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Home , Jail Guitar Doors, Wayne Kramer (guitarist)

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M U S E I S THE QUARTERLY JOURNAL PUBLISHED BY THE LIT 9 771942 275009 WORDS+IMAGES

JULY 25-30 A writing workshop for students entering grades 10, 11, and 12 www.hb.edu/young_writers

PRESENTED BY ISSUE06.10 MUSE IS THE QUARTERLY JOURNAL PUBLISHED BY THE LIT We’ve all been there: Trapped, imprisoned. Some by bars.

VOLUME 3, ISSUE 2 JUN 2010 Some by substance. Some by people. Imprisoned is a bad place. It strips us of humanity, creativity, altruism, self-love. JUDITH MANSOUR Editor/Publisher Words, music, and images—art—can be a way out, though. [email protected] In March, I met with some friends who have begun a new TIM L ACHINA nonprofit organization called Jail Guitar Doors. Yep, the Design Director [email protected] same name as the song by the Clash, written for guitarist Wayne Kramer of the MC5 during his prison stay in the 1980s. DAVID MEGENHARDT Founded by Wayne and Margaret Kramer, and Billy Bragg, Jail Managing Editor [email protected] Guitar Doors gets guitars to prison inmates so that those who are inclined have a creative release—one that doesn’t involve R AY M C NIECE drugs, violence, or other bad behavior. They have been met Poetry Editor [email protected] by turns, with amazing receptivity and support, as well as with hostility and resistance. MUSE is receptive. ROB JACKSON Fiction Editor This group of friends inspired us to theme this issue of MUSE, [email protected] as well as each of the coming issues. We solicited words and ALENKA BANCO images on imprisonment, and what is printed in the following Art Editor pages gripped me at my core. It’s dark. Important. It repre- [email protected] sents a turning point for us: we want MUSE to make a differ- BONNIE JACOBSON ence—a difference in literature and the arts, a difference in NIN ANDREWS the way people think, a difference in the way they write. The Contributing Editors [email protected] way they live.

Below is an open call for words and images crafted to the SUBMISSIONS themes listed. Help us out. Send original and unpublished (Content evident) may be sent electronically to [email protected]. We prefer electronic sub- fiction, poetry, prose, letters, essays, and images to us. We missions. MUSE publishes all genres of creative writ- want to know how each of these themes inspires you. We ing — including but not limited to poetry, fiction, want these themes to be your muse. essay, memoir, humor, lyrics, and drama. Prefer- ence is given Ohio-based authors. Also, I can’t let an issue go by without saying congratulations to a few of our area’s finest writers. Congratulations to 2008 Founded in 1987 as Ohio Writer, MUSE is the quarterly journal published by The LIT, a nonprofit literary arts Writers & Their Friends Honorees Phil Metres and David organization. No part of this journal may be reproduced Giffels, respectively, for their 2010 Cleveland Arts Prize without written consent of the publisher. awards for Emerging and Mid-Career Artists, and to Henry Adams for Lifetime Achievement, all in the area of Literature. Kudos THELIT to fellow 2008 W & TF Honoree CLEVELAND’S LITERARY CENTER MUSE 2010 Themes James Renner, whose breakout September: Drama A R T CR A F T BUIL DING novel The Man From Primrose December: The Other 2570 SUPERIOR AVENUE Lane (and a yet unfinished SUI T E 203 CLEVELAND, OHIO 44114 second novel) has been picked up by Sarah Crichton Books. Well MUSE 2011 Themes 216 694.0000 WWW.THE-LIT.ORG March: MUSE Literary deserved accolades for all. 06 Competition Winners 10 June: Motels M JUDITH September: On the Couch U December: In the Mail S

JAIL GUITAR DOORS IMAGES BY PROJECT NOISE FOUNDATION EM

1 MUSE IS THE QUARTERLY JOURNAL PUBLISHED BY THE LIT We’ve all been there: Trapped, imprisoned. Some by bars.

JAIL GUITAR DOORS IMAGES BY PROJECT NOISE FOUNDATION EM

1 contributors

NIN ANDREWS is the editor of a book of DOUGLAS HOSTON, JR, AKA SAGE THE The Chagrin Valley Writers’ Workshop. The translations of the French poet Henri Mi- WISECAT, is happy husband and father to, Denver Post called his first novel,The Year chaux entitled Someone Wants to Steal My respectively, Rasheeda Nicole and Douglas That Trembled, “powerful” and one of 1998’s Name from Cleveland State University Press. III. He is founder and executive director of “milestones in fiction.” He’s won numerous She is also the author of several books includ- Black Poetic, an arts and education organiza- awards from the Ohio Professional Writers ing The Book of Orgasms, Why They Grow tion that facilitates written and performance (nonfiction), Cleveland Press Club (nonfic- Wings, Midlife Crisis with Dick and Jane, poetry. He has created a community initiative tion), the MUSE Literary Competition (fic- Sleeping with Houdini, and Dear Professor, Do to provide seasonal series of free productions tion), and Lax is a Bread Loaf Writers’ You Live in a Vacuum. Her book, Southern of performance poetry, song, dance, and vi- Conference Nonfiction Scholar, Sewanee Comfort, was published by CavanKerry Press sual art at The Cleveland Museum of Art. By Writers’ Conference Fiction Fellow and 2002 in 2009 and was a finalist for the 2010 Paterson day, he is Disabilities Coordinator for the Midwest Filmmaker of the Year. Poetry Prize. Council for Economic Opportunities in Greater Cleveland. Hoston has been selected ANGELA CONSOLO MANKIEWICZ is the PATRICIA AVERBACH, a Cleveland native, to be a panelist on the Governor’s Conference author of four chapbooks, the most recent are is the former director and current vice presi- on Increasing High School Graduation Rate AN EYE, published by Pecan Grove Press dent of the Chautauqua Writers Center. She for African American Males. (2006) and AS IF, recently released from has previously had prose and poetry published Little Red Books-Lummox (2010). She has in Lilith and Margie. Her first novel,Painting WAYNE KRAMER is a songwriter whose also been the Contributing Editor and Bridges, should be completed before the end reputation writing music for film and televi- Regional Editor, respectively, for the small of the year. Pat’s avatar, Keykey Underwood, sion risks supplanting his legend as one of (now defunct) journals Mushroom Dreams occasionally teaches creative writing in the rock’s stellar guitarists. Rolling Stone lists him and New Press. Combining poetry and her 3D virtual world called Second Life. as one of the top 100 guitarists of all time. love of music, she is currently collaborating Wayne is recognized nearly as often as a with composers on an experimental chamber By day KEN BINDAS works as professor and vigorous social activist. In 2009, along with opera and a song cycle. chair of the History department at Kent State wife/manager Margaret Saadi Kramer and University, but his evenings are spent talking legendary British singer Billy Bragg, he ABBY NAPOLI is a part of the Laurel School with Marina about Hawthorne, Whitman, founded Jail Guitar Doors USA, a Los Angeles class of 2012, and a winner of MOCA Cleve- Fitzgerald, and so many others and what they based non-profit group that provides guitars land’s Women Above The Influence Writing write and what that means and how to make for use in prisoner rehabilitation. Competition. Her inspiration for this issue sense of it all. They share a house with her two came from one of her favorite songs: “Happy girls-Sadie and Faye-who make them laugh ROBERT LAWRY is Emeritus Professor of Ending”, by MIKA. and think. Law and Director of the Center for Profes- sional Ethics At CWRU. He was educated at contents KAREN SCHUBERT’s poems appear or are Author of the novel Maggot (Warner Books) Fordham College, Penn Law School and Uni- forthcoming in Artful Dodge, Penguin Review, and the story collections Naked to Naked Goes versity College, Oxford. He has been a Fellow Akron Art Museum’s New Words, The Vindi- 10 THE NARCOTIC FARM 21 FITZGERALD’S WAKE, KEN BINDAS; (Scribner) and Loving Power, (Bottom Dog) in Law and the Humanities at Harvard. In ad- cator and others. Her chapbook is The Geog- WAYNE KRAMER ROOMS, MARINA VLADOVA ROBERT FLANAGAN has fiction in a vari- dition to traditional scholarly writings, he has raphy of Lost Houses (Pudding House). Poetry 11 EVEN THE GUITAR 22 1663, PRISONER OF WAR, & HOW TO FIGHT ous anthologies, including The Norton Book published in a study of Justice in Melville’s editor for Whiskey Island Magazine, she has KAREN SCHUBERT NIN ANDREWS of American Short Stories and Bar Stories. Billy Bud and an award winning essay on an MFA from the Northeast Ohio Master of Born in Toledo, Ohio, Flanagan worked as a Martin Luther King, Jr., entitled “One Tough Fine Arts, and lives with her daughter in 12 FINAL MEAL REQUESTS 23 THE LONELIEST MAN IN THE WORLD PATRICIA AVERBACH ROBERT J. FLANAGAN dishwasher, night watchman and janitor, Guy.” He has also published a chapbook of Youngstown, Ohio. sparred in enough gyms to earn two detached poems, Necessary Pleadings. Recently, he was 14 IMPRISONMENT: A DOMESTIC BOP 26 HAPPY ENDING retinas, served in the U.S. Marine Corps re- named the Phi Beta Kappa poet for 2010 at MARINA VLADOVA has written for Inter- DOUGLAS “SAGE” HOSTON ABBY NAPOLI serve, and graduated from the Universities of CWRU. He serves on three non-profit Execu- view, Surface, and Big Magazine. She now lives 06 16 CRIM LAW, 27 CHAPTER 11: SLEEPING IN 06 10 Toledo and Chicago. “The Loneliest Man…” tive Boards, The LIT among them. with her partner and two daughters in Cleve- ROBERT P. LAWRY SCOTT LAX 10 is included in Fight Night, a new collection of land Heights and teaches film and literature M M stories about boxers and Marines currently Born in Cleveland, Ohio, SCOTT LAX is a at Andrews Osborne Academy in Willoughby. 20 THIS IS NOT A DREAM U ANGELA CONSOLO MANKIEWICZ U S on submission to publishers. novelist, short story writer, nonfiction writer S

