U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [455]
The second division was composed of more than 3,500
carpenters. The third division was led by the Clown Band and consisted of electricians, blacksmiths, plasterers, printers, press-men, elevator constructors, postoffice clerks and plumbers and steamfitters.
The fourth division was led by ironworkers, brick masons, the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers, steam and operat-ing engineers, the Typographical Union, lathers, composition roofers, sheetmetal workers, tailors and machinists Don't bring Lulu
I'll bring her myself
CHARLEY ANDERSON
"You watch, Cliff. . . . We'l knock 'em higher than a kite," Charley said to his secretary, as they came out of
-342-the crowded elevator into the humming lobby of the Woolworth Building. "Yessiree," said Cliff, nodding wisely. He had a long face with a thin parchment skin drawn tightly from under his brown felt hat over high cheekbones and thin nose. The lipless mouth never opened very wide above the thin jaw. He repeated out of the corner of his mouth,
"Yessiree, boddy . . . higher than a kite."
They went through the revolving doors into the five-o'clock crowd that packed the lower Broadway sidewalks to the curbs in the drizzly dusk of a raw February day. Charley pul ed a lot of fat envelopes out of the pockets of his English waterproof and handed them to Cliff. "Take these up to the office and be sure they get into Nat Ben-ton's personal safe. They can go over to the bank in the mornin' . . . then you're through. Cal me at nine, see?
You were a little late yesterday. . . . I'm not goin' to worry about anythin' til then.""Yessir, get a good night's sleep, sir," said Cliff and slid out of sight in the crowd. Charley stopped a cruising taxicab and let himself drop into the seat. Weather like this his leg stil ached. He swal-lowed a sigh; what the hel was the number? "Go on up-town up Park Avenue," he yel ed at the driver. He couldn't think of the number of the damn place. . . .
"To East Fiftysecond Street. I'l show you the house." He set-tled back against the cushions. Christ, I'm tired, he whis-pered to himself. As he sat slumped back jolted by the stopping and starting of the taxi in the traffic his belt cut into his bel y. He loosened the belt a notch, felt better, brought a cigar out of his breastpocket and bit the end off. It took him some time to light the cigar. Each time he had the match ready the taxi started or stopped. When he did light it it didn't taste good. "Hel , I've smoked too much today . . . what I need's a drink," he muttered aloud.
The taxi moved jerkily uptown. Now and then out of
-343-the corner of his eye he caught grey outlines of men in other taxis and private cars. As soon as he'd made out one group of figures another took its place. On Lafayette Street the traffic was smoother. The whole stream of metal, glass, upholstery, overcoats, haberdashery, flesh and blood was moving uptown. Cars stopped, started, shifted gears in unison as if they were run by one set of bel s. Charley sat slumped in the seat feeling the layer of fat on his bel y against his trousers, feeling the fat of his jowl against his stiff col ar. Why the hel couldn't he remember that num-ber? He'd been there every night for a month. A vein in his left eyelid kept throbbing.
"Bonjour, monsieur," said the plainclothes doorman.
"How do you do, mon capitaine," said Freddy the rat-toothed proprietor, nodding a sleek black head. "Monsieur dining with Mademoisel e tonight?" Charley shook his head. "I have a fel er coming to dinner with me at seven."
"Bien, monsieur.""Let's have a scotch and soda while I'm waitin' and be sure it ain't that rotgut you tried to palm off on me yesterday."
Freddy smiled wanly. "It was a mistake, Mr. Anderson. We have the veritable pinchbottle. You see the wrappings. It is stil wet from the saltwater." Charley grunted and dropped into an easychair in the corner of the bar. He drank the whiskey off straight and sipped the soda afterwards. "Hay, Maurice, bring me another," he cal ed to the greyhaired old wrinklefaced Swiss waiter. "Bring me another. Make it double, see? . . . in a regular highbal glass. I'm tired this evenin'." The shot of whiskey warmed his gut. He sat up straighter. He grinned up at the waiter. "Wel , Maurice, you haven't told me what you thought about the market today.""I'm not so sure, sir. . . . But you know, Mr. Anderson. . . If you only wanted to you could tel me." Charley stretched his legs out and laughed. "Flyin'