Each of us had heard another tern sing that song. The other tern had been Wayne Potts. We were ready. It was time for the B?M Deli lunch.
Gilheeny and Quick stood by the door. As we entered, they sent back two winks: one fat, red, and bushy; the other thin, wiry, and black. Little did the Leggo realize whom he'd chosen to protect him. We dug into our B?M Deli sandwiches. The Leggo ate standing, in front. Sensing the tension in the room and with only two weeks to go until his Chief Residency year was successfully completed and he would be assured a spot on the House Slurper staff, the Fish was determined to avoid an explosion. Standing before us, he began to announce the event that Hyper Hooper and Eat My Dust Eddie had been awaiting, the presentation of the Black Crow Award.
'You mean the thing really exists?' I asked Chuck.
'If'n it don't, it sure did fool the Leggo and the Fish.'
'. . . and so, since there has already been one award this year, the ***MVI*** won by Dr. Roy G. Basch and symbolized by his silver tiepin, we've decided to have a tiepin for the Black Crow.' The Fish held up a silver tiepin with a black crow perched on it, and said, 'I know there's been fierce competition, and right up until last night the contest was a dead heat between Hooper and Eddie for the most posts. In fact, it wasn't until the early hours of the morning, with the death of Rose?'
'KATZ! ROSE KATZ!' screamed Hooper, leaping up. 'YAYYY! I KNEW IT! ROSE KATZ PUT ME OVER THE TOP! I WON IT AT THE POST!'
'Yes,' said the Fish, 'it was Mrs. Rose Katz, the postmortem was done this morning, and it gives me great pleasure to announce that the first annual House of God Black Crow Award goes to Dr. Hooper.'
'YEE?AYY!' said Hooper, running up to the front of the room to accept his tiepin and his free trip for two to Atlantic City. He did a little victory dance and burst out with 'Underr the boo?ard?walk, down by the seee? eeeeee?'
'Wait just a second,' said the Runt angrily. 'Rose Katz was my LOL in NAD. I claim credit for the death and for the post. I worked hard for that death, and Hooper robbed me of it. He came in last night when he wasn't even on call and I was home asleep. Eddie was on call, and since Rose died when Eddie was in charge, I know she'd want him to get credit for her post. Eddie's the winner, not Hooper.'
'HEY! HEY HEY!' cried Eddie, standing, running up to the front. 'HEY, GUYS, IT'S EDDIE! HOOPER, YOU CAN EAT MY DUST! I'M THE BLACK CROW, FAIR AND SQUARE! LET'S HEAR IT FOR EDDIE, EH? HEY HEY HEY!'
Well, at that, all hell broke loose. Eddie and Hooper started arguing and then were pushing and shoving and then really started in swinging at each other, and with all of us screaming like at a prizefight, finally the policemen broke it up. The Leggo marched center?ring and said that unfortunately the decision of the judges: was final and Hooper was the first House Black Crow. Hooper, relieved, shook hands with Eddie, and then, turning to the rest of us, with moisture in his eyes, said, 'You know, guys, I just can't believe it. This is like a dream come true. I want you to know I couldn't have done it without your help, each and every one of you. You put me where I am today, and I'll never forget it. From my heart, guys, thanks. YAY! Under' the boo?'
The Leggo arid the Fish canned the second verse of Hooper's song, and we settled down to the serious business of the day: 'All of you, when you came here almost a year ago,' said the Leggo, 'agreed to do two years, and yet some of you are thinking of not going on in medicine. Boys, I'll be frank: I'm banking on your being here with me for the rewarding House residency year. One year isn't enough. One year is nothing, almost a waste. It's the second year, built on, the foundation of the first, that makes it all worthwhile.' He paused. Angry silence filled the room. A waste. 'Now, how many of you are considering psychiatry? Raise your hands.'
Silently, five hands went up: the Runt, Chuck, Eddie, the Crow, the ***MVI***. And then the Leggo's eyes and the Fish's eyes bugged out, staring at the back of the room. We turned. Both Gilheeny and Quick had raised their hands.
