The Great Brain

by John D. Fitzgerald

  I thought Mr. Kokovinis was going to cry. And if he had known how much it was going to cost him for Tom being Basil’s best friend, he probably would have. Now that Tom had made Basil a genuine American kid like the rest of us, it made the Greek boy fair game for my brother’s great brain.

  Right now, I thought to myself, I’ll bet Tom is trying to figure out how much to charge Mr. Kokovinis for each new English word he teaches Basil.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A Wreath for Abie

  AUGUST CAME TO ADENVILLE, bringing with it the hottest weather of the year. The heat slowed everybody down. People walked a little slower. Our fathers began crowding us kids at the swimming hole to escape from the heat. Dogs became listless. My dog, Brownie, spent most of his time lying in the shade of a tree or under our back porch. I began to worry about Lady, who was expecting a litter of puppies. Tom had told me that it would take sixty-two days from the day Lady was mated with Brownie before the pups would be born. He assured me that the heat wouldn’t stop Lady from having the litter. As always The Great Brain was right. Lady gave birth to a litter of eight beautiful puppies the second week in August. I took Tom’s advice and decided to wait until three weeks after the puppies were weaned before taking my pick of the litter.

  “They will be bigger then,” Tom had told me, “and not dependent on their mother, so I can judge them better.”

  During the third week in August Abie Glassman fainted in front of the livery stable. He was carried inside by Mr. Tanner and some other men who revived him. Everybody blamed it on the heat.

  Abie had earned himself a reputation for being a miser since opening his variety store. It began when he had removed the strong box from his peddler’s wagon and placed it in the living quarters of his store. It was a box made from wood with steel bands around it and had a big padlock on it. I guess Abie needed the strongbox when he was traveling around the outlying country and didn’t get near a bank only once or twice a year. Everybody who had seen Abie carrying the strongbox into his store had wondered what was in it.

  It was just a couple of weeks after Abie opened his store that the rumor got around town the strongbox was filled with gold pieces. A man named Milton Tedford, who worked on the railroad as a brakeman, started the rumor. He had made a purchase in the store and had given Abie a twenty dollar gold piece. He told friends that Abie had gone into the living quarters to make change out of the strongbox. Abie had given Tedford a ten dollar, a five dollar, and a two-and-a-half dollar gold piece in change. As the story was repeated around town people became convinced that the strongbox was filled with gold pieces.

  Uncle Mark was worried about the rumor. He told Abie there were always drifters in town who might hear about the strongbox and attempt to rob it. He tried to persuade Abie to put the money in the bank. Abie told Uncle Mark there was nothing to worry about.

  Howard Kay was the first one to tell me Abie had a strongbox filled with gold pieces. He had heard his father telling his mother about it. I had run all the way home to tell Tom about it.

  Later when I learned Abie had failed to take Uncle Mark’s advice and put the money in the bank, I asked Tom why Abie wouldn’t.

  “What money?” Tom asked as we sat on the back porch steps, waiting until it was lunchtime.

  “That strongbox full of gold pieces,” I said.

  “If anybody tries to rob Abie,” Tom said, “he is going to be mighty disappointed.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I just know, J.D., and that’s all,” Tom said, and I knew from the way he said it that he wasn’t going to tell me any more.

  Mamma had tried to buy everything she could from Abie after he’d opened his store. When she sent me to the store on an errand, she always told me to try the variety store first. If Mamma only wanted a small item like a spool of thread, I always went to the variety store. But when she wanted several items, I always went to the Z.C.M.I. store because I knew Mr. Harmon would give me a stick of peppermint candy free. There were never any customers in Abie’s store when I did go there. I began to think that Papa had made a big mistake in talking Abie into opening a store in town. And I hoped that people were right and Abie did have a strongbox full of gold pieces, because he sure wasn’t doing much business.

  The second time Abie fainted was just six days after the first time. He fainted in front of the post once. Uncle Mark saw it happen. When he revived Abie, he wanted to take the old man to see Dr. LeRoy.

  “A doctor cannot help me,” Abie told Uncle Mark.

  During supper that evening Papa and Mamma were talking about it.

