by Jack Cady
. . .cross the street, wait on the corner by the Kaiser-Frasier dealer with his lumpy-looking cars. Catch the bus past skating rink, taverns, orphanage, and finally past Charlie Weaver's old place now standing empty. Windows had been washed, painted auction signs scraped from glass, and a 'For rent' sign stood in the window. Even after being spiffed up the place looked discouraged and ready to cast long shadows.
Hang a left down Broadway and get off the bus at Jackson St. The old man who sat in the sun now raised a hand to him when he said "Howdy." The old woman looked puzzled, but waved a kerchief. Men standing before Sapphire Top Spot moved aside. Twice Ozzie muttered "white-shit" when Jim trembled past, but by then Jim understood Ozzie was just mean. Nothing to be done about it.
Fourteen-year-olds, when pressed together and left alone, can often form communion. Neither Jim nor Howard knew that in southern history there existed strong bonds, even brother-bonds, between some men of different races.
And neither knew that in the south there wasn't a pure white man or a pure colored man to be had. People mixed, and had mixed for going-on three hundred years. The myth of a pure race was just more bull-droppings that fertilized southern pastures.
Color was something else. It was strangely attractive. The main attraction, though, was the world of another. Jim knew Bardstown Road. Howard knew Jackson St.
Other differences. Jim went day-to-day, just 'getting by'. Howard planned. His speech was whiter than soap ads on the radio. He would get ahead. He would.
And gossip. Good, Lord, the gossip.
"Lester buried those heads in a wild place by the river. Lester says he could not figure any other place where they would rest comfortable." Howard's fingers were slim as the rest of him. He cleaned an antique opal ring with a pin, picking soil from around the setting. Delicate.
"Lester gave that country guy a lickin'. I think my dad worries. I think Lester worries a little."
"Jolly is healing up."
"He's still mouthing off. Lester says he's mouthing off." Jim saddle-soaped leather belts and boots.
"Jolly is acting the fool," Howard said. "He claims he knows who robbed him. He claims that what you sow you reap."
"Ozzie? Did it?"
"If made to guess, I would say, most likely." Howard finished the ring, gave it a brief polish with soft cloth.
"Lucky promises that I may start tending to customers after his vacation. I think I will do well at retail."
"Did you ever see a dead man? We had a dead man by the auction."
"I heard about it. No, never dead. I saw Ozzie cut a man once. Ozzie had a single-edge razor blade taped between his fingers. They were fist fighting."
* * *
When Lucky and Mrs. Lucky closed shop for two weeks and vacationed, the bus ran in the other direction. In late mornings Howard boarded on Broadway at Jackson, and the bus fumed its way to Cave Hill, hung a right past orphanage, skating rink, and taverns. White men looked at him and tried to figure what it was Howard intended to steal. Mostly he was ignored. When he got off the bus in front of the drug store and crossed Eastern Parkway, he did so with more courage than he believed he owned. In this white world he had to walk a good half-block without Lucky for protection. He told himself that once inside the auction a man could feel comfortable.
Which was true, because Wade knew that an extra kid was a value, and not a liability. At first he mistrusted Howard because everything Wade knew said that nigger kids stole. Still, this dusky boy who really wanted to learn brought out a small, kind streak. For the first time in his life, probably, Wade turned teacherly without being sarcastic. It wouldn't last, but it was nice while it did. For Howard, and almost for Jim, work turned into an interesting school.
"Let's say a man gives you a cold check for fifty bucks. He comes in and offers to pay it off at ten a week. Don't take it. The minute you take the ten, you've changed the cold check into an open account." This from Wade as he and Lester and the kids worked lots of merchandise at the auction house. In the heat, Wade's shirt was even wetter than Lester's. "We got to get done here. We got a plumbing supply."
Education: "Word-of-mouth is the best advertising. If you send a painted woman out of here feeling like Lady Churchill, she'll talk nice about you." This from Lester.
"Don't place anything against a wall until you've swept along the wall. The customer won't know if the floor is dirty back there, but you will. Makes you think less of what you're selling." This from Wade.
