Feet stamped on the floor. “No.” “To hell wid em,” shouted voices. … “Now I say to hell wid de politicians. … We’ll carry our campaign to the country … to the great big generous bighearted American people we fought and bled and laid down our lives for.”
The long armory room roared with applause. The wounded men in the front row banged the floor with their crutches. “Joey’s a good guy,” said a man without arms to a man with one eye and an artificial leg who sat beside him. “He is that Buddy.” While they were filing out offering each other cigarettes, a man stood in the door calling out, “Committee meeting, Committee on Bonus.”
The four of them sat round a table in the room the Colonel had lent them. “Well fellers let’s have a cigar.” Joe hopped over to the Colonel’s desk and brought out four Romeo and Juliets. “He’ll never miss em.”
“Some little grafter I’ll say,” said Sid Garnett stretching out his long legs.
“Havent got a case of Scotch in there, have you Joey?” said Bill Dougan.
“Naw I’m not drinkin myself jus for the moment.”
“I know where you kin get guaranteed Haig and Haig,” put in Segal cockily—“before the war stuff for six dollars a quart.”
“An where are we goin to get the six dollars for crissake?”
“Now look here fellers,” said Joe, sitting on the edge of the table, “let’s get down to brass tacks. … What we’ve got to do is raise a fund from the gang and anywhere else we can. … Are we agreed about that?”
“Sure we are, you tell em,” said Dougan.
“I know lot of old fellers even, thinks the boys are gettin a raw deal. … We’ll call it the Brooklyn Bonus Agitation Committee associated with the Sheamus O’Rielly Post of the A.L. … No use doin anythin unless you do it up right. … Now are yous guys wid me or aint yer?”
“Sure we are Joey. … You tell em an we’ll mark time.”
“Well Dougan’s got to be president cause he’s the best lookin.”
Dougan went crimson and began to stammer.
“Oh you seabeach Apollo,” jeered Garnett.
“And I think I can do best as treasurer because I’ve had more experience.”
“Cause you’re the crookedest you mean,” said Segal under his breath.
Joe stuck out his jaw. “Look here Segal are you wid us or aint yer? You’d better come right out wid it now if you’re not.”
“Sure, cut de comedy,” said Dougan. “Joey’s de guy to put dis ting trough an you know it. … Cut de comedy. … If you dont like it you kin git out.”
Segal rubbed his thin hooked nose. “I was juss jokin gents, I didn’t mean no harm.”
“Look here,” went on Joe angrily, “what do you think I’m givin up my time for? … Why I turned down fifty dollars a week only yesterday, aint that so, Sid? You seen me talkin to de guy.”
“Sure I did Joey.”
“Oh pipe down fellers,” said Segal. “I was just stringin Joey along.”
“Well I think Segal you ought to be secretary, cause you know about office work. …”
“Office work?”
“Sure,” said Joe puffing his chest out. “We’re goin to have desk space in the office of a guy I know. … It’s all fixed. He’s goin to let us have it free till we get a start. An we’re goin to have office stationery. Cant get nowhere in this world without presentin things right.”
“An where do I come in?” asked Sid Garnett.
“You’re the committee, you big stiff.”
After the meeting Joe O’Keefe walked whistling down Atlantic Avenue. It was a crisp night; he was walking on springs. There was a light in Dr. Gordon’s office. He rang. A whitefaced man in a white jacket opened the door.
“Hello Doc.”
“Is that you O’Keefe? Come on in my boy.” Something in the doctor’s voice clutched like a cold hand at his spine.
“Well did your test come out all right doc?”
“All right … positive all right.”
“Christ.”
“Dont worry too much about it, my boy, we’ll fix you up in a few months.”
“Months.”
“Why at a conservative estimate fiftyfive percent of the people you meet on the street have a syphilitic taint.”
“It’s not as if I’d been a damn fool. I was careful over there.”
“Inevitable in wartime. …”
“Now I wish I’d let loose. … Oh the chances I passed up.”
The doctor laughed. “You probably wont even have any symptoms. … It’s just a question of injections. I’ll have you sound as a dollar in no time. … Do you want to take a shot now? I’ve got it all ready.”
O’Keefe’s hands went cold. “Well I guess so,” he forced a laugh. “I guess I’ll be a goddam thermometer by the time you’re through with me.” The doctor laughed creakily. “Full up of arsenic and mercury eh. … That’s it.”
The wind was blowing up colder. His teeth were chattering. Through the rasping castiron night he walked home. Fool to pass out that way when he stuck me. He could still feel the sickening lunge of the needle. He gritted his teeth. After this I got to have some luck. … I got to have some luck.
Two stout men and a lean man sit at a table by a window. The light of a zinc sky catches brightedged glints off glasses, silverware, oystershells, eyes. George Baldwin has his back to the window. Gus McNiel sits on his right, and Densch on his left. When the waiter leans over to take away the empty oystershells he can see through the window, beyond the graystone parapet, the tops of a few buildings jutting like the last trees at the edge of a cliff and the tinfoil
