Morris Perlmutter's front parlor represented an eclectic taste, and the
fine arts had been liberally patronized in its decoration. On the wall
hung various subjects in oil, including still life, landscapes, marine
scenes and figures, all of which had been billed to Morris by a
Fourteenth Street dealer as:
8/12 dozen assorted oil paintings @ $96 $64
8/12 dozen shadow boxes for paintings @ 12 8
___
$72
But it was not at the oil paintings that B. Rashkin gazed. His eyes
sought instead the framed and glazed certificate of membership of Morris
Perlmutter in Harmony Lodge 41, Independent Order Mattai Aaron.
"Them very people hold the mortgage, Mr. Perlmutter," Rashkin said, "and
with the influence what you got it in the order, why----"
"Lookyhere, Rashkin," Perlmutter interrupted, "you're a real estater,
and if you don't get up at eight o'clock then you get up at nine, and
it's all the same; but me, I am in the cloak business, and I got to get
downtown at seven o'clock, and so I'm going to tell you again what I
told it you before. Go and see Abe to-morrow, and put this proposition
up to him like it was something you never told me nothing about,
y'understand? Then if he makes the suggestion to me, Rashkin, I would
say all right. Because if it should be me what would make the suggestion
to him, y'understand, he wouldn't have nothing to do with it. And even
if he should consent to go into it, and if we lost money on the deal,
Rashkin, I wouldn't never hear the end of it."
Rashkin nodded and seized his hat.
"All right," he said, "I will do what you say, Mr. Perlmutter. But with
them three lots it's like this: they're owned by----"
Morris yawned with a noise like a performing sea lion.
"Tell it to Potash to-morrow, Rashkin," he said, and led the way to the
hall door.
Accordingly the next morning Rashkin entered the salesroom of Potash &
Perlmutter, where Abe was scanning the "Arrival of Buyers" column in the
Daily Cloak and Suit Record.
"Good morning, Mr. Potash," B. Rashkin said. "Ain't it a fine weather?"
"Oh, good morning," Abe cried.
"You don't know my face, do you?" Rashkin said.
"I know your face," Abe said, "but your name ain't familiar. I guess I
seen you in Seattle, ain't it?"
B. Rashkin nodded. He had never been farther West than Jersey City
Heights.
"Well, how is things in Seattle, Mister--er----"
"Rashkin," B. Rashkin supplied.
"Rashkin?" Abe went on, and then he paused, but not for an answer.
"Rashkin--why, I don't know no one from that name in Seattle."
"No?" Rashkin replied. "Well, the fact is, Mr. Potash, I ain't come to
see you about Seattle. I come to see you about three lots up in Two
Hundred and Sixty-fourth Street."
The urbane smile faded at once from Abe's face and gave place to a
dark scowl.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "a real estater. I ain't got no time to fool away
with real estaters."
"This ain't fooling away your time, Mr. Potash," Rashkin said. "Let me
explain the proposition to you."
Without waiting for permission he at once divulged the object of his
visit, while Abe listened with the bored air of an unemployed leading
man at a professional matinee.
"Yes, Mr. Potash," B. Rashkin concluded, after half an hour's
conversation, "I seen it bargains in my time, but these here lots is the
biggest bargains yet."
"Vacant lots ain't never bargains, Rashkin," Abe commented. "What's the
use from vacant lots, anyway? A feller what's got vacant lots is like I
would say I am in the cloak business if I only get it an empty store
with nothing in it."
Abe glanced proudly around him at the well-stocked racks, where the new
season's goods were neatly arranged for prospective buyers.
"But the real-estate business ain't like the cloak business, Mr.
Potash," B. Rashkin said.
"Real estate!" Abe interrupted. "Vacant lots ain't no real estate,
Rashkin. Vacant lots is just imitation real estate. You couldn't say you
got it real estate when you only got vacant lots, no more as a feller
what buys a gold setting could say he's got it a diamond ring."
"Diamonds is something else again," said B. Rashkin. "I ain't no judge
of diamonds, Mr. Potash, but about real estate, Mr. Potash, I ain't no
fool neither, y'understand, and these here three lots what I talk to you
about is the only three vacant lots in the neighborhood."
"Might you think that's a recommendation, maybe, Rashkin," Abe replied,
"but I don't. You come around here to try to sell it me a couple of
lots, and you got to admit yourself they're stickers."
"They ain't stickers, Mr. Potash," B. Rashkin protested.
"No?" Abe said. "What's the reason they ain't stickers, Rashkin? If they
ain't stickers why ain't somebody built on 'em?"
"You don't understand," B. Rashkin explained. "Them lots is an estate
that was in litigation, and it's only just been settled up; so that they
couldn't sell 'em no matter who would want to buy 'em. Now I got 'em to
entertain an offer of eighty-three thirty-three apiece, or twenty-five
thousand for the three lots, all cash above a blanket mortgage of ten
thousand dollars held by the Independent Order Mattai Aaron. I seen it
also Milton M. Sugarman, the attorney for the I. O. M. A., and he tells
me that they would probably be agreeable to make a building loan on them
lots of twenty-five thousand on each thirty-seven six front."
"That don't interest me none neither," Abe replied, "because I ain't in
the building business, Rashkin; I am in the cloak and suit business."
"Sure, I know," said Rashkin; "but this is an opportunity which it
wouldn't occur again oncet in twenty years."
"Don't limit yourself, Rashkin," Abe retorted. "Make it fifty years.
It's all the same to me, because I wouldn't touch it, Rashkin."
"But, Mr. Potash," Rashkin broke in, "if your partner, Mr. Perlmutter,
would be agreeable, wouldn' you consider it?"
"What's the use asking me hypocritical questions, Rashkin?" Abe replied.
"Mawruss would no more touch it as I would. You don't know what a crank
I got it for a partner, Rashkin. If I would just hint that I wanted to
buy real estate, y'understand, that feller would go all up in the air.
