Son of a Smaller Hero (23 page)

The pall-bearers assumed their burden again and, praying, passed between the two rows of mourners.

Me, I put my trust in Dow Jones. I don’t go for all that hocus-pocus about God being such a big deal and being shipped downstairs –
COD
, I’ll bet – just for laying somebody else’s goods on the q.t. Anyway, it’s kind of nice for the family. Publicity for me, too. Hey, I wonder how much I’m gonna have to fork out for Milty’s speech? Aw, chicken-feed. But a guy croaks and he’s out of business – no comebacks. Me, they’re gonna burn. Religion here, religion there, I don’t want any worms chewing on my
kishkas
. Wolfie didn’t have enough brains for a quarter of a headache but he never short-changed a guy in his life and offhand I can think of two hundred other bastards who I’d rather see cashing in this morning. Take Ratner, for instance. You know how he got that order for the bridge and terminus away from me? I may
shmear
a commissioner occasionally but at least
I
don’t lick a
Goy’s
ass for a deal or kick in with ten Gs for some goddam convent up north. Aw, chicken-feed. Noah must feel pretty bad right now, but he’s got class and a head on his shoulders. My Miss Holmes would go for him, too. Listen, if he wants he can keep that broad of his, but why bring a cow when you can get milk out of the bottle? Noah’s a hundred per cent. I need him. Who in the hell have I got for a manager in that office when I’m away? Itzik’s so busy counting the bars of soap in the johns and having fits over the bank credit that he wouldn’t know a million-dollar deal if he was hit over the head with it. Nat? Lou? Meet Mr. Mayo Clinic of Montreal. I take care of all the cripples in this family. Aw, chicken-feed. Poor Leah. What a life she had with Wolf! A woman of her upbringing. That’s not nice, I guess. Wolfie’s dead. Hell. Facts are facts. I’ll take care of you, Leah. Don’t you worry. Noah, too.
Nu
, let’s go. We can’t stand here until Christmas.

Wicked is right. What Wolf did will go down in the history of our people but Max with all his talk and money will be forgotten just like that. I wonder if it’s true about him and Miss Holmes? Paw says that when he dies Max will keep the offices open on the sabbath. Not as long as I’m with him. Oh no. He thinks I’m stingy or stupid but if I didn’t hold him back on the overdraft the business would have failed long ago. Ask Nat. I know more about the laws than any of the boys. Ask Paw. A Jew who doesn’t keep the sabbath isn’t worth two cents even. Let my brother, the hero, be a lesson to them. If there’s another flood, if … Noah deserves to be dead. Ask Paw.

I’ll obviously have to give her another shot after the funeral. That girl. First she fell for Father’s fantastic delusions about his own saint-hood – thank God the Jews have turned away from Chassidism – and now she must try to reconcile the Wolf she knew with the man who died for the Torah. She’s a difficult woman, but Wolf was a fool. Anyway, I hope the electrocardiograph proves me wrong. But if I’m right, will Noah help? I hardly know him. He seems a bit like Father, but with Leah’s stubbornness. He should have been able to turn to me for guidance. What could he expect from
his
father? Or from that
vulgar, superstitious family? He’s just about my boy’s age. But Harvey’s a go-getter. Perhaps we can help him? Sheila should be able to introduce him to some decent girls. That mistress of his won’t do his career any good. Shameful business. Can he be a communist? We go forward two steps, then along come … Thank God Alger Hiss was a Gentile. When will the Jews learn to behave themselves?

I’m a fatalist. What’s a fatalist? A fatalist is a
shnook
who marries a woman like Goldie. Elementary, my dear Watson. Ah, well. Here today, gone tomorrow. We’ll have us a pinochle when we meet up there in the big beyond, Wolf. Put in a good word for me, eh?

I am thankful, Daddy, that if you were here you would have had the good sense to have turned your back on it. Speeches, you would have said. Prayers. You would have walked away. But I can’t. Ironic that you who suffered so much all your life for what people said should not be capable of hearing when they, the people, are at last saying fine things about you. Because you have died I will learn in time to remember you for the warming things you have said and for giving
me life. Time, too, is a liar. “He died well.” Or did you die foolishly, Daddy? Scrolls? What about the kerosene tin? Who phoned you that night? I’ll remember you, Daddy. That much I can say honestly.

