SEIZE THE DAY
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"I was a fighter too, like Churchill," said the old man. "When
we licked Spain 1 went into the Navy. Yes 1 was a gob that time. What
did 1 have to lose? Nothing. After the battle of San Juan Hill, Teddy
Roosevelt kicked me off the beach."
"Come, watch the curb," said Wilhelm.
"I was curious and wanted to see what went on. 1 didn't have
no business there, but 1 took a boat and rowed myself to the beach.
Two of our guys was dead, layin' under the American flag to keep the
flies off. So 1 says to the guy on duty, there, who was the sentry, 'Let's
have a look at these guys. 1 want to see what went on here,' and he
says, 'Naw,' but 1 talked him into it. So he took off the flag and there
were these two tall guys, both gentlemen, lying in their boots. They
was very tall. The two of them had long mustaches. They were high
society boys. 1 think one of them was called Fish, from up the Hudson,
a big-shot family. When 1 looked up, there was Teddy Roosevelt, with
his hat off, and he was looking at these fellows, the only ones who got
killed there. Then he says to me, 'What's the Navy want here? Have
you got orders?' 'No, sir,' I says to him. 'Well, get the hell off the
beach, then.' "
Old Rappaport was very proud of this memory. "Everything he
said had such snap, such class. Man! 1 love that Teddy Roosevelt," he
said, "I love him!"
Ah, what people are! He is almost not with us, and his life is
nearly gone, but T.R. once yelled at him, so he loves him. 1 guess it
is love, too, Wilhelm smiled. So maybe the rest of Tamkin's story was
true, about the ten children and the wives and the telephone directory.
He said, "Come on, come on, Mr. Rappaport," and hurried the
old man back by the large hollow elbow; he gripped it through the thin
cotton cloth. Re-entering the brokerage office where under the lights the
tumblers were speeding with the clack of drumsticks upon wooden
blocks, more than ever resembling a Chinese theater, Wilhelm strained
his eyes to see the board.
The lard figures were unfamiliar. That amount couldn't be lard!
They must have put the figures in the wrong slot. He traced the
line back to the margin. It was down to .19, and had dropped twenty
points since noon. And what about the contract of rye? It had sunk
back to its earlier position, and they had lost their chance to sell.
Old Mr. Rappaport said to Wilhelm, "Read me my wheat figure."
"Oh, leave me alone for a minute," he said, and positively hid his
face from the old man behind one hand. He looked for Tamkin,
Tamkin's bald head, or Tamkin with his gray straw and the cocoa–
colored band. He couldn't see him. Where was he? The seats next to
Rowland were taken by strangers. He thrust himself over the one on
the aisle, Mr. Rappaport's former place, and pushed at the back of
the chair until the new occupant, a red-headed man with a thin de–
termined face, leaned forward to get out of his way but would not
surrender the seat. "Where's Tamkin?" Wilhelm asked Rowland.
"Gee, I don't know. Is anything wrong?"
