Papas Diary Project

[no entry today]

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H. smiles, she sings my name as I enter the Dist office, a song with only one word sung just for me. At her feet are boxes of circulars ready to distribute, her sleeves are rolled to the elbows like a cutter’s and she wears a hat I suppose to keep her “bob” out of her eyes, at her temple a tiny smudge where she brushed at a stray hair with inky fingers. Henry G. sits at the corner table with the pledge committee, they examine a ledger bent over to see the rows of numbers but he looks at me over their heads, his back straight, somehow more a part of my chat with H. than with the work of his companions.

The girl from the hat shop is here and she hands me a note, a message from Blitz about Goldberg, I must ring him immediately. Blitz is worried about Goldberg and his German trip, some at headquarters agree with him others think we should not ask him to speak, he tells me things are changing, the moment is delicate we must tread carefully.

After the call I return to the room and H. sits by the printing machine, she sits and reads Photoplay and does not look up as I examine the boxes of circulars, only another box or two to go and we will have enough. I commend H. on her efforts, we have just a little more to do, and now she closes her magazine, her face a lovely pout, she is joking I think when she asks “Is that all you can say?” She tells me she has been there all afternoon perspiring and getting dirty for me. “And you walk in and make a telephone call and then that’s all you can say.”

I hold out my hand to help her to her feet but she gets up and drops Photoplay on the chair. She tells me if not for Henry G.’s help she might not have done as much as she did, really he was a great help, such a gentleman. Henry must not have worked today, we are in a slack season many of us are off here and there.

“I forgive you Harry if you promise to be good from now on,” H. says. “Now let me tell you my idea.”

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[Note: This post is a continuation of group started on Dec. 7]

[no entry today]

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H’s plan is for Saturday evening, I must call Jack to discuss it. If he expects to see me of course I will go with him instead and also I have doubts about what H. has proposed, a folly is it not? Let Houdini be Houdini in my opinion. Can she truly want this, such a clever lively woman full of thoughts on every subject, on movies and literature and music, does she really believe we will see a ghost? Perhaps she has another thought in mind but I do not know if I should ask.

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[Note: This post is a continuation of group started on Dec. 7]

[no entry today]

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8:00 AM

Spoke to Breitbart last night, he agreed gladly to postpone our dinner. To think about my upcoming evening in H’s company fills me with contentment, after all these months perhaps there glows within her a spark of affection for me. I must endeavor to earn the honor of her company so her affection might grow, I must erase the memory of my past mistakes for I believe I am so much more.

I think about the ghost in the hotel H. says it is the ghost of the man who built it killed in a fire with his mistress or perhaps killed by the husband of his mistress. I don’t think there is a ghost but H says it is seen every year at this time, I wonder am I permitted to be among ghosts if I am not permitted to be among the dead?

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6:00 AM

Have just returned from evening with H. I expect she is still there. I will attempt to recall the events.

On the train to Williamsburg, I think of the tragedy in the hotel, whether it is true. Could a fire kill two people and not more? If it was a murder instead would it not be a famous scandal? Earlier in the day I visited Henry E., he sells linens to hotels but he said he never heard of the fire or murder, with so many hotels in town he said he could not be sure if it was true, every hotel has a murder, a fire, a story of a ghost.

I do not know why a man takes a mistress. The pledge of marriage is a blessing, the marital life a love made real by the exercise of self-sacrifice and the advantage of lasting friendship. Is not the true joy of such a union to experience the partnership, how it remains even when the youthful urgency of love is no longer?

It was a curious day, on the train to Williamsburg I remember I did not eat.

I call on H. and I offer to sit with her aunt in the front room but H. rushes out, impatient. Her cheeks are rouged even so I see her face is red and flushed and I ask her is she sick and she replies “no Harry but I am drunk.” I laugh but it’s true I think and I wonder if her aunt joined her. I object to prohibition, but Coolidge is a dry and other causes mean so much more to me. Her uncle perhaps purchased some liquor before his death and it must be there in the house still.

