John Passos - Manhattan transfer

‘It’s a pretty rough crowd… still we can just ride round. Let’s do it. I’ll go phone for the car.’

Ellen sits alone looking down into her coffeecup. She puts a lump of sugar on her spoon, dips it in the coffee and pops it into her mouth where she crunches it slowly, rubbing the grains of sugar against the roof of her mouth with her tongue. The orchestra is playing a tango.

The sun streaming into the office under the drawn shades cut a bright slanting layer like watered silk through the cigarsmoke.

‘Mighty easy,’ George Baldwin was saying dragging out the words. ‘Gus we got to go mighty easy on this.’ Gus McNiel bull-necked redfaced with a heavy watchchain in his vest sat in the armchair nodding silently, pulling on his cigar. ‘As things are now no court would sustain such an injunction… an injunction that seems to me a pure piece of party politics on Judge Connor’s part, but there are certain elements…’

‘You said it… Look here George I’m goin to leave this whole blame thing to you. You pulled me through the East New York dockin space mess and I guess you can pull me through this.’

‘But Gus your position in this whole affair has been entirely within the bounds of legality. If it werent I certainly should not be able to take the case, not even for an old friend like you.’

‘You know me George… I never went back on a guy yet and I dont expect to have anybody go back on me.’ Gus got heavily to his feet and began to limp about the office leaning on a goldknobbed cane. ‘Connor’s a son of a bitch… an honest, you wouldn’t believe it but he was a decent guy before he went up to Albany.’

‘My position will be that your attitude in this whole matter has been willfully misconstrued. Connor has been using his position on the bench to further a political end.’

‘God I wish we could get him. Jez I thought he was one of the boys; he was until he went up an got mixed up with all those lousy upstate Republicans. Albany’s been the ruination of many a good man.’

Baldwin got up from the flat mahogany table where he sat between tall sheaves of foolscap and put his hand on Gus’s shoulder. ‘Dont you lose any sleep over it…’

‘I’d feel all right if it wasn’t for those Interborough bonds.’

‘What bonds? Who’s seen any bonds?… Let’s get this young fellow in here… Joe… And one more thing Gus, for heaven’s sakes keep your mouth shut… If any reporters or anybody comes round to see you tell ’em about your trip to Bermuda… We can get publicity enough when we need it. Just at present we want to keep the papers out of it or you’ll have all the reformers on your heels.’

‘Well aint they friends of yours? You can fix it up with em.’

‘Gus I’m a lawyer and not a politician… I dont meddle in those things at all. They dont interest me.’

Baldwin brought the flat of his hand down on a pushbell. An ivoryskinned young woman with heavy sullen eyes and jetty hair came into the room.

‘How do you do Mr McNiel.’

‘My but you’re looking well Miss Levitsky.’

‘Emily tell em to send that young fellow that’s waiting for Mr McNiel in.’

Joe O’Keefe came in dragging his feet a little, with his straw hat in his hand. ‘Howde do sir.’

‘Look here Joe, what does McCarthy say?’

‘Contractors and Builders Association’s goin to declare a lockout from Monday on.’

‘And how’s the union?’

‘We got a full treasury. We’re goin to fight.’

Baldwin sat down on the edge of the desk. ‘I wish I knew what Mayor Mitchel’s attitude was on all this.’

‘That reform gang’s just treadin water like they always do,’ said Gus savagely biting the end off a cigar. ‘When’s this decision going to be made public?’

‘Saturday.’

‘Well keep in touch with us.’

‘All right gentlemen. And please dont call me on the phone. It dont look exactly right. You see it aint my office.’

‘Might be wiretappin goin on too. Those fellers wont stop at nothin. Well see ye later Joey.’

Joe nodded and walked out. Baldwin turned frowning to Gus.

‘Gus I dont know what I’m goin to do with you if you dont keep out of all this labor stuff. A born politician like you ought to have better sense. You just cant get away with it.’

‘But we got the whole damn town lined up.’

‘I know a whole lot of the town that isnt lined up. But thank Heavens that’s not my business. This bond stuff is all right, but if you get into a mess with this strike business I couldn’t handle your case. The firm wouldnt stand for it,’ he whispered fiercely. Then he said aloud in his usual voice, ‘Well how’s the wife, Gus?’

Outside in the shiny marble hall, Joe O’Keefe was whistling Sweet Rosy O’Grady waiting for the elevator. Imagine a guy havin a knockout like that for a secretary. He stopped whistling and let the breath out silently through pursed lips. In the elevator he greeted a walleyed man in a check suit. ‘Hullo Buck.’

‘Been on your vacation yet?’

Joe stood with his feet apart and his hands in his pockets. He shook his head. ‘I get off Saturday.’

‘I guess I’ll take in a couple o days at Atlantic City myself.’

‘How do you do it?’

‘Oh the kid’s clever.’

Coming out of the building O’Keefe had to make his way through people crowding into the portal. A slate sky sagging between the tall buildings was spatting the pavements with fiftycent pieces. Men were running to cover with their straw hats under their coats. Two girls had made hoods of newspaper over their summer bonnets. He snatched blue of their eyes, a glint of lips and teeth as he passed. He walked fast to the corner and caught an uptown car on the run. The rain advanced down the street in a solid sheet glimmering, swishing, beating newspapers flat, prancing in silver nipples along the asphalt, striping windows, putting shine on the paint of streetcars and taxicabs. Above Fourteenth there was no rain, the air was sultry.

‘A funny thing weather,’ said an old man next to him. O’Keefe grunted. ‘When I was a boy onct I saw it rain on one side of the street an a house was struck by lightnin an on our side not a drop fell though the old man wanted it bad for some tomatoplants he’d just set out.’

Crossing Twentythird O’Keefe caught sight of the tower of Madison Square Garden. He jumped off the car; the momentum carried him in little running steps to the curb. Turning his coatcollar down again he started across the square. On the end of a bench under a tree drowsed Joe Harland. O’Keefe plunked down in the seat beside him.

‘Hello Joe. Have a cigar.’

‘Hello Joe. I’m glad to see you my boy. Thanks. It’s many a day since I’ve smoked one of these things… What are you up to? Aint this kind of out of your beat?’

‘I felt kinder blue so I thought I’d buy me a ticket to the fight Saturday.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Hell I dunno… Things dont seem to go right. Here I’ve got myself all in deep in this political game and there dont seem to be no future in it. God I wish I was educated like you.’

‘A lot of good it’s done me.’

‘I wouldn’t say that… If I could ever git on the track you were on I bet ye I wouldn’t lose out.’

‘You cant tell Joe, funny things get into a man.’

‘There’s women and that sort of stuff.’

‘No I dont mean that… You get kinder disgusted.’

‘But hell I dont see how a guy with enough jack can git disgusted.’

‘Then maybe it was booze, I dont know.’

They sat silent a minute. The afternoon was flushing with sunset. The cigarsmoke was blue and crinkly about their heads.

‘Look at the swell dame… Look at the way she walks. Aint she a peacherino? That’s the way I like ’em, all slick an frilly with their lips made up… Takes jack to go round with dames like that.’