And even if he would buy it with me yet, and we should lose maybe a
little money, I would never hear the end of it. That's the way it goes
with a feller like Mawruss Perlmutter, Rashkin."
B. Rashkin put on his hat and rose sadly.
"Well, Mr. Potash," he concluded, "all I can say is you lost a splendid
opportunity. Why, if I could only get it a feller to take over one of
them thirty-seven six parcels, I would buy the other one myself and put
up a fine building there?"
"I'm sure I ain't stopping you, Rashkin," Abe said. "Go ahead and build,
and I wish you all the luck you could want; and if you should get
somebody else to take the other one and a half lots, I wish him the same
and many of 'em. Also, Rashkin, if I was a real estater I would be glad
to fool away my time with you, Rashkin, but being as I am in the cloak
business I--you ain't going, Rashkin, are you?"
Rashkin answered by banging the door behind him and Abe repaired to the
cutting-room, where Morris Perlmutter was superintending the reception
and disposal of piece goods.
"Who was that salesman you was talking to a while ago, Abe?" he asked
innocently.
"That wasn't no salesman, Mawruss; that was a loafer," Abe replied.
"A loafer!" Morris said. "He didn't look like a loafer, Abe. He looked
like a real estater."
"Well, Mawruss," said Abe, "to me a real estater looks like a loafer,
especially, Mawruss, when he comes around with a bum proposition like he
got it."
"What for a proposition was it, Abe?" Morris asked.
"Ask me!" Abe exclaimed. "That real estater gives me a long story about
some vacant lots, and an estate, and the Independent Order Mattai Aaron,
and a lot more stuff what I don't believe the feller understands about
himself."
"But there you was talking to that real estater pretty near an hour,
Abe, and you couldn't even tell it me what he wants at all," Morris
protested.
"To tell you the truth, Mawruss," Abe replied, "I ain't interested in
what real estaters says. Real estaters, insurance canvassers and book
agents, Mawruss, is all the same to me. They go in by one ear and come
out by the other."
"Why, for all you know, Abe, the feller would have maybe some big
bargains."
"If you are looking for bargains like that feller got it, Mawruss," Abe
retorted, "you could find plenty of 'em by green-goods men. If you give
me my choice between gold bricks and vacant lots, Mawruss, I would say
gold bricks."
Morris turned away impatiently.
"What do you know about real estate, Abe?" he cried.
"Not much, Mawruss," Abe admitted, "but I know one thing about gold
bricks, Mawruss: you don't got to pay no taxes on 'em."
That evening B. Rashkin again presented himself at the One Hundred and
Eighteenth Street residence of Morris Perlmutter, and with him came
Isaac Pinsky, of the firm of Pinsky & Gubin, architects. Mr. Pinsky had
a roll of blue-prints under his arm and a strong line of convincing
argument at the tip of his tongue, and the combination proved too much
for Morris. Before Rashkin and Pinsky left that evening, Morris had
undertaken to purchase a plot thirty-seven feet six inches by one
hundred feet, adjacent to a similar plot to be purchased by Rashkin.
Moreover, he and Rashkin engaged themselves to erect two houses, one on
each lot, from the plans and specifications that Pinsky held under his
arm. Each house was to be identical with the other in design,
construction and material, and an appointment was then and there made
for noon the next day at the office of Henry D. Feldman, attorney at
law, for the purpose of more formally consummating the deal.
Thus, when Morris entered the show-room the next morning it became his
duty to break the news to his partner, and he approached Abe with a
now-for-it air. "Well, Abe," he said, "you was wrong."
"Sure, I was, Mawruss," Abe replied amiably. "With you I am always
wrong. What's the matter now?"
"You was wrong about that feller Rashkin," Morris explained. "He was up
to my house last night, and put the same proposition up to me what he
told it you yesterday, and the way I figure it, Abe, we would make money
on the deal."
"I ain't so good on figures what you are, Mawruss," Abe replied. "All I
can figure is I got enough to do to attend to my own business, Mawruss,
without going into the building business."
"But we wouldn't got to go into the building business, Abe," Morris
protested. "All we got to do is to put down eight thousand dollars for
the lot. Then the I. O. M. A. makes us a building loan of twenty-five
thousand dollars. Rashkin's got plans and specifications drawn by Pinsky
& Gubin, a first-class, A Number One archy-teck concern, for which he
wouldn't charge us nothing, and then, Abe----"
He paused to fix Abe's attention before finishing his explanation.
"And then, Abe," he continued, "we hire my Minnie's brother, Ferdy, what
knows the building business from A to Z, to build it the house for us.
All we would got to do is to put up the four thousand apiece, Abe, and
when the house is finished Rashkin says we could sell it like a flash."
"I never sold a flash, Mawruss," Abe said; "and, anyhow, Mawruss, while
I ain't saying nothing about your Minnie's family, y'understand, if I
would got to go into a deal with a horse-thief like Ferdy Rothschild,
y'understand, I would take my money first and deposit it for safety with
some of them fellers up in Sing Sing. Such a show I should have of
getting it back, Mawruss."
"Lookyhere, Abe," Morris said, "before you would make some cracks about
my Minnie's family, how about your Rosie's brother, the one what----"
"S'all right, Mawruss," Abe broke in. "I ain't saying my wife's brother
is so much, neither. This is the way I feel about a feller's wife's
brother: If he got a little money then he treats you like a dawg,
Mawruss, and if he's broke, y'understand, then your wife gives him all
your cigars and ties, and if you should happen to have the same size
neck, Mawruss, then all your life you are buying collars and shirts for
two. No, Mawruss, I ain't got no confidence in anybody's wife's brother,
especially, Mawruss, if a feller should make it a dirty failure like
Ferdy Rothschild did and then takes all the money and blows it in on the
horse-races."
"That's from old times already," Morris protested. "To-day he's a
decent, hard-working feller, Abe, and for two years he's been working
for the Rheingold Building and Construction Company. What he don't know
about putting up tenement houses, Abe, ain't worth knowing."
