The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [289]
“To the contrary, I would say that 1931 is going to be the year of opportunity. This is no pipe dream. Statistics show us that business reached its lowest point on the index in December, 1930, and since then there has been a gradual improvement. All indications show us that within six months we will be again at a peak. That’s why I believe that many who were trapped in crashing stock markets can, by buying now before the upturn reaches its full swing, recoup their loses.”
“Phil, darling, isn’t that enough of it?”
“Yes, dear,” Phil said, arising to get a new station.
Gee! it’s great after bein’ out late,
Walkin’ my baby back home.
Urn, Studs thought, better keep those stocks. In six months they’d make him rich.
“What he said sounds hopeful,” Studs said.
“Yeah,” Phil muttered.
“Maybe a fellow with some dough could clean up if he bought some stocks.”
“Well, maybe, but I’d feel better with my dough safe in the bank, drawing its three per. I don’t know much about stocks, but that’s why you won’t find me sinking my money in a racket I don’t know much about. When it comes to such propositions, safety first is my middle name.”
Arm in arm over meadow and farm,
Walkin’ my baby back home.
Studs felt superior to Phil. Phil was a pinching piker, wouldn’t take a chance. Even after hearing that economist, he wouldn’t. Well, Studs would. He was clinging to that stock until it paid him back plenty.
“Coffee, Studs?”
“All right.”
Loretta went to the kitchen to make coffee, Phil smiled affably. Studs returned the smile. Piker, wouldn’t take a chance. No one would ever say that about Studs Lonigan.
II
“Well, old timer, I’m one boy who’s going to be full of sweet contentment when the day’s work is over,” Studs said to old Mort over the restaurant table: his back ached and his arms were sore.
“Your dad wants us to finish up today and get cleaned up tomorrow with only a half a day’s work. We got to step because that last bedroom is pretty big,” Mort said, chewing on a hunk of pork chop, his face weakened, wrinkled, worn.
The thought of the afternoon’s work made Studs gloomy. How in Christ’s name would he get through it! He thought that he might lay off and go home. But no, that would be letting the old man down.
“Lad, I’m gettin’ old, and it’s gettin’ pretty damn hard. There’s not a lot left in me. And I was the fellow who used to think that when I reached my present age I’d take it easy, have a little saved up, and would have my kids to take care of me and my old woman. Well, a man doesn’t get what he hopes for, not by a damn sight. Only one of my boys workin’ and him doing part-time work.”
“The old man’s worrying his pants off these days,” Studs said.
“Don’t I know it, lad! Just now when business should be best, there’s not a thing stirrin’.”
Studs motioned to the waitress and, catching her eye, pointed to an empty coffee cup. Needed it to wake up for the afternoon grind.
“Well, things better get better!” Studs said, thinking how yesterday his stock had dropped to nineteen. Goddamn it, they had to.
He looked at Mort, struck by the signs of age in the old man. His face like a map with wrinkles: hair, all gray: thinner, too, than he’d used to be. Studs wondered how there could be any strength left in him. Studs relaxed in his chair, still tired from the morning’s work. And hell, five, six, eight years ago, he’d been able to go out on a drunk and work the next day without feeling the effects as much as he did now.
“Did you read about that bank on the west side failing? I know what that means. Poor people, workingmen like myself, lose everything they got, saved from years of work. It’s goddamn tough when a poor man saves a little money and thinks that he’s got something put aside for his old age, and then the bank goes bust. It’s goddamn rotten. And I suppose the crooked bankers who stole all the money will go free.”
“Tough tiddy, all right. Think many of them will fail?”
“Lad, I hope not. If they do, the people won’t stand for it. There’ll be a revolution or something.”
“Mort, the whole shooting match puzzles me,” Studs said, sipping coffee.