E M M and playwright, and teaches for The Lit and E

2 3 The Narcotic Farm WAYNE KRAMER

“POLICE! DRUG POLICE! DO NOT MOVE! FEDERAL AGENTS! was over, it was clear to me that the Lexington where I’d just WE WILL SHOOT YOU!” arrived was nothing like the “Narcotic Farm” of years past. Back They were screaming at the top of their lungs as they came when Burroughs was there, they called you patients, not prisoners, bursting into my apartment. I turned around and looked straight because you were there for treatment— even if you’d been convicted down the business end of a 9mm pointed at my stomach. This gun of a federal crime. I was not a patient. I was now inmate 00180-190. could make a really big hole. The first few and last months there were the hardest because Once I was sure these were actually drug police and not dope- my mind would go to the street and to things that I could not con- house rip-offs, I relaxed a little. Out came the badges: DEA. Federal trol. I obsessed on my girlfriend, who, it turns out, began driving a Drug Agents. Without doubt, I was going to prison behind this bust. get-away car for a series of armed robberies while I was away. This was the logical conclusion of the downward trajectory of my I began to adjust to life inside the institution. I was jailing now. life in those days. I was 27 years old and drifted into lower and lower Empty hours are a prisoner’s enemy, so I did the best I could to fill circles after my rock band, the MC5, imploded in 1972. up my days with anything I could. I took college courses, and with Up to that point, going to prison was something I’d never the great jazz musician Red Rodney as my teacher and fellow in- considered. Real prison? This couldn’t be. But when the weight of mate, I studied music theory. I played basketball and paddleball in this sunk in, I wept like a baby. I had been waiting all my life to the winter. In summers, I ran five miles a day around the big exer- fuck up this bad, and I’d finally made it. As far as I was concerned, cise yard. Sometimes twice a day. Got into great shape. I wanted to it was everybody else’s fault. (Deep inside, I knew better.) Since I hit the streets “hard.” refused to cut a deal and work for the DEA as a snitch, I, a drug ad- As the days and months went on, the prison population rose. dict who dealt drugs, pleaded guilty to possession. The judge gave The “Drug War” was ratcheting up. Lexington wasn’t about me four years. Though I tried to get ready for the penitentiary, “treatment” at all anymore, it was about “accountability.” This talking to my ex-con friends about what to expect behind bars was Prison. Not rehab. When I arrived in 1975, there were 600+ only made things worse. I quickly fell into a deep depression. inmates at Lexington. By 1978, when I paroled out, the population When word came down that I was going to be sent to Lexing- had risen to over 1200. There were people sleeping in the hallways. ton, KY, I was relieved. I knew about the place already. I knew that Day rooms were filled with cubicles. It looked like a state joint. it was originally called the “United States Narcotic Farm.” I knew From where I see it, we as a nation were just beginning to em- this was where all the great jazz musician, hipster dope fiends brace the mentality of a total “War on Drugs” where killing or cap- went. Jackie Maclean, Charlie Hayden, Sam Rivers, Elvin Jones, turing the enemy will somehow make this problem go away. Today Sonny Rollins, Howard McGee, and Ray Charles. Even William the situation is far worse than when I was incarcerated. As I write Burroughs himself had been there and wrote about it in Junky. this, this nation incarcerates more people than any other nation in Everyone I knew who had been in the federal system said Lex was history, and hundreds of thousands of them are serving time for the place to do time. non-violent drug-related charges. But by the time I arrived at Lexington as a prisoner in 1975, As a former convict, I can say that prison changed me. And “The Drug War” was kicking in. Lexington had abandoned its probably not for the better. My time at Lexington, in the end, was a mission as a humane treatment center for addicts and was func- crushing experience. Upon my release—with little more than tioning as little more than medium-security prison for drug willpower to go on—I returned to a life of alcoholism and drug offenders. addiction for a long time more. Now there are treatment programs 06 On my arrival there I remember being stunned by the gigan- all over the country. And they work. I found the help and support 06 10 10 tic size of the place. After getting photographed, fingerprinted and I needed, and today I have a beautiful and sober life. M M U given a new set of prison clothes, an official gave us the “Welcome U S To Prison” talk. We could do “easy time” here if we were smart. Or WAYNE KRAMER S LOS ANGELES, CA

E M M E if we wanted to play it hard, he could make it very hard. When it APRIL 20TH, 2010

6 7 The Narcotic Farm WAYNE KRAMER

E M M E if we wanted to play it hard, he could make it very hard. When it APRIL 20TH, 2010

6 7 Final Meal Requests of Condemned Prisoners State of Texas web.archive.org/

Karla Faye Tucker, twenty-three, and slim, opted for the diet plate, a banana, a peach, a garden salad - ranch dressing on the side, prior to her date Jeff Dillingham devoured with the electric chair. crispy fries, lasagna, garlic bread, nachos, mac But most want more, and cheese, five scrambled eggs, flesh and fowl, a cheeseburger heaped chopped and fried, with Cheddar, Swiss and Mozzarella, heaping plates of simple fare: three cinnamon rolls, greasy spuds, melted cheese, and eight pints of chocolate milk. crudities, sugar, salt, hot pepper, As though a single meal

Even the guitar has bullet holes. enough drink to drown a man. could satisfy the craving Mothers of the dead keep books for all the years left on their plates. of faces, blood runs from eye Johnny Ray Johnson consumed sockets, from everywhere. four pieces of fried chicken, two fried Victor Feguer’s tastes Children with two feet steaks, twenty shrimp, four eggs, were more refined. pick for food in the dump, two biscuits, two gallons of hot coffee, His last supper informed climb among bombed out trucks. and several slabs of peanut brittle. his tongue of vinegar, They have not forgotten salt, a stone, the taste of tears. how to play. Some guerrillas are young as twelve. Vincent Cooks put away When the state buried him At the checkpoint, the photographer lies twelve pieces of fried chicken, in the brand new suit flat on top of the bus among baskets double cheeseburgers, they’d bought for the occasion, of hens. The roads and walls are stone, toasted buns, french fries, onions, it’s pocket held a kernal of remorse, no softness between them tomatoes, sweet pickles, hot peppers, the remnants of his final meal, and the displaced, the orphaned. peach cobbler and cold milk. the pit of one black olive. Pregnant women stand belly deep in the river, washing clothes. 06 PATRICIA AVERBACH 06 10 Listen, they say: the dead 10

M are talking to you. Don’t flinch. M U U S S

E M M E KAREN SCHUBERT

8 9 Final Meal Requests of Condemned Prisoners State of Texas web.archive.org/

M are talking to you. Don’t flinch. M U U S S

E M M E KAREN SCHUBERT

8 9 Imprisonment: A Domestic Bop

monosyllabic grunts pass perfect apathy in this house we’ve got good bones could last thirty years comfortably married to the idea of tradition in this tomb we’ve well oiled forgetting where love limps and dies daily

trying to make believe that it was just a dream

there are children here we act accordingly, coming to life in increments, we shine for them bright to blind out our passionlessness we Pinocchio in unison, stringing hope into every “how was school, today” they bound from front door and to bedroom blocking out our desperation

trying to make believe that it was just a dream

the vilification of fleeing this type of imprisonment give us the resounding pause of a gavel smack best friends can but promise to be there after escape we’re frightened for we’ve seen many flee and fail badly and what does the lord say about these type sinful thoughts so hardwired, we continue

trying to make believe that it was just a dream 06 06 10 10

M DOUGLAS “SAGE” HOSTON M U U S S

E M M E

10 11 Imprisonment: A Domestic Bop

trying to make believe that it was just a dream

trying to make believe that it was just a dream 06 06 10 10

M DOUGLAS “SAGE” HOSTON M U U S S

E M M E

10 11 CRIM LAW ROBERT P. LAWRY

THE FIRST TIME I MET DEL EL RICO MARIO BROWN, enty-seven lawyers at Stev-Hen, making it the second largest I thought he was going to kill me. He leaned over the table, his corporate law firm in Pittsburgh. hands flat down upon it, and he shouted, “The man din’t calcal- “Problem is sentencing. He’s mad. Look at these letters he’s ate my time right. He din’t calcalate it right! He just din’t.” A written to the court.” He handed me a reasonably thick stack of prison guard rushed over, looking for trouble. Mr. Brown was paper, many pages of which were letters from the state prison to furious. I was scared. I could feel his hands around my throat. Judge Richter, the Administrative Judge of the Court of Com- Instead, he punched the air above him. The guard had actually mon Pleas. “Go to, young man.” Mr. Stevens was on the phone pulled out his billyclub. I winced but waived him away. Del with a real client before I was out of his corner office door. Six Rico dropped his hands and his head, retrieved his fallen chair, months out of Pitt Law School, I defended a young cousin of and sat meekly down. It would not be the last time I felt physi- mine on a breaking and entering charge. And won. It was a cally afraid of this client. bogus indictment, and I stumbled my way through the case Del El Rico Mario Brown was thirty-two years old. Black against a less than interested assistant district attorney; never- father – never around much and in jail himself a lot. Puerto theless, it made me a tad famous in the corridors of the firm, as Rican mother – she couldn’t control him. He stood maybe five “the crim law kid.” So naturally, any assigned criminal case in feet four inches tall, weighed at most one hundred thirty-five the firm found its way to my desk. pounds. He was thin, wiry, but with muscles that bulged. He Brown’s juvenile record was equally depressing. First de- worked out. A lot. Lifted weights. Punched the bag silly. He linquency charge at eleven. Five more over the next seven years. could have strangled me in a heartbeat. Or so I felt, every time Life on the streets, snatching what he could, hurting people be- we were together. With the exception of two stints, one of seven cause he needed to and because he could. He was now in the months, the other of eleven months, Del Rico had been in some State Penitentiary for armed robbery. Wielding a hand gun, he jail or prison for his entire adult life, landing in his first cell, just had mugged a citizen, taken wallet and watch, and fled in a bro- days after turning eighteen. Convicted of assault. ken down stolen Chevy Impala. After crashing the car against a “Paul, my man, you are the F. Lee Bailey in this outfit. I street lamp, and running up an alleyway in Pittsburgh’s Hill couldn’t handle a criminal case if my life - or the poor client’s District, he had been shot by a police officer in both legs. He life - depended on it. So be a good fellow and run up to see was in the hospital for five months, because the wounds were this...” Francis R. “Frankie” Stevens rustled through a stack of serious and got infected. Despite gangrene, the doctors some- papers in front of him, finally finding what he had been looking how managed to restore him to health without an amputation. for. “ ... this Del Rico fellow. He’s in the State Pen. Wants out. The hospital stay was the crux of the case. Brown thought How can you blame him? Judge Richter said I needed to show those five months should have been subtracted from the five- that the corporate bar is willing to take on these kind of cases, year sentence he received at trial, which occurred eight months so take them on we will. Go to, Pauly. I’m right behind you. after the robbery. Since he couldn’t make bail after he was re- Give it your best shot.” leased from the hospital, there was also the problem of the three Frankie Stevens was the most genial of men, full of good months he had served in jail, awaiting trial. The district attor- 06 cheer and quick with a self-deprecating joke; but a shrewd and ney’s office claimed the sentence of the court was for five addi- 06 10 10 gifted lawyer as well. Grown corporate executives would grovel tional years from the date of the conclusion of the trial. Mr. M M U readily just to be his client. To me he would always be “Mr. Ste- Brown says his time will be up in two months because, accord- U S vens,” the senior partner in Stevens, Henderson & McFarley, ing to his calculations, the entire eight months needed to be S

E M M when I was a fifth-year associate. It was 1972; there were sev- subtracted from the five year sentence. The trial transcript was E

12 13 CRIM LAW ROBERT P. LAWRY

E M M when I was a fifth-year associate. It was 1972; there were sev- subtracted from the five year sentence. The trial transcript was E