"And what I don't know about putting up tenement houses, Mawruss," Abe
said, "would fill one of them Carnegie Libraries, Mawruss; and also,
furthermore, Mawruss, I don't want to know nothing about it, neither.
And also, Mawruss, if you should stand there and talk to me all day it
wouldn't make no difference. If you want to build tenement houses,
Mawruss, you got my permission; but you could leave me out. I got my own
troubles with cloaks."
Morris rose.
"All right, Abe," he said. "I give you your chance, Abe, and you
wouldn't take it."
"What d'ye mean, Mawruss?" Abe asked.
"I mean, Abe, that I will go into this alone by myself, and only one
thing I beg of you, Abe: don't come to me in six months' time and claim
that I wouldn't let you in on a good thing. I have done my best."
The air of simple dignity with which Morris delivered his ultimatum was
marred to some extent by a raucous laugh from Abe.
"Don't do me no favors, Mawruss," he jeered. "All I got to say is that
if I was you, Mawruss, I would get this here archy-teck and B. Rashkin,
and also your brother-in-law, Ferdy, together, and I would make 'em an
offer of settlement for, say, three thousand dollars, Mawruss. Because
the way I figure it out, this thing would stand you in as much money as
that and a whole lot of worry, too."
"You shouldn't be so generous with your advice, Abe," Morris retorted.
"Oh, I don't charge you nothing for it, Mawruss," Abe said, as he turned
to the "Arrival of Buyers" column, and, for lack of appropriate
rejoinder, Morris snorted indignantly and banged the show-room door
behind him.
For the remainder of the afternoon Abe's face wore a malicious grin. It
was there when Morris left to keep his appointment at Henry D. Feldman's
office, and when he returned four hours later the malice, if anything,
had intensified.
"Well, Mawruss," Abe cried, "I suppose you fixed it all up?"
"It don't go so quick, Abe," Morris replied. His manner was as cheerful
as only that of a man who has struggled hard to repress a fit of violent
profanity can be--for the meeting at Henry D. Feldman's office had been
fraught with many nerve-racking incidents. _Imprimis_, there had been
Feldman's retainer, a generous one, and then had come the discussion of
the building-loan agreement with Milton M. Sugarman, attorney for the
I. O. M. A.
Feldman assured Morris that it was customary for the borrower to pay the
fees of the attorney for the lender, incidental to drawing and recording
the necessary papers, and Morris had also learned that the high premiums
of insurance for the building to be erected would come out of his
pocket. Moreover, he had seen B. Rashkin credited with commissions for
bringing about Morris' purchase of the lot, and for the first time he
had ascertained that he also owed B. Rashkin two hundred and fifty
dollars commission for procuring a building loan from the I. O. M. A.
So far he reckoned that his investment exceeded B. Rashkin's by a
thousand dollars, and when he considered that B. Rashkin would be his
own superintendent of construction, while he, Morris, would be obliged
to hire Ferdy Rothschild, at a compensation of seven hundred and fifty
dollars, to perform that same office for him, Abe's advice appeared too
sound to be pleasant.
"No, Abe," he said, "it don't go so quick. I got another appointment for
next week."
Abe grunted.
"All I got to say, Mawruss," he commented, "you shouldn't forget you are
a partner in a cloak and suit business."
"Don't worry," Morris replied; "you wouldn't let me forget that, Abe."
He strode off toward the cutting-room and once more Abe resumed his
fixed grin.
It must be confessed that through the entire six months of his building
operations Morris maintained a stoic calm that effectually hid the storm
raging within his breast. All the annoyances incidental to building a
house were heaped on Morris, and both he and Rashkin, equally, suffered
petty blackmail at the hands of the attorney and the architect for the
building-loan mortgagee.
In the meantime Abe's grin gained in breadth and malice, and on more
than one occasion Morris had foregone the pleasure of assaulting his
partner only by the exercise of remarkable self-control.
"Do me the favor, Abe," he said at length, "and let me in on this joke."
"It ain't no joke, Mawruss," Abe replied. "I thought you found that out
already."
"If you mean the house, Abe," Morris answered, "all I got to say is
that, if there should be any joke about it, Abe, the joke is on you, for
that house is pretty near finished."
"I'm glad to hear it, Mawruss," Abe said. "I suppose Ferdy Rothschild
did it a good job on the house."
"Sure, he did," Morris said.
"He didn't get no rake-offs from material men or nothing, Mawruss.
What?" Abe asked.
"Rake-offs!" Morris cried. "What d'ye mean by that?"
"I mean I seen it Gussarow, the glass man, on the subway last night,
Mawruss," Abe explained, "and he says that for every pane of glass what
went into your house, Mawruss, Ferdy Rothschild gets his rake-off."
"Well, what do I care?" Morris retorted. "If Gussarow could stand it,
Abe, I can."
"Gussarow can stand it all right, Mawruss," Abe said reassuringly. "All
he's got to do is to put it on the bill."
"Well, if he put it on my bill, Abe," Morris replied, "he also put it on
Rashkin's bill, because him and me bought the same building material all
the way through, and I wouldn't pay no bills till I saw that Rashkin
don't get charged less as I do."
This was conclusive, and Abe's grin relaxed for several inches, nor did
it resume its normal width until some days later when Morris began to
negotiate for his permanent mortgage loan. Once Morris remonstrated with
him for his levity.
"Must you go around looking like a crazy idiot, Abe?"
"I must got to laugh, Mawruss," Abe protested, "when I seen it Sam
Feder, of the Kosciusko Bank, this morning, and he tells it me you got a
permanent mortgage from the I. O. M. A. He says Milton M. Sugarman told
him you got it ahead of Rashkin, because you got influence as a lodge
brother of Sugarman."
"Sure, I did," Morris admitted.
"And then, Mawruss," Abe went on, "Rashkin hears that the I. O. M. A. is
going to make you a permanent loan, so he goes to see Sugarman too."
"That's right," Morris agreed.
