Goldberg Street (3 page)

Many will say “Where have you . . . where have you been?”

The rage that they feel at
not
having been there will express itself in . . . doomed to loneliness, then, many will deny the fact of love. If you will. In Australia we heard that returning troops, taunted with innuendos of our own men opened fire on them.

Men from the Great War. Sitting in a garden, Years, or thought they did . . . remembering what? Our own George
Patton,
who slapped that Jewish Boy . . . your
wives . . .

Your . . . on return, who would cry “Embrace Me.” Or “Share your thoughts with me. Share . . . your innermost being.”

In a happier time.

Governed by Code.

A man would compartmentalize his life. Now: in a world ruled by war. Vast and horrific weapons, they tell us, loom on the horizon. Huge bombs capable of destroying a City Block. We have seen gas, and the machine gun, and
tanks.
(
Pause
.) And armored . . .

Once, arms swathed, a faceplate, young men fought for Honor. In the Dueling Schools, and once, in Japan, where day and night, wrong and right, a man and his State, his God, his conscience were distinct . . . but not now. And when you go home you will find things have changed.

Be of good faith with your faith. Trust in God.

The things which you see, which transpire, are
real.
Though they are frightening, and we may say that
you
are the apparition. As you are. Locked in a prison. Locked . . . one day as any day the concerns of that day obliterate . . . remember: at your death you will say
happiness
was just those days. Friendship, comradeship, camaraderie, love, competition . . . in an orderly . . . this saying: What is
constant
in the world?
I
am.

A pause. He takes his seat. The
M.C.
stands behind the podium.

M.C.:
Thank you. (
Pause
.) Thank you. (
Pause
.) I think that's . . . oh! We have ann . . . ?

Assistant: Yes.

M.C.:
We have announcements.

Assistant
(
Stands at his place
): Several of you have asked about the picnic.

You are free to bring whomever you like. They need
not . . .

M.C.:
. . . the price includes the . . .

Assistant:
. . . yes. The price is for you and a friend. You must . . .

M.C.:
. . .
any
friend, that would be . . .

Assistant:
. . . your
wife,
your
sweetheart.
A friend, an acquaintance,
any
. . . but you must, as there is the one ticket, you must present it
together.

M.C.:
. . . at the . . .

Assistant:
. . . at . . .

M.C.:
. . . at the Gate.

Assistant:
At the gate. Yes.

M.C.:
Now: We:

Assistant:
One more.

M.C.:
I'm sorry.

Assistant:
We've been given an opportunity to buy . . . you

saw the list on the board . . . many items of surplus from Bartell.

He's giving us twenty percent off—the list price is on the board. You have ‘til the first, and I
urge
you, if you've looked at the list, take advantage of this, it's a once-in-a-lifetime offer.

From the floor.

Questioner II
: What's on the list?

Assistant:
The whole “K” series.

Questioner II
: And the “102"?

Assistant:
You'll have to check, but I believe it is. (
To
M.C.:) Alright.

M.C.
: Did you . . . ?

Assistant:
Oh
. (
Pause
.) (
Checks papers
.)

The family of John Murray . . . many of you knew John. John died in South America with the Green Division last month
.
(
Pause.
)

Katy has asked that we, to those who knew him—we have a list of his personal effects . . . (
He refers to list.
) His battle ribbons, a . . . his Zippo lighter with a crest of the One Hundred Ninth . . . .His Browning Hi-Power . . . which I believe is the one which he carried in Africa.

(
Pause.
)

Many of you who knew him . . . (
Pause.
) Who . . . (
Pause.
) Well. The list is on the board, the items are for sale. The proceeds go to his family. Thank you. (
He sits.
)

M.C.
: To you all;
thank
you all. For making this the success it has been.

Let us say, as we always say:

Good Luck, Good Weather,

Bright at Dawn.

We step where those have stepped before.

A Happy Heart.

Strong shoulders to the wheel.

What is the password?

All:
Answer to the Call.

M.C.:
What is the Call?

All:
Willing to serve.

M.C.
(
Arranging his papers
): Until we meet again.

The Spanish Prisoner

One

A:
I have never met a beach bum who is interesting.

Their life is devoted to rest.

B:
Nothing wrong with rest.

A:
No. There is nothing wrong with rest. And there is nothing wrong with French pâté. I do not like it. There is a time in one's life one learns to say this:
balance,
as a principle of nature, is attractive and we see it is essential and we see it is a primal force, that all things
tend
toward rest. As I get older I see also for those who
cannot
eschew the world another force is
personality
—personality, which is to say not,
not
those quirks, those random . . .
shiftings
caused by tension—not those extraneous . . . those dissipations of our energy, our silver cig, our cigarette cases, our our our our inabilities our (
Pause
.) Our . . . our . . . there is a point where we cannot confront our longings—our desire turns
inward,
and we then begin, we, to dissimulate. Our poses with the smoke, a silken dressing gown, the smoke rising, as in a photo in the nineteen . . . there are other things; we say “genetic,” learned, I don't know . . . sages said culture is not, it is not biologically inheritable. I always thought that that was trash. I did not find it true.
Today
they say: perhaps it is, and a whole
area
. . . the whole of, say, a certain culture, or or, culture, or . . . or . . . anthropology . . . all our life we were taught to escape the teachings of our senses and accept a . . . to accept a . . .
unimpassioned
view of the world. (
Pause
.) In which we live so short a time . . . and called this
science.
And we raised it. On an
altar,
and we died from it, while the world . . . (
Pause.
) And I was saying there is something else which I call “personality” which is the, if we say we are put here to, as bees in a hive, to build a, to
cooperate
. . . and if we say nature has not
deserted
us, and if we use our senses and look at the world, of which we are a part, and whose laws we are subject to, then we see this: that there
is
order; that we are a
part
of it—(how little and in spite of our . . .