  “I don’t understand what Abie meant,” Papa said, “unless he meant that he has some kind of incurable disease.”

  “Dear God I hope not,” Mamma said.

  The third time Abie fainted was just a few days before school started. It happened right before my eyes. Mamma had sent me to get her a package of needles. I knew Mr. Harmon wouldn’t give me any free candy for such a small purchase. I went to the variety store.

  “How are your good father and wonderful mother, John?” Abie asked me as he got the package of needles.

  “Just fine, thank you,” I said.

  Abie laid the package of needles on the counter. Then he suddenly pressed his hands to the sides of his head. I became terrified as I watched his eyes roll crazily around and around and saw him fall to the floor. I ran screaming out of the store and didn’t stop until I reached the marshal’s office. By the time I returned to the store with Uncle Mark some people who had seen me run screaming out of the store had revived Abie. He was sitting in a chair. Again Uncle Mark tried to get Abie to see Dr. LeRoy. Again Abie refused to see the doctor.

  I told Mamma about it when I got home.

  “Abie must see a doctor,” Mamma said when I finished. “Even if he has some incurable disease as you father suspects, at least Dr. LeRoy can give him something for the pain. I’ll get your father to invite Abie for Sunday dinner. That will give your father and me a chance to persuade Abie he must see a doctor.”

  Papa stopped at the store the next morning to invite Abie for Sunday dinner. There was a CLOSED sign on the door.

  “I thought he might be so ill that he closed up the store,” Papa told Mamma when he came home for lunch, “so I went around in back and pounded on the rear door. There was no answer. The only explanation I can think of is that Abie went to Salt Lake City to see a specialist or to order some new merchandise for his store.”

  Mamma sent me to the variety store three days later to get a package of carpet tacks. The CLOSED sign was still on the door. I went to the Z.C.M.I. store to get the tacks. When I told Mamma about it, she got real upset. She telephoned Papa and Uncle Mark to come to our house at once. I went to tell Tom and Sweyn, who were cleaning the parlor rug. They had it hung on the clothes line and were beating it with broom handles. They were covered with dust, but that didn’t stop them from following me into the parlor where Mamma was waiting with Aunt Bertha. Papa and Uncle Mark arrived a moment later.

  Nobody sat down as Mamma looked at Uncle Mark. “Did you see Abie leave on the train for Salt Lake?” she asked.

  “No,” Uncle Mark replied. “I usually meet all trains but that was the day I had to ride out to the Gunderson ranch. Pete Gunderson thought some of his steer had been rustled. We found them after an all-day search in a gully.”

  “Did anybody see Abie leave?” Mamma asked, and her face was now strained with worry.

  “Come to think of it,” Papa said, “nobody has mentioned seeing him leave. And it is strange he didn’t tell me so I could put an item about it in the Advocate.”

  “How do we know he did leave?” Mamma asked.

  “I see what you are getting at,” Uncle Mark said quickly.

  “There have been quite a few drifters in town lately. One of them might have heard about the strongbox. Putting a CLOSED sign on the door would just be a cover-up to give the robber time for a getaway. Let’s go!”

&nb
sp; All of us except Aunt Bertha ran all the way to the variety store. Uncle Mark took the butt of his Colt 45 and knocked out a pane of glass in the front door. He reached through the opening and pulled back the barrel bolt lock.

  “Locked from the inside,” he said with a worried look.

  We found Abie lying on his cot in the living quarters of the store. He was holding a Jewish prayer book in his hands, which were clasped on his chest. He was fully dressed, including his Jewish skull cap. His eyes were closed but he was breathing.

  “Thank God it wasn’t robbery,” Papa said. “He is just sick.”

  “Take him to my house,” Mamma said briskly.

  “I’m afraid to move him until Dr. LeRoy looks him over,” Uncle Mark said. He turned to Sweyn. “Run and get the doctor, Sweyn.”

  So many people had crowded into the store and living quarters by the time Sweyn returned with Dr. LeRoy that they had to push their way through the crowd. Dr. LeRoy ordered everybody out of the living quarters except Uncle Mark. He pulled the curtains across the doorway to the store so we couldn’t see. He and Uncle Mark remained there for what seemed a long time before coming out.