"And he says to Sugarman that so long as Sugarman is got to search the
title to your house he wouldn't have to search the title to Rashkin's
house, because both houses stands on the same piece of property. So he
makes a proposition that if Sugarman would charge him only a hundred
dollars he would put in an application by the I. O. M. A. for a
permanent loan. Otherwise he would get it from a life-insurance
company."
Morris nodded ironically.
"And Sugarman says he would do it, I suppose," he broke in. "No, Abe,
Sugarman ain't built that way. It costs me five hundred dollars for that
loan, Abe."
"I know it did, Mawruss," Abe said, "and Feder says that Sugarman told
him he charges you five hundred dollars, and so he don't want to be a
hog, Mawruss, and, therefore, he closes with Rashkin for a hundred and
fifty."
Morris' jaw dropped and he stared at Abe.
"Furthermore, Mawruss," Abe went on, "Rashkin comes in to see Feder the
other day and tells Feder he would be glad to make a quick turn. And he
tells Feder that house stands him in eight thousand dollars cash and he
would be glad to sell it for forty-four five, all cash above the new
first mortgage of thirty-three thousand."
Morris nodded.
"But, Abe," he croaked, "how could he do that? Reckoning all the
mortgages and everything, and what I invested and paid out for building
material over and above the building loan, that house stands me in just
eleven thousand two hundred and fifty dollars cash. If I would come out
even on that house I got to sell it for forty-five seven-fifty, and I
reckoned on forty-seven thousand as a fair price for the house."
"Sure, you did," Abe said cheerfully.
"And how that feller, Rashkin, could claim that his house stands him in
eight thousand dollars cash is more as I could understand, Abe," Morris
said. "Because while I know it I spent for commissions and for Ferdy
Rothschild a couple thousand more as Rashkin, Abe, our building material
cost the same, Abe."
"Sure it did--on the bills, Mawruss," Abe replied; "but Gussarow says
that of course he don't know nothing about the other material men, but
when he sends the bill to you he also sends the same bill to Rashkin,
and when you send him a check for your bill, Ferdy Rothschild gets five
per cent. Also Rashkin sends Gussarow a check for his bill with five
per cent. discount, and Ferdy Rothschild _schmiers_ Rashkin a
twenty-dollar note, and that's the way it goes."
Morris sat down in the nearest chair and blinked helplessly at Abe.
"What do you think for a couple of crooks like that, Abe?" he croaked.
"What do I think, Mawruss?" Abe repeated. "I think that one of 'em is a
brother-in-law, Mawruss, and the other is a real estater, Mawruss, and
that's a bad combination."
"But I could make 'em arrested, Abe?" Morris declared, "and, by jimminy,
I will do it, too."
Abe shrugged.
"You couldn't do that, Mawruss," he said, "because in the first place,
Mawruss, your Minnie wouldn't stand for it; and in the second place,
them two fellers would fix up a fine story between 'em and the judge
would let 'em go. And then, Mawruss, they would turn around and go to
work and sue you for false arresting; and the first thing you know,
Mawruss, it would stand you in a couple of thousand dollars more."
Morris nodded sadly.
"I believe you're right, Abe," he murmured.
"Sure, I'm right, Mawruss," Abe said; "and also, Mawruss, while I
wouldn't want to say nothing to make you feel worse already, I got to
say, Mawruss, that if you would believe I was right six months ago yet,
you wouldn't got to believe I was right now."
Morris nodded again. He was thoroughly crushed, and he looked so
appealingly at his partner that Abe was unable to withhold his comfort
and advice.
"Lookyhere, Mawruss," he said, "a feller's got to make a mistake
sometimes. Ain't it? And if he didn't get stuck for a couple of thousand
dollars oncet in a while he wouldn't know the value of his money. Ain't
it? But as this thing stands now, Mawruss, I got an idee you ain't stuck
so bad as what you think."
"No?" Morris said. "Why ain't I, Abe?"
"Well, Mawruss, I'll tell you," Abe began, with no clear conception of
how he would finish. "You know me, Mawruss; I ain't a feller what's got
a whole lot to say for myself, but I ain't got such bad judgment,
neither, Mawruss."
"I seen fellers with worser judgment as you, Abe," Morris said.
Abe could not forbear a stare of astonishment at this grudging
admission.
"At last you got to admit it, Mawruss," he cried; "but anyhow, Mawruss,
go ahead and finish up this here permanent-mortgage-loan business, and
then, Mawruss, I will do all I can to help you out."
Morris rose to his feet.
"Well, Abe," he began in shaking tones, "I must got to say that I----"
"Lookyhere, Mawruss," Abe broke in savagely, "ain't we fooled away
enough time here this morning? Just because you got your troubles with
this here building, Mawruss, ain't no reason why we shouldn't attend to
business, Mawruss."
He handed Morris a black cigar, and as they started for the cutting-room
they gave vent to their pent-up emotions in great clouds of comforting
smoke.
The next fortnight was fraught with so many disagreeable experiences for
Morris that he appeared to age visibly, and once more Abe was moved to
express his sympathy.
"You shouldn't take on so, Mawruss," he said, the morning after the
permanent loan was closed. "The first thing you know, Mawruss, you will
be getting a nervous break-up, already."
"I bet yer I would get a nervous break-up, Abe," Morris agreed. "If you
would be me, Abe, you would get a nervous break-up, too. In the first
place, Abe, I got to pay them suckers--them archy-tecks, Pinsky & Gubin,
a hundred dollars before they would give it me their final certificate,
and then, Abe, I got to _schmier_ it a feller in the tenement-house
department another hundred dollars. And then, Abe, I told it them other
two crooks what I thought of 'em, Abe, and you ought to hear the way
that horse-thief talks back to me, already."
"Horse-thief!" Abe said. "Which one, Mawruss?"
"That Ferdy Rothschild, Abe," Morris continued. "So sure as I stand
here, Abe, if that feller wouldn't be my wife's brother, I would make
for him a couple blue eyes he wouldn't forgot so quick."
