Адапт, Сокр. ИСловарь Л. Ф. Шитовой
Once Upon a Time in America (The Hoods) = Однажды в Америке (Бандиты). книга для чтения на английском языке

© Шитова Л. Ф., адаптация, сокращение, словарь, 2022

© ООО «ИД «Антология», 2022

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Chapter 1

Cockeye Hymie leaned across his desk. “Hey, Max. Listen, will yuh[1], Max?” he pleaded.

Big Maxie looked at our teacher, old Safety-Pin Mons, sitting sternly at her desk at the head of our seventh grade class. He put his paper-bound Western on his lap and looked disgustedly at Cockeye. His eyes were sharp and direct; his manner, calm and authoritative. His tone was scornful.

“Why don’t you just read your book and shut up?”

He picked up his Western and muttered, “Pain in the ass[2].”

Cockeye gave Maxie a hurt look. He slouched in his seat, feeling abused. Maxie eyed him good humoredly over the top of his book.

He whispered, “All right, all right, Cockeye, what’s on your mind?” Cockeye hesitated.

“I dunno. I was just thinking,” he said.

“Thinking? About what?” Max was getting impatient.

“How about we skip school[3] and go out West and join up with Jesse James and his gang?”

Big Maxie gave Cockeye a look of deep disgust. He stretched his long muscular arms, far above his head. He yawned, and nudged me with his knee. In wise-guy fashion he spoke through the corner of his mouth: “Hey, Noodles, did you hear the dumb cluck[4]? Go ahead, you talk to him. Jesus, what a schmuck[5].”

I leaned over to Cockeye, with my usual sneer of superiority, and said: “Why don’t you use your noodle[6]? Them guys are dead, long ago.”

“Dead?” Cockeye repeated, depressed.

“Yeh, dead, you cluck,” I sneered.

He said, “You know everything. You got some noodle on your shoulders. Hey, Noodles?” I ate up his ﬂattery. “You’re smart, that’s why they call you Noodles, hey, Noodles?” He laughed again in the same fawning manner.

I shrugged in false modesty, and turned to Max, “What else can you expect from a putsy[7] like Cockeye?”

“Expect what, about Cockeye, Noodles?” tough-looking Patsy asked. He sat on the other side of Max.

Miss Mons shot a warning angry glance in our direction. We ignored her.

Patsy brushed his black hair away from his bushy eyebrows. He asked: “What did the stupid cluck say this time?”

Fat little Dominick, closest to Cockeye, gave the information. In his high-pitched voice he said, “He wants to go out West and join the Jesse James Mob. He wants to ride a horsey.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue.

Cockeye smirked in embarrassment. “Aw, fellas, cut it out, I was only kidding.”

“Pssst. The old battle axe[8],” Patsy whispered.

An enormous disheveled ﬁgure came down the aisle. Her big hips were covered with a multitude of black skirts fastened with safety pins. She stood looming over us. “You – good-for-nothing[9] young tramps – what are you up to[10]?”

Miss Mons was bursting with rage[11]. She snatched the Western thriller out of Cockeye’s hands. “You… you… hoodlums! You… you… gangsters! You… you… East Side bums[12], reading such trash! Give me that ﬁlthy literature immediately.”

She stuck her hand under Maxie’s nose. Slowly, impudently, Maxie folded the Western and put it in his back pocket.

“Give me that book instantly!” She stamped her foot[13] savagely.

Maxie smiled sweetly up at her. “Kish mir in tauchess[14], dear Teacher,” he said in distinct Yiddish[15].

I could see by her shocked expression she understood what part of the anatomy Max wanted her to kiss.

For a second the class sat in shocked silence. Then a chorus of suppressed giggling started. For a moment she glared angrily around the room. Then she retreated to her desk, her backside bouncing in angry rhythm.

Dominick slapped his left hand on the middle of his stiflyf extended right arm: an obscene Italian gesture.

Maxie made a vulgar noise through the side of his mouth. The whole class broke into a laughter. Miss Mons stood in front of her desk watching the noisy scene. She was shaking in uncontrolled fury. After a moment she became quiet and cleared her throat. The class became still.

“You ﬁve hoodlums will get your just deserts[16],” she said. “All through the past term I have had to put up with your ﬁlthy, vulgar East Side conduct. Never in my entire teaching career have I come across such vicious young gangsters. No, I am mistaken.” A triumphant smile played on her lips. “Years back I had some scalawags[17] of like character.” Her self-satisﬁed smile broadened. “And I read in last night’s paper all about the illustrious end of two of them. They were rufaif ns exactly like you.” She pointed her ﬁnger dramatically at us. “I’m sure that you ﬁve, in due time[18], will also complete your careers in the same manner as those two – in the electric chair!”

Our teacher took a heavy brass watch out of the folds of her black skirt. “Thank goodness, only ﬁfteen more minutes before the bell,” she said.

She sat looking at us with a half smile on her face, pleased, enjoying the end she had predicted for us.

Maxie took his Western out of his back pocket. With an insolent look at the teacher he slouched down behind his desk. The rest of the class went back to work.

I listened to the familiar noise of New York’s lower East Side through the open window: the outside commotion was like a dissonant operetta. The police trafifc whistle was the orchestra conductor’s starting signal. The blare of truck and passenger car horns were the wind instruments[19] playing up and down the scale[20]. The whining of hungry or sick infants was the sad music of the violins, and the distant rumble of the trains was the beat of the bass viol[21]. The mixture of voices in a lot of dialects was the background chorus, and the thunderous singsong of the peddler calling his wares, was the male lead.

Forever after these sounds of the streets of the East Side stayed in my memory.

I came back to reality after a few moments. I looked around at Big Maxie, Patsy, Dominick and Cockeye Hymie, wondering what they were thinking. I visualized all of us on horses, six-shooters[22] in our hands. That would be fun, I thought. I laughed to myself – me, Noodles, having kid ideas. Another few months I’ll come of age[23]. And I still have these silly thoughts, like Cockeye Hymie. I laughed to myself.

“What’s funny, Noodles?” Max put his book away and looked at me. “Nuthin’, just thinkin’. I dunno[24] – about Cockeye joining the Jesse James Gang.”

“Yep, pretty dumb, that Cockeye. We join up with them, them small town guys.” Maxie smirked. “When we get started, we’ll show them.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “We’ll make a million bucks robbing banks and then quit.”

Dominick asked, “A million for the ﬁve of us, Max?”

“Nah, a million apiece[25]. How would you like a million bucks, Noodles?” Maxie was very serious.

