Authors: Bernard Malamud
A New Life (14 page)
One morning Gerald knocked on his door. “Coffee, Sy? I mean tea? We could go across the street to the Student Union for a change?”
“Thanks, Gerald, I just had my cup.” He nodded at the mug on his desk.
Gilley shut the door quietly and sat in the visitor’s chair. “I’ve been thinking we could drive out to the coast tomorrow, if you’re agreeable, and do some salmon fishing. There’s a river
I fish that gives up some good catches on eggs and flashbait. The fish are beginning to color—they get bruised up by this time of the year, but they’re still in good condition. I’ve more than once taken Chinooks out of the water weighing thirty or forty pounds. What I do is bring my outboard motor and rent a boat. There’ll be plenty of room for you, George, and me. I could lend you a spinner and a couple of lures. The regular license is five dollars but maybe we could get you a one-shot visitor’s permit for a dollar, or skip it altogether. I haven’t seen a warden all year.”
I fish that gives up some good catches on eggs and flashbait. The fish are beginning to color—they get bruised up by this time of the year, but they’re still in good condition. I’ve more than once taken Chinooks out of the water weighing thirty or forty pounds. What I do is bring my outboard motor and rent a boat. There’ll be plenty of room for you, George, and me. I could lend you a spinner and a couple of lures. The regular license is five dollars but maybe we could get you a one-shot visitor’s permit for a dollar, or skip it altogether. I haven’t seen a warden all year.”
“If we went I’d better pay,” Levin said. “I get socked when I try to get away with something.” He thanked him for the invitation. “I would like to go, Gerald, but frankly, I happen to be loaded down with papers just this week. Maybe we could make it some other time?”
“Sure,” said Gilley, “we’ll do it in the spring.” He didn’t seem too disappointed. Still it was nice of him to ask, Levin thought.
Gilley looked absently out of the cracked window, then at Levin. “How’s it been coming, Sy? Your work and all that? Do you like it here?”
Levin said he did.
“Good deal.”
Gerald after a minute asked, “I was wondering if you had heard of Professor Fairchild’s impending retirement next summer?”
“Only that and no more.”
“Orville’s had a distinguished career here. He’s known all over the state. Still,” he said, “there’s a lot to be done in the department.” He had lowered his voice. “He’s a little on the old-fashioned side and that’s hindered us a bit. I say this loyally, you understand?”
“Yes, of course.” Levin felt his throat tighten.
“I hear the new dean has a change or two in mind for us. The right sort of thing, I hope, because change just to change
is senseless.” He sounded moody. “Wouldn’t you agree with that?”
is senseless.” He sounded moody. “Wouldn’t you agree with that?”
“Sure,” said Levin.
Gilley brightened. “If I were head here there are a few things I’d be inclined to start off with. First, I’d ask for at least five additional positions. Comp, as you know, is running thirty to a class, about five too many, ideally ten, but who has money for the ideal? And some of our lit sections go up as high as sixty. If I could bring them down to thirty-thirty-five, we might have some class discussions instead of concentrating on lecturing. This is confidential, Sy, but Orville’s a little tight on budget matters. He prides himself on keeping costs down, and I’m for that myself, a hundred percent, but with a little more depth on the bench we’d be a better department.”
Excited, Levin thought. This is his vision.
“Would you agree with that?”
“Certainly.”
The director of composition wet his lips almost invisibly.
“If you happen to have any suggestions of your own for improving anything I’d be happy to hear them.”
Good of him, Levin thought, but I’d better lay off.
“I’m really serious about that,” Gilley said.
“In that case,” Levin said with a thick tongue, “maybe I ought to say I think English 10 is a good place to begin teaching writing. I hate to mention this, Gerald, but some of the freshmen think a paragraph is a new invention. And I’m not against grammar but I’m against—I don’t care for only grammar. For the boneheads it’s torture.”
“Bonehead is bonehead, Sy,” said Gerald. “That’s why they’re there, to get the drill they didn’t get before. As for paragraphing in English 10, that’s an idea, but some of the men would shoot anyone who suggested more paper work in that course.”
“The continuous workbook stuff is deadening.”
“You’ve got your reader.”
“We could stand one for the bonehead course, something
with a little variety to it. I respect science and technology but it’s not enough for growing boys and girls.”
with a little variety to it. I respect science and technology but it’s not enough for growing boys and girls.”