12 13 a mess. The judge had the power to sentence him to up to ten Brown worked very hard. where. Now, didn’t I?” He laughed, turned over some papers, brief, and am unpersuaded by it. Is there anything Mr. Stevens years; but what Judge Johnson actually did was not clear. How- “Well,” I started to explain. “Some of those cases were too then said: “You wouldn’t have another copy with you, Pauly, said that you might response to in any way that is different from ever, to Mr. Brown, what should happen was abundantly clear. easily distinguishable...” now would ‘ya?” I had six. When I gave him one, he tossed it in what is in your brief?” The poor fellow was speechless for sev- Case law, courtesy of Del Rico Brown, regularly showed up His dark eyes blazed. I started again. “They just didn’t fit. his briefcase and we left for the courthouse, two blocks away. I eral seconds.” in my mail over the next few weeks. I was doing research to You’ll have to trust me on this. I went to law school for three tried, but we just never got to talk about substance. He only “Well?” said the judge. write a brief to obtain a hearing - Del Rico was helping me. Not years to learn which ones fit and which ones don’t fit.” asked, “All caps, right?” The prosecutor cleared his throat. “Your honor, I do want that I asked. He printed in ballpoint pen in his own firm hand “Yea,” he said, but softly, not in anger. “And I be reading my “Yes, sir.” to call your attention to the words actually used by the trial on yellow legal sized paper each case that he “just knew” would cases for years too!” “And double-spaced?” judge at the sentencing in this case,” he began. help him. Sometimes the cases were forty or fifty pages long. He I knew he could be a lawyer, could have been a lawyer. I told “Triple-spaced actually. Looked easier to read.” “You did that in the brief. I read the words. I understand did not know or was somehow suspicious of the citations he that to Mr. Stevens one day, as we were talking of another, fee- “Good boy. Always helps to have a smart lawyer with you your argument. Anything different?” could have jotted down, so I could find the case he wished me to generating case. when you go into battle.” “No, your honor.” read in one of the fat hardbound Pennsylvania State Reporter “Really?” He said, blinking his eyes and pausing for a mo- He paused to chat up a fellow lawyer from another firm, “Good. Then I am ready to rule. Mr. Brown, will you please volumes, which were methodically filed in our firm’s library. ment. Quickly, he returned to business. “But, now, if I under- also walking to court. When we got to the hearing room, he step forward.” No, he needed to print them out in his own hand. And I had stand your point, your research shows the evidence might be whispered to me. “How many pages?” Brown stood still, and after a few seconds, I took his arm “better read them.” And I had “better use them.” When I actu- admissible. Explain to me again how this clear hearsay evidence “Fifteen,” I said. and helped him up to the podium. He stood beside his six foot ally filed the petition and the accompanying fifteen-page brief, I could be admissible.” “Too long.” He laughed. two inch, two hundred thirty pound lawyer. did use several of the cases Del Rico had sent “Attenson, Attor- Judge Henry Reynolds – twelve years on the bench, experi- “Remember, it’s triple-spaced. There are only two cases “Mr. Brown, I find that the calculation of your sentence by nay Paul Roberts.” Some of them, I couldn’t cite. Didn’t cite. enced, and cranky – was assigned to the case. He granted our that count. And the trial judge’s opinion was ambiguous, so it is the state was in error. “Why din’t you cite that Brooks case. Damn good case. Get petition for a full-blown hearing before the district attorney’s clearly a question of law.” I was trying my best to give him some The one hundred and fifty five days you were in the hospi- me out. And that Jennings case. ’Portant case. You in cahoots office could file a responsive brief. He no doubt saw Frank R. useful information before he read the argument for the first tal and the ninety two days you were in jail prior to your trial on with the DA, huh? That it? You in cahoots with the DA?” Stevens’ name and our firm’s blueback attached to the petition, time—out loud—and to the judge who was going to decide the armed robbery should have been subtracted from your five year He was shouting again. Standing again. Hands gripping the and knew that he had to give Frankie his day in court on behalf matter. sentence. In fourteen days time, you will have served five full table. Ready to choke me to death. of this indigent inmate. Had to. He smiled, patted my arm, then immediately walked over years. But, as Mr. Stevens eloquently put it, ‘If anyone has paid “Mr. Brown, I assure you, I am working hard and only for So, I was really not surprised when three days before the to our client, who was in his orange prison jump suit and hand- his debt to society, then you have. Therefore, it is the decision of you. I did cite the Parker case and the Sorenson case. Those hearing, Mr. Stevens phoned me and said: “Pauly, I have to cuffed. “So glad to meet you, Mr. Brown. It is a real honor. Paul this court that you are free to leave the custody of the state im- were your cases. Now, why would I cite them if I were working make that Del Rico presentation. Won’t look good if I don’t. has told me so much about you. We’re going to do fine.” mediately upon being properly processed. I understand that with the D.A?” Prepare a ten or twelve page speech for me. Make sure you have The prisoner sat there expressionless. I thought he might you will have fifty-two dollars and twelve cents coming to you He sat down again. it double-spaced and all in capital letters. I can read it better actually be in shock. How could he know what to make of this to begin your new life of freedom. I also understand from the I exhaled. that way.” smiling, balding, take-charge man, who was “honored” to meet probation office that your uncle is offering you a job at his ware- “Why not all them cases? I get up at six in the morning and “It might take me a day to get something in that kind of him and who was now going to change the man’s life?” house. Work hard. Stay out of trouble. Good luck to you.” do my law before breakfast even. Go to the prison library. We shape, Mr. Stevens.”. I shook hands with the middle-aged assistant D.A. with Del El Rico Mario Brown did not move. He did not utter a got books. And I get tips from the jail lawyers. They smart. They “Hell, Pauly, take what time you need. Just make sure I have whom I had been in contact since the petition was filed. He word. Then Frank Stevens whipped out his wallet and produced know what works.” the speech when we trot over to court.” would be arguing for the prosecution. Mr. Stevens did not shake a one hundred dollar bill. “I want to add a little something to I didn’t answer readily enough. Huh? He was not going to study it beforehand? Question the man’s hand, but simply nodded at him, as if he were an un- Mr. Brown’s bank account. Here you go.” He handed the bill to “It’s ‘bout the power, I know that. Does you think I don’t me about it? I got it to him on Tuesday afternoon at about three important nobody. The judge arrived on the bench with little the still stricken man, now massaging his wrists, first one, then know that? You guys all in cahoots.” o’clock. The hearing was set for Thursday at ten a.m. I called fanfare. “Good to see you, Mr. Stevens,” he said. “The court is the other. A policeman had quietly unlocked the handcuffs. I mostly missed the second part of his tirade because I was thee times on Wednesday, but Mr. Stevens did not return any of honored by your appearance here today.” Then he turned to the “And if there is anything I can do for you in the future,” the big- so impressed with the first part. There was a network of inmates my calls. At about five in the afternoon on Wednesday, his sec- prosecutor. “Are you ready, Mr. Davies?” Because his face was gest of big lawyers boomed, “please don’t hesitate to call.” who work at the law, trading cases and other useful information retary called to tell me her boss wanted me in his office at nine completely blank, I wondered if the lawyer had heard. I couldn’t The hundred dollars was crazy enough. But even I couldn’t about how the law can get them sprung from their jail cells and thirty the next day. He was going to read the presentation over- tell if he were amused or intimidated or just preoccupied with believe that last “throw caution to the absolute winds” state- fly away like birds on air. I was surprised. How would I know night and quiz me as we walked to the courtroom. Pretty ballsy what he was doing. “Yes, your honor,” he said. ment. Did Frankie have any idea what he was saying? I’m still such things? My law school education did not include such stuff, even for a litigator as experienced as Frank Stevens. So, I The judge did not interrupt once, but seemed to follow not sure he understood the speech he had just made, the one 06 practical information. Moreover, this fiery guy got up early in was both awed and bewildered when I arrived at his office at every word, giving an occasional shake of the head downward, which had just unshackled his client.. But it didn’t matter. Del 06 10 10 the morning and spent many hours of every day “doing his nine twenty nine the next morning to see him chatting on the as if in complete agreement. After Mr. Stevens said, “Thank El Rico Mario Brown was a free man - and had a one hundred M M U law.” I saw the proof in those fat hand printed pages, but the re- phone with a client. He hung up at about nine forty. “Do you you, your honor,” there was complete silence. and fifty two dollar and twelve cent leg up on his precarious U S ality of what it took to produce them did not quite sink into my have that speech for me?” he asked with a wink. “It’s been on The assistant district attorney rose but was frozen in posi- future. He also, apparently, had a job. I had worked every family S

E M M consciousness until then. Mr. Brown was disciplined. Mr. your desk since Tuesday,” I said. “Oh, yes, I did see it some- tion before he could approach the podium. “I have read your and probation office angle I could to get him that offer. So, for E

14 15 a mess. The judge had the power to sentence him to up to ten Brown worked very hard. where. Now, didn’t I?” He laughed, turned over some papers, brief, and am unpersuaded by it. Is there anything Mr. Stevens years; but what Judge Johnson actually did was not clear. How- “Well,” I started to explain. “Some of those cases were too then said: “You wouldn’t have another copy with you, Pauly, said that you might response to in any way that is different from ever, to Mr. Brown, what should happen was abundantly clear. easily distinguishable...” now would ‘ya?” I had six. When I gave him one, he tossed it in what is in your brief?” The poor fellow was speechless for sev- Case law, courtesy of Del Rico Brown, regularly showed up His dark eyes blazed. I started again. “They just didn’t fit. his briefcase and we left for the courthouse, two blocks away. I eral seconds.” in my mail over the next few weeks. I was doing research to You’ll have to trust me on this. I went to law school for three tried, but we just never got to talk about substance. He only “Well?” said the judge. write a brief to obtain a hearing - Del Rico was helping me. Not years to learn which ones fit and which ones don’t fit.” asked, “All caps, right?” The prosecutor cleared his throat. “Your honor, I do want that I asked. He printed in ballpoint pen in his own firm hand “Yea,” he said, but softly, not in anger. “And I be reading my “Yes, sir.” to call your attention to the words actually used by the trial on yellow legal sized paper each case that he “just knew” would cases for years too!” “And double-spaced?” judge at the sentencing in this case,” he began. help him. Sometimes the cases were forty or fifty pages long. He I knew he could be a lawyer, could have been a lawyer. I told “Triple-spaced actually. Looked easier to read.” “You did that in the brief. I read the words. I understand did not know or was somehow suspicious of the citations he that to Mr. Stevens one day, as we were talking of another, fee- “Good boy. Always helps to have a smart lawyer with you your argument. Anything different?” could have jotted down, so I could find the case he wished me to generating case. when you go into battle.” “No, your honor.” read in one of the fat hardbound Pennsylvania State Reporter “Really?” He said, blinking his eyes and pausing for a mo- He paused to chat up a fellow lawyer from another firm, “Good. Then I am ready to rule. Mr. Brown, will you please volumes, which were methodically filed in our firm’s library. ment. Quickly, he returned to business. “But, now, if I under- also walking to court. When we got to the hearing room, he step forward.” No, he needed to print them out in his own hand. And I had stand your point, your research shows the evidence might be whispered to me. “How many pages?” Brown stood still, and after a few seconds, I took his arm “better read them.” And I had “better use them.” When I actu- admissible. Explain to me again how this clear hearsay evidence “Fifteen,” I said. and helped him up to the podium. He stood beside his six foot ally filed the petition and the accompanying fifteen-page brief, I could be admissible.” “Too long.” He laughed. two inch, two hundred thirty pound lawyer. did use several of the cases Del Rico had sent “Attenson, Attor- Judge Henry Reynolds – twelve years on the bench, experi- “Remember, it’s triple-spaced. There are only two cases “Mr. Brown, I find that the calculation of your sentence by nay Paul Roberts.” Some of them, I couldn’t cite. Didn’t cite. enced, and cranky – was assigned to the case. He granted our that count. And the trial judge’s opinion was ambiguous, so it is the state was in error. “Why din’t you cite that Brooks case. Damn good case. Get petition for a full-blown hearing before the district attorney’s clearly a question of law.” I was trying my best to give him some The one hundred and fifty five days you were in the hospi- me out. And that Jennings case. ’Portant case. You in cahoots office could file a responsive brief. He no doubt saw Frank R. useful information before he read the argument for the first tal and the ninety two days you were in jail prior to your trial on with the DA, huh? That it? You in cahoots with the DA?” Stevens’ name and our firm’s blueback attached to the petition, time—out loud—and to the judge who was going to decide the armed robbery should have been subtracted from your five year He was shouting again. Standing again. Hands gripping the and knew that he had to give Frankie his day in court on behalf matter. sentence. In fourteen days time, you will have served five full table. Ready to choke me to death. of this indigent inmate. Had to. He smiled, patted my arm, then immediately walked over years. But, as Mr. Stevens eloquently put it, ‘If anyone has paid “Mr. Brown, I assure you, I am working hard and only for So, I was really not surprised when three days before the to our client, who was in his orange prison jump suit and hand- his debt to society, then you have. Therefore, it is the decision of you. I did cite the Parker case and the Sorenson case. Those hearing, Mr. Stevens phoned me and said: “Pauly, I have to cuffed. “So glad to meet you, Mr. Brown. It is a real honor. Paul this court that you are free to leave the custody of the state im- were your cases. Now, why would I cite them if I were working make that Del Rico presentation. Won’t look good if I don’t. has told me so much about you. We’re going to do fine.” mediately upon being properly processed. I understand that with the D.A?” Prepare a ten or twelve page speech for me. Make sure you have The prisoner sat there expressionless. I thought he might you will have fifty-two dollars and twelve cents coming to you He sat down again. it double-spaced and all in capital letters. I can read it better actually be in shock. How could he know what to make of this to begin your new life of freedom. I also understand from the I exhaled. that way.” smiling, balding, take-charge man, who was “honored” to meet probation office that your uncle is offering you a job at his ware- “Why not all them cases? I get up at six in the morning and “It might take me a day to get something in that kind of him and who was now going to change the man’s life?” house. Work hard. Stay out of trouble. Good luck to you.” do my law before breakfast even. Go to the prison library. We shape, Mr. Stevens.”. I shook hands with the middle-aged assistant D.A. with Del El Rico Mario Brown did not move. He did not utter a got books. And I get tips from the jail lawyers. They smart. They “Hell, Pauly, take what time you need. Just make sure I have whom I had been in contact since the petition was filed. He word. Then Frank Stevens whipped out his wallet and produced know what works.” the speech when we trot over to court.” would be arguing for the prosecution. Mr. Stevens did not shake a one hundred dollar bill. “I want to add a little something to I didn’t answer readily enough. Huh? He was not going to study it beforehand? Question the man’s hand, but simply nodded at him, as if he were an un- Mr. Brown’s bank account. Here you go.” He handed the bill to “It’s ‘bout the power, I know that. Does you think I don’t me about it? I got it to him on Tuesday afternoon at about three important nobody. The judge arrived on the bench with little the still stricken man, now massaging his wrists, first one, then know that? You guys all in cahoots.” o’clock. The hearing was set for Thursday at ten a.m. I called fanfare. “Good to see you, Mr. Stevens,” he said. “The court is the other. A policeman had quietly unlocked the handcuffs. I mostly missed the second part of his tirade because I was thee times on Wednesday, but Mr. Stevens did not return any of honored by your appearance here today.” Then he turned to the “And if there is anything I can do for you in the future,” the big- so impressed with the first part. There was a network of inmates my calls. At about five in the afternoon on Wednesday, his sec- prosecutor. “Are you ready, Mr. Davies?” Because his face was gest of big lawyers boomed, “please don’t hesitate to call.” who work at the law, trading cases and other useful information retary called to tell me her boss wanted me in his office at nine completely blank, I wondered if the lawyer had heard. I couldn’t The hundred dollars was crazy enough. But even I couldn’t about how the law can get them sprung from their jail cells and thirty the next day. He was going to read the presentation over- tell if he were amused or intimidated or just preoccupied with believe that last “throw caution to the absolute winds” state- fly away like birds on air. I was surprised. How would I know night and quiz me as we walked to the courtroom. Pretty ballsy what he was doing. “Yes, your honor,” he said. ment. Did Frankie have any idea what he was saying? I’m still such things? My law school education did not include such stuff, even for a litigator as experienced as Frank Stevens. So, I The judge did not interrupt once, but seemed to follow not sure he understood the speech he had just made, the one 06 practical information. Moreover, this fiery guy got up early in was both awed and bewildered when I arrived at his office at every word, giving an occasional shake of the head downward, which had just unshackled his client.. But it didn’t matter. Del 06 10 10 the morning and spent many hours of every day “doing his nine twenty nine the next morning to see him chatting on the as if in complete agreement. After Mr. Stevens said, “Thank El Rico Mario Brown was a free man - and had a one hundred M M U law.” I saw the proof in those fat hand printed pages, but the re- phone with a client. He hung up at about nine forty. “Do you you, your honor,” there was complete silence. and fifty two dollar and twelve cent leg up on his precarious U S ality of what it took to produce them did not quite sink into my have that speech for me?” he asked with a wink. “It’s been on The assistant district attorney rose but was frozen in posi- future. He also, apparently, had a job. I had worked every family S

