cool, and you dint know how to walk by them cool rite back, then you wuld be a square with sharpe corners as wel as made fun of …
— F ROM A COMPOSITION BY J UNIOR B ROWN. A SSIGNED SUBJECT: “A N IMPORTANT THING TO KNOW IN GETTING ALONG WITH PEOPLE.”
W HY , G OBER WONDERS , is Flat Head Pontiac asking for it? To walk by cool is really asking for it; and this, added to Pontiac’s promise to make the scene with Babe on Friday night, comes out rumble. What is it that makes the Jungle chief so rumble-hungry? Gober ponders this as Pontiac passes him, in front of the candy store on 100th and Madison. It is four o’clock on a Monday afternoon; and Gober is standing there with Eyes, both having just come from school.
“He’s coming on like a goddam snowman, Gobe. Look-it.” Eyes says under his breath.
“Yeah, I see him.”
Pontiac is a six-foot, broad-shouldered, husky Italian. He walks toward them with a slow, deliberate, panther-like tread, chin held high, eyes half closed, head swaying very slightly from side to side.
He takes his time. He knows what he is doing. He is the coolest of the cool.
As he is parallel with Gonzalves, Gober sneers at him.
“How’s your hammer hanging, Pontiac?”
Without looking anywhere but straight ahead, and without batting an eyelash or moving a muscle in his face; Pontiac says, “Heavy — but gonna be a lot lighter Friday night, King-man.”
This is the extent of their conversation; but now everything between them is spelled out unmistakably. This is the engraved invitation to rumble, the real personal touch.
“Whooooo!” Eyes exclaims after Pontiac is a yard beyond them.
“Yeah,” Gober answers. “He wants it real bad, all right. Well, we’ll see if he’s all talk and no action.”
“I’m jap-happy now, if I never was, Gobe. Some gangs I wouldn’t pull a jap rumble on, but the Jungles are crying for it.”
“I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea you and Tea mosey around and smell the wind in their turf. Be sure they don’t jump us before we jump them.”
“I’m thinking the same thing myself. Wonder where the hell Tea is?”
“ ‘S Monday. I think he usually scores on Mondays. Probably sleeping under a blanket of the snow now. He in school today?”
“Yeah; left before last bell, though.”
“That’s where he is. Out scoring. He’ll be by.”
“Shall we amble on into the store, Gobe?”
“You go on in. I want to catch Nothin’ Brown when he comes around.”
“You gonna talk to Babe about Friday? I see her in there. Back booth. With Easy Marie.”
“Yeah, I’m setting things straight with her. Probably take her over to the clubhouse.”
“Atta boy!” de Jarro says.
Gonzalves stands alone then, looking up the street for a sign of Junior Brown. Under his arm, tucked in a copy of an English book, is this letter:
Dear Anita,
I’m sending this by messenger so as not to get you in trouble with your pop. I wonder if it would be possible that I could meet you after school and just talk some day??? That is all I’m interested in, to talk because we never had the chance really. I know the spot you are in with your pop, but unless I’m wrong, you do not feel the same way as he does toward me. I do not know what school you go to so you would have to let me know about this, and beside maybe you can make another sugestion about meeting me. Maybe I have got it all wrong or something stupid like that but then I can usually tell about things like this. You never said anything I know but people don’t always have to say words.
Naturally I know you love me (ha! ha!) but if we could just get together it would be nice I’m sure. What do you say about it??? My messenger will come back tomorrow for some answer. I hope you will say yes and not punk out on the deal.
Your friend Rigoberto Gonzalves.
In the distance, ambling along licking a fried chicken neck, Nothin’ Brown heads for the candy store; and seeing him, Gober goes to meet him….
•
— F ROM A COMPOSITION BY J UNIOR B ROWN. A SSIGNED SUBJECT: “A N IMPORTANT THING TO KNOW IN GETTING ALONG WITH PEOPLE.”
W HY , G OBER WONDERS , is Flat Head Pontiac asking for it? To walk by cool is really asking for it; and this, added to Pontiac’s promise to make the scene with Babe on Friday night, comes out rumble. What is it that makes the Jungle chief so rumble-hungry? Gober ponders this as Pontiac passes him, in front of the candy store on 100th and Madison. It is four o’clock on a Monday afternoon; and Gober is standing there with Eyes, both having just come from school.
“He’s coming on like a goddam snowman, Gobe. Look-it.” Eyes says under his breath.
“Yeah, I see him.”
Pontiac is a six-foot, broad-shouldered, husky Italian. He walks toward them with a slow, deliberate, panther-like tread, chin held high, eyes half closed, head swaying very slightly from side to side.
He takes his time. He knows what he is doing. He is the coolest of the cool.
As he is parallel with Gonzalves, Gober sneers at him.
“How’s your hammer hanging, Pontiac?”
Without looking anywhere but straight ahead, and without batting an eyelash or moving a muscle in his face; Pontiac says, “Heavy — but gonna be a lot lighter Friday night, King-man.”
This is the extent of their conversation; but now everything between them is spelled out unmistakably. This is the engraved invitation to rumble, the real personal touch.
“Whooooo!” Eyes exclaims after Pontiac is a yard beyond them.
“Yeah,” Gober answers. “He wants it real bad, all right. Well, we’ll see if he’s all talk and no action.”
“I’m jap-happy now, if I never was, Gobe. Some gangs I wouldn’t pull a jap rumble on, but the Jungles are crying for it.”
“I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea you and Tea mosey around and smell the wind in their turf. Be sure they don’t jump us before we jump them.”
“I’m thinking the same thing myself. Wonder where the hell Tea is?”
“ ‘S Monday. I think he usually scores on Mondays. Probably sleeping under a blanket of the snow now. He in school today?”
“Yeah; left before last bell, though.”
“That’s where he is. Out scoring. He’ll be by.”
“Shall we amble on into the store, Gobe?”
“You go on in. I want to catch Nothin’ Brown when he comes around.”
“You gonna talk to Babe about Friday? I see her in there. Back booth. With Easy Marie.”
“Yeah, I’m setting things straight with her. Probably take her over to the clubhouse.”
“Atta boy!” de Jarro says.
Gonzalves stands alone then, looking up the street for a sign of Junior Brown. Under his arm, tucked in a copy of an English book, is this letter:
Dear Anita,
I’m sending this by messenger so as not to get you in trouble with your pop. I wonder if it would be possible that I could meet you after school and just talk some day??? That is all I’m interested in, to talk because we never had the chance really. I know the spot you are in with your pop, but unless I’m wrong, you do not feel the same way as he does toward me. I do not know what school you go to so you would have to let me know about this, and beside maybe you can make another sugestion about meeting me. Maybe I have got it all wrong or something stupid like that but then I can usually tell about things like this. You never said anything I know but people don’t always have to say words.
Naturally I know you love me (ha! ha!) but if we could just get together it would be nice I’m sure. What do you say about it??? My messenger will come back tomorrow for some answer. I hope you will say yes and not punk out on the deal.
Your friend Rigoberto Gonzalves.
In the distance, ambling along licking a fried chicken neck, Nothin’ Brown heads for the candy store; and seeing him, Gober goes to meet him….
•
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