Gerald smiled. “I’ll say this, I’ve thought of some of the things you’re talking about, but frankly, Orville swears by the course as it’s given. Still and all, whatever ideas you have for improving comp I’d be glad to listen to when the time comes. I like suggestions given in a friendly spirit by people who are aware of what the practical problems are and how long it took to build Rome.”
Levin decided he had said all he was going to. He stroked his beard, twice yawning.
“Anyway,” Gerald said, “I have no doubt that we see eye to eye on the important things.”
Levin nodded.
“And I can count on your support?”
The instructor left off pacifying his whiskers. “Support?”
“What I have in mind,” Gerald said, “is that I would like us all to work in harmony after Orville retires, to make this the kind of department it ought to be.”
“I’m for that,” said Levin.
“Good.” Gerald extended his hand and Levin took it. “Every man counts.”
The instructor, without knowing why, blushed.
Gilley, looking at his shoe, then at the mountains in the distance, said, “Maybe you’ve heard there might be some sort of contest between Fabrikant and me for the department headship? Have you talked to him yet?”
“A little, is about all I can say.”
“He’s a Harvard graduate and all that, good scholar but stiff as a board. I have seniority over him and I think Orville would like me in after him. That’s just between us, please. It’s not favoritism either. Years ago Orville offered CD the directorship of composition but he turned it down, so I got it. I’ve been doing the dirty work while CD has sat behind a locked door, writing his literary papers. That’s why Orville favors me.”
“In that case, why worry?”
“I’m really not, but we do have this new dean and, frankly, people in power are just plain unpredictable. If he starts calling department members into his office to consult them about a choice, I want them to know what I stand for, although I admit it’s embarrassing going around talking to everyone. Pauline doesn’t like it either.”
Levin shrugged. “Practical politics.”
“I’m glad you understand, Sy.”
Gilley was getting up but sat down. “By the way, would you want a phone of your own put in here so you won’t have to be running to Milly’s office when she buzzes? I got George one two years ago.”
“Who would I call?” Levin asked.
“That reminds me,” Gilley said. “Pauline has been talking about having you over but there’s been a million things and the kids already have colds. Erik starts off hacking and then little Mary picks it up.”
“Spsssh,” said Levin. “Plenty of time.”
“I just want you to know we’ve been keeping you in mind. Pauline finds it a little hard to get started entertaining after the summer. She says the town is over-organized—just too many things for everybody to do and she’s in a lot of it, though I’ve been begging her to cut down. Tires her out. She’s on the Library Committee, the Community Chest, and the Women Voters—they’re trying to do something about the sewage and she goes to more damn meetings till all hours. I try to get her to ease up but she says it’s all worth while, so she wears herself out. We’ve been a little snowed under but we expect to see more of our friends soon.”
Levin thanked him.
Gilley got up. “One last thing. One of the textbook salesmen is after me to do a freshman reader. Would you care to lend a hand? It’d be mostly finding suitable articles and writing up a few questions and notes. After paying off contributors we could expect a yearly five or six hundred apiece for about half a dozen years. After that we could revise without too much
trouble and the thing could go on and on. Nobody gets rich—Orville’s sales are unusual, but the money is nothing to sneeze at either.”
trouble and the thing could go on and on. Nobody gets rich—Orville’s sales are unusual, but the money is nothing to sneeze at either.”
“Thanks, again,” Levin said, blowing his nose. “Maybe sometime, but you know how it is on a new job. You have to work at it for a while before you have any spare time on hand.”
Gilley grinned. “I think you work too g.d. hard, Sy. You ought to have more fun. I’m getting worried about you.”
Levin, on the verge of cracked laughter, peremptorily cut it out.
Over the week-end, in blasts of wind and rain, the walnuts began to fall in the backyard, plopping down on dead leaves and sopping grass. When Levin saw what was happening he ran out with Mrs. Beaty’s big aluminum pot to collect them. The nuts were large, their shells glowing orange when they fell from the broken pods. He greedily cracked one open and tried eating it but the meat was rubbery. When he brought the loaded pot into the kitchen, the landlady set aside those with broken shells and scrubbed the others with a brush. She showed Levin where to put up an old window screen, on pipes above the furnace, for the walnuts to dry out on. All day Levin went often to his window and when he saw any nuts on the ground, ran down the stairs with the pot. In bed, for hours he heard the nuts socking the wet earth in the dark. At dawn he quickly gathered them up, not at peace until all the walnuts were in and drying, and the tree was bare.