As the higher sun made dry patches in the heap of rich brown earth beside the grave, Melech Adler inched back from the open pit. There was the ache of wood and the grinding of pulleys as the coffin was lowered into the grave. Outside of that the only distinct sound was Leah’s low, animal moaning.

“May he come to his resting-place in peace,” another man hoarsely.

People looked at the man with surprise.

Jenny shrieked. “Have mercy. God. God.”

“May he come to his resting-place in peace,” another man mumbled.

Rabbi Milton Fishman, his prayer shawl flapping around him, assumed his perch at the head of the grave and dipped into his black prayer book.

So many people. All of Montreal. Wolf, Wolf. I’m sorry, I … 
Look at the old dog
. I’ll bet he’s suffering. His time is coming soon all right. Look at him! He won’t have a funeral like this! Would you like to make him a partner now, Melech? Wolf, I … Paw said this match was made in heaven.
Was he a prophet after all?
My husband may have been only a coal merchant, but … Oh, God. How much can a woman suffer?

A jumble of “Amens” followed.

Rabbi Milton “Pinky” Fishman was sincere out of necessity. He believed in God as an insurance salesman believes in Prudential. “Our hearts are heavy today,” he began, facing the hot and restless crowd. “Some of you here are mourning the nearest and dearest of your kin. Others are mourning a friend. The simple fact is Wolf Adler has been called to his Eternal Reward. Why? It would not surprise me if many of you are looking into your hearts and asking yourselves that question of questions right now.

“Wolf Adler died for the Torah.

“Wolf walked fearlessly into his flaming office to rescue a few pages of holy parchment – and today he lies dead before us. Why? Why are the dear hearts and gentle people that we love taken away from us? How can the Almighty, blessed be He, whose attributes are justice and righteousness, deprive us of our loved ones? Many are the trials and tribulations that you face in a lifetime. First of all, there are the day-to-day problems. A quarrel with your husband or wife. Your son wants to know who made the grass green. Your daughter has come of the age when she is to be initiated into the mysteries of womanhood. These problems – however small they may seem at first glance – are salt to the meat of our daily lives. But as sure as two and two make four we are eventually brought face to face with the problem of death. Why? The patriarch Abraham asked: ‘Wilt Thou indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? … Shall not the judge of all the earth do justly?’ Your manners are different from those of your forebears, but let me assure you here and now that there is nothing new under the sun. Moses, too, pleaded with the Almighty, blessed be He, to make Himself fully known to him when he said: ‘Show me Thy ways that I may know Thee.’ Job complained
about God’s ways with men and was answered thusly: ‘Hearken unto this, O Job, stand still, and consider the wondrous works of God. Dost thou know how God enjoineth them and how he causeth the lightning of his cloud to shine? Who is this that darkenth our counsel by words without knowledge?’

“Yes, my friends, how many of you caught up in the hurly-burly of modern materialism have paused to wonder at the beauty of Creation? Did you know that there are not two snowflakes exactly alike in the whole wide world? I’ll tell you something else, too. There is enough food for thought in one snowflake to last you a lifetime.

“The Almighty, blessed be He, is a Master Painter indeed!

“So don’t come to me and say some of you are poor, others rich. Some handsome, others ugly. One lucky, another unlucky. In the words of Shakespeare – the greatest poet of all time – ‘What a noble piece of work is man.’

“Yes, my friends. I would like to think that Wolf Adler will be a shining example to you and your children. He was a noble piece of work, indeed. A little man, one of many. He didn’t build the Empire State Building or invent the aeroplane.
Time
magazine never made him Man of the Year. But without Wolf Adler, and countless others like him, life on earth would be barren. A meal without salt. A week without the sabbath.