  Finally Dr. LeRoy pushed aside the curtains and came into the store. His eyes were wide and his mouth twisted as if he were in pain.

  “Abie is dying of malnutrition,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  I grabbed Tom’s arm. “What’s malnutrition,” I whispered.

  “Hunger,” Tom answered. “Abie is starving to death.”

  “Can he be moved?” Mamma asked as tears came into her eyes.

  “He must be,” Dr. LeRoy said. “He needs immediate care and nursing but I’m afraid…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Bring him home with me,” Mamma said.

  Uncle Mark wrapped Abie in a blanket and picked the sick man up in his arms. “He’s as light as a feather, just skin and bones,” Uncle Mark said, his voice choking.

  Uncle Mark carried Abie down Main Street to our house, with a crowd of people following. Mamma told him to put Abie in her bedroom. She ordered Aunt Bertha to prepare some broth immediately. Then she sat on the edge of the bed bathing Abie’s face with a wet cloth.

  When Aunt Bertha brought the hot broth, Mamma tried to spoon feed it to Abie. He spat it out on the bed. Then Dr. LeRoy tried to force the broth down Abie’s throat. Abie threw it up.

  “I’m afraid we are too late,” Dr. LeRoy said sadly.

  Mamma cradled Abie’s head in her arms. He opened his eyes slowly. A flicker of recognition came into them as he looked at Mamma. His lips moved but no words came. Then he died in Mamma’s arms.

  Mamma lay his head gently on the pillow. Dr. LeRoy closed Abie’s eyelids. Mamma pulled the sheet up over Abie’s head. Then Mamma walked slowly into our parlor which was filled with people. She looked as if she had just lost one of her own loved ones.

  “Abie is dead,” she said as tears toppled down her cheeks. “Three times he fell carrying his cross, just as Christ did, and we were too blind to see. May God have mercy on us.”

  Every business in town closed the day we buried Abie. Every man, woman, and child able to walk followed the pine-board coffin to the cemetery. We stood there shamefaced, an entire town, as Reverend Holcomb of the Community Church looked helplessly across the grave at Bishop Aden of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

  “Read the Christian burial service over him,” the Mormon Bishop said as the wind from a threatening cloudburst made his white beard wave back and forth. “I am sure both God and Abie will understand.”

  We buried Abie with Reverend Holcomb reading the Christian burial service as thunder roared and streaks of lightning stabbed like swords of fire through the sky. The rain broke as the first shovelful of dirt was placed on the pine coffin. Then the cloudburst came, with rain coming down as if dumped from giant buckets in the sky. Not a man, woman, or child left the cemetery until the last shovelful of dirt had been placed on the grave and a big wreath made by all the ladies of the Community and Mormon churches placed upon it. I guess we all stood there praying that the rain would wash away some of the guilt from us.

  Uncle Mark and his wife, my Aunt Cathie, accompanied the family and Aunt Bertha back to our house from the cemetery. We removed our wet coats and hats in the side hallway and then all went into the parlor. Everybody sat down as if exhausted except Uncle Mark and us three boys.

  “If I had only known,” Uncle Mark said, “but I had no idea. I thought Abie was doing all right. Calvin Whitlock told me Abie was paying his rent right on the dot. And I heard so much about that strongbox being filled with gold pieces that I believed it until I opened the box and found it empty.”

  “It wasn’t empty,” Mamma said. “It contained a man’s most priceless possession.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean, Tena,” Uncle Mark said as he leaned against the mantlepiece of the fireplace.

  “What Tena means,” Papa said, “is that the strongbox was a symbol of Abie’s pride. To have opened it and let everybody know it was empty would have meant having charity forced upon him. Abie chose to die with Jewish dignity instead of living in the humiliation of charity. It could never have happened if he hadn’t been a Jew.”

  “Nonsense,” Uncle Mark said. “There isn’t a man or woman in this town who would hold that against a person.”

