"Likewise," said Mrs. Schondle. "So long, Iliz Moore.
And girlie." She leaned over to pat Maggie-Now's cheek.
She said a strange thing. "We're just ships that pass in the
night."
They watched her as she walked away from them down
the street. She did look a licit like a ship with her hitching
w all: and the veils floating out behind like black smoke.
"Who is she anyhow, Mama?"
"You know. Someone I met at the cemetery years ago?
We're l)ecoration Day friends.'
"Where does she live?
"I don't know."
"I)oes she have a little girl, home' '
"If she has, she's never mentioned her."
'Did she get a new husband after.Nlr. Schondle died' ~ //61
"I never asked."
"How can you be friends with somebody and you don't
know where they live or anything?"
"It's possible to be acquaintances without knowing much
about the other person. We're passing friends."
"Ha! Ships that pass in the night, hey, Mama?"
A CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ~
IN THE fifteen-odd years since Patrick Delmis Moore had
landed in America, many changes had come about. The
horsecars had given way to trolley cars. The completion of
the subway, which changed into the elevated as soon as it
crawled out onto the Williamsburg Bridge, did away with
most of the East River ferries. Automobiles were no
longer a curiosity, although some retarded kids still yelled,
"Get a horse!" when one appeared, and all pedestrians
were delighted when a car broke down. Most of the better
stores had soldered off the gas pipes and put in electric
lights. Some of the candy stores had phones in and you got
your number by appealing to "Central." And some insane
person went around the neighborhood saying he'd sat in
a dark room somewhere and saw pictures that moved on
a bed sheet. The ballad writers of the day started a new
folk lore by acknowledging the inventions in their creative
work.
Come, .1 osephine,
In my flying machine . . .
And,
. . . Lucille, In my merry Oldsmobile.
Also,
Call me up some rainy afternoon, And we'll arrange for
a quiet, little spoon.
1 ii7]
Yes, there were changes. But Patsy never changed,
except the he was getting too old to be called Patsy and
the few people who had to speak to him called him Pat.
He got to be sort of a character the way he smoked his
stub-stemmed pipe upside down as he cleaned the streets.
He smoked it that way so sparks wouldn't fly in his eyes
on a windy day and to keep the tobacco dry on rainy days.
He bet ame known as "reef Pat" because he wouldn't get
out of the way for anybody or anything. Motormen would
stamp down on the gong, motorists would squeeze the
rubber bulb of the horn or grind the klaxon, bicycle bells
would tinkle hysterically; teamsters cursed him and
pedestrians threatened to sue the city because he swept
dust on them when they crossed the street. But he ignored
them all, pretending not to hear, and he wouldn't move
out of the way until he had finished the place he was
cleaning.
People would say to each other: "He'll get run over yet."
The answer: "Let's hope so."
Out of boredom, Pat worked up a feud with a certain
motorman. The motorman was a skinny, nervous little
fellow and Pat was the one who could bring him to the
brink of hysterics. When Pat saw the trolley coming, he'd
go and stand on the tracks pushing his broom back and
forth The car bore down with gong clattering. Pat paid no
attention. Each time the motorman kept coming, thinking
Pat w ould get off the tracks this time, and he wouldn't
slow down. He was forced to put the brakes on at the last
moment to bring the car to a screeching stop. Some
passengers were knocked out of their seats, old ladies
whimpered and the trolley pole slipped off the power line.
The motorman would scream, scold, wave his arms and
throw his cap on the ground and stamp on it but Pat
wouldn't budge until he'd finished his leisurely sweeping.
One day, Pat held up a brewery truck. It was loaded
with beer kegs and pulled by two ]'ercherons, whose thick
tails were braided and looped up to look like thick clubs.
Pat stepped in front of the approaching truck, forcing the
teamster to pull up and wait while he swept away
non-existent dirt. Then he wanted the teamster to back up
teamster gave him an argument and Pat ~ 1181
walked back to the truck. In talking and waving his broom
for emphasis, he happened to hit one of the horses on the
rump with the broom handle. The horse shifted his great
weight from one hind foot to the other like a woman
shifting her hips, and swung his clubbed tail in Pat's face.
Pat's clay pipe was knocked out of his mouth and broke
into bits on the cobblestones. The teamster laughed so
hard he nearly fell off his seat. Pedestrians laughed as Pat
ran down the street after his rolling helmet. All agreed
that it served Deef Pat right. The vindicated teamster went
on his way.
Soon after, the trolley with the nervous motorman came
into view. Pat had to take out his humiliation on the
motorman. Other times, Pat had pretended there was
debris on the tracks. This time he put it there. He emptied
the entire contents of his trash can on the tracks. The
motorman plowed into the trash before he could get the
car stopped.
A woman screamed, a child fell off the seat and, of
course, the pole came off the line. The motorman did not
act true to form. He was calm and collectecl. He soothed
his passengers, swung oir the car, put the pole back on the
line, walked slowly up to where Pat was standing and
punched him right in the nose. The passengers cheered
and bystanders applauded the brave motorman. Pat threw
himself upon the man and grappled with him. They rolled
in the horse manure and other debris of the can. They
rolled almost under the car. Their faces were inches apart.
