are!”
“Naturally.”
“Or else jerks like this one,” and he looked toward the counter, “are gonna lose all respect. What I’ve been doing all morning, as long as nothing showed from Benotti, what I’ve been doing is going around, place to place….”
“And made them show respect.”
“That’s right.”
“Fine, Folsom. But I wouldn’t want the cops interfering with that.”
“You’re damn right we don’t want….”
“Only thing is, with all these goons of yours all over the neighborhood, they’re going to keep hanging around. Like that captain.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”
“And for the job you’re doing, Folsom, like the thing here, for that you don’t need the cops hanging around and you certainly don’t need an army of goons. Just you walking in like this, that’s all what’s needed. That’s what I think.”
“Huh?”
“You put some respect into these jerks, Folsom, not because you got the goons, but because it’s you walking in, right?”
He took a slow breath, turned his head slowly to look at the young man with the baby. Then Folsom let out his breath, slowly again, as if he were spreading a large cloud of disdain. He turned back to me and mumbled close to my ear.
“I guess you’re right. Damn right.”
“So what do you think we should do?”
“Huh?”
“About the cops getting baited in here, and maybe queering your work.”
“Yeah. Send ‘em home. Send all those idle goons home, is what I say.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and nodded. It was a nod of respect and a nod which conveyed acceptance of wisdom.
“I’ll phone,” he said.
“No. You’ve got to send a man. Much more important that way. Much more the right style.”
“Gus!” he said and turned around. “Put that candy back in there.”
Gus put the candy back into the jar. He put it into the wrong jar, mixing the red ones with the yellow ones.
“Come here,” said Folsom.
Gus came over and I said, “May I tell him?”
“Go ahead,” said Folsom.
“Gus,” I said, “go over to Morry’s place where the guys are waiting and tell them to blow.”
“Blow?”
“Today’s deal is off. Folsom here is going to handle it differently.”
“He is?” said Gus.
“You heard him,” said Folsom.
“You mean we go home?”
“Get the hell out of here and tell the rest the same thing.”
Gus left, which was one down, two to go.
“Call that one,” I said.
The next one we sent to a place two blocks away. Two down, one to go.
“Go to that bar on Liberty and Alder,” said Folsom but I interrupted him.
“That won’t be necessary. They’re gone already.”
“Gone already? I didn’t give no orders for them guys to….”
“I was there,” I explained. “And the big one who was there—you know whom I mean?”
“I know that son of a bitch.”
“He got bored sitting around and he and his buddies went home. I was there when it happened.”
“Why in hell didn’t you stop them?” Folsom wanted to know.
“They were your men, Folsom.”
“Not any more they ain’t! They’re fired!”
I nodded, to show how I bowed to his verdict.
“You run down to the union hall,” Folsom yelled at his last lieutenant, “and if any of those creeps should show up there, you tell them what I said.”
“What,” said the man. “You said what?”
“They’re through! The whole pack of ‘em!”
He left, which was three down and none to go, when it came to the goons, but one to go when it came to trouble.
The jukebox played the last of the quarter, a little tune of goop and sentiment.
I walked up to the counter and Folsom did, too. He felt fine. He still had an audience.
“I think what I’ll do,” he said, “I’ll make this sucker here sign up for two machines.”
The young man looked from Folsom to me and then back again. Then he looked away. There was sweat on his forehead. I could see that he wished he did not have the baby right then. He stroked the baby’s back and
“Naturally.”
“Or else jerks like this one,” and he looked toward the counter, “are gonna lose all respect. What I’ve been doing all morning, as long as nothing showed from Benotti, what I’ve been doing is going around, place to place….”
“And made them show respect.”
“That’s right.”
“Fine, Folsom. But I wouldn’t want the cops interfering with that.”
“You’re damn right we don’t want….”
“Only thing is, with all these goons of yours all over the neighborhood, they’re going to keep hanging around. Like that captain.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”
“And for the job you’re doing, Folsom, like the thing here, for that you don’t need the cops hanging around and you certainly don’t need an army of goons. Just you walking in like this, that’s all what’s needed. That’s what I think.”
“Huh?”
“You put some respect into these jerks, Folsom, not because you got the goons, but because it’s you walking in, right?”
He took a slow breath, turned his head slowly to look at the young man with the baby. Then Folsom let out his breath, slowly again, as if he were spreading a large cloud of disdain. He turned back to me and mumbled close to my ear.
“I guess you’re right. Damn right.”
“So what do you think we should do?”
“Huh?”
“About the cops getting baited in here, and maybe queering your work.”
“Yeah. Send ‘em home. Send all those idle goons home, is what I say.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and nodded. It was a nod of respect and a nod which conveyed acceptance of wisdom.
“I’ll phone,” he said.
“No. You’ve got to send a man. Much more important that way. Much more the right style.”
“Gus!” he said and turned around. “Put that candy back in there.”
Gus put the candy back into the jar. He put it into the wrong jar, mixing the red ones with the yellow ones.
“Come here,” said Folsom.
Gus came over and I said, “May I tell him?”
“Go ahead,” said Folsom.
“Gus,” I said, “go over to Morry’s place where the guys are waiting and tell them to blow.”
“Blow?”
“Today’s deal is off. Folsom here is going to handle it differently.”
“He is?” said Gus.
“You heard him,” said Folsom.
“You mean we go home?”
“Get the hell out of here and tell the rest the same thing.”
Gus left, which was one down, two to go.
“Call that one,” I said.
The next one we sent to a place two blocks away. Two down, one to go.
“Go to that bar on Liberty and Alder,” said Folsom but I interrupted him.
“That won’t be necessary. They’re gone already.”
“Gone already? I didn’t give no orders for them guys to….”
“I was there,” I explained. “And the big one who was there—you know whom I mean?”
“I know that son of a bitch.”
“He got bored sitting around and he and his buddies went home. I was there when it happened.”
“Why in hell didn’t you stop them?” Folsom wanted to know.
“They were your men, Folsom.”
“Not any more they ain’t! They’re fired!”
I nodded, to show how I bowed to his verdict.
“You run down to the union hall,” Folsom yelled at his last lieutenant, “and if any of those creeps should show up there, you tell them what I said.”
“What,” said the man. “You said what?”
“They’re through! The whole pack of ‘em!”
He left, which was three down and none to go, when it came to the goons, but one to go when it came to trouble.
The jukebox played the last of the quarter, a little tune of goop and sentiment.
I walked up to the counter and Folsom did, too. He felt fine. He still had an audience.
“I think what I’ll do,” he said, “I’ll make this sucker here sign up for two machines.”
The young man looked from Folsom to me and then back again. Then he looked away. There was sweat on his forehead. I could see that he wished he did not have the baby right then. He stroked the baby’s back and
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