Tales From Gavagan's Bar by L. Sprague de Camp, Fletcher Pratt
Authors: L. Sprague de Camp, Fletcher Pratt
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reference questions bored him, and he used to pass them on to someone else when he could. But any facts in his field of interest he carried right in his head. Even pretty unimportant facts.
I remember one day somebody wanted to know something about a gang of early American criminals named the Thayers. They took the question up with old Mestor, and without batting an eyelash he came back: "Why, yes; they were hanged in Buffalo, New York, in 1825, while Lafayette was visiting the place." He couldn't find any reference book to prove it, though, and somebody had to write to Buffalo. But he turned out to be perfectly right.
That was the usual way with Mestor. He knew books and what was in them very well, but beyond that he had a whole reference library in his head. I'm in the technical section myself.
There was another funny thing about Mestor, and it has a bearing on what happened—I think. I gather he lived alone; don't believe he had any home life at all. Well, when he was off duty, he didn't go around with a lot of other learned old ducks as you might think. He liked young people. He used to go around with any of us and tip over a few drinks. Whenever he could get the company. And once he got started, he'd take two drinks to your one, and then start telling stories. Perfectly startling ones. I've had him in here a few times and when he got oiled, he even astonished Mr. Cohan.
# ★ #
Mr. Cohan said: "Would that be the tall old felly with the big eyebrows and the joint off the thumb of him, Mr. Keating?"
"That's the one," said Keating. "Kind of wall-eyed, as though he were continually surprised by what he was looking at."
"Sure, he was the one," said Mr. Cohan. "I mind him saying something about Ireland once, and me asking him how he knew, and he says he's been all round the Lakes of Killarney in a jaunting-car."
# ★ #
Yes, [continued Keating] that was his method. Especially in his cups. The information he had was always personal. The stories he told happened to someone else, but he learned them on the ground, so to speak. I remember when he was talking about handl ing a sailing ship on a lee shore in a storm one night. I asked him how he knew. He said that when he was a young man he had spent three years on a whaling voyage to Greenland. I checked up his description afterward by the Kedge Anchor, and as nearly I could make out he was perfectly right, as usual. But it was that whaling voyage and the Babylonian tablet that made us get up the list.
The Babylonian tablet was one of the series the library set out in the lobby in showcases for a "Reading and Writing Through the Ages" exhibit. Polly Rixey had charge of it. You must have seen her around the library, Mr. Witherwax. She's that blonde girl who always wore her hair piled on top of her head.
Mestor liked her pretty well and let her know it. I don't mean he made any obvious passes at her, because he was a gentlemanly old coot. But he was always making opportunities to talk to her, and when she went up the iron grillwork stairs back in the stacks, the chances were that he would be somewhere around the bottom, trying to take a peek at her legs. A lot of girls would have been annoyed— when the others saw him standing there, they used to go around and take another way up—but not Polly. She seemed to take it as a compliment.
She was what you sometimes call a teaser. Not quite on the make, and always perfectly ladylike. But she enjoyed giving the impression things were different. I remember her telling a couple of the other girls how to behave when you go out with an older man—she didn't know I was listening. She said:
I remember one day somebody wanted to know something about a gang of early American criminals named the Thayers. They took the question up with old Mestor, and without batting an eyelash he came back: "Why, yes; they were hanged in Buffalo, New York, in 1825, while Lafayette was visiting the place." He couldn't find any reference book to prove it, though, and somebody had to write to Buffalo. But he turned out to be perfectly right.
That was the usual way with Mestor. He knew books and what was in them very well, but beyond that he had a whole reference library in his head. I'm in the technical section myself.
There was another funny thing about Mestor, and it has a bearing on what happened—I think. I gather he lived alone; don't believe he had any home life at all. Well, when he was off duty, he didn't go around with a lot of other learned old ducks as you might think. He liked young people. He used to go around with any of us and tip over a few drinks. Whenever he could get the company. And once he got started, he'd take two drinks to your one, and then start telling stories. Perfectly startling ones. I've had him in here a few times and when he got oiled, he even astonished Mr. Cohan.
# ★ #
Mr. Cohan said: "Would that be the tall old felly with the big eyebrows and the joint off the thumb of him, Mr. Keating?"
"That's the one," said Keating. "Kind of wall-eyed, as though he were continually surprised by what he was looking at."
"Sure, he was the one," said Mr. Cohan. "I mind him saying something about Ireland once, and me asking him how he knew, and he says he's been all round the Lakes of Killarney in a jaunting-car."
# ★ #
Yes, [continued Keating] that was his method. Especially in his cups. The information he had was always personal. The stories he told happened to someone else, but he learned them on the ground, so to speak. I remember when he was talking about handl ing a sailing ship on a lee shore in a storm one night. I asked him how he knew. He said that when he was a young man he had spent three years on a whaling voyage to Greenland. I checked up his description afterward by the Kedge Anchor, and as nearly I could make out he was perfectly right, as usual. But it was that whaling voyage and the Babylonian tablet that made us get up the list.
The Babylonian tablet was one of the series the library set out in the lobby in showcases for a "Reading and Writing Through the Ages" exhibit. Polly Rixey had charge of it. You must have seen her around the library, Mr. Witherwax. She's that blonde girl who always wore her hair piled on top of her head.
Mestor liked her pretty well and let her know it. I don't mean he made any obvious passes at her, because he was a gentlemanly old coot. But he was always making opportunities to talk to her, and when she went up the iron grillwork stairs back in the stacks, the chances were that he would be somewhere around the bottom, trying to take a peek at her legs. A lot of girls would have been annoyed— when the others saw him standing there, they used to go around and take another way up—but not Polly. She seemed to take it as a compliment.
She was what you sometimes call a teaser. Not quite on the make, and always perfectly ladylike. But she enjoyed giving the impression things were different. I remember her telling a couple of the other girls how to behave when you go out with an older man—she didn't know I was listening. She said:
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