"With a feller like that, Mawruss," Abe said, "you shouldn't bother
yourself at all. If you make a lowlife bum a couple blue eyes, he will
make you also a couple blue eyes, maybe, and that's all there is to it,
Mawruss. But when you make it a crook like Ferdy Rothschild a couple
blue eyes, then that's something else again. Such a _schwindler_ like
him, Mawruss, would turn right around and sue you in the courts yet for
damages, and the first thing you know you are stuck for a couple
thousand dollars."
"Well, I am through with him, anyhow," Morris replied, "so we wouldn't
talk no more about him. A dirty dawg like him, Abe, ain't worth
a--a----" He was searching his mind for a sufficiently trivial standard
of comparison when Abe interrupted him.
"I thought you wasn't going to talk about him, Mawruss," he said; "and,
anyhow, Mawruss, what's the use talking about things what is past
already? What we got to do now, Mawruss, is to sell that house."
"I know it, Abe," Morris replied ruefully, "but how are we going to sell
that house with B. Rashkin going around offering to sell the identical
same house for forty-four five? If I would be lucky enough to get
forty-five seven-fifty for mine, Abe, I would still be out several
hundred dollars."
"You talk foolish, Mawruss; you would get forty-seven thousand, sure,
for that house."
"Would I?" Morris cried. "How would I do that?"
"Leave that to me," Abe replied.
He put on his hat and coat.
"Where are you going, Abe?" Morris asked.
Abe waggled his head solemnly.
"You shouldn't ask me, Mawruss," he said. "I got an idee."
It was a quarter to twelve when Abe left the loft building on Nineteenth
Street, and he repaired immediately to the real-estate salesroom on
Vesey Street, where auction sales of real estate are held at noon daily.
To this center of real-estate activity comes every real-estate broker of
the East Side, together with his brothers from Harlem and the Bronx, and
Abe felt reasonably sure that B. Rashkin would be on hand.
Indeed, he had hardly entered the salesroom when he descried B. Rashkin
standing on the outskirts of a little throng that surrounded the rostrum
of a popular auctioneer.
"Now, gentlemen," said the auctioneer, "what am I offered for this
six-story, four-family house. Remember, gentlemen, it is practically new
and stands on a lot forty by a hundred."
"Forty thousand," said a voice at Abe's elbow.
"Come, gentlemen," the auctioneer cried, "we ain't making you a present
of this house, exactly. Do I hear forty-one? Thank you, sir. At
forty-one--at forty-one--at----"
Abe sidled up to B. Rashkin and in firm tones he made the next bid.
"Forty-one five," he said.
"Forty-one five," the auctioneer repeated, and B. Rashkin turned to
look at the bidder. He started visibly as he recognized Abe, who
bowed coldly.
"Why, hallo, Mr. Potash," Rashkin exclaimed. "I didn't know you was in
the market for property."
"Why not?" Abe said.
"Well, on account you got a partner who----"
"You don't got to rub it in, Mr. Rashkin," Abe interrupted. "If my
partner did know a good thing when he seen it, Mr. Rashkin, I don't need
to be reminded of it."
"A good thing!" Rashkin said in puzzled accents. "Why, I ain't----"
He stopped in time and forced himself to smile amiably.
"Yes, Mr. Rashkin," Abe went on, as he imperceptibly edged away from the
crowd. "Would you believe it, that feller tells me this morning he's got
already a fine offer for the house?"
"You don't tell me," Rashkin said as they approached one of the
salesroom doors. He too was edging away from the crowd and congratulated
himself that Abe had made no further bid. "I'm glad he should get it.
For _mein_ part, Mr. Potash, I would be glad to sell my house, too."
Here he made a rapid mental calculation and arrived approximately at
the price that would yield Morris a profit.
"I had myself an offer of forty-six seven-fifty for my house, Mr.
Potash," he hazarded.
Abe was ostentatiously surprised.
"So!" he said, with an elaborate assumption of recovering his composure.
"Yes, Mr. Potash," Rashkin went on. He was beginning to feel that the
figure was too low. "That's the offer I received and I wouldn't take a
cent less than forty-eight."
"Let me see," Abe mused, as they paused in front of a bakery and
lunchroom a few doors down the street. "You got a first mortgage
thirty-three thousand dollars, and that would give you a pretty big
equity there, Mr. Rashkin."
"Wouldn't you come inside and take maybe a cup of coffee, Mr. Potash?"
Rashkin suggested.
"I shouldn't mind if I will," Abe said; and they entered the bakery
together. "Would you want all cash above the mortgage, Mr. Rashkin?"
"Just now, Mr. Potash," Rashkin replied, "I want a little something to
eat. Give me a piece of _stollen_ and a cup of coffee."
"Milk separate?" the waitress asked.
B. Rashkin nodded haughtily and then turned to Abe.
"What will you have, Mr. Potash?" he asked.
"Give me also a cup of coffee and a tongue sandwich," he announced to
the waitress.
"White or rye bread?" said the waitress.
"Rye bread," Abe replied.
"We ain't got no rye bread; I could give you a roll sandwich," she
declared solemnly.
"All right, give me a roll tongue sandwich," Abe concluded, and once
more addressed B. Rashkin.
"Of course you would take back a second mortgage, Mr. Rashkin," he said.
"Well, I might take two or three thousand dollars, a purchase-money
mortgage, but no more," Rashkin replied, as the waitress returned
empty-handed.
"Rolls is all out," she said. "I'll have to give you white bread."
"All right," Abe replied.
"Did you say Swiss cheese or store cheese?" she inquired mildly.
"Tongue!" Abe and B. Rashkin roared with one voice.
"Well, don't get mad about it," the waitress cried, as she whisked away
toward the coffee urns.
"I'll tell you the truth, Mr. Potash," B. Rashkin continued. "I give
that house to a number of real estaters, already, and I'm considering a
good offer from a feller what Ferdy Rothschild brings me. The feller
makes me a fine offer, Mr. Potash, only he wants me to take back a
second mortgage of five thousand dollars; and I told Ferdy Rothschild if
he could get his customer to make it all cash above a second mortgage of
three thousand dollars I would consider it. Ferdy says he expects his
customer in to see him this afternoon, already, and he will let me know
before I go home to-night."