Pat took a good look at the motorman.
"Well, I'll be damned," he said. Click Mack!"
"And 'tis you, me old night-school friend," said Mick
Mack sadly. "And ain't you the one to torment an old
friend so."
"I didn't know it was you. 'Tis the teeth make you look
different. You didn't have teeth in night school."
"I bought them. Upper and lower and I'm still paying on
them. Tell me this, Pathrick: Did you ever take out your
first papers? "
"I been a citizen these many years."
In the meantime, a passing citizen, not having seen the
beginning of the fight, ran and told a policeman that two
men had been run over by a trolley car. The panting
policeman, who had run
all the way, stooped and peered
under the car to see how
~ /~91
much they were mangled. He saw them Iying side by side
in the muck talking amiably ho each other. He prodded
Pat with his nightstick.
"Come out of there, now, the both of yez," he ordered.
They stood shamefaced before him. 'iI've a mind to run
you in. Drunk on the job, the both of yea, and layin' in the
gutter together. And you," he said to Pat, "working for the
city, too!" He took their names and numbers.
It ended up that Mick Mack was transferred to another
run and Pat was suspended for two weeks without pay.
During those two weeks, he roamed the streets of
Williamsburg, Greenpoint and Maspeth, trying to find
Mick Mack. He angered many a motorman by standing on
a corner and holding up a finger as a signal that he
wanted to board the car. When the car stopped, instead of
getting on, he leered into the motorman's face and said,
"Wrong car."
I'll look till I find him, Pat vowed. Therl I'll give him the
licking of his life for daring to punch me ire the nose.
In truth, though, he wanted to find him because he was
lonely for a friend and he remembered how the little
fellow had looked up to him in the old night-school days
when they were both so young.
He must have looked into a hundred cars, but he never
found Mick Mack.
In spite of being warned by his superintendent that he'd
be fired if he caused any more trouble, Pat did not change
his ways. He continued to smoke his pipe upside down
and to pretend to be deaf. He continued to hold up
vehicles at whim. Teamsters and motorists took to going
down other streets to avoid him and his nonsense. This
lessened Pat's work but it made him very lonely. There
were fewer to hare and to torment, now, on the streets he
cleaned.
Sometimes on a still summer afternoon, when the
German band played on one of his streets, he'd lean on
his broom handle and listen a while. The band played a
German song, a popular song of the day and, invariably,
an Irish song. When the tune had a lilt, Pat's feet twitched
inside his heavy work shoes and his mind made a dance
pattern and he thought again of County Kilkenny.
~ 120]
One day, Maggie-Now happened to be with the group
of chil-dren who followed the band from block to block.
He watched his daughter waltz with another girl.
She's got them all beat, he thought with a flare of pride.
After the usual lugubrious "Blue Danube," the kids
clustered around the musicians begging for "Rosie
O'&rady." When the band complied, the kids made a
circle and pushed .N1aggie-Nov into the middle of it. As
soon as she got the beat of the song, she went into a solo,
soft-shoe clog. The pipe nearly fell out of Pat's mouth. He
was that astonished.
Where does she get it 1rorr.~? he asked himself. From
meself, he decided. that Echo learned' her? ale watched her
a while. No, I couldn't do I,~et~er meself.
She lifted her skirts and the ruffles on her drawers
showed. A couple of passing boys slopped, stared,
whispered to each other and snickered. Pat threw his
broom down and stalked over to the dancers. When
Mag.,ie-Novv saw him, she gave him a big smile.
"Go on hon1e,'' he said tersely.
She tossed her head, making her hangs bounce, put her
hands on her hips and clogged away from him. He
followed her around the circle, caught her and spanked
her. He spanked her publicly before all her friencis.
"That'll lear n you," he said, "to show everything on the
street."
She looked up at him, stricken. fie had never hit her
before. "Papa! You didn't kiss n1e when you hit me! You
didn't kiss me like cousin SneiTa! You meant it!"
"You betcha life I meant it and there's more where that
come from."
He thou:,l1t of Big Red" ho\ be had said that and he
wondered if Maggie-Now felt the same shame he had felt.
He svas sorry he had spanked her. He had never hit her
before. Neither had her mother. She was not a bad girl.
The spanking didn't hurt her, he assured himself. It vvas
the public humiliation that hurt her. She ran home,
weeping all the was,-.
The cornet player shook the spit out ot his horn. "I)IT'
Hei'iZzel Mannchen!" he sneered at Pat.
"Is that so? Well, Heinie, you go to your church and I'll
go to
1~ 1211
niine." That was one `>f Pat's favorite retorts.
Maggie-Now changed toward her father. The sunny
child had always chattered to him endlessly, never noticing
that he made no answer. She had liked to tease him and
had been quick to hug him warmly. She had never noticed
that he took all her loving Days with indifference. She had
so much emotional steam that she could go a long svav on
her own poNver without the encouragement of response.
She changed after the whipping. Now she was quiet and
restrained in his presence. She spoke to him only to
answer him. She gave him respect and obedience and
nothing more. SecretlN-. Pat grieved. He felt that he had
lost his child.