“A million? Yeh, I would like it, but maybe a half a million is enough and we quit. A million bucks is a lot of bucks, Maxie,” I said.

“Maybe a half million is a lot of bucks for some guys, but for me it’s gonna be a million.” Max looked deﬁant.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeh, all right, so we’ll go out for a million. What the hell’s the difference now?”

“We gonna quit when we get a million?” Patsy asked.

“Yep, we’ll quit and move up to the Bronx and be big shots[26].” Maxie’s tone was ﬁnal.

“Hey, fellas.” Cockeye leaned over. “How much is a million bucks?”

Maxie slapped his head in disgust. “How d’ya like that question? The guy is past thirteen and he asks how much is a million bucks?”

Dominick cut in, “Cockeye, you’re a real cluck, a million bucks is a million bucks.” “Yeh, that’s right,” Cockeye smiled, “but how much is it? You tell me, Dommie. How many thousands?”

Dominick scratched his head. “I think a million is ten thousand bucks.”

“Whattcha[27] talkin’ about, it’s more than ﬁfty thousand, ain’t it, Noodles?” Patsy jeered.

I was proud. I knew all the answers. That’s why they called me Noodles. I said importantly, “It’s ten hundred thousand bucks!”

Pat smiled. “Yeh, I was just gonna say that.”

The bell rang; we grabbed our books. The rest of the pupils stood respectfully to one side as we made for the door. Miss Mons stood up. She put her hand out to stop me as I passed.

“You!” she said authoritatively. “Who, me?”

I was ready to push her aside. Maxie stood beside me ready to help. “Yes, you, young man. Mr. O’Brien wants to talk to you.”

“The principal, again?” I said in dismay. “What for?”

“None of your questions, young man. You just march upstairs.”

I turned to Maxie. “Wait for me, I’ll run up and see what the old cluck wants.”

Max walked with me to the stairway. “We’ll be outside if you need any help,” he said. “Holler and we’ll come up and throw the old bum out the window.”

“Nah, he’s all right, he ain’t such a bad guy, this O’Brien.” “Yep, for a principal he ain’t too bad,” Max agreed.

He walked outside. I waited until he was out of sight. I did not want him to see me take my cap off. I knocked on the door. A pleasant bass voice said, “Come in, please.”

I stood politely at the open doorway. “Did you want to see me, Mr. O’Brien?” I said.

“Yes, yes, come in.”

His large red face smiled a welcome. “Come in and shut the door. Have a chair, young man. I was looking through some of your test papers; they are very good.”

He looked at me. He frowned. “But your application for work papers[28] is a disappointment to me.”

I sat opposite him, feeling uncomfortabe. He pushed his chair away from his desk and tilted his chair, rocking back and forth with his hands behind his head.

He took his time about talking.[29] He just looked at me. Then suddenly he stopped rocking and leaned across his desk.

“According to your school reports, you are an exceptionally intelligent boy. I thought I would talk to you —”

He stood up and began pacing the ﬂoor. “Now don’t take this as another lecture. You haven’t many more months of school here, so your behavior one way or another isn’t too important to us – but,” he raised a ﬁnger dramatically, “your conduct from here on is very important to you and to you alone. This moment may be a turning point[30] in your life. I repeat, if you weren’t an intelligent boy, I wouldn’t try to make you understand the road you and your companions are following – the road that leads to no good. Believe me.” He said it earnestly.

I sat thinking, let the old man talk himself out. What does he know about boys, an old guy like him? Yeh, he’s at least forty-ﬁve with one foot in the grave. He’s a good Irishman, though. And for a principal he’s the best we ever had.

The principal continued, “Your environment is partly to blame. Do you understand what I mean by environment?”

For a moment I forgot myself. “Do I know what environment means?” I sneered. He laughed. “I forgot, you’re the one they call Noodles; you know everything.” Quickly, I changed my manner. I mumbled, “Environment. You mean the East Side?”

“Well, yes and no. Very many successful and good people have been born and brought up in this neighborhood.” He stopped and looked at me for a moment. “The last scrap[31] you and your friends were in – what was the real reason for it? Why did you boys do it?”

I shrugged.

“Do you know what I’m referring to?”

I shook my head. I was lying. My face was burning. How did he know about it? “You know what I’m referring to.” His voice sharpened.

“I’m talking about Schwartz’ candy store, the one you and your friends broke into a few days ago.”

I wanted to sink through the ﬂoor[32]. So he knew. So the hell with him[33].

“Don’t you realize that if it wasn’t for your rabbi and the priest of your Catholic friends, and a little help from me, you boys would have been sent to an institution of correction[34]?”

I shrugged. That’s what he thinks, the cluck. He don’t know who squared the rap[35] for us. I wonder if I should tell him it was Big Maxie’s uncle, the undertaker, who squared it? He went to Monk, the gangster, and Monk went to the Tammany district leader, and he’s the guy who gave the judge his orders, before the rabbi, the priest, or O’Brien ever spoke to him. Dumb clucks, all of them. Monk and the district leader – there’s two guys to keep in with. They’re everybody’s boss – police, judges, everybody.

“I’m talking to you, young man. Why don’t you answer?”

I shrugged my shoulders. I couldn’t look him in the face. He continued pacing up and down. “I ask you, why did you do it? For the mischief? The money? Tell me, boy, do you get any spending money from your parents?” “Sometimes, when my father works,” I muttered.

“Is he working now?” I shook my head.

“How many times have I told you it is impolite to shake your head or shrug your shoulders. Speak up.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

He threw up his hands in despair. “Oh well – there’s another thing I’d like to know.” He hesitated for a moment. “All term I have been curious why it is you and your companions do not eat the hot free lunches provided for in the school? Instead, I have noticed you boys play basketball in the yard every day at lunchtime. You’re pretty slim, and I imagine you could do with[36] hot soup at midday.” His tone was kindly and hesitant. “Tell me, is it because it isn’t what you call kosher?”

I shook my head. “Nah, it don’t mean a thing to me, kosher.” “Why then? I’m interested to know. What’s wrong with the lunch?” “Soup,” I said derisively.

“Soup?”

“Yeh, charity soup,” I muttered.

“Hmmmm… yes, unfortunately, it does seem that soup and bread is the main dish to be supplied free of charge[37].”

“Soup schools,” I said contemptuously.

He smiled sadly. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard that before. Soup schools. Well, let’s forget soup for the moment, shall we?”

I nodded.

“All right, all right, where were we?” he asked, smiling. “Oh yes, your father is one of the unfortunate unemployed?”

I nodded. He shook his head sadly and sighed deeply. “That’s why you put in your application for working papers? And why you aren’t going to ﬁnish public school? You want to go to work and make money to help your family?”