"When you hire help on a truck, don't look at a man's muscles. Watch how he walks. If he walks straight and certain, take him." This from Lester.
"There's no way to avoid all hot property. Hot merchandise is the bane of this business, and I thought I'd seen every damned grift, shill, con, screw and scam in the book, but this one's new. We cover our sweet behinds. We call the cops." This from Wade.
"Lucky has rules about hot merchandise. Lucky says a man must know his neighborhood." Howard was all attention. "What are the rules?" The kids stood beside Wade and next to a piled truckload of merchandise. The stuff was new and still in cartons. Round-face televisions, snazzy Royal typewriters with the heel-of-the-hand bar, small appliances; roughly a ton and a half of new stuff.
"Here's the scam," Wade told the boys. "Con artists are slick, but stupid. This dumbass forgot to clean his cartons. I picked an invoice off the side of one. It said Louisville Standard Etc. I checked the address. It's sitting right next door to Louisville Standard, a top company in Dun & Bradstreet. The street numbers are one digit off."
"Then he has stolen from a big company? How can you steal from such a big company?" Howard was fascinated. Jim put up with it.
"He steals from other companies. I called a shipper. This guy is ordering on net sixty days. When the shipper asks for credit reference, the guy say 'Look me up in Dun & Bradstreet.' When the shipper looks, the address is only one digit off, which is nothin'. The scam is using a legit company's legit credit to steal."
"I think I understand. How does he meet the net sixty?"
"By shoving stuff through auctions. He's doing what is called 'kiting'. If you sell enough stuff you can make payments while ordering more. When the stack gets high enough, sell out and disappear."
"Sometimes," Howard said, "I become a little fearful. I would never have caught that."
"Comes with experience," Wade told the two boys. "Right now we head for the next job. Plumbing warehouse. This one comes through a routine roughing-up. Not a scam. A blow-off between partners. You kids ride with Lester. I'll meet you there."
And, riding in the old truck, with Lester humming, Howard said, "Mr. Wade is a very smart man."
And Lester said, "He sure has got his points."
And Jim kept his big flapper shut.
* * *
Each morning before leaving for the plumbing supply, Jim looked at Mrs. Samuels' house. It stood spooky in sunlight, and it could give a kid a chill even with temperature in the high 90s. The sun porch looked vague because it was screened, and the screens showed rust. In the back of the house dead grass lay gray between house and garage. The door leading from yard to garage was always closed. Except for dead grass, the back yard looked tidy. No junk crowded against the house or garage, no garbage cans, no nothin'.
"I got a feeling somebody lives there," he told his mom.
"Someone who does not answer a knock on the door. Stay away from there." His mom seemed nearly fearful.
"Boards are off the front door."
"I went around back," his mother said, "thinking that poor man must be scared. His mother gone, his brother gone. Stay away from there."
"He's not hurting anybody."
"I don't know what to do, but I know he's strange. Stay away." His mother was sometimes mysterious. She only told a kid what she thought a kid should know.
Curtains hung limp as tired ghosts across the windows. Paint flaked from wooden siding and shone silver-gray in sunlight. Here and there, worn siding showed cracks and crevi
ces. Even a kid could see that the house was a goner unless lots of work got done, and quick. When he mentioned it to his dad, Wade said, "As long as that Yugoslavian jerk-off don't burn it down. Right now you can just get a leg up. Howard takes an interest in plumbing, so what's wrong with you? You're letting a jig kid show you up."
"Howard's an exception," Jim said, "you can learn a lot from Howard." It was the first time he had ever stood up to his dad, and he stuttered doing it. He stood quiet, waiting for the blast.
Wade paused, somewhat astounded. Then he grinned like a hound with a pork chop. "This family," he said, "has produced preachers, horse thieves, pig farmers and rum heads. It never produced a lawyer, before. Maybe there's still hope." He turned away. "Let's go to work."