14 15 the moment, he had a future. His work and discipline and per- help a fellow like that?” sistence and anger got him there. Some luck, a little magic, and “You helped him big-time a year ago.” the way the world works, all combined to do the rest. “Sure. Sure. But he needs you, not me, I’m not that dumb. Less than one year later, I received a call in my tiny Legal Mind giving him a call? Aid office. I had left Stevens and Henderson about six months “Of course not, Mr. Stevens. I’d be happy to.” This Is Not a Dream before, unable to get the Brown case out of my mind and heart, When I phoned the number I had, a little girl’s voice an- crazy as that sounded to my exasperated wife and my upwardly swered. I judged her to be nine, maybe ten years old. When I It is here: mobile, but now diminishing, list of Stev-Hen lawyer friends. A told her slowly and carefully who I was and that I was returning a tight room, brown and familiar voice boomed in my ear. “Pauly, my man, how are you? the call that Del Rico had made to Mr. Stevens, she replied ner- We miss you over here. You can come back whenever you want vously, all the words in a hurry. lighter brown, Seurat to, you know. Always need a good criminal lawyer in our kind “Ain’t nobody here by that name.” with a flat pencil point of work.” Frank Stevens laughed heartily then, like Santa Claus “Are you sure? The name is Del El Rico Mario Brown.” laughs, from the full belly up. “Ain’t nobody here by that name, mister.” plotting out squares and “I appreciated your saying that, sir. But I’m happy here, “Well, when he comes in, will you tell him to call me?” I ovals on a dresser top, doing what I can.” gave her my name and number, which I thought she actually “Good for you, my boy, good for you. Now, Pauly, the rea- might be recording on a piece of paper. thick golden curlicues son I’m calling is that my secretary tells me she took a message “You will tell him, won’t you?” I just wanted to make sure. clasping a ponderous mirror from a man, who called himself Del El Rico Mario Brown. “Yea, I’ll tell Daddy Del,” she responded, then abruptly of transparent dots, necessary Ring a bell?” hung up. to fake white, to define “Yes, sir, it sure does.” this room, “Well, he says he wants to talk with me - but, really, he wants to talk to you. I know that. What do I know that could a tight room, but not without warmth, spreading, connecting itself, unashamed of what it is;

with a door, but not a window, a garden without frost, longings one can depend on.

ANGELA CONSOLO MANKIEWICZ

06 06 10 10

M M U U S S

E M M E

16 17 the moment, he had a future. His work and discipline and per- help a fellow like that?” sistence and anger got him there. Some luck, a little magic, and “You helped him big-time a year ago.” the way the world works, all combined to do the rest. “Sure. Sure. But he needs you, not me, I’m not that dumb. Less than one year later, I received a call in my tiny Legal Mind giving him a call? Aid office. I had left Stevens and Henderson about six months “Of course not, Mr. Stevens. I’d be happy to.” This Is Not a Dream before, unable to get the Brown case out of my mind and heart, When I phoned the number I had, a little girl’s voice an- crazy as that sounded to my exasperated wife and my upwardly swered. I judged her to be nine, maybe ten years old. When I It is here: mobile, but now diminishing, list of Stev-Hen lawyer friends. A told her slowly and carefully who I was and that I was returning a tight room, brown and familiar voice boomed in my ear. “Pauly, my man, how are you? the call that Del Rico had made to Mr. Stevens, she replied ner- We miss you over here. You can come back whenever you want vously, all the words in a hurry. lighter brown, Seurat to, you know. Always need a good criminal lawyer in our kind “Ain’t nobody here by that name.” with a flat pencil point of work.” Frank Stevens laughed heartily then, like Santa Claus “Are you sure? The name is Del El Rico Mario Brown.” laughs, from the full belly up. “Ain’t nobody here by that name, mister.” plotting out squares and “I appreciated your saying that, sir. But I’m happy here, “Well, when he comes in, will you tell him to call me?” I ovals on a dresser top, doing what I can.” gave her my name and number, which I thought she actually “Good for you, my boy, good for you. Now, Pauly, the rea- might be recording on a piece of paper. thick golden curlicues son I’m calling is that my secretary tells me she took a message “You will tell him, won’t you?” I just wanted to make sure. clasping a ponderous mirror from a man, who called himself Del El Rico Mario Brown. “Yea, I’ll tell Daddy Del,” she responded, then abruptly of transparent dots, necessary Ring a bell?” hung up. to fake white, to define “Yes, sir, it sure does.” this room, “Well, he says he wants to talk with me - but, really, he wants to talk to you. I know that. What do I know that could a tight room, but not without warmth, spreading, connecting itself, unashamed of what it is;

with a door, but not a window, a garden without frost, longings one can depend on.

ANGELA CONSOLO MANKIEWICZ

06 06 10 10

M M U U S S

E M M E

16 17 years later, the adrenaline rushing through my veins as I raced 1963 on sock feet across the grass, thinking only faster, faster, faster. It’s that feeling of winning I think of now whenever I am with the Fitzgerald’s Wake MY PARENTS WERE ALWAYS TERRIFIED BACK THEN. guys, and they start talking about the days when they played foot- They whispered in their room late at night, asking each other ball, baseball, track, when they scored touchdowns, home-runs,

what they should do and how to explain it to the children. That perfect plays, way back then, once upon a time, when they were all I listened to a Fitzgerald book today. was the year my father built a bomb shelter in our basement and quick enough to save the day, win the war, and free all the prison- His language so sanguine, stocked it with soft drinks, Campbell’s soup, Dinty Moore Stew, ers. They never talk about Joe anymore. No one knows what hap- and toiletries. The shelter was a huge cement room with four pened to him. (My sister was sure she saw him once on the mall salacious, bunk beds, two space heaters, and an endless supply of Pepsi cans. downtown, but when she looked again, he was gone.) Or Ron who trying his best to obfuscate his ignorance. On the hottest summer days, we’d sneak into the basement to lost both arms. Or Mitch who is still living the war. You can’t in- enjoy Pepsi and the dank cool air, pretending the Russians were vite him to dinner without him telling you about it again and Magnanimous and obtuse, terrified by the realization that he is still dead, coming while we lay back on the moldy mattresses and stared at again and again. Forty years later, he’s still a prisoner of that war. despite rumors of resurrection. the centipedes scurrying across the cement ceiling. Sometimes we’d turn on the transistor radio that was always playing the top 10 hits like “Louie Louie”, “Surf City”, and “Sugar Shack”. My KEN BINDAS brother liked to cut out the lights and tell us that the whole world How to Fight was going up in smoke while we lay in the dark. How long till we Rooms can go back out? I would ask, feeling suddenly chilled and terri- TIGHTEN YOUR FISTS, JOE SAID. Like this. I’d never seen a fied. He said we had to wait until the gamma rays dispersed. boxing match before that night on March 8, 1971. Joe, the farm- Crushed dreams give new face hand was telling me what to expect. He said he hated Ali, the guy That could take anywhere from 3 days to two weeks. No one who refused to go to Vietnam, who took on a Muslim name, and Steal it, mash it into walnut shells, knew for sure. Someone on the radio would tell us when it was bragged and teased. He moves right quick, he said. But you brew it into crustacean casings. safe to come back out. watch. He’s don’t move quick enough. I was excited until the fight The tepid interior of Seamless floors began. In the sixth round, when Frazier knocked Ali against the soiled with fingernail bits and ropes and was pounding his head, I leaned over and threw up. fastened by cat raked furniture “That’s okay,” Joe said, mopping the floor with Lysol. “A girl give way to concrete floors Prisoner of War needs to throw up when she needs to throw up. Don’t you and stainless steel penal-ware I WANNA GO TO VIETNAM. I wanna kill a Charlie worry about a thing.” He said that he had a lot of practice in Cong. With a knife or a gun, it’s sure to be some real good fun. Vietnam, with boxing and puking both. It’s a skill you might Too many rooms to just leave If I die in combat zone, box me up and send me home, fold my need one day. You never know. Like if someone bad ever comes as small sounds ushered incident— arms across my chest and tell my mom I did my best. –Song Joe, too close. Know what I mean? And you can’t run? I know you the farmhand, sang when he was on leave from Vietnam. can’t punch. Puking is the best thing. No man wants a girl who Time—an extraneous dictator, pukes on him. Peeing is next. And shitting your pants. enveloped, disrobed, sealed. In grade school I wore POW bracelets on my skinny wrists, Wars fought too long to cease, Peace signs, bell bottom jeans, and mod boots, so tight at the “But whatever happens, Girl, don’t go still. Or silent. Don’t ever small injuries restfully lodged— toes I could barely walk in them, much less run. (Remember be like a cat in the alfalfa field. Crouching low when the mow- Nancy Sinatra singing, These boots are made for walking? ing begins. It’s like standing still or lying in the street when the Well, she was wrong.) I’d slip them off when we played Capture trucks roll in. Not making a move. You see it all the time with Spartan tranquility anesthetizes the Flag at recess and pretend that if I ran fast enough, or won, I women and cats. It’s the strangest thing. They just sit there extracts her arboreal dreams, could make Joe and my brother’s friends come home for good. when danger comes close. They don’t run. They don’t scream. 06 as she now timidly sleeps. Once I stole the red flag from the other team and raced back Even in broad daylight. It’s like they think they’re invisible. But 06 10 10 across the line just in time. Everyone circled around me as Stu- I’m telling you, Girl. Some men are like mowers, come haying M art Delaney shouted, “We won! We won! We got the commie M U MARINA VLADOVA time. It’s a lucky cat who can walk away alive.” U S flag!” I had never captured the flag before then. I don’t think S

