asleep, Lippit, that I’d dream up a dumb deal like you just mentioned.”
“Now, wait a minute. I wasn’t serious.”
“But I was.”
“What did you say, boy wonder?”
“You grab the jobber. You buy in, you buy him out, you maybe think of a better trick. You can’t horse with the manufacturer because he’s too big and he isn’t in town, but you grab the jobber and you got two links of the chain, to put yourself solid, and to tie up Benotti.”
He said, “Hmm,” or something like that, and then he poured down the rest of his drink.
“Meanwhile,” he said, “we got this other thing to do.”
“Walter. Listen to me.”
“I did.”
“But did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah. Not bad. Now let’s get back. Tomorrow, first thing, you set up the goon squads the way I was telling you. The thing over at Hough and Daly, I’ll give that to Folsom. He can….”
“Walter, I been trying to tell you….”
“Sit down,” he said. “Just sit and now you listen.”
I tried once more, though I didn’t promise myself very much. Lippit didn’t like stalling and that’s all I was doing now.
“You hit a place like Hough and Daly, Walter, you know what kind of stink that can make? You know how many guys depend on that outfit? Do you know that every radio, TV, electronics, recording outfit in town….”
“You sound like you own a piece in all of them, Jack, instead of working for me. You working for me, Jack, or you just drinking my liquor and sitting there bending my ear as if you knew what you were doing?”
“All right,” I said. “Forget it,” and I hoped he would. It would make my problem simpler and it would mean less to him when I tried for the little bit, for the one little thing where he might give in without giving me trouble.
“Let Folsom do the goon job,” I said. “He should like that.”
“And you do the raid on Hough and Daly?”
“Why do you keep saying Hough and Daly? You mean Benotti’s equipment place, don’t you?”
“You kept saying Hough and Daly, Jack, and I don’t care which you call it as long as you know the job. I want Benotti’s operation to end up like a cripple, understand? If that means going next door and hitting Hough and Daly too, then hit ‘em. Main thing I’m after….”
“Sure, I know.”
He looked at me, wondering about my irritation, but then he just shrugged.
“Your bedtime,” he said. “Beat it.”
I did. Walter Lippit was not running a democracy.
Chapter 7
I drove home—an upstairs apartment with large windows—sat down on the bed and looked at the telephone.
Much too late to do any calling. But much to do. And getting that wrecking job away from Folsom, getting to do that delicate thing by myself, was just part of the problem. What the problem came down to, if Benotti’s repair place got wrecked proper, I would lose money.
I have a rule about money, which goes: make it, spend it. It’s the nearest thing to a rule which fits the way I’ve been living through one job or another, until I put in with Lippit. After a while with Lippit, and what with the business we built, there was money left over. What I mean is, I wasn’t used to spending that much and I didn’t have the time, anyway.
That’s how I got to own Blue Beat.
This studio taped only the rare jazz for the aficionados. Naturally, the place was going broke. I had bought the place for what always comes out as a mixture of reasons: I had the dough; I saw a bargain; I like jazz; I know some of the rare musicians, whether they’re known or not. Sew it all up and call it a gamble, and maybe I got Blue Beat because of that. The Lippit operation by then was getting boring, and smooth.
Then Blue Beat made money. We only taped what we liked, but this time it paid. Next for the action, I bought up what was left of a pressing plant on the ground floor where we started pressing our own records and also did jobs for the rest of the studios in the area. Nothing big, but it
“Now, wait a minute. I wasn’t serious.”
“But I was.”
“What did you say, boy wonder?”
“You grab the jobber. You buy in, you buy him out, you maybe think of a better trick. You can’t horse with the manufacturer because he’s too big and he isn’t in town, but you grab the jobber and you got two links of the chain, to put yourself solid, and to tie up Benotti.”
He said, “Hmm,” or something like that, and then he poured down the rest of his drink.
“Meanwhile,” he said, “we got this other thing to do.”
“Walter. Listen to me.”
“I did.”
“But did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah. Not bad. Now let’s get back. Tomorrow, first thing, you set up the goon squads the way I was telling you. The thing over at Hough and Daly, I’ll give that to Folsom. He can….”
“Walter, I been trying to tell you….”
“Sit down,” he said. “Just sit and now you listen.”
I tried once more, though I didn’t promise myself very much. Lippit didn’t like stalling and that’s all I was doing now.
“You hit a place like Hough and Daly, Walter, you know what kind of stink that can make? You know how many guys depend on that outfit? Do you know that every radio, TV, electronics, recording outfit in town….”
“You sound like you own a piece in all of them, Jack, instead of working for me. You working for me, Jack, or you just drinking my liquor and sitting there bending my ear as if you knew what you were doing?”
“All right,” I said. “Forget it,” and I hoped he would. It would make my problem simpler and it would mean less to him when I tried for the little bit, for the one little thing where he might give in without giving me trouble.
“Let Folsom do the goon job,” I said. “He should like that.”
“And you do the raid on Hough and Daly?”
“Why do you keep saying Hough and Daly? You mean Benotti’s equipment place, don’t you?”
“You kept saying Hough and Daly, Jack, and I don’t care which you call it as long as you know the job. I want Benotti’s operation to end up like a cripple, understand? If that means going next door and hitting Hough and Daly too, then hit ‘em. Main thing I’m after….”
“Sure, I know.”
He looked at me, wondering about my irritation, but then he just shrugged.
“Your bedtime,” he said. “Beat it.”
I did. Walter Lippit was not running a democracy.
Chapter 7
I drove home—an upstairs apartment with large windows—sat down on the bed and looked at the telephone.
Much too late to do any calling. But much to do. And getting that wrecking job away from Folsom, getting to do that delicate thing by myself, was just part of the problem. What the problem came down to, if Benotti’s repair place got wrecked proper, I would lose money.
I have a rule about money, which goes: make it, spend it. It’s the nearest thing to a rule which fits the way I’ve been living through one job or another, until I put in with Lippit. After a while with Lippit, and what with the business we built, there was money left over. What I mean is, I wasn’t used to spending that much and I didn’t have the time, anyway.
That’s how I got to own Blue Beat.
This studio taped only the rare jazz for the aficionados. Naturally, the place was going broke. I had bought the place for what always comes out as a mixture of reasons: I had the dough; I saw a bargain; I like jazz; I know some of the rare musicians, whether they’re known or not. Sew it all up and call it a gamble, and maybe I got Blue Beat because of that. The Lippit operation by then was getting boring, and smooth.
Then Blue Beat made money. We only taped what we liked, but this time it paid. Next for the action, I bought up what was left of a pressing plant on the ground floor where we started pressing our own records and also did jobs for the rest of the studios in the area. Nothing big, but it
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