“Yeh.”

“It’s very good, but wouldn’t you rather continue school?” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Well, yes or no?” I shrugged again.

“Look. I want to help you. I can help you if you change your ways. Keep away from your companions, continue going to school. Only by learning —” I cut him off. “I can’t ﬁnish school. I gotta go to work. My father ain’t working.”

“How long has your father been out of work?”

“How long? About three months.”

“Hmmmm.” O’Brien rubbed his chin. “Well, I have an idea and I’ll do it in your case. You’re intelligent and fundamentally all right.”

He hesitated. Then he added, “I think, you can still develop into a good and successful citizen. I’ll have a social agency look into your case and help your family, so that you can continue your schooling. Keep away from bad companions.” A confident smile broke over his face. He thought he’d solved the problem. “Well? Isn’t that a good thing? They will help you to help yourself. You will continue your studies, and by behaving yourself you can succeed. I see you’re pretty good in mathematics. Why not continue and try to be a bookkeeper, possibly an accountant? Specialized knowledge is like a sharp knife. It will help you cut your way through the problems of life to your goal. To success. You understand what I mean?”

Yeh, I knew what he meant, but I played dumb[38]. “Yeh, I’ll get myself a big knife,” I said.

He got angry for the ﬁrst time.

“Damn your stupidity,” he exploded. “I thought you knew what I was talking about.”

I shrugged. I was getting annoyed.

“Well?” his voice was agitated.

“What?” I made out I didn’t understand.

He stared at me. I lowered my eyes. Then he knew that I understood what he meant.

Yeh, I knew what he meant. He wanted me to continue school, break away from Max and miss out on the million bucks we’re gonna make on heists and everything. I’m gonna get help from a social agency? Huh! Everybody will look down on us. Charity, feh. What good is education? I had enough for what I wanted to do. I can write. I know arithmetic. I can read. I’m smart. I use my noodle. Yeh, that’s why people call me Noodles. Yeh, and I’ll get me a real sharp knife. That’ll be my knife of specialized knowledge.

O’Brien stood in front of me, a stern expression on his face.

I stood up. I felt heroic. “I don’t want or need your charity. I’m quitting school.”

He was a pretty good guy. I felt sorry for him. He seemed so sad for me, for all of us kids.

“All right, all right, that’s all, son.” He patted me on the back. I walked towards the door.

I turned and said, “Well, will I get my working papers?”

He didn’t answer. He just looked at me and sighed hopelessly. I was insistent. “I want them, Mr. O’Brien,” I said.

He nodded sadly. “You will have them.” My friends were waiting downstairs.

“What did the old cluck want?” Maxie asked.

“Nothing much. He was talking to himself mostly. He wanted me to continue school.”

We walked down the street. Suddenly, we stopped and stared: there was the biggest man in the world. He was bigger in our eyes than George Washington was to most school kids. He was looking right at us.

“Hello, kids,” he said.

We stopped in awe[39]. Maxie answered, “Hello, Monk.” It was Monk, the toughest man on the East Side, and, as far as we were concerned[40], in the world.

“I want you kids to do me a favor[41],” Monk said.

“Anything you say, Monk,” Max said.

“O.K., follow me.” He gestured with his hand.

We would have followed our hero to hell if he had ordered. He led us into a saloon on Ludlow Street where ten husky guys were sitting around drinking beer.

Monk laughed and said to them, “How do you like my new gang?”

They looked at us and smiled. “Tough looking gang, all right, Monk. How about some beer, kids?” one of them said.

It was the ﬁrst time we had drunk the stuf.f It tasted awful, but we drained our glasses, feeling a little dizzy and important.

Monk Eastman explained what he wanted us for. We were given two baseball bats each and told to meet him and his gang in Jackson Street Park. A gang of Irish hoodlums[42] had made a habit of coming to the park and annoying the old Jews who met there. This time, the Irish were in for a surprise[43]. Monk had gathered together the ace man from every neighborhood on the East Side for this event. It was an all-star gang, all big-name guys.

If Monk and his men were to carry the bats through the streets and into the park, it would be a giveaway[44] to the cops and to the Irish mob. That was the reason we were invited along.

Monk and his men got into the park one by one. They sat on benches, with the older members of their religion, took Jewish newspapers out of their pockets, and buried their heads deep in the papers so they wouldn’t be recognized. We stood a little distance away ready with the bats. We didn’t have long to wait. From the river side of the park we saw the Irish coming – about ﬁfteen tough-looking guys. Immediately, the religious Jews left the park.

Abie Cabbagehead, one of Monk’s gang, was closest to the advancing mob[45]. Abie was famous for his large head, which wasn’t soft like a cabbage. It was as hard as a rock. The biggest of the Irish gang walked over to Abie and growled, “Out of the park, you goddamn kike[46].”

Abie rose slowly from the bench, as though he was about to leave. Then, with his head lowered, he charged in like a bull[47]. We didn’t wait for any signal from Monk. We ran in with the bats. Monk and his men jumped off their benches. Each grabbed a bat from us, and the slaughter began. We stood watching, with rocks in our hands. If an Irish head came into view, the ﬁve of us would conk[48] him. We were having a hell of a good time.

That’s where we ﬁrst laid eyes on Pipy, Jake the Goniff, and Goo-Goo. Maxie was the ﬁrst one to notice something strange. Three kids about our own age were jumping in and out of the thickest part of the ﬁghting. Max said to me, “Watch them, they’re working together. They’re up to something[49], sure enough.”

They would be in the middle of one ﬁghting group; then they would break away and dive into another.

I said, “They aren’t ﬁghting, what are they up to?” Maxie shrugged his shoulders.

The police wagon ﬁnally came along, the cops in their high helmets swinging their clubs. Everybody who could, ran.

Maxie and I grabbed a bat apiece. Max shouted for the rest to follow, and we started chasing the kids. We cornered them by the East River.

“Didn’t we have enough ﬁghting? Let’s be friends,” one of them said.

He stuck his hand out, introducing himself. “My friends call me Pipy, and these are my two pals, Jakie and Goo-Goo.”

Maxie said, “Noodles, go through their pockets.”

I gave Patsy my bat. We were amazed at what their pockets held. There were three wallets and four watches. We took the money out of the wallets, about twenty-six dollars. Maxie handed Pipy, Jake and Goo-Goo two bucks each. After considering a moment, he threw them each a buck more.

Jake the Goniff was a tall kid. Pipy was short and stunted. Goo-Goo was squat with enormous, questioning popeyes. They were so difef rent in appearance, I thought them a peculiar combination. But underneath they were alike. They were beginners from different countries, but with the same humor and instinct for thievery.

