Michael Mayer - Time Trippers The Nights of the Round Table

From an alley across 29th street, a baseball rolled out onto the street. Jonathan quickly ran after it into the street, grabbing it. I shouted at him for running out into the street without looking across to the other side, but he only smiled holding up the scruffy old baseball shouting:

“Look Lito!”

A couple of kids came running out of the alley, scruffily dressed in loose pants, sweatshirts, and big, droopy flat caps, looking kind of tough, not more than ten or twelve years old.

“Hey, give us back our baseball already!” they shouted at Jonathan who was tossing it up and down, not listening. They ran up to him, and the biggest one took a swing at Jonathan before I could get across to intervene, punching him right in the nose.

“Give it back, da baseball already!” he said in a ripe New York accent like one of the Bowery Boys.

Jonathan dropped the ball and put his hand to his nose in shocked surprise, but quickly recovered while the ball rolled away. Instead of crying, he remembered what I had taught him about fighting. When punched in the nose, don’t hold it, just sniff back the blood - the mark of a fighter who can take care of himself.

“Hey, I wasn’t gonna take your ball - why’d you hit me?” Jonathan said, in obvious pain.

“Aw, banana oil, you was too…”

Jonathan sniffed back the dribble of blood, and went into his Tae Kwan Do fighting stance, to the surprise of the kid who hit him, whose fists were raised in a regular boxing stance. His little gang gathered around, playground honor not allowing them to join the fight.

“Say… what kinda way is that ta’ fight, can’t ya box?” the kid said.

“Box?” Jonathan replied, “No man! Hiyaaaa!” Jonathan swinging his hands in a karate chop. “Don’t you know, martial arts? Tae Kwan Do? You know…Korean self-defense, kinda like Karate. Careful, I’m a black belt.”

“Black belt? Korean? Say… whatadya trying ta pull? I’ll give yez a belt awright… I could take youse wit one hand tied behind me back. What youse doin’ in our neighborhood, anyways?” he said as they kept milling around.

“Hey, sorry. Just walking back to our hotel, really, I wasn’t gonna take your ball, just having some fun…” Jonathan said, sniffing back the last bit of blood, ready to defend himself. The traffic cleared and I finally crossed the street with Lauren in tow.

“Just walkin’ back to your hotel?” the kid sneered mockingly. “You’ll have ta’ be carried back when I get done wit yez….”

“Patrick Murphy!” I heard one lady shout at him from a window, “Sure and I’m tellin’ your mither, ye better leave them other youngin’s be!”

I finally got to them.

“Hey, come on you guys, break it up! Sorry, just a misunderstanding. Jonathan, come on, apologize.”

“I did!” he replied, looking hurt.

“Yeah, OK,” the kid said, looking back at the lady in the window. “I’ll let youse off da hook dis time, see, cause you ain’t from da city….”

“Thanks,” I replied. “Say, aren’t you guys supposed to be in school?”

“Nah, we got time off for good behavior,” he said with a snicker at his little gang who were grinning mischievously. I gave them a hard look.

All this time some people gathered around to see the fun. One guy in a snappy suit with a big fedora shading his eyes stood very cocky with his hands in his pockets observing all with some amusement. He suddenly sauntered towards us, hitching up his pants, walking with a very familiar jaunty strut like he owned the street…no, it couldn’t be…..I thought to myself.

“So, you think you’re pretty tough, hey?” the man said to Pat in that familiar, under his breath, teeth-clenched voice.

“So, you thing you’re pretty tough, hey?”

“Uncle Jimmy!” Pat said suddenly smiling.

“What kind of a dirty trick was that, hittin’ that kid when he wasn’t lookin?” Uncle Jimmy said, giving Pat’s ear a painful twist and playfully slapping him on the back of his head.

“Awww, it wasn’t nuttin…..was it kid? We was just foolin around…” Pat looked at Jonathan imploring him silently.

“Sure,” Jonathan said, “We were just playing around……he just hit me a little too hard, that’s all….”

“Izzat so?” Uncle Jimmy said skeptically. “You guys better get back to school, see? Before the truant officer catches you. And you,” he said to Jonathan, “you should learn how to box, see? What’s with this oriental stuff…martial arts, Korean, Karate…? You his old man, I mean, father?” he said to me.

“No, grandfather…” I said and couldn’t keep back a smile, “Mr. Cagney…it’s a real pleasure to meet you,” I extended my hand.

He looked at me in a puzzled way, smiling. “Seems like I have a fan. Have you seen my show? ‘Women Go On Forever’ at the Forrest Theater?”

“No, not really,” I said, “Just know you from the theatrical news and such.”

“Gee, didn’t know I was that famous. Well, it’s a real pleasure to meet you Mr., uh?”

“Mike Mayer….”

“Sure, ‘tis a fine Irish name me boy,” he said grinning. “Just call me Jimmy, see?”

“Thanks!”

“Allright you kids, let’s shake hands.” Cagney ordered.

They all shook hands and Pat spoke up: “Say, let’s see some o’ dis Tae Kwan Do o’ youse… g’wan, take a punch at me, just for show, see?”

“OK… if you say so.” Jonathan said. He made as if to punch, then launched a swift kick at the kid’s leg before he could jump away, tripping him and knocking him to the ground.

The kid picked himself up. “Say, dat’s some kick…” he said, smiling. They tried a few more moves, the kid’s punches easily parried by Jonathan’s fast defense.

“Say, youse are alright! We could use a guy like you in our gang. We’re da Westside Cowboys, see? You ever need any help, just come on down to da neighborhood, we always hang out in dis alley, see?” the kid said, as his motley gang smiled proudly, one or two teeth missing from some of the kids’ smiles.

“Pretty fast work,” Cagney said. “Still you outta learn how to box.”

Lauren spoke up: “Lito, who is that?”

“That’s James Cagney, actor, dancer….” I said.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I’m just a hoofer on Broadway…”

“Hoofer means a dancer, Lauren,” I explained.

“You’re a dancer? Me too!” she said very pleased.

“Izzat so?” he said. “Here let me show you a few steps,” he said and then started a very skilled tap dance on the sidewalk, making it look like he was dancing on air. Everyone applauded, the kids grinning with pleasure.

“My wife and I have a dancing school uptown…” he mentioned.

“Mr. Cagney, it was a real pleasure, but we have to get going - we’re going to see ‘Good News’ at two….” I said.

“Yeah, getting late…you better be going…maybe I’ll see you around,” he said as we shook hands, and he patted the kids on the head.

Pat and his gang waved a very cool goodbye.

“Stop by anytime youse guys…” he said.

As we hurried away uptown to Penn Station to grab a taxi, I explained that James Cagney would become one of the most famous actors of all time, with his unique tough-guy voice.

“You’ve seen him in a few movies…”

The kids nodded.