“Wolf Adler, a simple man, died for the Torah. My heart and your hearts go out to his nearest and dearest – a loved one has been taken away from them. Today we are seeing him off on his last journey.

“Wolf’s passing has glory, my friends. Honour. He died a Jew. His family has reason to be proud as well as sad.” The rabbi lowered
his voice. “We are living in very historic times, my friends. Never before has it been of such vital importance to remember that ancient covenant that we made with the Almighty, blessed be He. Never before has the Almighty, blessed be He, been in such dire need of defenders. Today the freedom-loving nations of the world are locked in a life-and-death struggle with the octopus monster communism.… There is a conspiracy against God. The tentacles of the Kremlin reach into the darkest corners.… How many of our brethren behind the Iron Curtain have been imprisoned, their only crime being that of having worshipped the God of their fathers …?

“Rabbi Eliezer said, ‘Repent one day before thy death.’ His disciples asked him, ‘Does anyone know on what day he will die?’ He replied, ‘All the more reason to repent today, lest tomorrow he die. Let his whole life therefore be spent in repentance.’

“There is one here among us – I will not name names – who has turned away from God and his people. He is a secret sorrow to his family. And to him I would say, remember the Jews of Germany. They too were assimilationists. But they learnt their lesson too late. I hope – I hope from the bottom of my heart – that you to whom I am speaking will learn from the shining example of Wolf Adler.

“To him to whom I am speaking I would say no man is too big to pray.

“The President of the United States, Mr. Eisenhower, prays every Sunday. A great man, and a great friend of our people. Is anyone too big to humble himself before his Maker? Atheism leads to disrespect for our parents and to treason. Weren’t our people sufficiently shamed by the Rosenbergs?

“The father of the departed, Melech Adler, is well aware of the need of God. A devout Jew, Mr. Adler has been a pillar of our community for many years. This is a sad day for him, but a proud one too. He has brought up his children in the tradition of the Torah and one of them, the oldest, has died for the Torah.

“The Jews of Montreal will remember and honour Wolf Adler for many generations. There are those who gain eternity in a lifetime, and others who gain it in a brief hour.”

Rabbi Milton “Pinky” Fishman cleared his throat and stepped back out of the sun and away from the grave. Noah looked up at him and Fishman averted his eyes. People stared at Noah from all sides.

Who burned down by me the office? A
Goy’s
office the police protect. But a Jew’s … Maybe Wolf after all knew what was in de box? Didn’t he come in that day? Couldn’t he have seen it with his eyes? There are letters missing. Receipts. I don’t want by us no scandals, I … Wolf a hero! If Noah finds out what Wolf thought was in the box he’ll … They’re all waiting for me to die. Wait. You wait.

Max nudged Noah. “That speech’ll cost me five hundred bucks.”

“Oh. Maybe you were the him to whom he was speaking.”

“Not on your life,” Max said.

Man and bottle form a unity. The bottle, upturned, clutched to a toothless mouth: the man, head bent backwards, trembling.
I’ve seen life, plenty of it, but they don’t care a goddam. Think me a lush. Served my seven years I did and seen the sun drowned in the China Sea. Had my tail, too, you bet
. Old Moore, born unasked-for to a Paddington barmaid and a commercial traveller fresh out of Dublin, James Dermot Moore, a scavenger now, yes, sure, but in the old days all a gal could ask for in his sailor pants, Moore leans against the green iron fence of the burial lot.
Them kikes are all alike
. His burning eyes are fixed on the mourners. Wood alcohol dribbles down his chin.
How many of ’em, all got up to jesus and thinking they own this f— world just because they’re burying old Wolf, seen what I seen? Oh, I could tell ’em
lots about their fire
. The man, coughing, dumps the empty bottle to the gravel path. Glass splashes. He staggers away blindly.
I’m not what they think and Mavis’d
take me back any old time I want and be glad of it. I’m Moore, damn it. I could tell Melech stuff that’d burn his ears. Bloody big hero. I’m Moore, got more pals than you can shake your finger at. Ask anybody. Moore, that’s me. Six times round the Cape. Moore’s the name. Anybody wanna fight?