Solomon's Song (33 page)

Abraham is mortified at the prospect of touching the cold, staring, gap-mouthed face of his father who in death wears an expression not unlike the one he customarily assumed when his temper was out of control and he was looking around for something expensive to break. ‘Er, I say, can we not have Adams do it with someone else?’ Abraham now asks.

Rabbi Abrahams shakes his head and looks scornfully at him. ‘It is a task for a loving son, a great privilege and an honour.’

‘But you said it was not a religious act?’

‘Not religious no, but loving, yes.’

Abraham sighs and closing his eyes places both hands down on the cold skull of his dead father.

‘Push now!’ the rabbi instructs. ‘Push down!’ With his eyes still tightly shut Abraham pushes down and he can hear Adams grunting as he forces the jaw to a closed position. ‘Now bring the stocking,’ Rabbi Abrahams says, ‘cup it under the chin and draw it up over both ears and pull tight, then make a knot.’

Abraham opens his eyes and takes up the black woollen stocking in both hands and as Adams removes his hands from David’s jaw he quickly loops it under his dead father’s chin and draws it upwards, covering his ears.

‘Tight! Pull it tight,’ the rabbi explains. Abraham pulls hard on both ends of the stocking and finds his hands are now a good eighteen inches above his dead father’s head. ‘Keep the strain and make a knot. Mr Adams, bring back your hand on the jaw!’ Abraham makes a knot and pulls it tight then makes another so that an almost perfect topknot appears at the apex of David’s almost bald skull. Abraham notices for the first time that the surface of his father’s skull is blotched with large dark age freckles and is, in appearance, not dissimilar to the skin of an overripe banana. He has a sense of having lost his dignity and feels slightly soiled by the waxy, cold feel of the skin. The too close proximity to death is not at all to his liking.

‘Now the eyes,’ the rabbi says, he looks suspiciously at Abraham. ‘You will do the eyes, it is the duty of the eldest son.’

‘No, please, no! I do not feel well.’ The rabbi looks at Abraham in surprise and points to the corpse. ‘Not so sick as him! Tradition, tradition, it is a great honour, for three thousand years the Jews…’

‘No! Please?’ Abraham interrupts him.

‘Tut, tut, it is not difficult, it is very symbolic, you are closing the curtains of life.’ The look of scorn appears again as Rabbi Abrahams looks at Abraham. ‘It is a great privilege to make this gesture, to bring peace, rest and tranquility to the dead.’

‘No, I simply cannot do it! I can’t touch him again, not his eyes.’ Abraham visibly shudders.

‘I shall do it, sir,’ Adams says, addressing himself to the rabbi, ‘though I must remind you I am not a Semite,’ he glances quickly at Abraham, ‘but Mr David always treated me as his son.’

‘Yes, thank you, Adams, I am most grateful,’ Abraham says, ignoring the butler’s remark. Like himself, Adams took almost nothing but abuse from his father.

Rabbi Abrahams sighs and then shrugs, it is a gesture which makes Abraham immediately decide to double the already generous donation he intends to give in memory of his father. ‘As you wish then, Sir Abraham, it is not a religious task.’

Adams stoops over the bestocking’d head of David Solomon and with a minimum of fuss gouges his thumbs deeply into the cold eye sockets and expertly pulls the lids down over the dead man’s eyes. Then taking up the table napkin he twirls it into a narrow strip which he uses to bandage the closed eyelids.

Abraham looks down at the now heavily bandaged head of the dead David Solomon. The tightly drawn stocking has pulled his father’s jaw so far upwards that his mouth serves as a hinge and the point of the jaw now touches the tip of his nose.

Rabbi Abrahams rises. ‘You will, of course, cover all the mirrors in the house.’ He looks about him and spies a mug beside the bed. ‘And pour the water from all containers near the dead.’

He leans over to pick up the mug. Suddenly his eyes grow wide, ‘Oh my goodness!’ he exclaims. ‘The teeth! We have locked your father’s jaw without putting back his teeth!’

Abraham draws back in horror. ‘Oh no, you don’t! No way! That’s it. I’ve had quite enough!’

‘But, Sir Abraham, the jaw will collapse,’ the rabbi points to the dead man’s face. ‘See already it’s not so good, it will be most unseemly, Mr David must have his teeth, it is a matter of respect for the dead.’

‘So, let it collapse, no one will see him!’ Abraham shouts in panic, his voice climbing two octaves. ‘He’s dead, my father’s dead, he’s not on exhibition! I’m not going through that again!’

