Meyer Levin - Compulsion

Not merely from the Five and Ten. That dime-store game of Artie’s wasn’t much of a secret. You walked through a crowded store with Artie, and he lifted items off the counters. Or at a party Artie would whisper, “Watch this!” and lift a wallet from the pocket of some half-crocked idiot.

But here in the closet as they knelt down close together, Artie let Judd finger the wallets, emptied now, and some women’s purses, too. Dozens. The trunk bottom was covered with loot.

To no one else, Judd felt, had Artie ever revealed this secret.

That was when Artie made the plan for cleaning out the frat house in Ann Arbour.

That day, Judd felt their intimacy sealed as never before. What his Dorian was revealing to him might be interpreted by the superficial as a mild kleptomania. But these trophies were, instead, tokens of a laughing superiority to the little rules of little men. An adroit theft was like a daring insult. It would be their retort to the whole frigging frat, for everything!

And to do it was to do something real. This Saturday would be the real thing, Artie said. With real guns. Judd could take Max’s. Artie knew where it was kept, in Max’s desk. And Artie let Judd handle his own, an automatic.

Saturday would be a cinch, because the big game was in Ann Arbour. Win or lose, the brothers would be stewed and dead to the world. Even if they heard anybody moving around the house, they’d think some guys had gone to a cat house and were pulling in late, or merely that someone was going to the can. And when they woke up in the morning -! Artie only wished he were still living in the house, so he could watch the hullabaloo and the guys accusing each other!

Whispering, kneeling in the closet, they made the plans.

On Saturday, Artie came over. While Artie stood in the hall, lighting a cigarette, Judd walked into Max’s room and put Max’s pistol into his pocket, feeling a little silly, and yet somewhat scared. Because he was sure Artie would go the limit if anybody tried to interfere. And Artie was right; if you were extending your sphere of experience into this kind of deed, then you did the deed in its own terms, all the way.

There came a quick vision of himself and Artie, pistols out, backing down a hallway as they held off a crowd of men, of himself holding them at bay while Artie ran to the car…

“Let’s go!” Artie snapped, and when they got into the Stutz, Artie fished in his pocket, pulled out two black silk handkerchiefs, and gave one to Judd.

On the way, they didn’t talk much of the adventure. Instead, Judd brought up the subject of New Year. Judd was anxious about New Year’s Eve. Willie Weiss had dropped a remark that he and Artie would be double-dating, Artie dragging Myra. Judd couldn’t believe it. That Artie would leave him out of New Year. Perhaps Willie Weiss had been needling him. So now Judd proposed his own idea, for Artie and himself, just the two of them. Instead of loading themselves down with girls, they could go out on the town, crash one party after another. Artie said sure, that’s what they would do. The two of them. No sense getting tied up with broads. New Year was the best time to pick up new gash.

It was then, on that ride in the November night, that Judd experienced the sense of the two of them in their unity apart from the world. A light snow began to fall, and traffic died away until theirs was the only car on a long stretch of road.

Then the thought came to Judd that at this moment no one in the whole world, only he, knew where Artie was. The night was between them alone. If something should happen right now, an auto accident, and they should be killed together, then their folks might wonder what were they doing way out here. If someone, even Myra, should want Artie right now, she wouldn’t have the ghost of an idea where to look.

He glanced at Artie, who was unusually silent, and saw that Artie had passed out, in the way he sometimes did, his mouth hanging a bit open. And a thrill of happiness went through Judd, to be riding like this as though he were carrying Artie with him into infinity.

Their adventure would be a continuation of their separation from the world. For in the theft tonight, in the masked silence of it, they would be even more as they were now, united in space and time, enclosed in an action that no one else might know of, no one else might ever share.

It was as though for this length of time they indeed escaped the world and inhabited their private universe together.

A thought intruded. Judd found himself wondering whether this was what happened between men and women when they were in love. Was this the secret feeling of a honeymoon? Would he ever repeat some feeling of this kind with a girl? He could not imagine it with any girl he had met.

As they drove into the outskirts of Ann Arbour, Artie woke. The timing so far was perfect. It was exactly three o’clock, and the streets were still; only an occasional car passed silently on the snow. Judd parked in an alleyway close to the Alpha Beta house.

“Come on, tie it!” Artie turned his head for Judd to knot the black handkerchief. All alive now, alert. “If we get into trouble, give it to them!” The revolvers were against their hands, in their pockets.

They walked up the front stairs. Artie still had his key, but the door was open. Judd followed, across the living room and up to the second floor. They could hear snores. His eyes were adjusted now; he could make out the walls, the door spaces, Artie’s form, his beckoning arm.

Now Artie used his trick fountain-pen flashlight, the beam pointed to the floor. They entered Morty Kornhauser’s room first. The snitching sonofabitch was back from Denver. He and his room mate lay on their beds, dead to the world.

Judd’s fright was almost paralysing, but greater than his fright was a pride. He was mastering his fear.

Artie picked up Morty’s pants and went through the pockets. Judd went for the other fellow’s clothes, found the wallet, a watch. Artie seized them from his hands, indicating Judd was only to act as guard.

After his first shock of resentment, Judd put down the clothes. Just then, he saw the portable typewriter, in its case by Morty’s bed. Artie was already moving out of the room. Judd picked up the typewriter. Teach that snitch to write letters.

In the hall, Artie muttered, “For crissake. Loading us down with junk!” Judd set the typewriter near the stairs, to be picked up later.

They went through several rooms. In one, the guys were away. Home week-enders, Artie said. He prowled through their drawers at ease, finding a pair of gold cuff links, a fancy fountain-pen set, even stopping to read a love letter.

“C’mon!” Judd whispered urgently, but Artie lingered over the letter. Somewhere a door opened. Artie stepped quickly into a closet. They heard a guy shuffling to the bathroom, heard the plumbing, Judd all the while feeling murderously angry at Artie.

The guy was back in bed. “Let’s get the hell out of here!” Judd said. At last they were in the corridor. What if the guy had seen the typewriter, even stumbled over it! “You frigging boob!” Artie snapped. But Judd picked up the machine.

As they got into the car, Artie let out a big laugh. They pounded each other. Success! Artie began to flip open the wallets. “Wait! Jesus, not here!” Judd pulled out and down the block. The plan had been to do another house, too, and for his turn Judd had picked the Delts.

It was nearly four o’clock – some furnace tender might begin to stir. But Artie was lit up, excited. Judd didn’t want to seem a coward. Besides, he owed it to the snotty Delts. Jews and dogs not allowed!

The door was unlocked there, too. Yet it seemed somehow more dangerous; robbing from gentiles was real.