_Business Deals_
Bright and early next morning, along about half past ten o'clock, which
is bright and early for New York, I is at Mr. Simons' offices down on
Broadway. I sends my name in to him by a white boy which is on guard in
an outside room amongst a lot of gold railings. In lessen no time at all
the word comes back that I is to walk right in. I walks in and I finds
Mr. Simons setting behind the largest desk that ever I seen, in a room
mighty near big enough for a church. He acts like he's glad to see me
again and he invites me for to have a seat and tell him what's on my
mind because, he says, he found my conversation the day previous to be
most edifying and helpful.
So I says to him, I says:
"Boss, I wants to ast you a question an' 'pun yore answer depends
whither or no I'm goin' ast you a favor lakwise?"
"Shoot," he says.
I says:
"The question comes fust, w'ich it is ez follows: Ef you is earnest
'bout goin' into the mekin' of cullid pitchers fur cullid audiences, lak
you told me yistiddy, I desires please, suh, to know w'en you aims to
give out yore plans to the public at large th'ough the newspapers?"
He says:
"Pretty soon, I guess--just as soon as I get the scheme sort of shaped
up. Why--did you want a job when we open up?"
"Naw suh, not 'at so much," I says. "I got a stiddy job now, valettin'
fur Mr. Dallas Pulliam. But I has a right smart extra time on my hands
an' I is been kind of figgerin' on mebbe doin' a little somethin' on the
side in my sparin' hours. An' so, whut I 'specially craves to know frum
you is whether, w'en you gits ready, you intends fur to 'nounce yore
plans in the cullid papers yere in this town?"
"Well," he says, "I hadn't thought of it before. But if it would mean
anything to you I'd see to it, personally, that it was done and also
that in the press notices your name was mentioned in a complimentary way
as having given us valuable aid and advice--something of that sort. I
suppose you'd like to be put in a favorable light among your friends.
Well, I don't blame you. I'm somewhat addicted to printers' ink myself.
Was that the favor you wanted to ask of me?"
"Yas suh," I says, "in a way it 'tis an' then again, in a way, it
'tain't. Yere's the idee, boss: I wants to know frum you befo'hand, ef
you please, w'en you perposes to mek the 'nouncemint 'cause on 'at
se'f-same day they'll be 'nother 'nouncemint in the cullid papers
settin' fo'th 'at the new firm of Poindexter & Petty 'spectfully desires
to state 'at they is openin' a bookin'-agency fur cullid movin'-pitcher
actors in the neighborhood an' 'at lakwise also, in connection wid it, a
school fur trainin' cullid folks how to ack fur the screen will later on
be added on."
He rears back in his chair and sort of smiles to himself, quiet-like.
"Oh, I see," he says. "I congratulate you on being wide-awake, anyhow.
But," he says, "what do you know about training people to act for the
screen?"
"Well, suh," I says, "I wuz aimin' to pick up a few p'inters yere an'
thar fur future use. An' ef the wust comes to the wust," I says, "I kin
get me a pair of these yere tall yaller leather leggin's an' a megaphome
an' ack influential an' mebbe I could thar'by git by," I says.
"Some of the white directors are getting by with about that much
equipment," he says. "Perhaps you could, too. Well, anyhow, the venture
has my best wishes for its success. I can promise you a little more than
that: It's probable that later on I can throw some business in your
way."
"Thanky, suh, mos' kindly," I says. "'At wuz mainly whut I wuz hopin'
fur."
"Do you need any funds to help you out in financing your undertaking?"
he says.
"Naw suh, I thinks not," I says. "I got some ready cash on hand an' my
partner he's goin' put in a amount ekel to whut I risks. Ef I needs any
more on top of 'at, I aims to ast Mr. Dallas Pulliam fur a small loan."
Then I tells him we lives at the Wheatley Court so he can write to me
there as soon as he is ready to proceed ahead, and I bids him good-bye
and goes back on up-town with hope singing inside of me like one of
these here yellow-breast field-larks down home.
It turns out though it's a good thing we don't need no borrowed capital
from Mr. Dallas' pocketbook at the outsetting because in lessen two
months from that time Old Miss Bad Luck starts shooting at him with the
scatter-gun of trouble, both barrels at once.
Which I will go into full details about all that mess the next time I
takes my pen in hand.