John Passos - Manhattan transfer

‘Gus you do as I tell ye. Keep yer mouth shut an let the other guys do the talkin’.’

‘Sure I wont let a peep outa me.’

Nellie stood behind his chair and began stroking the crisp hair back from his forehead.

‘It’ll be great to be home again, Nellie, wid your cookin an all.’ He put an arm round her waist and drew her to him.

‘Juss think, maybe I wont have to do any.’

‘I don’t think I’d loike that so well… Gosh if we dont git that money I dunno how we’ll make out.’

‘Oh pop’ll help us like he’s been doin.’

‘Hope to the Lord I aint going to be sick all me loife.’

George Baldwin came in slamming the glass door behind him. He stood looking at the man and his wife a second with his hands in his pockets. Then he said quietly smiling:

‘Well it’s done people. As soon as the waiver of any further claims is signed the railroad’s attorneys will hand me a check for twelve thousand five hundred. That’s what we finally compromised on.’

‘Twelve thousand iron men,’ gasped Gus. ‘Twelve thousand five hundred. Say wait a second… Hold me crutches while I go out an git run over again… Wait till I tell McGillycuddy about it. The ole divil’ll be throwin hisself in front of a market train… Well Mr Baldwin sir,’ Gus propped himself onto his feet… ‘you’re a great man… Aint he Nellie?’

‘To be sure he is.’

Baldwin tried to keep from looking her in the eye. Spurts of jangling agitation were going through him, making his legs feel weak and trembly.

‘I’ll tell yez what let’s do,’ said Gus. ‘Sposin we all take a horsecab up to old McGillycuddy’s an have somethin to wet our whistles in the private bar… My treat. I need a bit of a drink to cheer me up. Come on Nellie.’

‘I wish I could,’ said Baldwin, ‘but I’m afraid I cant. I’m pretty busy these days. But just give me your signature before you go and I’ll have the check for you tomorrow… Sign here… and here.’

McNiel had stumped over to the desk and was leaning over the papers. Baldwin felt that Nellie was trying to make a sign to him. He kept his eyes down. After they had left he noticed her purse, a little leather purse with pansies burned on the back, on the corner of the desk. There was a tap on the glass door. He opened.

‘Why wouldn’t you look at me?’ she said breathlessly low.

‘How could I with him here.’ He held the purse out to her.

She put her arms round his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. ‘What are we goin to do? Shall I come in this afternoon? Gus’ll be liquorin up to get himself sick again now he’s out of the hospital.’

‘No I cant Nellie… Business… business… I’m busy every minute.’

‘Oh yes you are… All right have it your own way.’ She slammed the door.

Baldwin sat at his desk biting his knuckles without seeing the pile of papers he was staring at. ‘I’ve got to cut it out,’ he said aloud and got to his feet. He paced back and forth across the narrow office looking at the shelves of lawbooks and the Gibson girl calendar over the telephone and the dusty square of sunlight by the window. He looked at his watch. Lunchtime. He drew the palm of a hand over his forehead and went to the telephone.

‘Rector 1237… Mr Sandbourne there?… Say Phil suppose I come by for you for lunch? Do you want to go out right now?… Sure… Say Phil I clinched it, I got the milkman his damages. I’m pleased as the dickens. I’ll set you up to a regular lunch on the strength of it… So long…’

He came away from the telephone smiling, took his hat off its hook, fitted it carefully on his head in front of the little mirror over the hatrack, and hurried down the stairs.

On the last flight he met Mr Emery of Emery & Emery who had their offices on the first floor.

‘Well Mr Baldwin how’s things?’ Mr Emery of Emery & Emery was a flatfaced man with gray hair and eyebrows and a protruding wedgeshaped jaw. ‘Pretty well sir, pretty well.’

‘They tell me you are doing mighty well… Something about the New York Central Railroad.’

‘Oh Simsbury and I settled it out of court.’

‘Humph,’ said Mr Emery of Emery & Emery.

As they were about to part in the street Mr Emery said suddenly ‘Would you care to dine with me and my wife some time?’

‘Why… er… I’d be delighted.’

‘I like to see something of the younger fellows in the profession you understand… Well I’ll drop you a line… Some evening next week. It would give us a chance to have a chat.’

Baldwin shook a blueveined hand in a shinystarched cuff and went off down Maiden Lane hustling with a springy step through the noon crowd. On Pearl Street he climbed a steep flight of black stairs that smelt of roasting coffee and knocked on a groundglass door.

‘Come in,’ shouted a bass voice. A swarthy man lanky in his shirtsleeves strode forward to meet him. ‘Hello George, thought you were never comin’. I’m hongry as hell.’

‘Phil I’m going to set you up to the best lunch you ever ate in your life.’

‘Well I’m juss waitin’ to be set.’

Phil Sandbourne put on his coat, knocked the ashes out of his pipe on the corner of a draftingtable, and shouted into a dark inner office, ‘Goin out to eat, Mr Specker.’

‘All right go ahead,’ replied a goaty quavering from the inner office.

‘How’s the old man?’ asked Baldwin as they went out the door.

‘Ole Specker? Bout on his last legs… but he’s been thataway for years poa ole soul. Honest George I’d feel mighty mean if anythin happened to poa ole Specker… He’s the only honest man in the city of New York, an he’s got a head on his shoulders too.’

‘He’s never made anything much by it,’ said Baldwin.

‘He may yet… He may yet… Man you ought to see his plans for allsteel buildins. He’s got an idea the skyscraper of the future’ll be built of steel and glass. We’ve been experimenting with vitrous tile recently… cristamighty some of his plans would knock yer eye out… He’s got a great sayin about some Roman emperor who found Rome of brick and left it of marble. Well he says he’s found New York of brick an that he’s goin to leave it of steel… steel an glass. I’ll have to show you his project for a rebuilt city. It’s some pipedream.’

They settled on a cushioned bench in the corner of the restaurant that smelled of steak and the grill. Sandbourne stretched his legs out under the table.

‘Wow this is luxury,’ he said.

‘Phil let’s have a cocktail,’ said Baldwin from behind the bill of fare. ‘I tell you Phil, it’s the first five years that’s the hardest.’

‘You needn’t worry George, you’re the hustlin kind… I’m the ole stick in the mud.’

‘I don’t see why, you can always get a job as a draftsman.’

‘That’s a fine future I muss say, to spend ma life with the corner of a draftintable stuck in ma bally… Christamighty man!’

‘Well Specker and Sandbourne may be a famous firm yet.’

‘People’ll be goin round in flyin machines by that time an you and me’ll be laid out with our toes to the daisies.’

‘Here’s luck anyway.’

‘Here’s lead in yer pencil, George.’

They drank down the Martinis and started eating their oysters.

‘I wonder if it’s true that oysters turn to leather in your stomach when you drink alcohol with em.’

‘Search me… Say by the way Phil how are you getting on with that little stenographer you were taking out?’

‘Man the food an drink an theaters I’ve wasted on that lil girl… She’s got me run to a standstill… Honest she has. You’re a sensible feller, George, to keep away from the women.’

‘Maybe,’ said Baldwin slowly and spat an olive stone into his clenched fist.