E M M E I’d ever won anything. I can still feel the wind in my hair forty NIN ANDREWS

18 19 years later, the adrenaline rushing through my veins as I raced 1963 on sock feet across the grass, thinking only faster, faster, faster. It’s that feeling of winning I think of now whenever I am with the Fitzgerald’s Wake MY PARENTS WERE ALWAYS TERRIFIED BACK THEN. guys, and they start talking about the days when they played foot- They whispered in their room late at night, asking each other ball, baseball, track, when they scored touchdowns, home-runs,

E M M E I’d ever won anything. I can still feel the wind in my hair forty NIN ANDREWS

18 19 spotting no men on their own. The bar stood directly behind He had first noticed her at the travel agency on the ground him and he didn’t want to turn to look at it in case the character floor of the building in which he rented an office. Her desk sat was watching them. If what she said was actually true. She near the window where the afternoon sun caught the red high- THE LONELIEST MAN IN THE WORLD tended to embellish. But who didn’t? And her flights of fancy, he lights in her hair. ROBERT J. FLANAGAN recalled, were one of things that had attracted him. “You knew I was waiting for you,” he said. “Why didn’t you It struck him then that she was the one who’d given him come over? the idea for the “Life Next Door” pilot. Not consciously on her “Obviously I’m not a sensible person.” HE TOOK A FRONT TABLE IN THE LOUNGE CLOSE TO She shrugged. A drink sat on her table, something with a part, but just in being who she was. Whether telling her that Though separated, he still was married the day he stopped THE PIANO and away from a clot of tourists, gaudy as macaws pink umbrella. would please her or make her feel used, he didn’t know. in to ask her to lunch. in floral shirts. Nursing a scotch and soda he text-messaged his “Why didn’t you come here?” “So he was hitting on you?” “Then he came back,” she said, “a second effort. `You look co-writer on “Life as It Happens Next Door,” cautioning him in “You looked preoccupied. “Don’t sound so surprised,” she said. lonely,’ he told me. But I’m not, I told him.” the rewrite not to take their reality pilot so far into voyeurism “Just waiting for you,” he said. “I’m not. “I should that it turned creepy. “And all along I’ve been right here.” But—the hope not.” The balding black man in the white jacket at the white “You can’t have been there that long, I’d have noticed.” loneliest man? “The third piano toyed with “Body and Soul,” “Come Rain or Come “You want to know the last five piano pieces?” What a pathetic time he said Shine,” “Memories of Love,” adding little runs and variations, “I already know them.” pick-up line.” maybe I didn’t keeping himself interested. “So do I. `Body and Soul,’ don’t you love it?” “He wasn’t know my own He emptied his glass and again glanced at his watch. It “So, are you coming over?” trying to pick feelings.” seemed he spent more and more time lately waiting for her to “Too close to the music. I like a little distance.” me up.” “No. He ac- get dressed, although the final effect was always worth the wait. When the waitress brought his drink he tipped her, put “You just tually said As it was when she undressed. away his cell and picked up his drink. He stepped to the piano said…” that?” Behind the bar above a row of bottles was a long, narrow and folded a five into the tip glass. “Thank you, brother,” the “Not then. “That deep aquarium with neon fish weaving in and out of the wavy green man said, not looking up from the keyboard as he tapped out By then he’d down I was a ferns. Ellington’s “Mood Indigo.” given up.” lot lonelier The piano man worked his way through the chord changes He took his drink to the rear table. “You having fun?” “By then?” than I knew. of Monk’s “Well, You Needn’t.” “Here?” she asked. “He tried He could tell Looking about for service, he was surprised to see her “You’ve been somewhere else?” more than just by looking seated three tables behind him, watching him. Hands spread, he “No,” she said, “I mean here in the lounge? Or here on the once.” at me.” mimed bafflement. island?” “While I “He knows He scraped back his chair to stand just as a waitress came to “Here, spying on me.” was here?” what you’re take his order. When the girl left, he stayed put. “Was that what I was doing?” “There. I feeling even if From her table she gave him a slant smile. One of her plea- “Not just that. I see you ordered a drink.” was here, you you feel you’re sures, she’d told him early on in their relationship, was eating She shook her head. were there. He came here.” not feeling it?” alone in hotels and feeling no need to strike up a conversation, He looked at her glass, his eyebrows lifting. “Introducing himself as the loneliest…” “`You just don’t know it yet,’” he said. “`It hasn’t caught up not feeling lonely but rather private, even mysterious, and tak- “I have a drink, yes.” She shook her head. “At first he just said, hi, all alone?” to you on the conscious level. Or you’re afraid to let yourself ing pleasure in guessing what other diners might suppose about “But you didn’t get it?” “And you said?” face it.’” her. She shook her head. “I said, yes, by choice.” “At which point I hope you told him he was full of it.” Was that what she’d been doing just now? Or had she en- “Someone bought you a drink?” “To his all alone?” “Then the last time was when he called himself the loneli- joyed observing him unawares? Had she not already known She nodded. “Yes.” est man in the world. Not only because he was lonely but be- him, he wondered, what might she have imagined him to be? “No. Really? Who?” “Snappy, but not exactly true.” cause he could sense it in others. Like a drug-sniffing dog, he That he was an interesting sort? Attractive in his solitude? Or “The loneliest man in the world,” she said. “No?” said. Not that he wanted to. No. It was painful to live with. The just another marital casualty adrift in the midlife sea? “How many of those have you had?” “No. We’re here together.” only thing that helped was human company. If I could spend Holding her look, he speed-dialed her. At the “moonlight “Drinks? Just one.” 06 “Not then we weren’t.” some time with him, he said, go for a walk, talk, it would be a 06 10 sonata” ring tone she cocked her head to one side – what’s this? – “Which somebody bought –” 10 “But in general… Look, why didn’t you just join me like comfort to him.” M then dipped into a white-beaded clutch to retrieve her cell. “I said. The loneliest man –” M U any sensible person would?” “Mm-hm.” He tapped fingers on the table to Ellington’s “It “Yes?” “Right,” he said. U S “That’s what sensible people do, join you?” don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t’ Got That Swing.)” S

E M M “What are you doing over there?” Over the rim of his glass he glanced at the other tables, E “You know what I mean.” “He told me that when his mother, a true beauty, died, his

20 21 HAPPY ENDING ABBY NAPOLI

father had remarried within the year, to a plain, even homely, stools, hunched over drinks. A third stood at one end of the bar I: Wake up in the morning, stumble on my life IV: In any other world you could tell the woman. Not much to look at, he’d told his son, but good looking out a big tinted window at the swimming pool. What a horrible feeling; the feeling of losing time. No, not los- difference company.” Crowded during the day, the pool was nearly empty now. ing time, but the time that I lost. Her wide hazel eyes are now fixed straight into mine as they “What does that have to do with you?” “That’s him, the guy standing?” command me to move out of her way. Though even as they are She shrugged. She nodded. glowering, they still manage to maintain their glittery sparkle. “You’re as far from plain and homely as any woman I know.” “You’re sure?” II: And half of what I didn’t do could be different, The same, stupid self-conscious thought arises in my head “Just…company, he said, that’s all he wanted.” “Yes. Why?” would it make it better? every time I look into them. My eyes are every bit as green and She poked at the ice in her drink with the tiny umbrella. He shrugged and shut the compact. He’d pictured the char- My foot is still hovering over the pedal. I have a full tank of brown as hers. Why don’t they sparkle? “He looked so sad it made me wish there was something I acter as being closer to his own age, not someone in his thirties gas, I’m in a sports car, and there are only infinite miles of could do.” with a full head of hair. open road ahead of me, with but one diminutive stop light be- “You don’t mean go off with him?” “Did you see his eyes,” she asked, “the circles? He can’t tween me and this endless highway. And countless times the V: Don’t scream - there are so many roads left “No, but something.” sleep.” light has turned green, and just as many countless times I have “Excuse me? Yes, I am so sorry to bother you, but I am just so Heading for the exit the group of tourists swarmed about “Uh-huh.” He slid the compact across the table. “But if stood still at the light as I wait for it to turn red once more. incredibly lost.” The first pause. “Well, you see, I was told to go their table, laughing and blathering. My, what a grand time they you’d sleep with him he’d feel better.” Other cars are speeding past me; eager to move forward and and find myself, and I don’t even know what the address is.” were having! “You think he’s wrong? That you know better?” get on with their journey, and are one mile closer towards The second pause. “So do you know which path I take? I am “I could get a camera crew to follow him around,” he said. “No, no, not at all. Look, let’s just drop it, all right? I’m glad reaching their final destination. And though I desperately just so tired; these burdens that I place upon my shoulders are “Put together a reality pilot. `Adventures in Loneliness’?” you put him off, glad that we finally got together.” He drained want to accelerate ahead like the other cars, my foot doesn’t wearing me down.” The third pause. “Well, I think I am going “Don’t,” she told him. his glass. “But if you ask me, he looks sick. Like someone with a move an inch. The light exchanges from green to yellow, and to endeavor this way now anyways. It feels right, and I must He caught the tone in her voice, the way she got at times. disease.” when I finally resolve that really I should be going, my foot keep going.” The fourth pause. “And one more question: if I do Once she closed up there was no way to reach her, not even in “Loneliness,” she said. only proceeds halfway to the pedal before the light screams manage to find myself, how will I know I am there if I haven’t bed. Then even sex was nothing but more friction. “For all you know he could have the plague.” red, and I have to surrender my attempt to start the same vi- the slightest idea what I’m looking for? Can you tell me what I “Why didn’t you tell him you were with someone?” She glanced at the bar and away. cious cycle of waiting all over again. should see?” The fifth pause. “Oh yes, I have heard that it is in- “He could see that I wasn’t.” One of the things she feared most was catching a disease describable.” The first smile. “Not at the same table, but… Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t from someone. When they first began sleeping together she was believe all this went on while and I was right over there, waiting constantly worried, despite his assurances, that he might pass III: A little bit of heaven, but a little bit of hell for you.” something on to her from his wife, some sickness that neither of I look at the sky; a ribbon of pink and orange wrap around the Her eyes drifted past him, over his shoulder. them knew he had. earth and embrace it before black engulfs the day. I bring my “Wait a second. He’s not still here, is he?” Wrapping up “Caravan,” the piano man announced a head into my hands. I do not want to witness something so They snapped back to him. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, break and left the room. beautiful being conquered by such darkness. “he’s given up.” “Probably it’s rotting his brain,” he told her. “I mean, the “He’s at the bar?” loneliest man in the world -- it’s such a pathetic line. Who’d fall “Please. No heroics.” for it?” “Me? You’ve got the wrong guy.” “Lonely people.” “You’d only be protecting yourself, not me.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “Right,” he said. “Like “So he is here.” we used to be before we found each other.” As he started to turn she touched his wrist. “Here,” she She bent her head slightly; nodded, maybe. 06 06 10 said, taking a black clamshell compact from her purse and tuck- He stood. “Why don’t we go someplace else?” 10 M ing it into his palm. “Act like you have something in your eye.” She looked off in the direction of the aquarium, the win- M U Opening the compact, he held it at an angle from his face and dows, anywhere but at him. He knew what was coming and U S S

