The Hoods (50 page)

“He dropped dead,” Max said.

Crowning wheeled around and made for the door. Little Kelly put out his foot. Crowning staggered and almost fell.

“Come here, you big stupid bastard, and sit down,” I said.

He wheeled around like a charging bull. He stood above me fuming. I sat there with my feet on the desk.

“Yes?” I said.

“I won't have anybody talking to me like that,” he raged, gesticulating with his finger.

“Okay,” I said, “I apologize.”

I smiled up at him.

“That's more like it. That's different,” he said. “Nobody is going to bluff me. If you want to have a chat on a friendly basis, well, all right.”

He sat down.

Even Kelly laughed at the four-flusher.

“You're licked, Crowning,” I said. “There won't be an elevator running up or down unless a contract is signed.”

“That's what you think,” he snapped. “I'll get men to operate them, and protection, too. This is still the United States of America and you hoodlums aren't running everything with your high-handed gangster methods.”

“You know, Crowning,” I said, “you have the typical businessman's state of mind. You set a precedent, then if anybody follows your example and uses the methods you originated, you berate him, you call him a gangster, high-handed and what not. It's all true, of course. It's just what you call it. But what's goose for the gander is kind of goosie, don't you think?”

Everybody laughed but Crowning.

“Seriously, Crowning,” I continued, “all right, let's start from scratch. We—” I waved my arm around the room, 'let's assume we're gangsters. So as a gangster—I speak as a gangster with authority—I can say, you supposedly legitimate businessmen are the ones who brought us gangsters into labor disputes. You follow me? It's you employers that first attracted us and showed us how lucrative these disputes can be. Take this situation as an example. You brought Salvy and his men into this dispute. He was on your payroll. Right? Besides hiring gangsters, you, a legit, straightforward businessman, bribe a union official. Do you know that's committing a felony?”

“I did nothing of the sort, you can't prove it,” Crowning screamed.

“Look, Crowning, don't yell. I'm sitting right here. I'm not proving anything. I'm just telling you what Fitz told me. He told me you've had him on your payroll for years, and I don't doubt it. I know from experience it's the common practice of business associations, and the individual businessmen belonging to these associations, to make it appear they know nothing about it. You and I know these sanctimonious bastards are full of crap. That's part of the reason why they pay dues to you. And I know there are many other illegit functions of your trade associations besides bribing union officials, lobbying at Washington and state capitals. And truthfully just between you and me, isn't lobbying just a polite name for bribing legislative bodies?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Crowning said.

“You're full of crap, Crowning,” I said, “and you know it. You supposedly legit business men taught us how to corrupt the lawmaking and law enforcement bodies from way back. You businessmen conduct your activities with less honesty than we do. I have seen it all around. In that file there is plenty to substantiate what I am saying. There's dope in there on many business firms in this and other cities. Why and how this agency amassed such a load of crap, I don't know. But reading how some of them operate their businesses, let me tell you, it's pretty filthy reading.”

I got an idea. “Hey Pat,” I said, “how far are you? I mean up to what letter in the file did you come to?”

“Up to the letter R,” Patsy said.

“Look in the C files again. C for Crowning,” I said.

“There's no file on me,” Crowning snorted.

“Just for the hell of it,” I said.

Patsy opened the C compartment. He flipped his thumb over a few folders. He pulled one out. He looked inside, then he put it back. He flipped a few more down the line. He stopped, looked intently, and pulled it out. He looked inside. He smiled.

“Yeh, he's got one, all right,” he said.

Max asked, “Any pictures?”

Pat said, “No pictures.”

He tossed the folder on the desk.

I emptied the contents. There were three closely typed pages. One was about his relationships with young men and young girls. This guy had some history. He was picked up by the cops on a few occasions, but never convicted in court. His case was always dismissed for lack of evidence. In every case the boy or girl and arresting officer changed their testimony in court. In parenthesis were notations of how much money the agency paid the cops and the youths in the case. In one case a large sum of money was given. I handed the sheet to Maxie.

I said, “The bastard is a Sodomite.”

Crowning just looked at me, mouth open, breathing heavily, a helpless fear in his eyes.

The second sheet contained a list of his businesses. He was quite a big wheel. He controlled some big real estate parcels. He had a woolen mill up in Massachusetts and a big uniform manufacturing plant in Jersey. He was a director of a bank here in New York. He belonged and was a contributor to many large organizations.

He was a member in good standing of the American Association of Manufacturers. He belonged to every flag-waving, anti-Semitic, reactionary group out to make trouble and frig the little people of this country. They were all self-sacrificing, super-patriotic organizations as long as there was a buck in it. I handed the sheet to Maxie.

I said, “A real hooray-for-America guy. Frig you; hooray for me.”

I looked at Crowning. His eyes were wide and afraid. He was nervously wetting his thin, purple lips.

The third typed sheet pertained to records of his fraudulent dealings with a business partner named Moritz. There were detailed accounts of his collusion with union officials in Jersey, Massachusetts and New York.

There was a case history of deceit and profiteering in contracts with the government for the manufacture of army uniforms during the last war.

There was an item concerning Federal income tax evasion.

I handed the sheet to Crowning. I said nothing. As he read, his eyes blinked. His Adam's apple fluttered as he tried to swallow. He licked his dry lips. His hands and the paper shook. The paper fell out of his nerveless hands.

He croaked hoarsely, “A glass of water, some water, please.”

Kelly brought it to him.

“We're not interested in this crap,” I said, referring to the sheets on the table. “What we're interested in is to settle the contract that's being negotiated down at City Hall.”

“Can I have these papers, then?” Browning asked.