* * *
Then, as now, the auctioneer needs to know everything about everything. On top of that he must be a quick study. His work takes him to plumbing one week, to groceries the next, to lumber yards, hardwares, car dealers, mortuaries (he must know the difference between an embalming table and a sink, because they are different but similar), frozen food factories, packing houses, breweries (though these rarely go broke), drugstores, wholesalers: everything from seed companies to kitchen cabinets, wholesalers in furniture, restaurant equipment, concrete, and marble. There are few products of a vast industrial nation that an auctioneer will not see sooner or later.
" . . .learning lots. Learning how it's supposed to be done." Howard murmured as the kids met at the plumbing warehouse on the second day.
"There's a fight between partners," Wade told the kids. "Any business will, sooner or later, hit a stale spot. When that happens it has to grow, or it begins to shrink. Comes from doing things the same way all the time. Comes from being too damn comfortable."
"Charlie Weaver," Lester told the kids. "Charlie got that way. Lost his hustle. Lost his brightness."
Row after row of bins stretched the length of a long building. They stood something over head-high. Racks of pipe ran along the tops of the bins, and plumbing fittings filled the bins. Tools, from pipe wrenches to power-threaders sat in a showroom-type of space. Farther back, in a work area, walls were decorated with girlie pictures from calendars. One picture wore nothing but a smile. Lester took it down, tossed it in the trash. "Time enough for that later," he said, and smiled at the boys.
All through the day, neither kid had the moxie to sneak the picture out, though naturally both thought about it.
"So, what happened," Wade said, "is the man in charge, the senior partner, ran the business into debt. Then he lent money to keep the business afloat. Then he ran it further into debt. Then he called in the note knowing his partners couldn't pay. We sell the place out. The sale cancels the debt. The man in charge gets rid of his partners. He opens up a plumbing supply next door."
"You're kiddin'. Next door?" Lester was clearly impressed.
"Already signed a lease," Wade said. "Let's get to work."
* * *
Dusty work. Kids counting 45 degree ells, 90 degree ells, couplings, nipples, tees, reducers; half-inch, three-quarters while the men handled large stuff.
Sometimes, in a liquidation, dangerous situations develop. The auctioneer and his help need some knowledge of rigging. They must understand structural requirements for handling great weights, and have keen eyes for sloppy work. A business that has operated for a long time, then gone down hill, can turn deadly.
"Look at this," Lester told Wade. "Look at this here." The two men stood twenty feet away from the boys. On a rack above the bins iron pipe was restrained by wooden shims. Wooden posts bolted to the rack held the pipe in place. Both shims and posts showed dry rot. When Lester touched one, powder fell on his hand. "The damn fools had a roof leak and just kept mopping," he told Wade. "Wet and dry, wet and dry, and wood turns to powder." He called the boys over. "Getting set to kill somebody. When you've got a load above, suspicion it." He showed them the dry rot. "There's better'n a ton of pipe up there. Don't never trust the work of a man you don't know."
"We'll unload it from the end," Wade said. "You kids stay way the hell back." As the men began unloading, the wood exploded into dust. Pipe rolled and fell sideways. It cascaded, clanked, crashed, cracked the concrete floor. It rolled against a second rack which remained sturdy.
"Fastest way to unload." Lester wiped sweat. "Now we got stoop work. We gotta pick it up. And, damn the sonovabitch that let things fester."
"I figured this set-up for no more than five days," Wade said, and he was sore. "Now it's gonna take six."
. . .work through dusty days, early morning to quitting time or sometimes past. Two dusty boys, sure that they were counting all the pipe fittings in the whole wide world.
"When you found the dead man were you scared?"
"I was too scared to be scared. That don't make no sense."
"It probably does. Will you show me where it happened?"
"Soon as we get a chance. If my dad don't catch us."
"It will need to happen soon. Lucky is due back a week from Sunday."
"That's the day after this sale."
"The dead man was nicely dressed?"
"He was ready to be buried. It would've saved money. I think he was awful poor."
Dusty work. When they finished counting fittings they cleaned office furniture and office machines. A pot-bellied Bendix radio broadcast stations WAVE and WHAS: soap opera, music, news, weather.
"When Ozzie used the razor blade did he kill the man?"
"Johnson. The man's name is Johnson. He hardly ever comes around. He has a face full of scars."
