membered that we needed milk. So we went across
the street to Mike's. I like the way the lights shine
through the store window making a square box of
light on the pavement, and the way you have to
climb up three wooden steps past onions and pota-
toes and celery. It reminds me of the general store
at Huntersville, of beloved memory.
I
always feel
as if I'm going home when
I
go into Mike's little
dairy and appetizing store with a few fruits and
vegetables for accomodation.
The boy was there-the one, nameless, whom
I
always call "You know, the one who hangs around
the doorstep all the time, the one who told me when
we moved in that we wouldn't get enough heat."
There was another fellow with him. Somehow we
started talking about this and that and the next.
I've always wondered what those fellows talk about,
hanging around the store all day and all night, but
it's easy. You just talk and it's very nice, neigh-
borly.
We were talking about how cold it was in the
house.
I said, "I'll just move out.
I
won't stay in a cold
house.
I
won't sit around in a bathrobe all day and
get tonsilli tis."
Mike was trying to console me. "Now Mrs.
Franken, it's not as bad as that. She gives steam.
I lived myself in that house two years."
The boy who hangs around kept repeating, "Were
you ever there in the daytime? From ten to five
you can be dying and not a drop of steam. You
moved out finally, didn't you?"
"\Vell, you know how it is, my wife just come
from the hospital, you know how a woman is, she
didn't feel so good, and with the infant ....
You
know. There was steam, but not
enough
steam.
That was it. Steam. but not enough."
"Oh, but were you ever there in the day, from
ten to four? You can be dying ....
I know, I stay
home all day with my sister's kid, and I know."
The other boy said, "The landlady thinks she can
save money bankin' the fire." He shook his head,
pulled his lips down at the corners. "Never save a
penny that way."
I insisted, "I'll move out. I don't have to live
there. "
The nameless boy said, "Yeah, that's just what
she told my sister. 'You don't have to live here',
she told her. And then the old skinflint '11tell you
you got rooms like Park Avenue, and she'll talk you
out of it."
"She won't talk me out of a cold radiator." I
was gettin~ very belligerent. "Well," I said to Mike,
"give me a pint of milk."
The little man, what was his name, Stutz, came
m.
"Hello, Mr. Franklin. Franklin is the name, I
believe?"
PARTISAN
REVIEW AND ANVIL
Martin agreed. Why argue?
He was drawn into the steam discussion.
The boy who hangs around said, "The landlady
don't listen to nobody."
"She'll listen to her pocketbook all right. If the
tenants got together and didn't pay the rent she'd
listen. "
"She'd stick a dispossess under your door in three-
days.
I
know her."
Mr. Stutz was buttonholing Martin. "See here,
Mr. Franklin, you talk ·to her. Speak up, she'll lis-
ten to you, you know tenants like you don't grow on.
bushes. She's got some she don't care about, but a
professional man ... she'll listen to you. Speak right
up to her."
Mike interrupted. "Say, Mr. Stutz, he knows
how to talk-even if he ain't going around to get
votes."
Stutz laughed a little weakly, and said, "Who's
tryin' to get votes?" Pretty soon he got his loaf of
bread and can of salmon and went out with one:
"Good night, everybody," and one "Good night,.
Mr. Franklin."
Martin said to Mike, "What's he, anyway?"
Mike said, "Nothing.
Walks around gettin'
votes."
"Has he got a job?"
"Who job? What job? He used to have the rear
dough ... "
The boy interrupted. "That's what he says."
"vVell, whatever it is, he's in the Lieberman Club·
now."
"Oh."
The boy said, "My sister, you know, she works
for Braverman, and she got Joe-this kid that's
over taking the registration-in over at the Braver-
man Club. Then this guy Stutz comes along and
says, You better be for the Lieberman Club, and
gets him this job. So now he's a Lieberman."
"And the little guy is a Lieberman?" says Martin ..
"Yeah,'.!
"Well, I guess I'll be a Braverman."
Everybody laughed.
"I don't sign up with none of the parties", said
the nameless boy. "All a bunch of crooks. My sis-
ter, she knows what's goin' on inside, see what I
mean, and I wouldn't sign for none of 'em."
Mike laughed. "You know how I signed?" He
rubbed the side of his cheek with his hand, stood
with one hand under the white apron, leaned con-
templatively on the ieebox. "You remember last
year came out a notice there was a month's leeway
on the beer license? So I figured I'll wait a month,
the money's as good to me as to them. So I go
down to get my license the last couple days, and
they say to me, 'You didn't get your Federal license.
You been selling beer without a license.' 'What about
the thirty days leeway?' I asked them.'Oh,
that's
21.