“No,” I said, “I'll keep them for the future. We don't need them now, we have you licked. Maybe we'll need them at some later date. We may get into a dispute and these can act as—persuaders.”

“Thespus sell me out?” Crowning asked. “Is he in there?” He nodded to the other office. He got up. “I would like to talk to him.”

He went for the door of the office. Little Kelly blocked his way.

“Okay, Kelly,” I said, “let him see what we got in there.”

Kelly swung the door open. Crowning stared with his mouth open.

“Are they all dead?” he gasped.

I got up to look. Jesus, they all looked as if they were dead. I walked in and looked closer. I was relieved; they were all fast asleep.

I winked at Max and said, “Yeh, they're all dead.”

He was trembling at the sight. I could imagine how those prostrate bodies must have affected him.

He sat down.

“Can I have some of this whiskey?” he faltered.

“Not now,” I said, “let's talk some more first. You're one of the big shots in the association? The real estate association?”

“I'm a member,” he replied cautiously.

“Your outfit is licked,” Maxie said. “Call your associates and tell them to sign up.”

“I can't do anything myself.” He was trembling and barely audible. “Can I call my partner and consult with him?”

“Yeh,” I said, “but no tricks. Straight talk over the phone or you'll get hurt.”

“I understand. I don't want any trouble. I want this settled, so I can leave.”

I nodded.

He reached and called a number into the phone. The exchange was the same as this agency's.

He called the man on the other end Moritz. Moritz seemed obstinate. He turned to me. I put my hand over the mouthpiece.

Crowning said, “I can't convince him, what shall I do?”

“Tell him to come here. It ain't far where he is, is it?” Max asked.

“Five minute's walk,” Crowning said. “Moritz is a nice fellow,” he smiled ingratiatingly. “He's a white Jew.”

I was going to smack the shmuck. But what would be the use, I thought.

Ten minutes later Moritz came in with an automatic smile and a professional handshake. He was tall, medium built, and much too smooth. He had a small gold and diamond insignia in his lapel. It was a Mason button.

“Can Moritz and I have a private discussion?” Crowning asked.

“Sure, go ahead,” I said.

They went into a huddle together in a corner. Crowning pointed me out to Moritz with a gesture of the head. I heard them murmuring the word “Jewish” when he gestured in my direction. Moritz scrutinized Max and me. He nodded his head in understanding.

It was obvious what they were whispering about. Moritz was a “white Jew” all right, a perfect partner to Crowning, the type that uses any means for self gain. He used his Jewishness, his Masonry, anything, like a whore. Yeh, you find guys like this Moritz everywhere.

Us Jews got to stick together. Us Protestants got to stick together. Us Catholics got to stick. Yeh, that kind stick—that kind stick it up the asses of their co-religionists. Sure enough, when they broke up, this guy Moritz came over and spoke in Jewish.

The gist of his spiel was, “We Jews got to stick together. We're an abused minority; we got to do things for each other. Come over on our side of the fence. Well pay you well.”

He said a lot more in the same vein. All in a pretty clear Jewish.

I answered him in English. “Sure, I agree with you. We're in a minority, and we're oppressed. But, you stupid sonofabitch, what has it got to do with this situation? I'll bet fifty percent of the elevator pickets walking in the street are Jewish. But you, as a Jew, don't give a goddamn. Don't hand me that crap. You'll exploit a Jew, a Gentile or your own mother for a charlotte russe.

“In another minute you're apt to start singing 'Yankee Doodle, Hooray America.' You crumb bun big businessmen are a whorey lot. No matter what your nationality is.”

“Don't you talk to me like that. I'm not afraid of you, even though you are gangsters.” Moritz put his arm on his partner's shoulder. “Mr. Crowning has told me all about you men, and Mr. Salvy explained to me all about your powerful criminal organization.”

“So what can you do about it?” I asked.

“It looks like the decent citizen is powerless locally, but I will see my Senator about it.”

“You, a decent citizen, associating with Salvy, and partners in fraud with this chiseler Crowning?”

He opened his mouth to answer me.

The phone rang. I picked it up. It was Fitz at City Hall.

He said, “Everything is fine and dandy. The chairman switched sides; he's with us. He's been hammering the employer group over the head. He's been telling them the mayor doesn't want any nonsense. They know they're hog-tied.” Fitz was laughing. “I think they're waiting to hear from that big mucky muck, Crowning, before they sign up.”

“Crowning is here,” I said.

“He is?” Fitz shouted excitedly.

“Yeh, he is,” I said. “Can you get the spokesman of the employer group to the phone?”

“Yes, sure, he's right upstairs,” Fitz said.

“Go and get him, Fitz,” I said. “I'll have my friend Crowning talk to him.”

Fitz said, “Okay. Hold on.”

I waited, holding on to the phone.

Moritz said, “Mr. Crowning won't talk to anybody on that phone.”

I nodded to Patsy. Patsy poked Moritz in the belly with a left. He doubled up. Patsy straightened him up with a right clip on the jaw. Moritz staggered back and fell up against the partition.

A voice came over the phone. “Is Mr. Crowning there?”

I motioned to Crowning.

Wearily he picked up the phone. To the party on the other end he said, “Can't get any cooperation anywhere. We may as well throw the sponge in. Yes, yes—in my opinion, you may as well sign right up.

He put the phone down resignedly and said, “May we go now? This excitement is too much for me.”

“Not yet,” I said. “It won't be long now.”

“That's what the rabbi said to the infant as he picked his knife up,” Maxie said.

“A rabbi doesn't circumcise,” I said. “A mohel does.”

I looked at Crowning. He sat dejectedly by himself. He paid no attention to his partner Moritz who was still sitting dazedly on the floor.