The rabbi shrugs. ‘That is true but you are the only son, a great privilege!’ the rabbi protests.

‘No, Rabbi! You’ve heard me. I’m absolutely not going to do it!’

‘It is not such a nice thing you are doing, Abraham Solomon.’ The rabbi smiles, ‘But on the other hand, I understand.’

‘Thank you, Rabbi,’ Abraham sighs, greatly relieved. ‘I am not sure I feel well, I wonder if I may be excused?’

‘Certainly, Sir Abraham, but first I must say the prayers for the dead, it is important that you be present for these.’ The rabbi turns to the butler. ‘Mr Adams may now leave.’

With the ancient prayer rituals completed, the rabbi quietly instructs Abraham in his further duties. ‘You will wrap your beloved father with a sheet and place him on the floor with his feet pointed towards the door and then you will place a single candle at his head. Before Mr Moshe Sapperstein of the Chevra Kadisha arrives my advice to you is to remove the bandages from his head and eyes so your father will look the way a father should when a loving and dutiful son has properly attended to his death.’

‘Yes, thank you, Rabbi Abrahams, I am most grateful. I shall make a donation in memory of my father if you will let me know how this might best be done. Some useful project perhaps?’

Rabbi Abrahams bows slightly. ‘Now is not the time to talk of such matters, but I am most grateful, Sir Abraham, the Lord’s work is never completed. We have a great need to build a new synagogue, thank the Lord our congregation grows. Perhaps I may visit you at some time more convenient to discuss this with you?’

‘Certainly, Rabbi. I will look forward to your call. We shall telephone for a taxi to take you home, there is a depot not far away, it will not take long.’

‘Thank you, Sir Abraham, I must remind you that the body of your father must not be left alone. You or your wife must not leave him until the Chevra Kadisha comes to fetch him.’ Rabbi Abrahams looks around the room and points to the menorah. ‘I think maybe a small miracle, that is the first time I have seen candles that do not all burn down at the same rate.’ Then bowing his head slightly before leaving the room, the rabbi says the traditional blessing, ‘May the Lord comfort you with all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.’

With the rabbi’s departure and Elizabeth seated facing the far wall, her back turned on the shrouded body of David on the floor with his feet pointed towards the door and with one of Mrs Tompkins’ brand new candles at his head, Abraham is feeling decidedly better. Tradition, tradition, how useful it can be. Expensive, but useful. Abraham decides he will call Hawk immediately and ask for a postponement to prepare for him and his clever little granddaughter. As he commences to wind the handle on the telephone he thinks that David’s timely death is the only true example of consideration his father has ever shown him.

Hawk, putting down the telephone from Abraham Solomon, is almost as grateful as Abraham for the extra time David’s death allows him. Victoria is proving extremely difficult to convince that she should work with him at the Potato Factory.

‘But, Grandfather, you have been retired these twenty-one years, why would you wish to go back?’ is the first question she asks after he has approached her with the proposition he has in mind.

‘Not retired, my dear, removed, sacked from the chairmanship of Solomon & Teekleman, you well know the circumstances.’

‘Well, yes, but does it really matter?’ Victoria says, appealing to him. ‘We are well rid of the vile company, they exploit the poor at every opportunity.’ She shudders suddenly. ‘You know how very much I wish my name wasn’t a part of it!’

‘But you are a part of it, Victoria, and will, someday, with Ben, be its biggest shareholder. The three of us already are.’

‘It makes me feel dirty, Grandfather. They are singular proof that we must have stronger unions and a government that is prepared to take away much of the power of the large corporations.’

Hawk sighs. ‘The working class will certainly benefit by a stronger union movement and you already have a Labor government, but as long as industry can be relied on to pay taxes, even a Labor prime minister will be reluctant to interfere. While I am all for curbing excesses, wherever they may be, it seems to me that the best way to change an organisation is from within.’

‘I should much rather work within a trade union to make the changes.’

Hawk laughs, applauding Victoria’s quick mind. Nonetheless he continues. ‘Think of a corporation or company as a human with many of the same characteristics. For instance, Solomon & Teekleman is formed out of two companies, Solomon & Co. founded by David Solomon, and the Potato Factory founded, as you know, by Mary Abacus. The two, when they came together under the same parent company, were diametrically opposed in their philosophies, in other words they had quite different personalities. Like a husband and wife with different cultural backgrounds who are unable to agree on almost anything. Take David Solomon’s company, selfish, greedy, unsympathetic, cunning, vengeful and deeply suspicious of those who work for it, these are the characteristics of Solomon & Co. and are a mirror image of the man who founded it.