In this rare instance B. Rashkin was undergoing the novel experience of
speaking the truth only slightly modified, for that very morning Ferdy
Rothschild had produced a purchaser who was willing to pay forty-six
thousand dollars for Rashkin's house. This deal the purchaser proposed
to consummate by taking the property subject to a first mortgage of
thirty-three thousand dollars, by executing a second mortgage of seven
thousand dollars, and by paying the six thousand balance of the purchase
price in cash.
B. Rashkin had told Ferdy that if the customer would agree to pay eight
thousand five hundred dollars in cash and to reduce the second mortgage
proportionately, the deal would be closed; and Ferdy had promised to let
him know during the afternoon.
"Lookyhere, Rashkin," Abe said at length, "what's the use beating bushes
around? You know as well as I do that me and my partner don't get along
well together, and I would like to teach that sucker a lesson that he
shouldn't monkey no more with real estate, y'understand. I'll tell you
right now, Rashkin, I would be willing to lose maybe a couple hundred
dollars if I could get that house from you and sell it to the feller
what makes the offer to Mawruss Perlmutter."
"You and Perlmutter must be pretty good friends together," Rashkin
commented. "But, anyhow, I am perfectly willing to help you all I can,
because when a feller practically calls you a bloodsucker and a
horse-thief, Mr. Potash, naturally you don't feel too friendly toward
him. But one thing I _got_ to say, Mr. Potash, and that is I couldn't
sell my house for a penny less than forty-eight thousand dollars."
Abe put down his cup of coffee and stared at Rashkin.
"That's a lot of money, Mr. Rashkin," Abe said, "and that would mean
pretty near twelve thousand cash."
B. Rashkin nodded calmly and Abe pondered for a moment.
"Well, Rashkin," Abe said, "I am willing I should spend some money,
y'understand, and so I would make you this offer: Would you give me an
option on the house at forty-eight thousand for two weeks, supposing I
paid you, we will say, two hundred dollars?"
Rashkin shook his head.
"We will say then two hundred and fifty dollars," Abe said; but Rashkin
declined.
Immediately they commenced to bargain vigorously, and at intervals of
five minutes each modified his price for the option, until half an hour
had expired, when they met at four hundred dollars.
"All right," B. Rashkin cried, "let us go and see Milton M. Sugarman and
draw up the option."
"I am agreeable," Abe said; "any lawyer could draw it up, so far as I am
concerned."
They rose from the table without leaving the customary nickel for the
waitress and, as they passed out of the door, she glared after them and
indignantly adjusted her pompadour with both hands.
"Pipe them two high-livers," she hissed to the waitress at the next
table. "I knew them guys was going to pass me up as soon as I laid me
eyes on 'em."
She heaved a tremendous sigh.
"Y'orter heard the roar they put up about a tongue sandwich," she said.
"Ain't it funny, Kitty, how tightwads is always fussy about their feed?"
When Abe returned to his place of business a couple of hours later, he
found Morris adding up figures on the back of an envelope.
"Well, Abe," Morris cried, "what's new about the house?"
"I'll tell you what's new, Mawruss," Abe replied. "Just add four hundred
dollars to them figures on that envelope, and you'll find out what that
house costs you up to date."
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind what I mean, Mawruss," Abe said. "I'll tell you later what I
mean. The thing is now, Mawruss, I got to know one thing and I got to
know it quick. Where could I find this here lowlife brother-in-law of
yours?"
"Let me see," said Morris. "It's already two o'clock, so I guess, Abe,
you would be liable to get him in the back room of Wasserbauer's Cafe.
Him and a feller by the name Feinson and that lowlife Rabiner plays
there auction pinochle together."
"But ain't he got no office, Mawruss?" Abe asked.
"Sure, he's got an office," Morris replied. "He's got it desk-room
with a couple of real estaters on Liberty Street, Abe. Look him up
in the telephone book. He's got a phone put in too, Abe, with my
money, I bet yer."
Abe consulted the telephone book and again put on his hat.
"Where are you going now, Abe?" Morris asked.
"I'm going down to Ferdy Rothschild's office," Abe replied.
"But you wouldn't find him in, Abe," Morris protested.
"I hope not," Abe replied; and for the second time that day he left his
place of business and boarded a downtown L train.
Ferdy Rothschild's office was tucked away in an obscure corner of a
small office building on Liberty Street, and as Abe plodded wearily up
three flights of stairs he overtook a short, stout gentleman headed in
the same direction.
"A feller what's got his office on the top floor of a back-number
building like this," said the exhausted traveler, "should keep it
airships for his customers."
"I bet yer," Abe gasped, as they reached the landing together, and
then in silence they both walked side by side to the office of
Ferdy Rothschild.
Abe opened the door and motioned his companion to enter first, whereat
the stranger nodded politely and walked into the office.
"Is Mr. Rothschild in?" he said to the office-boy, who was the sole
occupant of the room.
"Mr. Rothschild, now, telephoned," the boy replied, "and he says, now,
that if a guy comes in by the name of Marks to tell him he should wait."
"Did he say he would be right in?" Mr. Marks asked.
"No," the boy answered, "but he'll be in soon, all right."
"How do you know that?" Abe asked.
"Because, now, I heard him tell the other boys that he wouldn't set no
longer time limit," the boy replied; "but he says he'd play four more
deals and then he'd quit. See?"
Mr. Marks looked at Abe and broke into a laugh.
"That's a fine lowlife for you," he said. "That feller tells me I should
be here at three o'clock sharp and he fools away my time like this."
Abe nodded.
"What could you expect from a feller like that?" Abe commenced, and then
broke off suddenly--"but excuse me. He may be a friend of yours."
