything,” I said.

“Not at all,” he said. “So long, men.” He smiled after us.

We walked into Gelly’s candy store smoking the cigars, feeling like men of the world. Patsy, Dominick and Cockeye were already there, waiting for us. Patsy called out, “Hey, big shots, where you been?”

Maxie tossed his quarter on the counter and said, “Malteds⁶⁶ and charlotte russes for everybody.”

Gelly’s son, Fat Moe, was behind the counter, with a dirty apron around his large middle. He picked up and examined the quarter.

We sat on the stools loudly sucking the whipped cream off our charlotte russe cakes. We watched the electric malted machines whirl; they were the newest sensation on the East Side.

Jake the Goniff, Goo-Goo and Pipy, our new found friends came in. We exchanged hellos and gave them a sip each from our malteds. Pipy suggested, “Try a riddle on them, Jake.”