Then we stood around listening to some of Pipy’s deeds. That was our mistake. Whitey, the cop, came running over. First he hit Jake on the backside with his club.

“Hand over those wallets and watches,” he said.

He went through our pockets. He took all our newfound possessions. “Go ahead, beat it[50] before I lock you up,” he said. Sullenly we walked away.

“That goddamn Whitey,” Maxie muttered bitterly, “he’s a crook[51]. I’ll bet he don’t turn that stuff back. He keeps it for himself.”

“What did you think?” I said sarcastically. “Don’t you know everybody’s a crook? Everybody’s illegit[52]?”

“Yep, you’re right,” Maxie said.

“Hope to see you fellows again,” Pipy grinned at us. He, Jake, and Goo-Goo walked away in the direction of Broome Street.

“Yeh, come around,” I called to them. “We hang around in Gelly’s candy store on Delancey Street.”

“Yeh, we’ll be seeing yuh[53],” Jake the Goniff called back. We walked down the street. We had already forgotten the unpleasant episode with Whitey.

It was Friday afternoon. The sun, the streets, the people, everything seemed different on a Friday afternoon. We were happy and carefree. We had all eternity before us: two whole holidays, wonderful days with no school. I was hungry, and tonight we ate the big meal of the week – the meal of the Sabbath[54], the only substantial meal of the week. No stale bread rubbed with garlic, washed down with tea tonight. Momma baked. And there’s hot chaleh bread[55] and gefuellte ﬁsh[56] and fresh horseradish for supper. My mouth was watering.[57] Boy, was I hungry.

We walked through Orchard Street, where the pushcart peddlers were gathering up their wares to get home early for the Sabbath. They eyed us warily. They recognized us. After a few sly maneuvers, Max and Patsy clipped an orange apiece. The peddler shouted curses after us as we ran.

As we shared the oranges we strolled into Delancey Street, the street I lived in. “There’s Peggy,” Cockeye stuttered excitedly.

On my stoop, leaning against the door, was blonde Peggy, the janitor’s daughter.

“Hi, boys! Give me a piece of that orange, Noodles,” she called out. “I’ll give you a piece of my orange if you give me a piece of your…”

Patsy didn’t ﬁnish his sentence; he stood there smiling hopefully up at her.

“Fresh boy.” She was giggling, pleased with the idea. She waved him away. “Later, not now, get lost[58]. But not for an orange, bring me a charlotte russe[59] if you want me to give you a good one.”

I walked past Peggy, giving her a feel[60].

“Oh, Noodles, stop it, not here, let’s go under the staircase,” she whispered. I was young. I said, “Not now, I’m hungry.”

Maxie shouted after me, “Meet us at Gelly’s after supper, Noodles.” “I’ll be there!” I shouted back.

I ran up the ﬁve ﬂights of creaky stairs into our dark ﬂat. It was full of nice baking smells.

“Supper ready, Momma?” I yelled as I threw my books in a corner. “It’s you, my good boy?”

“Yes, Ma, I asked is supper ready?”

“You asked?”

“Yes, Ma, I asked is supper ready?”

“Yes, yes, it’s ready, but wait till Poppa and your brother come home from schul[61] and I light the candles.”

“I’m hungry, Ma. Why do I have to wait for the candles, and Poppa?” “Because if you was like Poppa and your brother, you wouldn’t be in trouble all the time, and maybe you wouldn’t be so hungry all the time, and think of schul once in awhile, maybe.”

Momma gave a deep sigh.

“I think of food, and making money, a lot of money, Ma, a million dollars.”

“A million dollars? You’re so foolish, sonny, believe me. For the millionairies is the million dollars; for the poor people is the schul. Now don’t bother me, please, I have to ﬁnish the wash so we can all take baths in the washtub before we have dinner. And don’t forget to remind me: I got to rinse your head with kerosene.” “Did Poppa borrow any money for the rent, Ma?”

I could hear Momma sighing deeply from the kitchen.

“No, sonny.”

I picked up a copy of Robin Hood that Maxie had loaned me and began reading it over again. I was a hungry reader. I would read anything I could get my hands on.

I could still hear Momma rubbing clothes at the washtub. Gradually the light grew dim. It was difcif ult to read by it. I struck a match and climbed on a chair. I tried to turn the gas on, but no gas came out of the ﬁxture. I called out, “Ma, there’s no gas.”

She sighed heavily. “I used it all up for the baking and the hot water for the wash.” “So give me a quarter[62] for the meter, Ma.”

“I’m sorry, sonny, the quarter I can’t spare.”

I slammed the door and went out to the hall toilet used by all six of the families living on the same ﬂoor. In a hidden niche above the watercloset, I had a box of cigarette butts I had collected from the gutters. I smoked three butts to kill my appetite.

I heard footsteps coming my way. I waited hopefully. The toilet door opened. Yes, it was Fanny, who lived down the hall. She was my age.

“Oh, it’s you. Why don’t you lock the door like you’re supposed to?”

She smiled coquettishly.

I bowed mockingly. “Come in, come in, said the spider to the ﬂy.”

She stood in the doorway smiling. “What for, you fresh thing, so you can feel me all over with your fresh hands?”

She giggled. She put her hands on her wide hips and swayed back and forth. She smiled provocatively. Her tight short dress demonstrated her plump round breasts and her fat, full little ﬁgure. It got me all excited. I reached down through the top of her dress. I fondled her warm, smooth young breasts. Gently I squeezed her nipples. She swayed with her eyes closed, breathing quickly.

“Come in,” I whispered in anxious excitement, “so I can lock the door and play around good with you.”

I grabbed her around her soft, large buttocks and pulled her in with me. I was about to lock the door. A deep bellow sounded from the other end of the hall.

“Fanny, Fanny, hurry up with the toilet.”

Fanny whispered, “That’s my Momma. Better leave me go. I’ll let you play with me some other time.”

I was reluctant to let her go. I was too excited.

I went downstairs, hoping to meet Peggy. I went down the cellar. I looked on the roof. She was nowhere around. Disappointedly I stood on the stoop watching the girls, making obscene remarks as they passed by.

Big Maxie came hurriedly along. He waved to me. “Come on, Noodles.” I ran down the stoop.

“What’s up, Max?” I asked.

“Come on, we grab a ride with my uncle.”

“The uncle picking up a stiff[63] with the hearse?” I asked delightedly.

“Yep; up in Harlem. Madison Avenue. We give him a hand.[64] He’s got an unexpected job.”

