The 42nd Parallel (11 page)

“Yare . . . not so big . . . I saved up pretty near a century.”

“An’ now you’re going to Seattle.”

“I want to get a job linotypist.”

“That’s where we live, Seattle. Olive an’ I’ve got an apartment . . . Let’s go out on deck, it’s too hot in here.”

As they passed Olive and Ike, Gladys leaned over and whispered something in Olive’s ear. Then she turned to Mac with a melting smile. The deck was deserted. She let him put his arm round her waist. His fingers felt the bones of some sort of corset. He squeezed. “Oh, don’t be too rough, kiddo,” she whined in a funny little voice. He laughed. As he took his hand away he felt the contour of her breast. Walking, his leg brushed against her leg. It was the first time he’d been so close to a girl.

After a while she said she had to go to bed. “How about me goin’ down with ye?” She shook her head. “Not on this boat. See you tomorrow; maybe you and your pal ’ll come and see us at our apartment. We’ll show you the town.” “Sure,” said Mac. He walked on round the deck, his heart beating hard. He could feel the pound of the steamboat’s engines and the arrowshaped surge of broken water from the bow and he felt like that. He met Ike.

“My girl said she had to go to bed.” “So did mine.” “Get anywheres, Mac?” “They got an apartment in Seattle.” “I got a kiss off mine. She’s awful hot. Jez, I thought she was going to feel me up.” “We’ll get it tomorrow all right.”

The next day was sunny; the Seattle waterfront was sparkling, smelt of lumberyards, was noisy with rattle of carts and yells of drivers when they got off the boat. They went to the Y.M.C.A. for a room. They were through with being laborers and hobos. They were going to get clean jobs, live decently and go to school nights. They walked round the city all day, and in the evening met Olive and Gladys in front of the totempole on Pioneer Square.

Things happened fast. They went to a restaurant and had wine with a big feed and afterwards they went to a beergarden where there was a band, and drank whiskeysours. When they went to the girls’ apartment they took a quart of whiskey with them and Mac almost dropped it on the steps and the girls said, “For crissake don’t make so much noise or you’ll have the cops on us,” and the apartment smelt of musk and facepowder and there was women’s underwear around on all the chairs and the girls got fifteen bucks out of each of them first thing. Mac was in the bathroom with his girl and she smeared liprouge on his nose and they laughed and laughed until he got rough and she slapped his face. Then they all sat together round the table and drank some more and Ike danced a Solomeydance in his bare feet. Mac laughed, it was so very funny, but he was sitting on the floor and when he tried to get up he fell on his face and all of a sudden he was being sick in the bathtub and Gladys was cursing hell out of him. She got him dressed, only he couldn’t find his necktie, and everybody said he was too drunk and pushed him out and he was walking down the street singing
Make a Noise Like a Hoop and Just Roll Away, Roll Away
, and he asked a cop where the Y.M.C.A. was and the cop pushed him into a cell at the stationhouse and locked him up.

He woke up with his head like a big split millstone. There was vomit on his shirt and a rip in his pants. He went over all his pockets and couldn’t find his pocketbook. A cop opened the cell door and told him to make himself scarce and he walked out into the dazzling sun that cut into his eyes like a knife. The man at the desk at the Y looked at him queerly when he went in, but he got up to his room and fell into bed without anybody saying anything to him. Ike wasn’t back yet. He dozed off feeling his headache all through his sleep. When he woke up Ike was sitting on the bed. Ike’s eyes were bright and his cheeks were red. He was still a little drunk. “Say, Mac, did they roll yer? I can’t find my pocketbook an’ I tried to go back but I couldn’t find the apartment. God, I’d have beat up the goddam floosies . . .Shit, I’m drunk as a pissant still. Say, the galoot at the desk said we’d have to clear out. Can’t have no drunks in the Y.M.C.A.” “But jez, we paid for a week.” “He’ll give us part of it back . . . Aw, what the hell, Mac . . . We’re flat, but I feel swell . . . Say, I had a rough time with your Jane after they’d thrown you out.”

“Hell, I feel sick as a dog.”

“I’m afraid to go to sleep for fear of getting a hangover. Come on out, it’ll do you good.”

It was three in the afternoon. They went into a little Chinese restaurant on the waterfront and drank coffee. They had two dollars they got from hocking their suitcases. The pawnbroker wouldn’t take the silk shirts because they were dirty. Outside it was raining pitchforks.

“Jesus, why the hell didn’t we have the sense to keep sober? God, we’re a coupla big stiffs, Ike.”

“We had a good party . . . Jez, you looked funny with that liprouge all over your face.”

“I feel like hell . . . I wanta study an’ work for things; you know what I mean, not to get to be a goddam slavedriver but for socialism and the revolution an’ like that, not work an’ go on a bat an’ work an’ go on a bat like those damn yaps on the railroad.”

“Hell, another time we’ll have more sense an’ leave our wads somewhere safe . . . Gee, I’m beginning to sink by the bows myself.”

“If the damn house caught fire I wouldn’t have the strength to walk out.”

They sat in the Chink place as long as they could and then they went out in the rain to find a thirtycent flophouse where they spent the night, and the bedbugs ate them up. In the morning they went round looking for jobs, Mac in the printing trades and Ike at the shipping agencies. They met in the evening without having had any luck and slept in the park as it was a fine night. Eventually they both signed up to go to a lumbercamp up the Snake River. They were sent up by the agency on a car full of Swedes and Finns. Mac and Ike were the only ones who spoke English. When they got there they found the foreman so hardboiled and the grub so rotten and the bunkhouse so filthy that they lit out at the end of a couple of days, on the bum again. It was already cold in the Blue Mountains and they would have starved to death if they hadn’t been able to beg food in the cookhouses of lumbercamps along the way. They hit the railroad at Baker City, managed to beat their way back to Portland on freights. In Portland they couldn’t find jobs because their clothes were so dirty, so they hiked southward along a big endless Oregon valley full of fruit-ranches, sleeping in barns and getting an occasional meal by cutting wood or doing chores around a ranch house.

