John Passos - Manhattan transfer

It was the first evening James Merivale had gone to the Metropolitan Club since he had been put up for it; he had been afraid, that like carrying a cane, it was a little old for him. He sat in a deep leather chair by a window smoking a thirtyfive cent cigar with the Wall Street Journal on his knee and a copy of the Cosmopolitan leaning against his right thigh and, with his eyes on the night flawed with lights like a crystal, he abandoned himself to reverie: Economic Depression… Ten million dollars… After the war slump. Some smash I’ll tell the world. BLACKHEAD & DENSCH FAIL FOR $10,000,000… Densch left the country some days ago… Blackhead incommunicado in his home at Great Neck. One of the oldest and most respected import and export firms in New York, $10,000,000. O it’s always fair weather When good fellows get together . That’s the thing about banking. Even in a deficit there’s money to be handled, collateral. These commercial propositions always entail a margin of risk. We get ’em coming or else we get ’em going, eh Merivale? That’s what old Perkins said when Cunningham mixed him that Jack Rose… With a stein on the tahul And a good song ri-i-inging clear . Good connection that feller. Maisie knew what she was doing after all… A man in a position like that’s always likely to be blackmailed. A fool not to prosecute… Girl’s crazy he said, married to another man of the same name… Ought to be in a sanitarium, a case like that. God I’d have dusted his hide for him. Circumstances exonerated him completely, even mother admitted that. O Sinbad was in bad in Tokio and Rome… that’s what Jerry used to sing. Poor old Jerry never had the feeling of being in good right in on the ground floor of the Metropolitan Club… Comes of poor stock. Take Jimmy now… hasnt even that excuse, an out and out failure, a misfit from way back… Guess old man Herf was pretty wild, a yachtsman. Used to hear mother say Aunt Lily had to put up with a whole lot. Still he might have made something of himself with all his advantages… dreamer, wanderlust… Greenwich Village stuff. And dad did every bit as much for him as he did for me… And this divorce now. Adultery… with a prostitute like as not. Probably had syphilis or something. Ten Million Dollar Failure.

Failure. Success.

Ten Million Dollar Success… Ten Years of Successful Banking… At the dinner of the American Bankers Association last night James Merivale, president of the Bank & Trust Company, spoke in answer to the toast ‘Ten Years of Progressive Banking’… Reminds me gentlemen of the old darky who was very fond of chicken… But if you will allow me a few serious words on this festive occasion (flashlight photograph) there is a warning note I should like to sound… feel it my duty as an American citizen, as president of a great institution of nationwide, international in the better sense, nay, universal contacts and loyalties (flashlight photograph)… At last making himself heard above the thunderous applause James Merivale, his stately steelgray head shaking with emotion, continued his speech… Gentlemen you do me too much honor… Let me only add that in all trials and tribulations, becalmed amid the dark waters of scorn or spurning the swift rapids of popular estimation, amid the still small hours of the night, and in the roar of millions at noonday, my staff, my bread of life, my inspiration has been my triune loyalty to my wife, my mother, and my flag.

The long ash from his cigar had broken and fallen on his knees. James Merivale got to his feet and gravely brushed the light ash off his trousers. Then he settled down again and with an intent frown began to read the article on Foreign Exchange in the Wall Street Journal .

They sit up on two stools in the lunchwaggon.

‘Say kid how the hell did you come to sign up on that old scow?’

‘Wasnt anything else going out east.’

‘Well you sure have dished your gravy this time kid, cap’n ’s a dopehead, first officer’s the damnedest crook out o Sing Sing, crew’s a lot o bohunks, the ole tub aint worth the salvage of her… What was your last job?’

‘Night clerk in a hotel.’

‘Listen to that cookey… Jesus Kerist Amighty look at a guy who’ll give up a good job clerkin in a swell hotel in Noo York City to sign on as messboy on Davy Jones’ own steam yacht… A fine seacook you’re goin to make.’ The younger man is flushing. ‘How about that Hamburgher?’ he shouts at the counterman.

After they have eaten, while they are finishing their coffee, he turns to his friend and asks in a low voice, ‘Say Rooney was you ever overseas… in the war?’

‘I made Saint Nazaire a couple o times. Why?’

‘I dunno… It kinder gave me the itch… I was two years in it. Things aint been the same. I used to think all I wanted was to get a good job an marry an settle down, an now I dont give a damn… I can keep a job for six months or so an then I get the almighty itch, see? So I thought I ought to see the orient a bit…’

‘Never you mind,’ says Rooney shaking his head. ‘You’re goin to see it, dont you worry about that.’

‘What’s the damage?’ the young man asks the counterman.

‘They must a caught you young.’

‘I was sixteen when I enlisted.’ He picks up his change and follows Rooney’s broad shambling back into the street. At the end of the street, beyond trucks and the roofs of warehouses, he can see masts and the smoke of steamers and white steam rising into the sunlight.

‘Pull down the shade,’ comes the man’s voice from the bed.

‘I cant, it’s busted… Oh hell, here’s the whole business down.’ Anna almost bursts out crying when the roll hits her in the face, ‘You fix it,’ she says going towards the bed.

‘What do I care, they cant see in,’ says the man catching hold of her laughing.

‘It’s just those lights,’ she moans, wearily letting herself go limp in his arms.

It is a small room the shape of a shoebox with an iron bed in the corner of the wall opposite the window. A roar of streets rises to it rattling up a V shaped recess in the building. On the ceiling she can see the changing glow of electric signs along Broadway, white, red, green, then a jumble like a bubble bursting, and again white, red, green.

‘Oh Dick I wish you’d fix that shade, those lights give me the willies.’

‘The lights are all right Anna, it’s like bein in a theater… It’s the Gay White Way, like they used to say.’

‘That stuff’s all right for you out of town fellers, but it gives me the willies.’

‘So you’re workin for Madame Soubrine now are you Anna?’

‘You mean I’m scabbin… I know it. The old woman trew me out an it was get a job or croak…’

‘A nice girl like you Anna could always find a boyfriend.’

‘God you buyers are a dirty lot… You think that because I’ll go with you, I’d go wid anybody… Well I wouldnt, do you get that?’

‘I didnt mean that Anna… Gee you’re awful quick tonight.’

‘I guess it’s my nerves… This strike an the old woman trowin me out an scabbin up at Soubrine’s… it’d get anybody’s goat. They can all go to hell for all I care. Why wont they leave you alone? I never did nothin to hurt anybody in my life. All I want is for em to leave me alone an let me get my pay an have a good time now and then… God Dick it’s terrible… I dont dare go out on the street for fear of meetin some of the girls of my old local.’

‘Hell Anna, things aint so bad, honest I’d take you West with me if it wasnt for my wife.’

Anna’s voice goes on in an even whimper, ‘An now ’cause I take a shine to you and want to give you a good time you call me a goddam whore.’