We reached the office all out of breath, just in time to give his uncle, the undertaker, a hand carrying the long wicker basket out to the hearse. Proudly we sat on the large front seat. Driving on upper Fifth Avenue along the park, Maxie’s uncle pointed out the rich homes.

Sarcastically, he commented, “Just like down the East Side. I’ll bet they’ve barely got enough to eat in those houses.”

The remark reminded me of my chronic hunger. I whispered to Max, “Maybe we can promote your uncle for some hot dogs or something.”

Maxie nodded and winked. He nudged me. “Some day we’ll be able to buy plenty of hot dogs.”

“It can’t be too quick for me,” I said.

“You kids like a couple of hot dogs?” Maxie’s uncle grinned. “O.K., I can take a hint[65], after we pick the stiff up.”

Riding back to the East Side after we had picked up the stif,f Maxie’s uncle stopped at a hot dog wagon and bought us each two frankfurters. We leaned against the hearse, eating our hot dogs. Back in the hearse, as a joke he handed us cigars. To his surprise, we took them, lit up and puffed away. He chuckled in admiration.

“You kids are okay.” We helped him into the funeral parlor with the body. “Thanks, boys.” Then he chuckled and corrected himself, “Thanks, men.” He tossed us each a quarter.

Maxie said, “Glad to have been a help to you, uncle. Any time you need us, let me know.”

He looked fondly at Max. “You’re growing up to be a big boy.” He patted him affectionately.

“Thanks for the ride and everything,” I said.

“Not at all,” he said. “So long, men.” He smiled after us.

We walked into Gelly’s candy store smoking the cigars, feeling like men of the world. Patsy, Dominick and Cockeye were already there, waiting for us. Patsy called out, “Hey, big shots, where you been?”

Maxie tossed his quarter on the counter and said, “Malteds[66] and charlotte russes for everybody.”

Gelly’s son, Fat Moe, was behind the counter, with a dirty apron around his large middle. He picked up and examined the quarter.

We sat on the stools loudly sucking the whipped cream off our charlotte russe cakes. We watched the electric malted machines whirl; they were the newest sensation on the East Side.

Jake the Goniff, Goo-Goo and Pipy, our new found friends came in. We exchanged hellos and gave them a sip each from our malteds. Pipy suggested, “Try a riddle on them, Jake.”

Jake turned, a smile on his face. “Why is the East River like a girl’s legs?” None of us knew the answer.

“Because the higher up you get, the nicer it is.”

Pipy spied the box of charlotte russes on the counter. The three hurried over to them.

Fat Moe yelled over, “Hey, you guys, lay of.f You guys got dough?[67]”

Pipy produced a dollar bill. Jake the Goniff took it out of his hands and waved it in the air.

He called out to us, “You guys want some charlotte russes?”

Max asked, “Where did you guys get the buck?”

“Pipy rolled a lush on the Bowery[68],” Jake proudly put his arm around Pipy’s shoulders.

“Aw, he was a pushover[69],” little Pipy said modestly. “I took this off him, too.” Pipy produced a large knife.

I remembered O’Brien’s knife of specialized knowledge for success. This was some sort of omen. This knife was for me. I had to have it. It would give me a magic power, I thought. “Let’s see it, Pip?” I asked.

He handed it to me. It was a spring, push-button knife of German make. It made a click and a large shiny blade swished out. There was no question about it. I was going to keep it. I kept opening and closing it in front of Pipy’s nose. Alarmed, he kept backing up.

Maxie was eyeing me. He said: “You like it, Noodles? You going to keep it?”

I said, “Yeh, it’s a beaut.”

“So keep it, it’s yours. Ain’t it, Pip?”

Maxie turned his smile from Pip to Jake to Goo-Goo. They understood that that smile of Maxie’s and my attitude meant bad business. Patsy bent his face down close to Pipy and snarled, “Yeh, you’re giving Noodles a present, ain’t you, Pip?”

Dominick and Cockeye walked behind them, ready for action. I kept staring at Pipy and clicking the knife open and shut at his throat. The atmosphere was tense in Gelly’s candy store for a moment. Jake ﬁnally broke the tension with his good-natured laugh.

“Yeh, you can have it, Noodles, it’s too big and dangerous for a little guy like Pipy anyhow,” Jake said.

I walked over to the shelves of paper-bound books, examining the blade. It was beautiful. It was sharp on both sides and came to a strong needle point on the end. The blade itself was at least six inches long. A push of the button, the blade clicked into the six-inch handle. It made a formidable weapon. It ﬁtted just right in my pants pocket. My eyes wandered to the display of dime[70] paperbound books. To me it was a hypnotic display of all sorts of Westerns. I thumbed through Horatio Alger’s From Rags to Riches[71], debating with myself whether to buy a book, or use the quarter that Maxie’s uncle had given me for the gas meter at home. I thought, if I bought it, I wouldn’t have any light to read it.

Fat Moe came over to me and whispered, “Go ahead, Noodles, stick one in your pocket before my old man gets here. Don’t bend it too much, but bring it back tomorrow, all right?”

I stuck From Rags to Riches in my pocket, feeling happy and grateful, saying: “I’ll take care of it. Thanks, Moe, I’ll bring it back in the morning.”

I felt as if life was complete. I had a quarter for the gas meter, a new knife and a book to read tonight.

“All right, fellas,” Maxie was taking his tie and jacket off, “let’s get going. You guys want to come along?” He turned to Jake, Pip, and Goo-Goo.

“What are you going to do?” Jake asked.

“We’re going to do a little long distance running,” Max answered. “Nah, not for us,” Jake said. “We’ll see you some more.”

They walked out.

We followed Maxie’s example, putting our clothes on a chair. We jogged downtown into the night, starting on our daily long-distance run. Maxie, in the lead, set the pace[72]. He was a Spartan when it came to exercise.

“When we grow up, it will come in handy, we’ll have muscles and wind, and be tough as nails[73].”

We were jogging along in a compact group right behind Maxie. After ten blocks, pudgy Dominick, gasping and pufnif g, called out, “I had enough, Max.”

Maxie turned his head, he was breathing easy. “The trouble with you, Dommie, is that you eat too much spaghetti. Some day you’ll be sorry.”

Dominick dropped out. We continued downtown, changing pace, running fast one block, then slowing up the next. We made our way downtown to the financial district. We stopped and rested at the curb. An immense building was in front of us. The windows were covered with thick iron bars. The entrance was a heavy steel door.

Patsy remarked, “It looks like a prison.”

“There’s no prison down here,” I said.

Patsy said, “How do you know?”