‘On the other hand, Mary’s company, in the light of the times, was straight-dealing, open, hard-headed but responsible for the welfare of those who worked for it. Your great-grandmother never forgot her humble beginnings or what it meant to be poor and so she understood the needs of her people.’ Hawk pauses and looks at Victoria, ‘Do you follow the analogy so far?’

Victoria nods her head, ‘Yes but…’ She knows better than to interrupt, but simply cannot contain herself.

‘Yes but what, my dear?’ Hawk asks, a trifle irritated at being interrupted when, to his mind, his explanation is progressing along so nicely.

‘The bad swallowed the good! Evil triumphed, as it always seems to do in big business! David Solomon won, didn’t he!’

Hawk shakes his head. ‘I know it looks that way. But David’s control came about by a series of unfortunate circumstances which allowed him to take control, rather than what was originally intended, that someone who believed in the Mary Abacus approach should be at the helm.’

‘You mean, of course, yourself?’

‘Aye. I failed to ensure my control of Solomon & Teekleman.’

‘Because our mother left without giving you her proxy? Is that why?’

Hawk nods again. ‘It wasn’t evil triumphing over good, it was my own stupidity. I should have been more sensitive to the emotional needs of your mother. I’m afraid I’m a clumsy, insensitive fool when it comes to that sort of thing. Her restlessness was there for me to see if I’d been looking. David Solomon obtained control by default or, if you like, because of my own lack of foresight, and so he proceeded to create both companies in his own image.’

‘Grandfather Hawk!’ Victoria protests. ‘You are not clumsy and you are the least fool of any man I’ve ever known, you are the most fair-minded, honest and sensitive person I know!’ Victoria pauses then lowers her voice, ‘But after all that’s said and done, that’s my very point!’

‘What is?’ Hawk asks. To his surprise he finds himself slightly on the defensive. ‘That you think me weak and David strong?’

Victoria sighs. ‘No, “fair-minded, honest and sensitive” doesn’t mean weak. But you would be the first to admit that they are characteristics largely missing in big business and deeply scorned by the capitalists. You must see the enemy for what they are! They are not going to change willingly but must be dragged kicking and screaming to the negotiating table.’ Victoria takes a breath, ‘And if they won’t come, they must be punished!’

‘Spoken like a true disciple of Labor!’ Hawk teases. ‘The dialectics are fair enough, though the wording a little too revolutionary for my taste. Capitalism as a system has many advantages but it is essentially based on the very human need that most of us have to want more. Greed being perhaps the most primitive of our many human urges, the capitalist system works very well for those who have the money to exploit it.’

‘But greed has no right to exist in a modern society, we are no longer primitive, there is enough for us all, we must learn to share our wealth.’

‘Unfortunately, right at this moment the capital on which the system is based is in the hands of those new Australian money aristocrats, the Clarkes, the Armytage family, the Fairbairns, Hentys, Mackinnons, Manifolds and Sargoods to name but a few and, indeed, David Solomon and yourself, my dear. With the exception perhaps of the Clarkes and ourselves, who have been generous in their public donations, they all have every intention of having as much as they can get and sharing as little as they can get away with.’

‘But they must be made to share!’

‘Well, perhaps, but remember they were prepared to take the original risks to acquire it. Taking risks should not go unrewarded or no one would take them. Sidney Myer Baevski was once a hawker, a poor Russian Jew who spoke no English when he arrived, working the small country towns for his living. He endured daily ridicule, young boys would throw rocks at him and shout, “Jewboy, Jewboy, take a piece of pork and put it on your fork!” Three months ago, as all of Melbourne witnessed, he opened his new emporium in Bourke Street, the greatest and grandest shop in Australia and few better in the world. All this in twenty years and achieved by taking countless risks. You could say that he deserves the reward of the risk-taker. Must he also be punished?’

Hawk does not wait for Victoria to reply. ‘David Solomon was yet another who started out with virtually nothing. Men such as these, poor boys, Irish, Jews, Protestants, all took risks and some were successful while others failed. It only becomes a problem when the risk-takers are so successful that they control most of the capital, which means they are the only ones who can reasonably capitalise on the essentially risk-free and truly big opportunities that occur in a growing economy such as our new Federation. As capital expands it gains more and more power. Money and power is a heady mixture which very easily leads to corruption.’