E M M maneuvered it to take in the bar. Two men sat side by side on braced himself. E

22 23 HAPPY ENDING ABBY NAPOLI

E M M maneuvered it to take in the bar. Two men sat side by side on braced himself. E

22 23 spotting no men on their own. The bar stood directly behind He had first noticed her at the travel agency on the ground him and he didn’t want to turn to look at it in case the character floor of the building in which he rented an office. Her desk sat was watching them. If what she said was actually true. She near the window where the afternoon sun caught the red high- THE LONELIEST MAN IN THE WORLD tended to embellish. But who didn’t? And her flights of fancy, he lights in her hair. ROBERT J. FLANAGAN recalled, were one of things that had attracted him. “You knew I was waiting for you,” he said. “Why didn’t you It struck him then that she was the one who’d given him come over? the idea for the “Life Next Door” pilot. Not consciously on her “Obviously I’m not a sensible person.” HE TOOK A FRONT TABLE IN THE LOUNGE CLOSE TO She shrugged. A drink sat on her table, something with a part, but just in being who she was. Whether telling her that Though separated, he still was married the day he stopped THE PIANO and away from a clot of tourists, gaudy as macaws pink umbrella. would please her or make her feel used, he didn’t know. in to ask her to lunch. in floral shirts. Nursing a scotch and soda he text-messaged his “Why didn’t you come here?” “So he was hitting on you?” “Then he came back,” she said, “a second effort. `You look co-writer on “Life as It Happens Next Door,” cautioning him in “You looked preoccupied. “Don’t sound so surprised,” she said. lonely,’ he told me. But I’m not, I told him.” the rewrite not to take their reality pilot so far into voyeurism “Just waiting for you,” he said. “I’m not. “I should that it turned creepy. “And all along I’ve been right here.” But—the hope not.” The balding black man in the white jacket at the white “You can’t have been there that long, I’d have noticed.” loneliest man? “The third piano toyed with “Body and Soul,” “Come Rain or Come “You want to know the last five piano pieces?” What a pathetic time he said Shine,” “Memories of Love,” adding little runs and variations, “I already know them.” pick-up line.” maybe I didn’t keeping himself interested. “So do I. `Body and Soul,’ don’t you love it?” “He wasn’t know my own He emptied his glass and again glanced at his watch. It “So, are you coming over?” trying to pick feelings.” seemed he spent more and more time lately waiting for her to “Too close to the music. I like a little distance.” me up.” “No. He ac- get dressed, although the final effect was always worth the wait. When the waitress brought his drink he tipped her, put “You just tually said As it was when she undressed. away his cell and picked up his drink. He stepped to the piano said…” that?” Behind the bar above a row of bottles was a long, narrow and folded a five into the tip glass. “Thank you, brother,” the “Not then. “That deep aquarium with neon fish weaving in and out of the wavy green man said, not looking up from the keyboard as he tapped out By then he’d down I was a ferns. Ellington’s “Mood Indigo.” given up.” lot lonelier The piano man worked his way through the chord changes He took his drink to the rear table. “You having fun?” “By then?” than I knew. of Monk’s “Well, You Needn’t.” “Here?” she asked. “He tried He could tell Looking about for service, he was surprised to see her “You’ve been somewhere else?” more than just by looking seated three tables behind him, watching him. Hands spread, he “No,” she said, “I mean here in the lounge? Or here on the once.” at me.” mimed bafflement. island?” “While I “He knows He scraped back his chair to stand just as a waitress came to “Here, spying on me.” was here?” what you’re take his order. When the girl left, he stayed put. “Was that what I was doing?” “There. I feeling even if From her table she gave him a slant smile. One of her plea- “Not just that. I see you ordered a drink.” was here, you you feel you’re sures, she’d told him early on in their relationship, was eating She shook her head. were there. He came here.” not feeling it?” alone in hotels and feeling no need to strike up a conversation, He looked at her glass, his eyebrows lifting. “Introducing himself as the loneliest…” “`You just don’t know it yet,’” he said. “`It hasn’t caught up not feeling lonely but rather private, even mysterious, and tak- “I have a drink, yes.” She shook her head. “At first he just said, hi, all alone?” to you on the conscious level. Or you’re afraid to let yourself ing pleasure in guessing what other diners might suppose about “But you didn’t get it?” “And you said?” face it.’” her. She shook her head. “I said, yes, by choice.” “At which point I hope you told him he was full of it.” Was that what she’d been doing just now? Or had she en- “Someone bought you a drink?” “To his all alone?” “Then the last time was when he called himself the loneli- joyed observing him unawares? Had she not already known She nodded. “Yes.” est man in the world. Not only because he was lonely but be- him, he wondered, what might she have imagined him to be? “No. Really? Who?” “Snappy, but not exactly true.” cause he could sense it in others. Like a drug-sniffing dog, he That he was an interesting sort? Attractive in his solitude? Or “The loneliest man in the world,” she said. “No?” said. Not that he wanted to. No. It was painful to live with. The just another marital casualty adrift in the midlife sea? “How many of those have you had?” “No. We’re here together.” only thing that helped was human company. If I could spend Holding her look, he speed-dialed her. At the “moonlight “Drinks? Just one.” 06 “Not then we weren’t.” some time with him, he said, go for a walk, talk, it would be a 06 10 sonata” ring tone she cocked her head to one side – what’s this? – “Which somebody bought –” 10 “But in general… Look, why didn’t you just join me like comfort to him.” M then dipped into a white-beaded clutch to retrieve her cell. “I said. The loneliest man –” M U any sensible person would?” “Mm-hm.” He tapped fingers on the table to Ellington’s “It “Yes?” “Right,” he said. U S “That’s what sensible people do, join you?” don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t’ Got That Swing.)” S

E M M “What are you doing over there?” Over the rim of his glass he glanced at the other tables, E “You know what I mean.” “He told me that when his mother, a true beauty, died, his

20 21 possibility. His grandmother’s estate at- mid-2003, Thor’s thoughts turned solely habit of scouring the Times for high so- C H A P T E R 1 1 torney and executor, who had lost three to supporting the modest if cosmopoli- ciety’s underbelly of excess in the guise friends in the Towers, quickly agreed to tan lifestyle to which he’d become ac- of largess. the emergency and loosed the vault. customed. Had it been the late seventies, Not until Thor turned fifty, in the SLEEPING IN For Thor, jobless but not income- when he’d first wanted it, Grandmoth- early autumn of 2008, before the Crash (EXCERPT) less, the nihilism of 2002 New York had er’s trust would have been adequate to took down many of his former col- SCOTT LAX led to his own 21st Century reprise of his keep him well clothed and coiffed in leagues, did he realize that his life-long 1980’s weekday nightlife and consequen- Chelsea and avoiding Wall Street. tendency for sleeping in was an asset, not DURING THE FIRST YEARS OF THE NEW MILLEN- for the Nordic Lutheran-turned-marauding heathen, which tial sleeping in. This, he relearned He’d realized that, in the bright new a character flaw. Sure, he’d missed 9-11 NIUM, Thor Ungvald asked himself how many other New is how he’d come to think of himself. He hadn’t been to quickly, was empty. It reminded because of his circadian Yorkers, especially those who lived near downtown, had slept church in a dozen years. More than once he’d cursed his Vi- him of decades earlier, when rhythm – he reckoned a through not one, but both planes hitting the Twin Towers. How king blood, and more than once he handled his guilt in the he’d walked into Studio 54 recessive gene from a cave- many others had turned off their cell phones in a Bushmill’s- only way he knew how – by plundering yet another wealthy during the daytime, months dwelling night watchman soaked stumble shortly before passing out slightly before dawn, acquaintance on the Upper West or Upper East Side. (He left after its fall from grace, and accounted for the quirk – only to awaken more than six hours after the planes hit? Thou- downtown untouched; enough damage there already, he found just another nasty bar and the consequent late- sands? A few hundred? Dozens? One or two? None? figured.) smelling of Lysol, grease and night stories at barrooms To maintain his sanity and move beyond the question Thor felt the worst about his Jewish friends, for they’d the perma-smoke of a thou- and parties that went along that he asked himself for half a decade, Thor settled on suffered as New York City had suffered, but for centuries, not sand nights. with being a survivor. Yet “none.” He was, he decided, the sole wretch who had been so merely a decade. Still, it didn’t stop him. But he was no Bernie He thus quickly aban- his advantage was that he hung over that he slept through the worst crisis in his city’s Madoff, he reasoned: he left them with their bank accounts doned this sad foray into ca- was already out of the sys- history, not to mention one of most heinous mornings in his intact, if lighter in the cash and carry department. rousing as if scraping dog shit tem and working as an old- country’s, not counting any given morning during the Civil Emotional attachment to things aside, Thor rationalized, off his shoe and hoped no one fashioned thief when the War, the Indian genocides or Pearl Harbor. the only entities that really took a hit from his thievery were would notice, much less re- Street crashed and sent his Guilt over country Thor could manage. Why worry insurance companies. They were tied into the Street, to the member seeing him step in it; past co-workers and school- about a country that, nine years after religious fanatics at- banks, and for these reasons any guilt that sneaked up on and no one did. He was too old mates into the gutters of tacked America, a waddling swarm of live-ammo, holster- Thor was giddily overcome by a quiet euphoria, as if he had to register in the brains of post- self-loathing in which he’d wearing, brick-throwing, basketball gutted, middle-aged not only tackled the star quarterback behind the line of post modern Harvard and been living part-time for American fanatics raged against a president that was one gen- scrimmage, but also forced a fumble and knocked him cold. Middlebury grads that were on seven years. eration removed from his African roots. This was as opposed In Thor’s shimmering reverie, the star quarterback was a their own decade-long bender, If nothing else, the to their own, which went back less than a hundred thousand mouth-breathing bully, especially to the girls at school. He as if by a decree that overrode Crash finally allowed him to years, when their ancestors, along with the president’s, left their deserved what he got, and Thor gave it to him. In his better any sense of Getting Serious not care about never speak- East African villages in search of one thing or another. In 2010, moments, Thor thought himself a quiet hero. Falling asleep About Life in post-9-11 Amer- ing up during the What I Thor wished the brick-throwers’ forebears had stayed put. by dawn’s sallow light, he half-dreamed that by the time the ica. And, too, Thor’s lingering Was Doing When The Between the sun-baked necks of the waddling swarm girls – who had been elusive to schoolboy Thor – tried to dignity made him invisible to Planes Crashed conversa- and the tanning bed-tinted orange mugs of their congressio- thank him, he’d be gone. So what if dark heroes like Batman the opaque, sagging, half-century and millennium, tarnished by tragedy as it tions. Now the money crowd talked nal defenders, their skin-tones were often a deeper shade than and Thor had intimacy issues? They were still heroes. older night creatures – those that hadn’t nonetheless was, his post-firing monthly about What I Was Doing When The the president’s – a fact not lost on a Thor, whose winter-white Though not having the somnambulant lure of a Bat died from powdered, pill or liquid con- stipend wasn’t enough to get him a walk- Dow Crashed, replacing 9-11 as their pigmentation turned brown easily in the summer. Something Cave, sleeping in at his loft was nothing new for Thor; he’d sumption – who still trolled behind up in Harlem, much less keep him in raison d’être for getting wasted. about a Laplander and Great-grandmother, he’d heard. been fired from Lehman seven months before that crystal fraying velvet ropes, waiting in vain for Chelsea. After Lehman kicked him to By Christmas 2008, Thor Ungvald, Thor wondered if his bitterness at the land of the free existed blue, horrific September morning. Just as his severance pay the return of the glory days of China the curb, he managed to hang on to his whose father’s father had refused to merely to lessen his guilt over profiting off those who still had had run out, 9-11 happened, and he began living off his Club and Columbus; waiting in vain, as loft by taking the odd bartending job or change his name at Ellis Island; Thor, 06 their millions – or billions. It wasn’t remorse from his heists grandmother’s modest trust fund. Grandma had instructed 06 10 it happened, for the same psychic mini- helping Geoffrey – hadn’t he been Jeff in the stubborn, hulking Norwegian who 10 from which he needed relief, rather his sense of turning on that the fund would move on to the next generation except pits of hell that they’d unearthed in the college? – do his art installations at non- had never really fit in at The Pennington M M U one’s own tribe, however marginalized he was from it. “…in the case of extreme emergency.” For Thor, a childless pre-Web era. profits that Thor had never heard of, School, or Yale, or at Salomon Brothers, U S Redemption from the sin of stealing wasn’t in the cards only child, a “next generation” was an increasingly remote His retro-recklessness quelled by even though he’d made it his Sunday and later at Lehman, was seven years S