Maxie laughed, “Don’t argue with Noodles. He knows everything.”

He called out to a passer-by, “Hey, mister.” The man stopped.

“Yes?”

“What kind of building is that, a prison?”

The man smiled. “A prison? No, that’s where they keep all the money.” Patsy interestedly asked, “A lot of money?”

“Why, yes.” The man was amused. “Quite a few million. That’s the Federal Reserve.”

He walked away smiling.

Maxie walked over and tried to look in. He came back and said, “Some day we’re gonna heist this joint. What do you think, Noodles?”

“It’s okay with me, but it looks tough,” I said. “How you going to heist this joint?”

Maxie replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll ﬁnd out some day.”

I looked at Maxie. He was staring at the building.

He muttered, “For a million bucks I’ll heist this joint some day.”

We ran all the way back to Gelly’s candy store. Dominick was standing outside, talking to Fat Moe’s pretty brunette sister, the untouchable Dolores[74]. We all had a secret crush on her.[75] She had a pair of dancing shoes slung over her left shoulder.

She smiled when she saw us approaching. Her greeting was only for Cockeye.

“Hello, Hy,” she said, “do you mind playing for me tonight while I practice?” “Sure, Dolores, it’s a pleasure.” Cockeye was overcome with delight.

They went to the back room of the store. We followed and watched as Dolores changed her shoes and went into her dance. She improvised a dance to Cockeye’s playing a harmonica. Her limb movements thrilled me. My eyes followed her every motion as she pirouetted easily, gracefully, around and around. She stopped after awhile to catch her breath. She sat talking to Cockeye.

Maxie called out to her, “Hey, Dolores.” She turned and stared coldly at him.

“Hay[76] is for horses. Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m not accustomed to being addressed in that manner.”

She turned her back to Max and continued her conversation with Cockeye. That was the moment I felt my ﬁrst deep infatuation for Dolores. It was a clean, uplifting emotion, entirely different from the feeling which Peggy or other neighborhood girls inspired in me. Looking at her sitting on the chair, I felt she was like a dancing angel. I loved Dolores.

I smiled and walked over to her. “What kind of dancing is that? What do they call it?”

She looked haughtily over her shoulder. “I thought you knew everything. That was free dancing. You’re not as smart as you think you are.”

I stood there, red-faced, at a loss for an answer.

Cockeye volunteered, “Dolores is practicing to be a professional dancer. She’s going to be a star in a Broadway show some day.”

She ﬂoated around the room again in time to the music. Her attentions to Cockeye didn’t seem to bother me in the least. It was Maxie who aroused my jealousy. While she was dancing, Max picked up her shoes and threw them behind the bench.

She stopped after that number, smiled at Cockeye and said: “Thanks very much, Hy. You play that harmonica beautifully.”

Cockeye blushed and mumbled something. She looked angrily around for her shoes. I walked behind the bench and picked them up and handed them to her. She misunderstood. She gave me a furious look. Without a word she put them on. I could have killed Max. She left the room, her green eyes flashing and her head held high.

Unhappily, without a word, I walked outside. I stood in the doorway, feeling as if the world had crumbled around me. Dolores meant a lot to me, and Maxie had loused me up with her.

His voice cut through my unhappy mood: “You wanna Sweet Caporal, Noodles?”

Maxie offered me a cigarette. I took his peace offering.

We stood there smoking. Mr. Gelly came walking down the street.

When he reached his doorway he whispered: “You boys bring me some bundles in the morning?”

Maxie nodded and said, “Yep, don’t we always supply you with morning papers?” He patted Maxie on the head.

“Pick me up a bundle of Tageblatts[77] tomorrow, yeh?”

Maxie said, “Yep. We get up early tomorrow, Noodles.”

I nodded. “What time?”

“About four-thirty, I’ll meet you on the corner.”

We stood there, ﬁnding it dififcult to make conversation.

A customer made for the door. We stood aside with respect for the well-dressed “Professor.” We felt pride and pleasure when he greeted us with a pleasant smile.

“How are you boys?”

“Okay, Professor,” Max said. “Fine, Professor,” I echoed.

“You boys wait for me, I’ll be right out.”

Max said, “Sure, Professor.” We saw him enter the telephone booth.

“He’s smart; he’s got plenty of brains, that guy. He’s only out of jail a week, and I’ll bet he’s back handling ‘junk[78].’ I wonder where he gets the stuff,” Maxie mused.

“He’s got connections.[79] He imports it, I guess. It don’t grow in this country,” I said importantly; in my know-it-all manner.

“From where do you think, Noodles – Italy?”

“Could be, maybe China. Chinks[80] smoke it mostly, I read somewhere.” “Why do people smoke opium?”

“It gives them nice dreams. I would like to smoke a pipe of that stuff sometimes.” Max said, “Me, too. That’s what they call kicking the gong around[81], hey, Noodles?” I nodded and smiled.

The Professor came out, pufnif g on a big cigar.

“I have a job for you boys; follow me down to my place,” he whispered.

We walked behind him in the dark until we got into a back room. He struck a match and lit the gaslight. The Professor had a complete workshop there. On a bench there was a large wooden box with the lid open. Inside, I could see some gears and wheels. Max and I walked up close to it. The box was highly polished and looked out of place in that dirty cellar. The Professor stood there looking at us.

Maxie gestured with his head, “What’s that?”

“That?” The Professor smiled. He closed the lid and said, “Let me demonstrate my new invention, something every home should have.”

He turned a handle, we heard the gears inside revolve, and before our amazed eyes, a crisp ten-dollar bill came out of the slot. He walked away and said, “All right, let’s forget all about this machine for awhile. I want you lads for —”

He stopped. He stood looking at us, twirling his mustache. “You boys want to make some money, right?”

I said, “Sure, Professor, that’s what we’re here for.”

“I know you lads are smart, and I can trust you to keep your mouths shut, right?”

We both echoed, “Right.”

He smiled, showing his large white teeth. “Fine, ﬁne, you’re good lads, just the type I can trust. Now, here’s what I want you to do for me: you know where Mott Street is?” “Yep, Professor,” Maxie answered proudly. “Noodles knows this city like a book.”

“Mott Street is in Chinatown,” I said. “That’s right.”

He took a small round ball, resembling putty, out of a drawer. “Keep this in your pocket. Deliver it to the store at this address. Just leave it on the table, and walk out. That’s all you do. All right? Be careful with it. It’s valuable, and don’t play with it.”

Maxie nodded. “Yep, Professor, we know what’s inside.” The Professor raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Junk,” I said.

The Professor chuckled. He patted me on the back.

