suppose. Still, I kinda like to look at ‘em.”
“Can’t arrest you for lookin’,” said Joe.
They saw now the source of the hypnotic rhythms: four black treet musicians, a steel band. Silently, Al directed Joe’s attention
to Willie, who was smiling vacantly and gently bouncing his head in time to the music. A moment later, Al himself was caught-up
in the cadences. Gradually, his walk shifted to a kind of home-made-mambo-Jackie Gleason shuffle. Joe began to clap, and several
people turned to watch. They were directly in front of the musicians now, and Al began to dance around a slightly embarrassed,
but smiling Willie.
“Fred Astaire!” shouted Joe. “Fred and Ginger, right here!”
The crowd joined Joe in his clapping, and this seemed to encourage Al. He two-stepped around Willie with increasing speed.
His elbows and forearms flew in all directions. The band, grinning, began to alter their rhythms to conform with his. One
of the musicians left his drum and joined Al in his orbit around Willie. After a moment, the three of them joined hands and
did a rough approximation of a Zorba-the-Greek dance, with Joe providing the handkerchief. The crowd was now applauding steadily.
Finally, with a grand flourish and drumsticks tossed in the air, the musicians brought their song to a pounding climax. Al
raised both hands in the air,then bowed deeply to the appreciative gathering. He, Joe, and Willie all slapped hands with the musicians. Dollar bills littered
the street in front of the drums. Amid the crowd, a uniformed policeman applauded along with everyone else.
“Man,” said the drummer who’d left his instrument to dance, “you gahs terrific. You the best.”
“We enjoyed it,” said Willie.
“It was great,” puffed Al, still short of breath. Droplets of perspiration beaded his forehead. His cheeks and neck were flushed.
“We best team up,” said -the drummer. “We get next to a heap o’ bread.”
“I was thinkin’ the same thing,” said Al, smiling. “We’ll have our agent give your agent a call.”
Joe and Willie and Al began to walk again. The crowd had largely dispersed, but several people waved to Al and patted him
on the back.
“I was gettin’ worried there for a second,” said Joe, as they reached Fortieth Street.
“Why’s that?” said Willie.
“Well, in the first place, I figured maybe you and Al would take that drummer serious. I mean, with you admirin’ them kids
in the subway, an’ then I could see you were eatin’ up the attention of that crowd… I figured, these guys ain’t cut out for
stealin’, they oughta be in show biz.”
“And what’s the second place?” said Al.
“What second place?”
“You said, ‘in the first place’ about why you was worried. That means there’s another reason.”
“It does?’ said Joe blankly. “I dunno. I forgot.”
Al bared his teeth. “Jesus!” he said forcefully.“I hate that! My mother, God rest her soul, used to do that all the time. Sometimes I’d wait the whole day to see what she
had in mind, and she’d never deliver. Tor one thing,’ she used to say, and then there’d never be
another
thing. It drove me nuts.”
“We can see,” said Willie.
“Wait a minute, I just remembered the second place,” said Joe.
Al shut his eyes and muttered a mock prayer. “Thank you, O Lord, for grantin’ this unworthy soul his poor wish.”
“My second worry was that you or Willie or both would suddenly keel over an’ drop dead from heart attacks. Then who’d I have
to help me pull off the job?”
“Listen,” said Willie, “when I was twenty-nine, I went to some doctor on the Grand Concourse. He examines me for a half hour
with a stethoscope cold as an ice cube. ‘You got six months to live,’ he tells me. ‘Maybe a year if you’re lucky.’ I say,
‘What’s the trouble?’ He says, ‘Rheumatic heart, young man. When’d you have the fever?’ I say, ‘What fever? I hardly
“Can’t arrest you for lookin’,” said Joe.
They saw now the source of the hypnotic rhythms: four black treet musicians, a steel band. Silently, Al directed Joe’s attention
to Willie, who was smiling vacantly and gently bouncing his head in time to the music. A moment later, Al himself was caught-up
in the cadences. Gradually, his walk shifted to a kind of home-made-mambo-Jackie Gleason shuffle. Joe began to clap, and several
people turned to watch. They were directly in front of the musicians now, and Al began to dance around a slightly embarrassed,
but smiling Willie.
“Fred Astaire!” shouted Joe. “Fred and Ginger, right here!”
The crowd joined Joe in his clapping, and this seemed to encourage Al. He two-stepped around Willie with increasing speed.
His elbows and forearms flew in all directions. The band, grinning, began to alter their rhythms to conform with his. One
of the musicians left his drum and joined Al in his orbit around Willie. After a moment, the three of them joined hands and
did a rough approximation of a Zorba-the-Greek dance, with Joe providing the handkerchief. The crowd was now applauding steadily.
Finally, with a grand flourish and drumsticks tossed in the air, the musicians brought their song to a pounding climax. Al
raised both hands in the air,then bowed deeply to the appreciative gathering. He, Joe, and Willie all slapped hands with the musicians. Dollar bills littered
the street in front of the drums. Amid the crowd, a uniformed policeman applauded along with everyone else.
“Man,” said the drummer who’d left his instrument to dance, “you gahs terrific. You the best.”
“We enjoyed it,” said Willie.
“It was great,” puffed Al, still short of breath. Droplets of perspiration beaded his forehead. His cheeks and neck were flushed.
“We best team up,” said -the drummer. “We get next to a heap o’ bread.”
“I was thinkin’ the same thing,” said Al, smiling. “We’ll have our agent give your agent a call.”
Joe and Willie and Al began to walk again. The crowd had largely dispersed, but several people waved to Al and patted him
on the back.
“I was gettin’ worried there for a second,” said Joe, as they reached Fortieth Street.
“Why’s that?” said Willie.
“Well, in the first place, I figured maybe you and Al would take that drummer serious. I mean, with you admirin’ them kids
in the subway, an’ then I could see you were eatin’ up the attention of that crowd… I figured, these guys ain’t cut out for
stealin’, they oughta be in show biz.”
“And what’s the second place?” said Al.
“What second place?”
“You said, ‘in the first place’ about why you was worried. That means there’s another reason.”
“It does?’ said Joe blankly. “I dunno. I forgot.”
Al bared his teeth. “Jesus!” he said forcefully.“I hate that! My mother, God rest her soul, used to do that all the time. Sometimes I’d wait the whole day to see what she
had in mind, and she’d never deliver. Tor one thing,’ she used to say, and then there’d never be
another
thing. It drove me nuts.”
“We can see,” said Willie.
“Wait a minute, I just remembered the second place,” said Joe.
Al shut his eyes and muttered a mock prayer. “Thank you, O Lord, for grantin’ this unworthy soul his poor wish.”
“My second worry was that you or Willie or both would suddenly keel over an’ drop dead from heart attacks. Then who’d I have
to help me pull off the job?”
“Listen,” said Willie, “when I was twenty-nine, I went to some doctor on the Grand Concourse. He examines me for a half hour
with a stethoscope cold as an ice cube. ‘You got six months to live,’ he tells me. ‘Maybe a year if you’re lucky.’ I say,
‘What’s the trouble?’ He says, ‘Rheumatic heart, young man. When’d you have the fever?’ I say, ‘What fever? I hardly
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