Leaves fell in the rain in droves, multitudes, refugee millions—maple, oak, chestnut, walnut, pear, cherry, mountain ash, and the large alien sycamore leaves from across the street; like a soggy blanket they covered gutter, sidewalk, lawn, backyard, bushes and alley. Levin resisted raking them until he could no longer stand his resistance. One afternoon after class he began to work. He raked first the front lawn, then the sidewalk and swept it clean, carrying wet bunches of dripping leaves to the piles on the curb-strip. He raked under each shrub
and handpicked the bushes clean. Although it was soon dark and he was tired he continued to gather leaves. By the light of the street lamp he scraped up those along the curb, and then in the light from Mrs. Beaty’s kitchen window, raked the backyard. He raked wearily, without thought, both palms blistered, arms and back aching. The landlady, through her window, begged him to stop but Levin raked to destroy all dead leaves. He went on in a misty drizzle, stacking the backyard leaves on the mulch pile behind the garage. When he was through, at an unknown hour, the grounds around the house were neat and clean yet he regretted not having got at the leaves in the gutter.
and handpicked the bushes clean. Although it was soon dark and he was tired he continued to gather leaves. By the light of the street lamp he scraped up those along the curb, and then in the light from Mrs. Beaty’s kitchen window, raked the backyard. He raked wearily, without thought, both palms blistered, arms and back aching. The landlady, through her window, begged him to stop but Levin raked to destroy all dead leaves. He went on in a misty drizzle, stacking the backyard leaves on the mulch pile behind the garage. When he was through, at an unknown hour, the grounds around the house were neat and clean yet he regretted not having got at the leaves in the gutter.
The instructor was thinking of going to Gilley to make it clear to him that he wasn’t committing himself to anyone for head of department until he knew more than he did about both candidates. Instead, on impulse late one afternoon, Levin knocked on Dr. Fabrikant’s door down the hall. Though he had passed the scholar in the hall more than once, his white socks visible as he walked, his bachelorhood unyielding, they had not talked since the time Levin had visited his farm.
He was in, Levin heard him cough. He waited until something that sounded like a bolt was withdrawn. Fabrikant stared out at him.
“Excuse me, I—”
But the scholar held the door open. “Come in.” Off his horse he looked less formidable. And he turned out to be, without a hat, bald, yet in need of a haircut around the pelted head.
His office, as Levin had expected, was overrun by books, including loose-paged piles on the window sill, radiator, and spare desk in the corner of the room. On his desk he had laid out rows of note cards, thickly scribbled; these ran onto the floor. Levin, envying work in progress, would have liked to know what the scholar was doing, but he had heard from Bucket that he was secretive about his research. Feeling with both hands among the paraphernalia on his desk, Fabrikant
located a cigar butt, lit up, shaking the match out over his head, then pointed with the smoking stick to a chair. Levin, after stepping gingerly over the cards, removed half a dozen books from the chair and seated himself.
located a cigar butt, lit up, shaking the match out over his head, then pointed with the smoking stick to a chair. Levin, after stepping gingerly over the cards, removed half a dozen books from the chair and seated himself.
“I would hate to interrupt something important.”
Fabrikant puffed his cigar butt without comment. “How are you coming along?”
“I can’t complain.”
“I can and do.” The scholar laughed his two syllable laugh. “Do you like the West?”
“Yes, I do. Everybody’s friendly.”
Fabrikant, regarding him, grunted. “I wouldn’t live in the East again if they offered me the mint. I’ve often thought if the capital of the United States were located out here we’d have a lot more sanity in our national life.”
“I left New York on my own accord—”
“It was sensible.”
“—seeking, you might say, my manifest destiny.”
“This corner of the country was come upon by explorers searching for the mythical Northwest Passage,” Fabrikant said, “and it was opened by traders and trappers in their canoes trying to find the Great River of the West, the second Mississippi they had heard of. Then the settlers came, fighting the Indians, clearing the land, and building their homes out of their guts and bone.”
“Marvelous,” Levin murmured.
“‘There were giants in those days,’” Fabrikant said moodily. “Their descendants are playing a defensive game. Their great fear is that tomorrow will be different from today. I’ve never seen so many pygmies in my life.”
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