“Smart boy, I’ll wait here for you, and I’ll have a dollar for each of you when you get back.”

When we reached Chinatown, we found the store easily. The bell hanging over the door gave a faint tinkle as we walked in. In the dim light, we were barely able to see a large, fat Chinese seated at a table. He was staring at us. I was glad I had the knife in my pocket. It gave me a feeling of supreme conﬁdence. I toyed with the button on the knife. In my imagination I dug it into his fat throat again and again; then I slashed him across the face.

A funny thing happened: I actually saw his eyes bulge with fright. I swear he knew what I was thinking. I was sure of it. He knew that all I had to do was to take one step. With my magic push-button knife I would cut his face into chop suey[82]. He turned his white ﬂabby face away in terror. I laughed and spit on the ﬂoor. Max put the ball on the table. We walked out.

“What was you laughing at, Noodles?” Max asked.

“At the Chinaman.”

“Them Chinks don’t like to be laughed at, Noodles.” “That Chink I could handle, or anybody else,” I boasted. Maxie looked curiously at me. “He was a big Chink.”

I shrugged. “So what?”

Maxie laughed and patted me on the back. “Yep, I forgot, you got Pipy’s knife.” “My knife.”

“Yep, your knife. It makes you feel good to have something like that handy, hey, Noodles?”

I nodded. “Yeh, it makes you feel like you’re somebody.”

“I’m going to get something to carry around myself,” Maxie said. He picked up a cigar butt from the sidewalk. He put it in the corner of his mouth. “Someday I’m going to get me a revolver. I’ll ask the Professor.”

He handed me the butt. I smoked it awhile, then passed it back to him.

The Professor held the door open for us. “Everything all right? You boys delivered it?” he asked anxiously.

“Yep, everything’s all right, we delivered it.” Maxie spat on the ﬂoor. He puffed on his cigar stub. I looked coldly at the Professor.

He laughed and gave us a dollar apiece. “You kids will go a long way.”

“Yeh, Professor, we’re looking to make money. We need it,” I said. “You boys will make plenty, and I’ll show you how.”

“You’re the Professor,” Maxie wisecracked.

He chuckled, and rubbed his hands. “Yes, yes, I can teach you lads plenty of tricks, maybe, for our mutual beneﬁt.”

“Hey, Professor, can you get me and Noodles a couple of rods[83]?” “Rods?” The Professor was surprised.

He looked at us intently.

“What do you need them for?”

“Well, we thought it would come in handy some time.”

“For instance, when, and what for?”

“You know, to make a heist.”

“Who are you going to heist, Max?”

Max hesitated for a moment. “Nah, we’re going to heist the Federal Reserve Bank,” Max said impressively.

The Professor turned his back and put a handkerchief to his mouth. At ﬁrst it sounded as if he was laughing. But we were mistaken. He really was coughing violently. He wiped his wet eyes.

“I have a bad cough, this damp cellar you know. Now, about this Federal Reserve heist. You lads are a little too young yet. Wait a few years. After a little experience on small stuf,f like candy stores, drug stores, then gradually you work your way up to the Federal Reserve. All right, lads?” He was smiling broadly. “You can always come to me for help.”

“Can you get us revolvers?” Max was insistent.

“Yes, yes. I can get anything. Leave it to me, Max. When I think you boys are ready for them, you will have them. Is that satisfactory? One thing you have to learn, not to be too impetuous, my lad.”

He patted Max on the back.

“What’s the name of the book you have in your back pocket?” he said to me.

I took it out and showed it to him. “From Rags to Riches. Isn’t it kid stuff for a boy your age?”

I shrugged.

“You like books?” he asked, smiling.

“Yeh, I like to read.”

“Why don’t you get good books, join the Public Library?” “The library is for sissies.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you belong to my library. Go on, help yourself, in there.”

He gestured toward the toilet. “You got books in there?”

“Yes, go on help yourself, that’s the best place for the library. That’s where one can really concentrate on what one is reading.”

I walked into the toilet. Both walls from the ﬂoor to the ceiling were covered with shelves of books. They all had unfamiliar titles. The Education of Henry Adams, a book by a guy named Yeats[84], and others I never heard of.

“Well, have you found something you would like?” the Professor called to me.

I spied a title that made a little sense to me. Boswell’s Life of Johnson[85]. Yeh, I thought, this must be pretty good. All about Jack Johnson[86], the champ. I walked out with it. The Professor said, “What did you pick out?”

I showed it to him. He looked doubtfully at me. “Do you think you will like it and understand it?”

“Who you kiddin’?” I snorted.

“It’s kind of deep stuff for a kid,” he said.

“You don’t know Noodles, Professor, he’s a smart guy. The smartest guy on Delancey Street.”

“All right, Noodles,” he said, “after you ﬁnish it I’d like to know what you think of it.”

“Yeh, I’ll let you know,” I promised.

Chapter 2

We walked back to Gelly’s.

Maxie asked, “What was that he said, I have to learn not to be… that word, imp… something, you remember, Noodles?”

“Impetuous?”

“Yep, that’s it, impetuous. What did he mean?”

“Not to rush into things, you know, without ﬁguring.”

“That’s a good tip. The Professor is a smart one. Yep, you got to plan things out; that’s one thing I’m gonna remember.”

Patsy, Cockeye and Dominick were standing in the doorway, waiting for us. “Where were you, guys?” Patsy asked.

“Noodles and I made a buck each.” Maxie walked into the store. We followed him in.

“Give me your buck, Noodles,” Maxie said.

“Give you my buck?” I was unwilling. “What for?” “We all share,” Max said decisively.

Reluctantly I handed it to him. He walked over to old man Gelly. “Give us some change.” He threw the bills on the counter.

Maxie split the two dollars ﬁve ways. I took my forty cents with a feeling of disappointment. He smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, Noodles, there’s more where that came from.”

We went outside. We smoked, whistled, and made nasty remarks to the girls passing by.

Dominick’s father came by. He slapped the cigarette out of Dominick’s mouth and chased him home. We jeered after them.

I was looking up at Dolores, who was gazing out of her window across the street. Maxie waved to her; she shut the window in a huff[87]. I stood there daydreaming about her. My ﬁrst love. I imagined her in all sorts of trouble, being pursued and molested by rufaif ns. In my daydreams I cast myself in the heroic role of her protector – me and my knife. Then my thoughts wandered off to Peggy. A new strange excitement took me. I wondered if she would be on the stoop.

I said, “I’m gonna hit the hay[88], fellas,” and walked down the street towards my house.