"Why were they fighting?"
"No one knows. They were drunken. I have seen a number fights. Men go mad when they drink."
"Hotter'n the Devil's armpit in here." Jim wiped sweat from his forehead. Dust from his hand made a dark streak across his brow.
"Are you allowed to swear? My mother says swearing is sorry."
"My mom says swearing is redneck. My dad says it's a free country."
"Don't dead people get dressed up at the undertaker?"
"Something weird," Jim explained. "Don't say a word. Somebody was in the garage with him. Maybe he was murdered. Those folks are just weird, and my mom knows how but she ain't sayin'."
"I'm not let to say ain't."
"Me, neither, but it slips out sometimes. Maybe the guy's a communist."
"I know a number of communist people," Howard said, and no doubt bragged a little. "They are not weird. No one gives them much attention."
"Do you know what it means? Communist?"
Howard's voice, which had showed a brag, was now subdued. It actually sounded nervous, like Howard thought he might be taking a chance. "It means that you and I could go to the park together. Or school."
And Jim, embarrassed not a little, and struck with sudden malaise, did not have the foggiest notion of what to say or do. It was also at that moment that he crossed over the first high hill of Louisville-barbershop-drugstore-cowboy bullshit. He knew that from then on, and forever, he was a communist.
* * *
Toward the end of the second day, with the truck near full of trash, and with sweat pouring off of everybody, Wade and Lester stood together looking at the job.
"Make a dump run," Wade told Lester. "Take Howard with you. There's no sense bringing the truck back to the store, then getting on a nose-pickin' bus." Wade rubbed the back of his butt where his hip hurt a little. "I'll take my kid. Meet me back here tomorrow."
And thus was another tie placed between Wade and Lester. From then on, the auction truck parked each night on Jackson St. "The boss is a hard-ass bastard," Lester would admit over a beer at Sapphire Top Spot. "But there's a little-somethin' to him."
"Lester is a bronco-bustin' gold mine," Wade told his kid. "When you find a good man, you damn well got to treat him right." Then Wade added, "Even if he is blacker'n the inside of preacher's pocket." And then Wade paused and grinned. "Lester's an exception," he told his kid. "You could learn
quite a bit from Lester."
Saturday, August 30th
War and Plumbing
During World War II the bloodbaths of ancient times were duplicated on a global scale. Whereas Ghengis Khan once destroyed the entire world of a city, World War II swept cities aside as it blew apart nations, continents, and entire peoples. No one, anywhere, could feel one hundred percent safe. No one was above suspicion. In Louisville, a German-sounding name made a man into an automatic suspect. Folks named Schmidt changed their names to Smith. Jackob Samuelwicz changed his name to Samuels.
He made the change because he lived in a town where popular opinion roughly broke down as 50 percent of people believed the Great Depression had been caused by an international conspiracy of Jewish bankers; 25 percent were too smart to buy most government and agitator propaganda, thus disagreed; 25 percent didn't give a rip.
Bigotry had been kick-started during The Great Depression when agitators spreading out from Muncie, Indiana, pretty much covered the south and middle west with hate-talk centered on Jews and Catholics; with a nod to Negroes. Those agitators were often welcomed, because desperate people were hungry and out of work. Desperate people needed someone to blame. Since there was no price of admission to the hate-talk, it was also cheap entertainment.
On top of that, a civil-sounding dandy styled: Father Coughlin, Priest of Royal Oak (Michigan) spread dreck over radio. He had once supported Roosevelt's New Deal. As his thought processes declined he began to speak of 'The Jew Deal'. Very popular man, Father Coughlin.
Preparation and execution of World War II by all nations caused dulled and staring eyes from one hundred million corpses; direct and indirect casualties; meat and bones, stinking, many thrown to lime pits. Nazi death camp operation was expensive at first, but gradually became efficient.
Mr. and Mrs. Samuels survived and prospered, but Jake did not live to see war end in Europe. He never knew if his sons survived.
Both did. Isaac was not sent to Treblinka extermination camp until late in the Nazi game. By then, starvation was as large an enemy as gas chambers.
