The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [279]
Studs shook hands around, and coming to O’Doul, he said laconically:
“Still smashing the broads’ hearts?”
“Studs, what’s been on your mind since we went to that movie together a couple of weeks ago?”
“Nothing much to write home about,” Studs said.
“What movie was that?” asked O’Doul.
“Doomed Victory. It’s an interesting gangster movie, only in real life, a gangster would grease a dick a little instead of letting himself be run out of town,” Pat said.
“Don’t tell me about it. I want to see it,” Bryan said.
“Did Ike sell you his stock?” Pat asked Studs.
“Well... not quite,” Studs said, wondering if Ike would keep his promise not to mention to anyone that he’d bought the stock. Pat might think him a chump, and also tell Martin, and Martin might let it out of the bag at home without meaning to or something.
“It may be a good bargain. I don’t know nothing about it, but I do know that Ike, while being a swell guy, is one first rate B.S. artist.”
“Say, Lonigan, what’s your racket?” Bryan asked.
“Painting with my old man,” Studs said, glancing surprised at Bryan, not liking the fellow’s thin, slightly-pocked, snotty face.
“Not much doing in it these days, huh?”
“Well, of course, everything could be better,” Studs said seriously, seeing himself as older than these kids, a fellow with investments now, business interests, and talking to them as an experienced guy.
“There’s nothing doing anywhere now, I guess, except for a few bootleggers. They’re just about the only ones who cash in these days. I’m working with my gaffer in the plumbing business these days, and there ain’t much for us, and we can hardly collect. on the work we do do. The old man is bleeding his eyes out with sobs,” Pat said.
“It’s this guy Hoover with those Sunday-school collars he wears. First time I saw a picture of him with them collars, I said to myself, a guy who wears those collars must be a chump somewhere. Now if we had a Democrat in office,” O’Grady said. Studs noticed that he was a short, stocky fellow, with a fedora slanted on the left side and a cigarette drooping between his lips.
“Yes. I suppose everybody would be better off if there was a different man in the saddle,” Studs said profoundly.
“What the hell, that’s all politics, that’s all,” Bryan said.
“What do you know about politics? Are you on an inside wire?” asked Schuber.
“I know this much. Politics is politics, and guys, even when they’re big shots, don’t go into it for fun. They all want to sink their claws into the grab bag. And so would I if I was in the political game,” Don said.
“The way I look at it, boys, is this. A Democrat like Al Smith, or Tony Cermak, who’s a cinch for mayor in the next elections, now if they were up to bat in Washington, they might not knock the ball out of the lot every time they stepped up to the plate, but they wouldn’t just hit nothin’ but foul balls, the way Hoover does,” Pat said.
“Well, this boy right here wouldn’t complain, and he wouldn’t be giving a damn about anything else if he could just line himself up to another job that paid a little dough,” Allison, a tall, raw-boned fellow said.
“It used to be that all the lads I knew was workin’, and I was beginning to get so lonesome that I almost went to work myself. But when I would almost do that, I’d think of you boys, sweating your tails off in the offices and factories on hot days when I was lolling on the beach, with my head in the lap of a sweet pickup. But now, what the hell, I don’t take any more pride in my idleness since so many of you boys have signed up as recruits in the Army of the Unemployed. If it keeps up like this with all you rookies crowding me out, Steve O’Grady will have to be shagging ass downtown one of these days and getting himself a job. Only if I did, the gaffer and the old woman might die from the shock,” O’Grady said, and they laughed, Studs’ laugh a trifle self-conscious.
“If you do that, Steve, do me a favor? Let me know where you get the job, and how you turned the trick. Because, brother, I sure pounded the pavements in the Loop looking for a job, until my fanny was drooping like a wilting lily of the fields and the soles of my feet just ached for a nice comfortable pair of carpet slippers and a soft rug. And all I got was the go-by. Me, now, I