E M M E

24 25 possibility. His grandmother’s estate at- mid-2003, Thor’s thoughts turned solely habit of scouring the Times for high so- C H A P T E R 1 1 torney and executor, who had lost three to supporting the modest if cosmopoli- ciety’s underbelly of excess in the guise friends in the Towers, quickly agreed to tan lifestyle to which he’d become ac- of largess. the emergency and loosed the vault. customed. Had it been the late seventies, Not until Thor turned fifty, in the SLEEPING IN For Thor, jobless but not income- when he’d first wanted it, Grandmoth- early autumn of 2008, before the Crash (EXCERPT) less, the nihilism of 2002 New York had er’s trust would have been adequate to took down many of his former col- SCOTT LAX led to his own 21st Century reprise of his keep him well clothed and coiffed in leagues, did he realize that his life-long 1980’s weekday nightlife and consequen- Chelsea and avoiding Wall Street. tendency for sleeping in was an asset, not DURING THE FIRST YEARS OF THE NEW MILLEN- for the Nordic Lutheran-turned-marauding heathen, which tial sleeping in. This, he relearned He’d realized that, in the bright new a character flaw. Sure, he’d missed 9-11 NIUM, Thor Ungvald asked himself how many other New is how he’d come to think of himself. He hadn’t been to quickly, was empty. It reminded because of his circadian Yorkers, especially those who lived near downtown, had slept church in a dozen years. More than once he’d cursed his Vi- him of decades earlier, when rhythm – he reckoned a through not one, but both planes hitting the Twin Towers. How king blood, and more than once he handled his guilt in the he’d walked into Studio 54 recessive gene from a cave- many others had turned off their cell phones in a Bushmill’s- only way he knew how – by plundering yet another wealthy during the daytime, months dwelling night watchman soaked stumble shortly before passing out slightly before dawn, acquaintance on the Upper West or Upper East Side. (He left after its fall from grace, and accounted for the quirk – only to awaken more than six hours after the planes hit? Thou- downtown untouched; enough damage there already, he found just another nasty bar and the consequent late- sands? A few hundred? Dozens? One or two? None? figured.) smelling of Lysol, grease and night stories at barrooms To maintain his sanity and move beyond the question Thor felt the worst about his Jewish friends, for they’d the perma-smoke of a thou- and parties that went along that he asked himself for half a decade, Thor settled on suffered as New York City had suffered, but for centuries, not sand nights. with being a survivor. Yet “none.” He was, he decided, the sole wretch who had been so merely a decade. Still, it didn’t stop him. But he was no Bernie He thus quickly aban- his advantage was that he hung over that he slept through the worst crisis in his city’s Madoff, he reasoned: he left them with their bank accounts doned this sad foray into ca- was already out of the sys- history, not to mention one of most heinous mornings in his intact, if lighter in the cash and carry department. rousing as if scraping dog shit tem and working as an old- country’s, not counting any given morning during the Civil Emotional attachment to things aside, Thor rationalized, off his shoe and hoped no one fashioned thief when the War, the Indian genocides or Pearl Harbor. the only entities that really took a hit from his thievery were would notice, much less re- Street crashed and sent his Guilt over country Thor could manage. Why worry insurance companies. They were tied into the Street, to the member seeing him step in it; past co-workers and school- about a country that, nine years after religious fanatics at- banks, and for these reasons any guilt that sneaked up on and no one did. He was too old mates into the gutters of tacked America, a waddling swarm of live-ammo, holster- Thor was giddily overcome by a quiet euphoria, as if he had to register in the brains of post- self-loathing in which he’d wearing, brick-throwing, basketball gutted, middle-aged not only tackled the star quarterback behind the line of post modern Harvard and been living part-time for American fanatics raged against a president that was one gen- scrimmage, but also forced a fumble and knocked him cold. Middlebury grads that were on seven years. eration removed from his African roots. This was as opposed In Thor’s shimmering reverie, the star quarterback was a their own decade-long bender, If nothing else, the to their own, which went back less than a hundred thousand mouth-breathing bully, especially to the girls at school. He as if by a decree that overrode Crash finally allowed him to years, when their ancestors, along with the president’s, left their deserved what he got, and Thor gave it to him. In his better any sense of Getting Serious not care about never speak- East African villages in search of one thing or another. In 2010, moments, Thor thought himself a quiet hero. Falling asleep About Life in post-9-11 Amer- ing up during the What I Thor wished the brick-throwers’ forebears had stayed put. by dawn’s sallow light, he half-dreamed that by the time the ica. And, too, Thor’s lingering Was Doing When The Between the sun-baked necks of the waddling swarm girls – who had been elusive to schoolboy Thor – tried to dignity made him invisible to Planes Crashed conversa- and the tanning bed-tinted orange mugs of their congressio- thank him, he’d be gone. So what if dark heroes like Batman the opaque, sagging, half-century and millennium, tarnished by tragedy as it tions. Now the money crowd talked nal defenders, their skin-tones were often a deeper shade than and Thor had intimacy issues? They were still heroes. older night creatures – those that hadn’t nonetheless was, his post-firing monthly about What I Was Doing When The the president’s – a fact not lost on a Thor, whose winter-white Though not having the somnambulant lure of a Bat died from powdered, pill or liquid con- stipend wasn’t enough to get him a walk- Dow Crashed, replacing 9-11 as their pigmentation turned brown easily in the summer. Something Cave, sleeping in at his loft was nothing new for Thor; he’d sumption – who still trolled behind up in Harlem, much less keep him in raison d’être for getting wasted. about a Laplander and Great-grandmother, he’d heard. been fired from Lehman seven months before that crystal fraying velvet ropes, waiting in vain for Chelsea. After Lehman kicked him to By Christmas 2008, Thor Ungvald, Thor wondered if his bitterness at the land of the free existed blue, horrific September morning. Just as his severance pay the return of the glory days of China the curb, he managed to hang on to his whose father’s father had refused to merely to lessen his guilt over profiting off those who still had had run out, 9-11 happened, and he began living off his Club and Columbus; waiting in vain, as loft by taking the odd bartending job or change his name at Ellis Island; Thor, 06 their millions – or billions. It wasn’t remorse from his heists grandmother’s modest trust fund. Grandma had instructed 06 10 it happened, for the same psychic mini- helping Geoffrey – hadn’t he been Jeff in the stubborn, hulking Norwegian who 10 from which he needed relief, rather his sense of turning on that the fund would move on to the next generation except pits of hell that they’d unearthed in the college? – do his art installations at non- had never really fit in at The Pennington M M U one’s own tribe, however marginalized he was from it. “…in the case of extreme emergency.” For Thor, a childless pre-Web era. profits that Thor had never heard of, School, or Yale, or at Salomon Brothers, U S Redemption from the sin of stealing wasn’t in the cards only child, a “next generation” was an increasingly remote His retro-recklessness quelled by even though he’d made it his Sunday and later at Lehman, was seven years S