'What?' asked the Leggo. 'You too? You're policemen, not physicians. You can't become psychiatrist on July the first.'
'Policemen we are,' said Gilheeny, 'and strictly speaking, psychiatrists we cannot become. At first t seemed a singular limitation for us, so taken as we are with the warped and criminally perverted?'
'Get on with it, man. What's the point?'
'The point is that we shall become lay analysts.'
'Lay analysts? You cops are thinking of becoming lay analysts?'
There was a pause, and then, out of it rolled a familiar question: 'Would we be policemen if we were not?'
'Yes,' said Quick, 'for lay analysis was introduced to our minds by our old friend Grenade Room Dubler. Dr. Jeffrey Cohen also?'
'WHAT?!' yelled the Leggo. 'DUBLER A PSYCHIATRIST?'
'Not just a psychiatrist, no,' said Gilheeny, 'a Freudian analyst.'
'THAT MADMAN? A FREUDIAN PSYCHOANALYST?'
'And not just a psychoanalyst,' said Quick, 'but the bearded President of the Psychoanalytic Institute, a preeminent humanist and scholar.'
'Yes,' said Gilheeny, 'having left the House of God directly after his internship year, Dubler never looked back, and has risen to the very top. At this moment, he is pulling strings for us, giving us 'a leg up'.'
'And with Finton's banjaxed leg anyway,' said Quick, 'it is time for us to change careers to a less ambulatory one. Lay analysis is perfect.'
'For did not the great Sigmund Freud in 1912 conclude a symposium on masturbation with the statement: 'the subject of onanism is inexhaustible'?'
'And will it not take time to work out our Church dogma that masturbation will render the Catholic lad blind, hairy?palmed, insane, doomed, and with the leg bones bent like an orphan with the rickets?'
'And so excuse us, Chief,' said Gilheeny, folding his big arms across his chest and leaning back against the door, 'we will not resume the free associations,' and he closed his eyes and lapsed into silence again.
The Leggo was shaken. Turning back to us, anxiously tugging the stethoscope deep?sixed in his trousers, he asked, 'Psychiatry? All of you five? I don't understand. Hooper?'
'Well,' said Hooper sheepishly, 'I got to admit I was thinking Path most of the year, but for some reason, right now Psych seems a better deal. Lot to work through, Chief?the divorce, . splitting up the furniture, saying good?bye to the wife's old man, the works?anyway, the fiancee's a pathologist, she'll keep me up on the stiffs.'
'Chuck? Even you?' asked the Leggo.
'You know how it is, man. I mean, just look at a me. When I firs' came here, I looked great, didn't I, guys? I was thin, ath?a?letic, dressed like a Bluenote, remember? Now I'm fat, and I'm dressin' like a janitor, a damn bum. Why? You dudes and them gomers, that's why. And mostly you?you made me what I am today. Thanks, man, thanks a lot. I be good god?damned if I stay here for round two.'
We were startled by Chuck's outburst. The Leggo, looked hurt and puzzled. He began to question Eddie, but the Runt, more and more angry, exploded: 'Damn it, Leggo, you don't realize what we've been going through this year. You don't have a clue!'
There was an ominous hush. The Runt, wild?eyed, looked like he was about to strangle the Leggo, the Fish shielded his Chief with his body and gestured toward the policemen. Snarling, the Runt continued 'There's some good news, there's some bad news: bad news is there's shit around here; the good news is that there's plenty of it. You've broken us this year with your pious version of medical care. We hate this. We want out.'
'What?' asked the Leggo incredulously, 'you me you don't enjoy doing medicine here at the House God?'
'Get it through your fucking skull!' shouted Runt at the Leggo, and, according to Freud, at mom and pop in the Leggo, and sat down.
'It's just a small radical nucleus.'
'Nope,' I said in somber tone. 'It's all of us morning I saw Howard Greenspoon bashing screaming at the elevator door like a maniac.'
'Howard? No!' said the Leggo. 'My Howie?'
The attention turned to his Howie. Silence. The tension billowed out. Howie squirmed. The tension hung,
