330
SAUL BELLOW
WINKLEMAN:
It's in a vault. Now tell me-I've given a fair account.
Is he nuts?
PSYCHIATRIST:
I'd have to examine him, of course. Is someone thinking
of committing him?
WINKLEMAN:
It's been suggested. By his son. And some of the analysts
in the building are sore at him for fooling with their patients. But
why shouldn't a famous comedian be a little nutty? Anyway, if we
put
him
away, that'd be the end of his earning.
PSYCHIATRIST:
I hope you don't expect me to give a professional opinion,
just like that.
WINKLEMAN:
I thought you might have a tip or two on how to handle
him. Now, for instance, he wants to borrow my mother for his therapy.
His mother was my mother's sister ...
PSYCHIATRIST:
Is that a problem?
WINKLEMAN:
We're flying her back from Hawaii. In a wheelchair.
She's eighty-six.
PSYCHIATRIST:
You sound a little jealous.
WINKLEMAN:
Not so. Of course, I want to win. All my life, I've been
confused by his master-minding. But I come out on top, because I
make the buck. Let him be eccentric. He can't come up with some–
thing I can't sell. I don't care what. How wild his inspirations. I
can make profit on them. About fifteen years ago he started painting
pictures. Vile! So what! I peddled them for plenty.
If
he wanted
to pick his nose in Saks window I could make a deal.
If
he dies before
me, I'll sell cousin Bummy bit by bit, for relics. But on this psychiatric
kick I can't handle him. Not yet. The question is how to rehabilitate
him as a money maker. That's what concerns me, his daughter, his
son, his family-even that stupid broad of his.
PSYCHIATRIST:
You could do with my professional services, yourself.
WINKLEMAN:
Not unless I could make a profit. Do you need legal work?
PSYCHIATRIST:
Couldn't possibly make a deal with you.
WINKLEMAN:
I'd win. I can tell. It's like an instinct with me.
PSYCHIATRIST:
That scene in
The Handler
when Bummidge doesn't get
out of the ring fast enough and he squats in the comer behind his
fighter. Ha, hal
WINKLEMAN:
Yeah-he's a funny fellow.
PSYCHIATRIST:
And with the towel, when he wipes the champ's face.
(Business with his handkerchief)
WINKLEMAN:
No, it wasn't like that. It was like this.
(Wipes the psy–
chiatrist's face with the handkerchief)
PSYCHIATRIST:
Not at all.
It
was this way.
(Works on
WINKLEMAN'S