“What’s the hurry all of a sudden?” Maxie called after me. “Don’t forget, early tomorrow, Noodles, four-thirty.”

“I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

Peggy wasn’t on the stoop. Like a tomcat I came through the halls, up and down the stairs looking for her. I walked up the ﬁve ﬂights into our dark apartment. It was quiet. The family was asleep.

The Sabbath candles were burning on the table. Alongside them was a plate of gefuellte ﬁsh and chaleh bread which my mother had left for me. Hungrily I wolfed the food and gulped down a glass of cold water from the kitchen sink.

I put a quarter in the gas meter and went into my windowless bedroom. I lit the gaslight, undressed, pushed my snoring kid brother over to his side of the narrow iron bed and opened the book, Boswell’s Life of Johnson. I turned to the ﬁrst page. It was an introduction, about the guy who wrote the book. I skipped it. Who the hell was interested in the author? I wanted to know all about the champ, his ﬁghts and if it was true he ran around with plenty of women and was married to a white woman. I started to read. What the hell is this crap, I said to myself. It’s about a guy named Samuel Johnson, a doctor.

I put it down in disgust and reached for Alger’s From Rags to Riches[89]. Then I remembered how Professor had practically laughed at me when he saw the book I had chosen. I wouldn’t understand it, he said. Me, Noodles, wouldn’t understand what any lousy book is about? It was a challenge. I began to read it.

I had to go to the kitchen shelf to get my dictionary. Boy, was it a load of dry crap. All this guy Johnson did was bullshit about this and that; no action. I forced myself to read. I fell asleep with the gaslight on.

Chapter 3

I woke up with a start; the gaslight was still on. I wondered what time it was. My kid brother was lying on his back, snoring.

I felt my way in the dark to the kitchen where I lit the gaslight.

It was still early. The old alarm clock showed 3:30. As usual, I felt hungry. I opened the window and looked into the tin box fastened to the window sill which served as an ice box.

With my knife I cut a piece of bread, took a slice of ﬁsh, and ate. I wondered what my old man was going to do about the rent, what he was going to do about getting himself a job before we were thrown out in the street. I was wondering how many months we were behind, two or three? I thought of our lousy landlord, how he comes around all dressed up and yelling for his rent. I was thinking, the bastard’s always got a white ﬂower in his lapel, he must be a pansy or something.

My silly old man, why can’t he get a job and make some dough? Yeh, I guess because he don’t feel so good; maybe he’s always sick. Why the hell does he go to schul so much? Two hours every morning, and two hours at night, too. Saturday he stays in that joint all day long, all them old clucks with their beards and shawls, shaking back and forth in their prayers, mumbling all kinds of crap in their beards. What the hell is it all about? My old man would be better off looking for work instead of wasting his time with that crap. None of that for me! I’m smart. When I grow up, all I’m going out for is plenty of do-re-mi[90].

I washed the dishes I had used, and drank a glass of water. I took the forty cents out of my pocket and put it on the table. I laughed, thinking, Momma and the old man will cover the dough with a piece of paper and leave it there until sun-down – Orthodox Jews don’t touch money on the Sabbath – some clucks!

Show me where there’s money, and I’ll handle it all right, any day in the week, beginning Friday and all the way through the Sabbath. Boy, oh boy, even a million bucks! I looked at the clock; it was twenty after four. I closed the door and crept quietly down the dark stairs. On the ﬁrst ﬂoor I stopped. I heard a noise underneath the staircase. I put my hand in my pocket; the knife reassured me. I ﬁngered the button and listened. I heard a rhythmic shuflif ng noise and labored breathing for a few minutes. Then a sharp male gasp.

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Notes

1

you

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2

заноза в заднице

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3

бросить школу

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4

придурок, недоумок

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5

болван

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6

башка, мозги

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7

идиот, придурок

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8

зануда

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9

дрянной, ни на что не годный

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10

что вы тут задумали

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11

кипела от злости

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12

лодыри, бездельники, лентяи

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13

топнула ногой

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14

Поцелуй меня в задницу (идиш)

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15

идиш (смесь иврита и немецкого языков)

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16

получите по заслугам

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17

оболтусы, негодяи

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18

придёт время / наступит час

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19

духовые инструменты

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20

играющие гамму

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21

Разновидность виолончели.

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22

шестизарядный револьвер

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23

достигну совершеннолетия

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24

Don’t know

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25

по миллиону каждому

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26

шишка

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27

What are you

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28

разрешение на работу

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29

Он не торопился начать разговор.

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30

поворотный момент

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31

выходка, драка

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32

сквозь землю провалиться

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33

Ну и чёрт с ним!

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34

исправительное учреждение

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35

замял дело

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36

тебе не помешает

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37

бесплатно

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38

прикинулся дурачком

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39

в страхе

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40

как мы считали

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41

оказать услугу

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42

хулиганы

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43

ирландцев поджидал сюрприз

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44

рассекречивание планов

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45

банда

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46

жид

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47

набросился на него

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48

дать по башке

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49

Они чем-то промышляют

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50

валите отсюда

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51

проходимец

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52

бесчестный

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53

you

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54

Шаббат – седьмой, нерабочий, день в иудаизме.

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хлеб хала

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фаршированная рыба

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57

У меня слюнки текли.

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58

отцепись, отвали

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59

Русская шарлотка со взбитыми сливками.

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60

пощупав её

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61

синагога (идиш, сленг.)

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62

25 центов

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63

забрать труп

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64

Поможем ему.

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65

намёк понял

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66

солодовое пиво

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67

Эй, парни, отвалите. У вас есть бабки?

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68

Пипи очистил карманы пьяного на Бауэри

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69

слабак, лёгкая добыча

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70

10 центов

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71

из грязи в князи

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72

задавал темп

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73

это пригодится: у нас будут мышцы и дыхалка, и нас голыми руками не возьмёшь

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74

недотрога Долорес

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75

Мы все были втайне влюблены в неё.

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76

Омофония слов hey – «эй» и hay – «сено».

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77

«Тагеблат», ежедневная газета.

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наркотики

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79

У него есть связи.

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80

китаёзы

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81

курить опиум или колоться героином (сленг.)

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82

Китайское блюдо.

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83

револьверы, пушки

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84

Уильям Йейтс (1865–1939) – великий англоязычный поэт XX века.

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Биография английского писателя XVIII века Сэмюэла Джонсона (1709–1784).

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Джек Джонсон (1878–1946) – американский боксёр тяжёлого веса.

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87

в раздражении

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88

отправиться на боковую

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89

Из грязи в князи – излюбленная тема американского писателя Хорейшо Элджера (1832–1899).

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90

деньги

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