"Are you turning the girl against me?" he asked his wife.
"I would not do that, Patrick. You are her father and
she needs v ou and loves you."
"She's still mulling over that spanking I gave her. I only
gave her a tap or tVO but you'd think I licked her black
and blue."
"But why in front of her friends?"
"She's got to learn," he mtlmbled.
"Did you learn anything by Tim~ytlls Shaun thrashing
your TN7o. You'll hold that agtinst him all the days of
your life. MaggielNTow has some of your ways."
Vlly don t you S`IN' IT]N,~ /7~1~1 N'a'S?
She took his hand ill both of hers. "I loved you for N
our ways. I never thought severe they good vays or bad
ways."
"Ah, 1/lary," he said, touched, and a moment tried to get
born.
I co?vid say I loved her, he thought. And it "would mean
the . orl.l to her my saying it. And I do love her in a kind
of way. But I never saicl it before. Linda late to start saying
it norm. 1~1 feel foolisI.' ... we'd both {eel foolish....
The moment died stillborn.
He wanted the girl'. affection back. l o that end, he
made plans to take her out on her birthday.
"I will give her a good time like your father gave you
when he bought the combs. I'll give her the same good
time according to me means and hope she'll ~ emember
it in the same wav you did," said Pat to his wife.
No one sold violets on the Brooklyn streets. He bought
her a pinwheel instead. When she ran ahead to mate a w
ind to make it
~ ~ 1
turn, he realised was too big to play with a pinwheel.
Of course he didn't take her to a bar for a claret
lemonade. There were no glarr orous bars in the
neighborhood and he'd be sure to be arrested if he
brought a little girl into a saloon. There was no fine
restaurant. I hey ate hot pastrami sandwiches and honey
cake and drank ten from glasses in a Kosher Delicatessen
& Lunchroom. The men are with their hats on. Pat
explained that was their religion. He took his hat oflf with
the remark that they could go to their church and he'd go
to his. The diners balled up their napkins and threw them
on the floor when they were done. When Maggie-Now
asked why, her father said they did that because they were
very clean people. Maggie-Now thought that didn't seem
clean. Oh, yes, her father told her. That was so the
proprietor wouldn't serve the napkins again to later
diners.
They went to the "heater. They heard no prima donna
raise a luscious voice in song. They went to The Folly and
saw Marion Bent and Pat Rooney. And Rooney's waltz
clog thrilled them more than the best soprano's aria.
Afterward, he took her to a novelty store and invited
her to choose a present. She u anted a wood-burning set.
There was a tie rack with an Indian chief's head in a war
bonnet just waiting to be burned and an envelope of
"jewels" to paste on the bonnet's headband. Pat wanted
her to have a rhinestone brooch. Both things cost a dollar
each. She didn't want a brooch. She wanted to burn wood.
Fat said she would take the rhinestone brooch or nothing.
She said she wanted nothing. He bought her the brooch
anyway.
Yet it had been a happy evening and she held her
father's hand all the way home and squeezed it happily
from time to time, and once he squeezed back.
1 ~ >. 1
'4< (.'HA 1' TER NI NE TEEN ~
()NE night as they were eating supper (Maggie-Now was
about twelve a': the time), a handsome young man
knocked on the door and was admitted to the kitchen. I
le was about twenty-three years old.
"Do you remember Nile, Fir. .`vk~cJre? ' Ihe young
man smiled engagingly, then his face sadrlened.
Pat frowned, trying to rermetnber.
"Nokomis. Daughter of the Noon, Nokor~is. Remember?"
Pat remembered. "Big Red's boy, Widdy," he explained
to his wife. lee thought: An,l what does the spawn want
from brie?
"1~7Iother sent tee," said Middy, turtling his hat
around in his hands. Thet, he seemed to lose the
continuity of what he wanted to say. "]: mean, you know
Oad." E-Ze swallowed hard before he said: "God rest his
soul . . ."
"No!" said lent, put ing his talk dovtl. "No!"
"Mother said, l mean, Dad had no relations in America,
except ~Iother and me and Gr ~ndmotller. There's
Gracie, too. We were going to get married in June, but
now we'll have to wait a vear out of respect."
Big Red had diccl in fled and lead not been killed on
the streets by hoodh~ms as Lottie Ad always feared. A
blizzard had tied up the city. :Big Red, like bland another
cop, had worked two days and two nights without rest. He
had had a cold, and just when Lottie hard thought he was
getting well it turned into pneumonia.
Yes, Widdy's mothe! was bearing up well. There was
pride mixed with her grief. Her Timmy had died an
honored man, Widdy told them. E-lis l euten.Znt w ould
he one of the pallbearers, and Widely supposed they
hadn't heard, but Big Red had been promoted to serge At
a Feel; before he took sick. I.ottie had been so proud.
"So llother said " concluded Widdy, "if you folks would
come ro the funeral . . . the .Nk~ores and thie
ShaNN7ns had been so close
I loll
back in County Kilkenny . . . had almost become relations .
. ." Pat grieved. He didn't grieve for a friend; he grieved
for a dear enemy. Although never a heavy drinker, he felt
the need of going down to the saloon for a couple of
beers.