"_Gott soll hueten_," Mr. Marks replied piously. "All I got to do with
him is that he brings me a proposition I should buy a piece of property
which he got it to sell."
"That's a funny thing," Abe said. "I came here myself about a piece of
property what I just bought, and I understand he tried to sell the
property for the feller what I bought it from."
Abe took the option from his breast pocket and opened it on his knee,
while Mr. Marks glanced at it furtively, not unnoticed by Abe, who aided
his companion's inspection by spreading out the paper until its contents
were plainly visible.
"Why!" Mr. Marks cried. "Why, that is the house what this here
Rothschild said he would sell it me."
Abe looked up sharply.
"You don't say so?" he said. "How could he sell you that house when I
got this here option on it this morning for forty-eight thousand
dollars?"
"Forty-eight thousand dollars!" Mr. Marks exclaimed. "Why, he says I
could buy it for forty-six thousand dollars."
Abe laughed with forced politeness.
"Well, if you could of got it for forty-six thousand you should of took
it," he said. "I want forty-nine thousand for it."
It was now Mr. Marks' turn to laugh.
"You couldn't get forty-nine thousand for that house," he said, "if the
window-panes was diamonds already."
"No?" Abe retorted. "Well, then, I'll keep it, Mister----"
"Marks," suggested Mr. Marks.
"Marks," Abe went on. "I'll keep it, Mr. Marks, until I can get it, so
sure as my name is Abe Potash."
"Of Potash & Perlmutter?" Mr. Marks asked.
"That's my name," Abe said.
"Why, then, your partner owns yet the house next door!" Mr. Marks cried.
"That ain't no news to me, Mr. Marks," Abe said. "In fact, he built that
house, Mr. Marks, and I got so tired hearing about the way that house
rents and how much money he is going to get out of it that I bought the
place next door myself."
"But ain't that a funny thing that one partner should build a house and
the other partner shouldn't have nothing to do with it?" Mr. Marks
commented.
"We was partners in cloaks, Mr. Marks, not in houses," Abe explained.
"And I had my chance to go in with him and I was a big fool I didn't
took it."
Mr. Marks rose to his feet.
"Well, all I can say is," he rejoined, "if I got it a partner and we was
to consider a proposition of building, Mr. Potash, we would go it
together, not separate."
"Yes, Mr. Marks," Abe agreed, "if you had it a partner, Mr. Marks, that
would be something else again, but the partner what _I_ got it, Mr.
Marks, you got no idee what an independent feller that is. I can assure
you, Mr. Marks, that feller don't let me know nothing what he is doing
outside of our business. For all I would know, he might of sold his
house already."
"You don't mean to say that his house is on the market, do you?" Marks
said sharply.
"I don't mean to say nothing," Abe replied, as he started to leave. "All
I mean to say is that I am tired of waiting for that lowlife Rothschild,
and I must get back to my store."
"Wait a bit; I'll go downstairs with you," Marks broke in.
As they walked down to the elevated road they exchanged further
confidences, by which it appeared that Mr. Marks was in the furniture
business on Third Avenue, and that he lived on Lenox Avenue near One
Hundred and Sixteenth Street.
"Why, you are practically a neighbor of Mawruss Perlmutter," Abe cried.
"Is that so?" Mr. Marks said, as they reached the elevated railway.
"Yes," Abe went on, "he lives on a Hundred and Eighteenth Street and
Lenox Avenue."
"You don't say so?" Mr. Marks replied. "Well, Mr. Potash, I guess I got
to leave you here."
They shook hands, and after Abe had proceeded half-way up the steps to
the station platform he paused to observe Mr. Marks penciling an address
in his memorandum book.
When he again entered his show-room Morris had just hung up the
telephone receiver.
"Yes, Abe," he said, "you've gone and stuck your feet in it all right."
"What d'ye mean?" Abe asked.
"Ferdy Rothschild just rung me up," Morris explained, "and he says you
went down to his office while he was out, and you seen it there a feller
what he was going to sell Rashkin's house to, and you went and broke up
the deal, and that he will sue you yet in the courts."
"Let him sue us," Abe said. "All he knows about is what the office-boy
tells him. I didn't break up no deal, because there wasn't no deal to
bust up, Mawruss."
"Why not?" Morris asked.
"Because if the deal was to sell Rashkin's house," Abe explained,
"Rothschild ain't in it at all, because I myself is the only person what
could sell that house."
He drew the option from his breast pocket and handed it to Morris, who
read it over carefully.
"Well, Abe," Morris commented, "that's only throwing away good money
with bad, because you couldn't do nothing with that house in two weeks
or in two years, neither."
"I know it," Abe said confidently, "but so long as I got an option on
that house nobody else couldn't do nothing with it, neither. And so long
as Rashkin ain't able to undersell you, Mawruss, you got a chance to get
rid of your house and to come out even, Mawruss. My advice to you is,
Mawruss, that you should get a hustle on you and sell that house for
the best price you could. For so sure as I sit here, after this option
expires, and Rashkin is again offering his house at forty-five thousand,
you would be positively stuck."
"I bet yer I would be stuck, Abe," Morris agreed. "But I ain't going to
let no grass grow on me, Abe. I will put in an ad. in every paper in New
York this afternoon, and I'll keep it up till I sell the house."
"Maybe that wouldn't be necessary, Mawruss," Abe said, with a twinkle in
his eye.
"What d'ye mean?" Morris asked.
Whereupon, Abe unfolded at great length his adventures of the day,
beginning with his meeting B. Rashkin at the Real-Estate Exchange, and
concluding with Mr. Marks' penciled memorandum of Morris' address.
"And now, Mawruss," Abe concluded, "you seen the position what I took
it, and when that feller Marks calls at your house to-night you should
be careful and not make no cracks. Remember, Mawruss, you got to tell
him that as a partner I am a crank and a regular highbinder. Also,
Mawruss, you got to tell him that if I wasn't held by a copartnership
agreement I would do you for your shirt, y'understand?"
Morris nodded.