  “You don’t understand what I meant,” Papa said. “We have cowboys who are out of work coming into town all the time. And they are broke. But they know they can live on the free lunches in the saloons and sleep in the livery stable until they find work. And when they do find work and have money, they will come into town and spend money in these saloons and stable their horses at the livery stable. Abie didn’t drink. He knew he would never spend any money in a saloon and his pride wouldn’t let him go to one to eat a free lunch even when he knew he was starving to death.”

  “What has that got to do with letting Abie starve to death because he was a Jew?” Uncle Mark demanded. “Able was my friend and your friend and had all kinds of friends. He knew all he had to do was to ask and we would have given him anything he wanted.”

  “But he would have had to ask,” Papa said.

  “I just don’t get what you’re driving at,” Uncle Mark said, shaking his head.

  “Let me put it this way,” Papa said. “It isn’t that we dislike the Jews or mean to be unkind to them. It is just that we don’t worry about them the way we worry about other people. I talked to Mr. Thompson at the meat market. He knew Abie had stopped buying meat from him weeks ago, but he didn’t worry about it. I talked to Mr. Harmon at the Z.C.M.I. store. He knew Abie had stopped buying groceries from him, but he didn’t worry about it. Oh, they had their excuses, saying they had thought Abie had stopped batching and was eating in cafes. But the fact remains we let a man starve to death because nobody worried about a Jew.”

  “I don’t buy that,” Uncle Mark said.

  “Let us assume,” Papa said patiently, “that Dave Teller, who is a bachelor and cooks his own meals, suddenly stopped buying meat from Mr. Thompson. You can bet Mr. Thompson would have made it his business to find out why. And let us assume that Dave Teller suddenly stopped buying groceries from the Z.C.M.I. store. You can bet Mr. Harmon would have worried enough about it to find out why. And let us assume they found out Dave Teller was broke. You can bet they wouldn’t have let Dave Teller starve to death. And if Dave Teller had fainted three times, you can bet the people in this town would have insisted on taking Dave to a doctor whether he wanted to go or not. But Abie was a Jew and so nobody worried about him. May God forgive us all.”

  “I see what you’re getting at now,” Uncle Mark said. “We are all guilty.”

  Mamma nodded her head as she brushed a tear from her eye with her handkerchief. “God give us strength,” she said softly, “to bear our burden of guilt.”

  Two days after the funeral Mamma sent me to the Z.C.M.I. store to get several items for her. Mr. Harmon, as us
ual, gave me a stick of peppermint candy. I came out of the store holding the bag of groceries in one hand while I put the stick of candy into my mouth with the other hand. I took a bite of the candy. It burned my mouth and stuck in my throat. I tried to swallow it but couldn’t. I spat it out. I threw the candy away and have never been able to eat peppermint candy since.

  Tom was sitting on the rail of the corral fence when I got home. I climbed up and sat down beside him. I told him about the peppermint candy.

  “It’s your guilty conscience, J.D.,” he said when I finished. “You helped to kill Abie.”

  I though of all the times Mamma had sent me to the store when I should have stopped at the variety store instead of going to the Z.C.M.I. store.

  “How was I to know that strongbox wasn’t full of gold pieces,” I defended myself.

  “You are just using that as an excuse like most people in town,” Tom said. “Maybe I should have told.”

  “Told what?” I asked.

  “You didn’t think my great brain would let me rest until I knew what was in that strongbox, did you?” he asked. “l have known there were no gold pieces in the box for a long time.”

  “How did you find out?” I asked.

  “I went to see Abie and told him I’d overheard two drifters planning to rob him and the strongbox,” Tom answered.

  “You lied,” I accused him.

  “How else could I find out?” Tom said. “At first Abie just laughed. He stopped laughing when I threatened to call Papa and Uncle Mark so they could make him put the gold in the bank before he got robbed. Then he began to cry.”

  “To cry?” I asked, bewildered.

  “Yes,” Tom said. “Then he opened the strongbox and showed me it was empty. He told me it had taken every cent he owned to open the store. Then he made me put my hand on a prayer book and swear I would never tell. He said as long as people thought he had a strongbox full of gold pieces he could remain in Adenville. He said he would have to leave if people found out the strongbox was empty.”

  “What did he mean?” I asked.