In Salem, Ike found that he had a dose and Mac couldn’t sleep nights worrying for fear he might have it too. They tried to go to a doctor in Salem. He was a big roundfaced man with a hearty laugh. When they said they didn’t have any money he guessed it was all right and that they could do some chores to pay for the consultation, but when he heard it was a venereal disease he threw them out with a hot lecture on the wages of sin.

They trudged along the road, hungry and footsore; Ike had fever and it hurt him to walk. Neither of them said anything. Finally they got to a small fruitshipping station where there were watertanks, on the main line of the Southern Pacific. There Ike said he couldn’t walk any further, that they’d have to wait for a freight. “Jesus Christ, jail ’ud be better than this.”

“When you’re outa luck in this man’s country, you certainly are outa luck,” said Mac and for some reason they both laughed.

Among the bushes back of the station they found an old tramp boiling coffee in a tin can. He gave them some coffee and bread and baconrind and they told him their troubles. He said he was headed south for the winter and that the thing to cure it up was tea made out of cherry pits and stems. “But where the hell am I going to get cherry pits and stems?” Anyway he said not to worry, it was no worse than a bad cold. He was a cheerful old man with a face so grimed with dirt it looked like a brown leather mask. He was going to take a chance on a freight that stopped there to water a little after sundown. Mac dozed off to sleep while Ike and the old man talked. When he woke up Ike was yelling at him and they were all running for the freight that had already started. In the dark Mac missed his footing and fell flat on the ties. He wrenched his knee and ground cinders into his nose and by the time he had got to his feet all he could see were the two lights on the end of the train fading into the November haze.

That was the last he saw of Ike Hall.

He got himself back on the road and limped along until he came to a ranch house. A dog barked at him and worried his ankles but he was too down and out to care. Finally a stout woman came to the door and gave him some cold biscuits and applesauce and told him he could sleep in the barn if he gave her all his matches. He limped to the barn and snuggled into a pile of dry sweetgrass and went to sleep.

In the morning the rancher, a tall ruddy man named Thomas, with a resonant voice, went over to the barn and offered him work for a few days at the price of his board and lodging. They were kind to him, and had a pretty daughter named Mona that he kinder fell in love with. She was a plump rosy-cheeked girl, strong as a boy and afraid of nothing. She punched him and wrestled with him; and, particularly after he’d gotten fattened up a little and rested, he could hardly sleep nights for thinking of her. He lay in his bed of sweetgrass telling over the touch of her bare arm that rubbed along his when she handed him back the nozzle of the sprayer for the fruittrees, or was helping him pile up the pruned twigs to burn, and the roundness of her breasts and her breath sweet as a cow’s on his neck when they romped and played tricks on each other evenings after supper. But the Thomases had other ideas for their daughter and told Mac that they didn’t need him any more. They sent him off kindly with a lot of good advice, some old clothes and a cold lunch done up in a newspaper, but no money. Mona ran after him as he walked off down the dustyrutted wagonroad and kissed him right in front of her parents. “I’m stuck on you,” she said. “You make a lot of money and come back and marry me.” “By gum, I’ll do that,” said Mac, and he walked off with tears in his eyes and feeling very good. He was particularly glad he hadn’t got the clap off that girl in Seattle.

Paris Shocked At Last

HARRIMAN SHOWN AS RAIL COLOSSUS

noted swindler run to earth

TEDDY WIELDS BIG STICK

straphangers demand relief.

We were sailing along

            
On moonlight bay

You can hear the voices ringing

They seem to say

You have stolen my heart, now don’t go away

Just as we sang

            
love’s

                
old

                    
sweet

                        
songs

            
On moonlight bay

MOB LYNCHES AFTER PRAYER

when the metal poured out of the furnace I saw the men running to a place of safety. To the right of the furnace I saw a party of ten men all of them running wildly and their clothes a mass of flames. Apparently some of them had been injured when the explosion occurred and several of them tripped and fell. The hot metal ran over the poor men in a moment.

PRAISE MONOPOLY AS BOON TO ALL

industrial foes work for peace at Mrs. Potter Palmer’s

           
love’s

                
old

                    
sweet

                        
song

We were sailing along

            
on moonlight bay

skating on the pond next the silver company’s mills where there was a funny fuzzy smell from the dump whale-oil soap somebody said it was that they used in cleaning the silver knives and spoons and forks putting shine on them for sale      there was shine on the ice early black ice that rang like a sawblade just scratched white by the first skaters      I couldn’t learn to skate and kept falling down      look out for the muckers everybody said bohunk and polak kids put stones in their snowballs write dirty words up on walls do dirty things up alleys their folks work in the mills

we clean young American Rover Boys handy with tools Deerslayers played hockey Boy Scouts and cut figure eights on the ice Achilles Ajax Agamemnon I couldn’t learn to skate and kept falling down

Luther Burbank was born in a brick farmhouse in Lancaster Mass,

he walked round the woods one winter

crunching through the shinycrusted snow

stumbled into a little dell where a warm spring was

and found the grass green and weeds sprouting

and skunk cabbage pushing up a potent thumb,

He went home and sat by the stove and read Darwin

Struggle for Existence Origin of Species Natural

Selection that wasn’t what they taught in church,

so Luther Burbank ceased to believe moved to Lunenburg,

found a seedball in a potato plant

sowed the seed and cashed in on Mr. Darwin’s Natural Selection

on Spencer and Huxley

with the Burbank Potato.

Young man go west;

Luther Burbank went to Santa Rosa