E M M E

24 25 ahead of his freshly financially-fucked same place he lived after his net worth ach tighten. “Now my body decides to day when it’s his own time to be taken to drink Rolling Rock from the bottle, then nothing was the same, and sleeping former friends. went up by a thousand fold. The loft set its own clock?” And for the first time off the streets. and observes that Todd’s shoes are too in was something he could no longer be While those former friends were drew no attention, for just as he had since he awoke to the hours-old televi- His philanthropic urge assuaged, dressy for the rest his outfit, but doesn’t proud of while still part of that world. reeling, Thor Ungvald was stealing. Not done when he went from high six-figure sion images of the cause of the deathly Thor arrives at the soaring Upper East have the heart to tell him. He likes Mag- He passes through mid-town and the that the public knew it: the victims trader to mid-five figure trust-funder, debris-cloud outside his window nearly Side brownstone of Maggie and Todd gie and Todd, just as he’s liked nearly all lights grow brighter; Thor knows he didn’t want it publicized, and the FBI – Thor went about his life without any nine years before, Thor is afraid. Rosen for a party that promises a five-fig- of his victims. cannot go back. He hopes those he has despite the 10 MOST WANTED posters noticeable change in his behavior. That His fear lasts only a few minutes, ure take. A credit card in a small hand- As he’s being put into the FBI’s large robbed got their possessions replaced. of Usama bin Laden and nine other so- he had a streak of his grandfather’s per- because his Madame Bovary, Holly Go- bag left on a table here; a piece of jewelry blue Ford, Thor looks back at Todd, who And he begins his new plan for sleeping ciopaths in post offices and on the FBI’s verse Norse pride and practicality lightly, untold number of rappers and from the master bedroom there. holds a half-filled crystal whisky tum- in – one that, this time, will not be inter- 1990’s-platform website – gladly obliged turned out to be a gift that served him rockers mid-day schedule is, on some When Maggie went to Yale with Thor she bler and stands expressionless on the rupted by anything, not even prison. the upper crust’s penchant for anony- well in his new life. level, still a schedule. He has a body to was Maggie Hartwick. Thor has followed steps to his brownstone. Thor, in hand- mous victimhood. maintain and feed, plans to make, rou- her trajectory of Yale to NYU M.F.A., to cuffs, smiles at Todd and attempts to The New Media, in its amorphous THOR AWAKENS at seventeen min- tines to keep, alibis to fashion, a storage teaching in the inner city, to the Times wave. He doesn’t feel any anger toward idiocy, collectively thought it covered utes after one on a glorious Wednesday locker to fill, and orders to ship. wedding announcement of marrying Todd. He wants to tell Todd that he everything that mattered, yet had not afternoon in the early spring of 2010. Whatever cavern of guilt he had Todd Rosen, son of Dr. and Mrs. Irving hopes he continues to get away with his even come close to catching on to the That he has begun waking at the same carved in his soul two years ago when Rosen of New Jersey. Todd Rosen is now crimes, not because he approves of the big blond man that had stolen approxi- time has been freaking him out for he began his pillaging has been filled – an unindicted, if nervous principal of Street stealing billions from the com- mately fifteen million dollars in cash, weeks. Until recently, wake up was as his Lutheran traditions having kicked one of the Street’s biggest firms. mon folk, but because he can’t imagine jewelry and objets d’art at parties, fund- random as bedtime: it could be any in – with a sense of duty. Twisting Kant Todd opens the door. Like Thor, he incarceration for Todd. raisers, weddings and sundry gather- time after eleven AM – twelve-thirty, in the philosophical wind, Thor’s duty is in good shape physically and finan- Passing Elaine’s on the way to the ings of those whom Thor regarded two-twenty, whenever his body was to himself becomes his prison; having cially. Like Thor, he makes his living FBI headquarters downtown, Thor without contempt as Philistines. None fully rested from the pale bleak world of slept in through most of his philosophy taking things from other people. Like smiles to himself. He remembers a par- of the beautifully dressed Philistines pre-dawn Manhattan. class at Yale, he cannot remember the Thor, he has the easy smile of money and ticular bowl of tasteless pasta he ate were ever there with something as base An old-fashioned alarm clock with rest of Kant, but a vague “duty” is comfort. Unlike Thor, Todd has been there in the mid-80s but it didn’t matter as a cell phone from which to take a hour, minute and second hands on it, enough to drive him to wherever it is working closely – if reluctantly, and because he was laughing with…who was photo or do anything that could thwart sits on his bedside table; it is an alarm he’s going. sworn not to tell his wife, who did so it? He can’t recall. The FBI car moves what was once romantically known by clock he never sets. But it’s clear enough As evening approaches, he passes adore Thor in college – with the FBI. past the Park going south, and Thor tells the upper half-percent as a high society to him that after a couple of weeks that men on the sidewalk on his way uptown – Thor enters the brownstone and im- himself he’s had a good run. He’s been burglar. Wealth trusts wealth, and it’s no coincidence that wake-up is 1:17 he is too old to imagine women as Wall mediately relaxes from the overwhelm- able to sleep in – through his early Thor, though on the lower end of that PM, whether digital or analogue or not Street crooks – and Thor sees his life as ing sense of wealth: the paintings by morning classes in college, and often class, was trusted in the best way possi- looking at the clock at all. a kind of universal duty to take from famous artists, both living and dead, enough during his days on the Street, ble for him: shabby-chicly tousled and Today he checks it against his cell them that which they have taken from seem to welcome him; the intricate which seem an eternity ago. rugged, he was invited by hostesses as phone, which is no longer shut-off, but so many others. That much he knows, woodwork embraces him; the soft light- He asks himself if sleeping all day an amusement, but essentially ignored, on silent. He does not like this as much for he reads the newspaper, dutifully. ing of the eight thousand dollar lamp on on 9-11 screwed up his karma and threw which gave him time to forage for because he can see who calls while he On this fine spring afternoon, Thor the table in the hallway is like the smile off his life’s real purpose. He wonders, as treasures. sleeps – not that anyone ever does ex- walks uptown more than a hundred of an angel from heaven. he watches the Upper East Side go by, in Thor’s stolen art alone, easily cept for fences and end-customers. His blocks. Halfway he stops and walks Yet Thor is confused as he looks all its softened nighttime elegance, its fence-able to clients in the Middle East, social invitations are by paper or across Central Park. He wishes he could around: he hears no music or chattering quiet power of unlimited money and Eastern Europe and Japan, was enough e-mail. There must be some term more share the bounty he will score tonight guests, and sees no one there but Todd, privilege behind those golden windows, to not only keep in him Chelsea, but pay insidious than “loner,” Thor thinks, for with the bum that sleeps at the entrance who wears a pair of Paul & Shark jeans, if perhaps it was all meant to be, after all. for a significant housing upgrade. Yet he that indicates a kind of romantic soli- to Strawberry Fields. “Should I take his Izod sweater and John Lobb lace-ups. He got to sleep in, gloriously, covered in 06 06 10 remained in the same loft he’d once tude. In his case, it’s merely because he name and bring him a money order?” Just before Thor is knocked – somewhat the rare silk of morning slumber, oblivi- 10 tried so desperately to hold onto, the lives a lie, and a criminal one at that. he wonders. He knows he cannot; the considerately – to the floor by three FBI ous to the rest of New York – to the world – M M U same place he’d lived before he had fig- One-seventeen. “Fucking satellite bum would rat him out to the cops in a agents, with two more holding guns to that was so very busy being productive. U S ured out his new line of work, and the time,” Thor thinks. He feels his stom- heartbeat to avoid jail on some other his head, he wonders if Maggie still likes And then that world was destroyed, and S

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26 27 ahead of his freshly financially-fucked same place he lived after his net worth ach tighten. “Now my body decides to day when it’s his own time to be taken to drink Rolling Rock from the bottle, then nothing was the same, and sleeping former friends. went up by a thousand fold. The loft set its own clock?” And for the first time off the streets. and observes that Todd’s shoes are too in was something he could no longer be While those former friends were drew no attention, for just as he had since he awoke to the hours-old televi- His philanthropic urge assuaged, dressy for the rest his outfit, but doesn’t proud of while still part of that world. reeling, Thor Ungvald was stealing. Not done when he went from high six-figure sion images of the cause of the deathly Thor arrives at the soaring Upper East have the heart to tell him. He likes Mag- He passes through mid-town and the that the public knew it: the victims trader to mid-five figure trust-funder, debris-cloud outside his window nearly Side brownstone of Maggie and Todd gie and Todd, just as he’s liked nearly all lights grow brighter; Thor knows he didn’t want it publicized, and the FBI – Thor went about his life without any nine years before, Thor is afraid. Rosen for a party that promises a five-fig- of his victims. cannot go back. He hopes those he has despite the 10 MOST WANTED posters noticeable change in his behavior. That His fear lasts only a few minutes, ure take. A credit card in a small hand- As he’s being put into the FBI’s large robbed got their possessions replaced. of Usama bin Laden and nine other so- he had a streak of his grandfather’s per- because his Madame Bovary, Holly Go- bag left on a table here; a piece of jewelry blue Ford, Thor looks back at Todd, who And he begins his new plan for sleeping ciopaths in post offices and on the FBI’s verse Norse pride and practicality lightly, untold number of rappers and from the master bedroom there. holds a half-filled crystal whisky tum- in – one that, this time, will not be inter- 1990’s-platform website – gladly obliged turned out to be a gift that served him rockers mid-day schedule is, on some When Maggie went to Yale with Thor she bler and stands expressionless on the rupted by anything, not even prison. the upper crust’s penchant for anony- well in his new life. level, still a schedule. He has a body to was Maggie Hartwick. Thor has followed steps to his brownstone. Thor, in hand- mous victimhood. maintain and feed, plans to make, rou- her trajectory of Yale to NYU M.F.A., to cuffs, smiles at Todd and attempts to The New Media, in its amorphous THOR AWAKENS at seventeen min- tines to keep, alibis to fashion, a storage teaching in the inner city, to the Times wave. He doesn’t feel any anger toward idiocy, collectively thought it covered utes after one on a glorious Wednesday locker to fill, and orders to ship. wedding announcement of marrying Todd. He wants to tell Todd that he everything that mattered, yet had not afternoon in the early spring of 2010. Whatever cavern of guilt he had Todd Rosen, son of Dr. and Mrs. Irving hopes he continues to get away with his even come close to catching on to the That he has begun waking at the same carved in his soul two years ago when Rosen of New Jersey. Todd Rosen is now crimes, not because he approves of the big blond man that had stolen approxi- time has been freaking him out for he began his pillaging has been filled – an unindicted, if nervous principal of Street stealing billions from the com- mately fifteen million dollars in cash, weeks. Until recently, wake up was as his Lutheran traditions having kicked one of the Street’s biggest firms. mon folk, but because he can’t imagine jewelry and objets d’art at parties, fund- random as bedtime: it could be any in – with a sense of duty. Twisting Kant Todd opens the door. Like Thor, he incarceration for Todd. raisers, weddings and sundry gather- time after eleven AM – twelve-thirty, in the philosophical wind, Thor’s duty is in good shape physically and finan- Passing Elaine’s on the way to the ings of those whom Thor regarded two-twenty, whenever his body was to himself becomes his prison; having cially. Like Thor, he makes his living FBI headquarters downtown, Thor without contempt as Philistines. None fully rested from the pale bleak world of slept in through most of his philosophy taking things from other people. Like smiles to himself. He remembers a par- of the beautifully dressed Philistines pre-dawn Manhattan. class at Yale, he cannot remember the Thor, he has the easy smile of money and ticular bowl of tasteless pasta he ate were ever there with something as base An old-fashioned alarm clock with rest of Kant, but a vague “duty” is comfort. Unlike Thor, Todd has been there in the mid-80s but it didn’t matter as a cell phone from which to take a hour, minute and second hands on it, enough to drive him to wherever it is working closely – if reluctantly, and because he was laughing with…who was photo or do anything that could thwart sits on his bedside table; it is an alarm he’s going. sworn not to tell his wife, who did so it? He can’t recall. The FBI car moves what was once romantically known by clock he never sets. But it’s clear enough As evening approaches, he passes adore Thor in college – with the FBI. past the Park going south, and Thor tells the upper half-percent as a high society to him that after a couple of weeks that men on the sidewalk on his way uptown – Thor enters the brownstone and im- himself he’s had a good run. He’s been burglar. Wealth trusts wealth, and it’s no coincidence that wake-up is 1:17 he is too old to imagine women as Wall mediately relaxes from the overwhelm- able to sleep in – through his early Thor, though on the lower end of that PM, whether digital or analogue or not Street crooks – and Thor sees his life as ing sense of wealth: the paintings by morning classes in college, and often class, was trusted in the best way possi- looking at the clock at all. a kind of universal duty to take from famous artists, both living and dead, enough during his days on the Street, ble for him: shabby-chicly tousled and Today he checks it against his cell them that which they have taken from seem to welcome him; the intricate which seem an eternity ago. rugged, he was invited by hostesses as phone, which is no longer shut-off, but so many others. That much he knows, woodwork embraces him; the soft light- He asks himself if sleeping all day an amusement, but essentially ignored, on silent. He does not like this as much for he reads the newspaper, dutifully. ing of the eight thousand dollar lamp on on 9-11 screwed up his karma and threw which gave him time to forage for because he can see who calls while he On this fine spring afternoon, Thor the table in the hallway is like the smile off his life’s real purpose. He wonders, as treasures. sleeps – not that anyone ever does ex- walks uptown more than a hundred of an angel from heaven. he watches the Upper East Side go by, in Thor’s stolen art alone, easily cept for fences and end-customers. His blocks. Halfway he stops and walks Yet Thor is confused as he looks all its softened nighttime elegance, its fence-able to clients in the Middle East, social invitations are by paper or across Central Park. He wishes he could around: he hears no music or chattering quiet power of unlimited money and Eastern Europe and Japan, was enough e-mail. There must be some term more share the bounty he will score tonight guests, and sees no one there but Todd, privilege behind those golden windows, to not only keep in him Chelsea, but pay insidious than “loner,” Thor thinks, for with the bum that sleeps at the entrance who wears a pair of Paul & Shark jeans, if perhaps it was all meant to be, after all. for a significant housing upgrade. Yet he that indicates a kind of romantic soli- to Strawberry Fields. “Should I take his Izod sweater and John Lobb lace-ups. He got to sleep in, gloriously, covered in 06 06 10 remained in the same loft he’d once tude. In his case, it’s merely because he name and bring him a money order?” Just before Thor is knocked – somewhat the rare silk of morning slumber, oblivi- 10 tried so desperately to hold onto, the lives a lie, and a criminal one at that. he wonders. He knows he cannot; the considerately – to the floor by three FBI ous to the rest of New York – to the world – M M U same place he’d lived before he had fig- One-seventeen. “Fucking satellite bum would rat him out to the cops in a agents, with two more holding guns to that was so very busy being productive. U S ured out his new line of work, and the time,” Thor thinks. He feels his stom- heartbeat to avoid jail on some other his head, he wonders if Maggie still likes And then that world was destroyed, and S

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