The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [120]
“Spats and all,” said glassy-eyed Swede Larsen, looking at Hennessey’s pearl gray spats.
“Gain’ to the jig this afternoon?” asked Connell.
“If he didn’t, Nolan’s would close up.”
“Say, Hennessey, is it true that you go down to Castle Gardens and dance so that you can pinch pocketbooks?” Swede asked.
“I combine business with pleasure... but, say, who’ll loan me a buck until tonight?”
“Scrounging dough again, huh, Hennessey?” said Young Rocky.
XIV
“What?” Fat Malloy bellowed.
Long-faced Jawbones Levinsky adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses, stuck his hands in his topcoat pockets, and sneered. “Gypp was overrated.”
“For Christ sake!” exclaimed Malloy, belligerent and nonplussed.
“Well, what did he ever do?”
“What did he do? Didn’t he make a seventy-yard drop kick?” Jawbones’ right hand pushed outwards in a gesture of disdainful unbelief.
“Listen, Jew! I SAY THAT GYPP MADE A SEVENTYFIVE-YARD DROP KICK AND YOU CAN FIND IT IN THE RECORD BOOK.”
“What record book?”
“Why, you damn fool kike, the record book. What the hell record book you suppose, the one on volley ball? What the hell do you go to an A.P.A. college like the U for if you don’t understand English?”
“Think I fall for that stuff?”
“Why, you lowdown Jew! Say, get this straight and don’t forget it! George Gypp of Notre Dame made a seventy-five-yard drop kick,” Malloy said, clenching his fists, and shoving a bull-dog mug forward.
“Hell, you’re just another one of these synthetic Notre Dame alumni... And you can’t even pronounce the name correctly.”
“YOU LOUSY KIKE! I OUGHT TO PUNCH THAT FACE OF YOURS FULL OF HOLES...”
Departure became the better part of Levinsky’s valor.
XV
“You’re exonerated, then?” said big Gannon, a park cop.
“Yeah,” Joe Moonan answered; he was a classily dressed, angelic-faced dick.
“How did it happen, Joe? I never got the story straight.”
Joe told how he had caught the kids shooting craps down near Twelfth Street, and had yelled at them. They had run after he called to them to halt, and he pulled out his gun, intending to scare them. He had been aiming to shoot over their heads, but somehow, he didn’t know how, and was sorry it happened, he’d hit one of the kids.
“It sure caused a stink, didn’t it? But anyway, I’m glad they exonerated you.”
“It was all accident. And what the hell, the kid was just a goddamn alley-rat. I don’t see why there was so much trouble about it.”
XVI
Jim Doyle stuck a fat cigar in his face, and rubbed his right hand over the alderman he was starting to develop.
“Now, Lonigan, remember and always vote Democratic,” Jim said, buttonholing Studs.
“Sure, the old man’s a good Democrat,” Studs said.
“It’s only a left-handed mick who’d vote Republican. Hell, Lonigan, if the Irish only would stick together and realize that the Democrats are their party, they could run this city. And if they don’t, well, the Jews and Polacks will be stepping all over them.”
“Sure.”
“Too bad you’re not in my precinct... Anyway, a vote’s a vote.”
“You precinct captain now?”
“No, I just help out Old Rubenstein.”
“Oh!”
“Well, congratulations, old man, and so long.”
Jim turned back and handed Studs a cigar.
XVII
“Say, Vinc, remember the girl you kissed at Sarah Windlemann’s beach party last month, Mary the Wop?” Runt asked.
Vinc Curley, tall with an enlarged and elongated head, and a mouth chronically opened like a fly trap, gaped at them, visibly remembering and curious.
“I haven’t got the heart to tell the guy what she’s got,” Runt said, giving Young Rocky a knowing eye.
“But, Runt, it’s only fair to tell him,” Young Rocky said after due reflection.
Young Rocky studied a cold sore on Vinc’s lip. He looked dolorous, and placed a hand on Vinc’s shoulder.
“Vine, I hate to tell you, but you’re my pal... Mary the Wop has syphilis.”
“Yeah, the dirty bitch!” Runt said with feigned hate.
“And... fellows... have I got it too?” Vine asked after a long pause.
Balefully, they nodded affirmation. He asked what it meant, what he should do. They answered with mysterious remarks about something gotten in drug stores, called G.O. 45. They told him it was very serious, and made the skin maggoty, caused it to moulder, and might even lead to blindness, deafness, dumbness, and his arms might even fall off, his eyes drop out, and his toes fall apart. Terrible thing! And he had better get it taken care of immediately.