"I know you should, Abe," he said.
"What!" Abe roared.
"I mean I know I should," Morris explained; "I know I should tell this
here Marks what you say."
Abe grew calm immediately, but he left further tactics to Morris'
discretion; and when Mr. Marks called at the latter's house that evening
Morris showed that he possessed that discretion to a degree hardly
equaled by his partner.
"Yes, Mr. Marks," he said, after he had seated his visitor in the
easiest chair in the front parlor and had supplied him with a good
cigar, "it is true that I got it a house and that the house is on the
market for sale."
He paused and nodded sadly.
"But I also got it a partner, Mr. Marks, and no doubt you heard already
what a cutthroat that feller is. I assure you, Mr. Marks, that feller
goes to work and gets an option on the house next door which you know is
identical the same like my house is. Yes, Mr. Marks, he gets an option
on that house for forty-seven thousand five hundred dollars from the
feller what owns it, when he knows I am already negotiating to sell my
house for forty-seven seven-fifty."
This willful misstatement of the amount of the option produced the
desired result.
"Did you seen it the option?" Marks asked cautiously.
"Well, no, I ain't seen it, but I heard it on good authority, Mr.
Marks," he said, and allowed himself two bars' rest, as the musicians
say, for the phrase to sink in.
"Yes, Mr. Marks, on good authority I heard it that Potash pays five
hundred dollars for a two-weeks' option at forty-seven thousand five
hundred dollars."
"Forty-seven thousand five hundred dollars?" Marks said with a rising
inflection.
"Forty-seven thousand five hundred," Morris replied blandly, "and I
guess he got a pretty cheap house, too."
"Well, I ain't got the same opinion what you got," Marks retorted. "I
got an opinion, Mr. Perlmutter, that your partner pays a thousand
dollars too much for his house."
"Is that so?" Morris replied, and then and there began a three-hours'
session which terminated when they struck a bargain at forty-seven
thousand dollars. Ten minutes later Marks left with a written memorandum
of the terms of sale on his person while Morris pocketed a similar
memorandum and fifty dollars earnest money.
The next morning an executory contract of sale was signed in Henry D.
Feldman's office, and precisely two weeks later Mr. Marks took title to
Morris' property which, after deducting all expenditures, netted its
builder a profit of almost two thousand dollars. This sum Morris
deposited to the credit of the firm account of Potash & Perlmutter, and
hardly had the certified check been dispatched to the Kosciusko Bank
when the door opened and Rashkin and Ferdy Rothschild burst into the
show-room.
"Bloodsucker!" Rashkin cried, shaking his fist under Abe's nose. "What
for you didn't take up your option?"
Abe stepped back hurriedly and put a sample table between himself and B.
Rashkin.
"Must I take it up the option?" he said calmly. "Couldn't I let you keep
it the four hundred dollars if I wanted to?"
Rashkin looked at Ferdy Rothschild.
"That's a fine murderer for you. What?" he exclaimed.
"Him, I ain't surprised about," Ferdy Rothschild replied, "but when a
feller should do his own wife's brother out of a commission of four
hundred and sixty-five dollars, Rashkin, what a heart he must have it.
Like a piece of steel."
"Don't talk that way, Ferdy," Morris commented, without emotion. "You
make me feel bad. I got lots of consideration for you, Ferdy, after the
way you treated me already. Yes, Ferdy, I think a whole lot of you,
Ferdy. You could come to me with your tongue hanging out from hunger
yet, and I wouldn't lift a little finger."
Ferdy turned and appealed to B. Rashkin.
"Ain't them fine words to hear from my own brother-in-law?" he said.
"Nobody compels you to stay here and listen to 'em, Rothschild," Abe
interrupted. "And, anyhow, Rothschild, you could make it more money if
instead you stayed here you would go downtown to Henry D. Feldman's
office and sue this here Rashkin in the courts for your commission. I
was telling Feldman all about it this morning, and he says you got it a
good case."
"Rothschild," Rashkin cried pleadingly, "where are you going?"
"You shouldn't talk to me," Rothschild answered. "Potash is right. I
brought this here Marks to you and he was ready and willing to purchase
at your terms, and so, therefore, you owe me a commission of four
hundred and sixty-five dollars."
The next moment he banged the door behind him and five minutes later he
was followed by B. Rashkin, who had filled that short space of time with
an exhaustive and profane denunciation of Potash & Perlmutter,
individually and as copartners.
Five days afterward Morris examined the list of real-estate conveyances
in the morning paper, after the fashion of the reformed race-track
gambler who occasionally consults the past performances of the day's
entries.
He handed the paper to Abe and pointed his finger to the following item:
264th St. 2044 East 37.6 x 100.10; Baruch Rashkin to the Royal
Piccadilly Realty Co. (mtg $33,000), $100.
"That's only a fake," Abe said. "I seen in the paper yesterday that
Rashkin incorporated the Royal Piccadilly Realty Company with his wife,
Goldie Rashkin, as president; and I guess he done it because he got
scared that Rothschild would get a judgment against him. And so he
transfers the house to the corporation."
"But if he does that, Abe," Morris cried gleefully, "Ferdy Rothschild
would never collect on that judgment, because that house is all the
property Rashkin's got."
"I hope you don't feel bad about it, Mawruss," Abe said.
"I bet yer I feel terrible, Abe," Morris said ironically. "But why did
Rashkin call it the Royal Piccadilly Realty Company, Abe?"
"For the sake of old times yet," Abe answered. "I hear it from Sol
Klinger that before Rashkin busted up in the waist business he used to
make up a garment called the Royal Piccadilly."
"Is that so?" Morris commented. "I never heard he busted up in the waist
business, Abe. Why couldn't he make a go of it, Abe?"
"Well, Mawruss, it was the same trouble with him like with some other
people, I know," Abe replied significantly. "He was a good manufacturer
but a poor salesman; and you know as well as I do, Mawruss, any fool
could make up an article, Mawruss, but it takes a feller with judgment
to sell it."