H. leads me to an auto and tells me it is her aunt’s and we can take it but I cannot drive I say, I only know how to ride. I tell her Rothblum has offered to teach me but she is disappointed and says I suppose a taxi is too much for a girl to dream of and walks quickly away, and I think of autos and the lesson Rothblum gave me in the Coney Island parking lot and how the brake stops the wheels and even occasionally the engine kicks and goes quiet when I use the brake improperly, a habit Rothblum says everyone has and everyone loses, don’t worry Harry but I don’t worry, I’m not worried I simply find the brake appealing.

Then I remember there were some days my father would not eat either, he was sick some days and could not eat but now I wonder was he sick or did he not eat so we might have more? I would sit on his lap at dinner, he would not eat but he would stroke my hair and sing me the songs. How I stared at the edge of the table, and I would count the lines in the wood and nibble on my bread and hear my fathers song and feel his hand and there was nothing, there was nothing but the table and his voice and his touch.

H. and I walk to the train and it arrives and she takes my arm as we get on, leans on me for balance I suppose. The train pulls away and we start our ride to Manhattan I think all this is impossible, all this is endless.

[no entry today]

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The hotel is up town not far from headquarters. A Christmas decoration, a wreath of green leaves hangs from its eaves, three flags hang there too one the American flag and two I do not recognize. A young man dressed like a soldier opens the door. Another youth dressed the same stands in the lobby, it is a small hotel and the lobby also is small, but I admire the workmanship of the bar, a wood bar with brass rails and behind it empty shelves backed by curved panes of frosted glass. Atop the bar is a brass sign, “No Liquor Served” it says.

The train ride here was quiet, H. stared at the straps, spoke little but outside the train her mood brightened, now she speaks to the clerk with great cheer, I am relieved and I remember again how beautiful how lively she is. The clerk knows her it seems he smiles and says welcome young lady, I’m young but maybe not a lady she says and the clerk laughs. His laugh is not real I don’t believe he liked her joke. I approach and I stand next to her and offer to speak to him instead and she says don’t worry Harry I’ll take care of this.

I speak to the boy in the lobby, I introduce myself and learn his name is Thomas. He looks worried, looks over to the clerk, I am not supposed to speak to guests he says and I tell him it is all right I am not a guest, not really. I learn he lives near me in the Irish neighborhood and I say he must think well of Governor Smith, and I ask about his union, if he goes to meetings. I’m not supposed to speak about the union he tells me and we look again to the clerk, but he does not see us, he listens to H. who whispers in his ear. Now H. walks behind the counter, together she and the clerk walk through a curtain to what must be a room beyond.

No one can see you speaking to me I tell Thomas and I remind him of the union I remind him of its advantages. He might have a brother or sister down on his luck, mistreated in the workplace if that happened to you I ask would you not want your brother or sister to come to your aid? If you do not have a brother then the union is your brother I tell him. “My brother cut off his thumb” is his only answer and I see now he is saddened and I am saddened too. There is so much sadness in each life but joy too, great joy he must have, I imagine him at home with his family, his mother his father, his injured brother is no burden for they are all together, together in their warm rooms.

H. does not return for a moment, but I know she does not want me to disturb her so I ask Thomas about the ghost. He tells me he is not supposed to speak about the ghost, this does not surprise me but he tells me more anyway tells me she appears in room 602, people say she kneels in the corner, looks up and holds an arm over her forehead as if to stop a blow but she disappears before the blow arrives and then she is gone. It is not unusual Thomas says, when it happens we move the guests to a suite, we used to give them champagne too but now we only give them chocolate.

[no entry today]

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Thomas operates the elevator for me and H. but she does not speak to him or look at him, she looks at me instead and holds my arm with both hands and she looks and looks. Such attention she gives me and I am honored and I am sure I cannot help but kiss her, she wears a hat tight around her head the hat sparkles and it is the same color of her dress, she is slight of figure and her eyes are dark. She is the picture of flaming youth, the very picture of flaming youth and what then does that make me? Months ago she accompanied me to the opera, a poor performance and macabre as well but still enchanted she wept and told me she dreamed of the day she would sit in the boxes. We walked a long while and still she wept, there were tears in her eyes all the way home and they sparkled, lit by the store windows and signs and street lights. “I’m so ashamed Harry” she told me and I asked her why and she said it won’t matter will it and that night I sat and I composed a letter and I sent it to her.

Our friendship ended I think that night I don’t know what to call the rest.

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[Note: This post is a continuation of group started on Dec. 7]