B:
. . . our inabilities . . .

A:
. . . as little as we can discern it . . . ) And as
bees
are separated by their traits, so are
we—
(
Pause
.) One, so, for
this
. . . Another for
that
. . . Building, planning, (
Pause.
) Dreaming. In this hell in which we live. Where we have warped, where a warped, with . . . (
Pause
.) all turned to one—the sole gift which we . . . I will not say endorse, for it goes
so, so
far be . . .
accept.
And the rest, we say the test of
life,
the final: THE WILL TO EXPLOIT.

We, that, not only we say the
excellent
man, but, but we
all
. . .
whomever
does not possess this must die, because there is too little. In a more leisurely, in a historically, or an imaginary realm, or that realm of the mind—in a book or a phantasy, a perfect spot, a spot of rest.

But not here.

And I can not choose to do it. Much as I . . .

And I do not.

Two

C:
The galleon.

D:
Was . . . ?

C:
Where was I . . . ?

D:
About the . . .

C:
Alright. The galleon, a man in . . .

D:
The Escorial.

C:
With papers. Sitting in the, say, half dark not, if you've never been there, in the dusk. An oblique . . .

D:
. . . a half-light.

C:
A slanting light.

D:
You, well, it
is.
It
is
red. And you
can,
you can, as much as they . . . You
can
smell it, and it is the same as the . . .

C:
As the manuscripts.

D:
Today,
when everything, when paper, most of all, you
see, the idea that it cannot decompose is
monstrous.

C:
It is monstrous.

D:
In the . . . ? You were . . . ?

C:
The Escorial. A map proclaiming, fifteen forty-two, The Croja Abajo. En route to Spain, en route to, coming home to Spain. Laden with, as they conquered them. As they were conquered, and you can not read between the lines, and, curiously . . . (
Pause.
) Curiously . . .

D:
You're saying?

C:
Because they had enslaved, is what I came to—that terror, suppressed which we felt. We saw it as boredom, even among the ruins, though, and stricken by a majesty, and one can not suppress an awe, a
modern
awe, of archi . . . or, we say, “construction” even then, the piety we feel for Greece was not there. Only dread, and it was hidden, I say, for the
thought
was: “If it . . . ” "As it happened to them, so to us . . . ” the obverse of the coin, then, was, of course . . .

D:
It was Madrid.

C:
I say it was. It
was
Madrid, for sitting in that room, there was no terror. There was scholarly . . .

D:
. . . yes . . .

C:
. . . And repose, but no, and so we
look
back. And we say
they
could not feel, Nor know, Five hundred years ago. Four hundred years ago . . . and, perhaps, (
Pause
.) No . . .

D:
You were going to say that it was cursed.

C:
I don't know that I . . . The. The
land.
For, if they could, then so could we, but in the
heat.
In the
dusk,
we could not, and the walls were of
stone,
you know.

The lattice . . . (
Pause.
) As I
sit
here—I see a pattern on the page, and the old tints. The
drawings
on the map.
Old
script.

D:
. . . you had electric light.

C:
Of course, and it was, green glass shades. It threw, it threw . . . there . . . (
Pause
.)

D:
Croja Abajo.

C:
Lost it, quite right, and it was, too. It, lost in the, yes, we, in the (
Pause
.) "In the year
of . . . ”

In fifteen forty-three. The
lading
bill—the . . . papers that she had. A copy of her . . .

D:
What?

C:
Of her . . . what? Of her
sailing
orders. Four years earlier. It all . . . I'm sure that it will disappear. It all was there. Through all the . . . (
Pause
.) They've kept it. For whom? For whom? But for me—I asked myself. Who after me? Who before? (
Pause
.)

Who before me?

The records that we keep.

The latitudes. What were you going to learn? Plotted positions of her
captain
?

Why?

There was,
this
was the . . . (
Pause
.) The . . .
this, this . . . this . . .
the
hurricane
the
dates
said, the direction of her, that is to say, she, en route to her final port-of-call . . . how did it catch her, if the dates did not conform, and how were, the winds, where did she, where did she try to run, for it said that she did, where did she seek that shelter? What were the things she had done before? That he had done, where had he taken her?

A map upon the table.

A . . . accentuate to what? To their, to tr . . . re . . . a feeling . . . ”Play the Black . . . ” Finally what is it? Just a feeling, buttressed by . . . (
Pause
.) Science. By Experience?

To make us less afraid.

“The ship is down,” they'd tried to find her for . . . They'd tried to find her for . . . The records had been opened since . . . Before the war, and then after the war. Who'd sat like me, and looked upon . . . The records of their trip . . . the . . . sketches of the artifacts—but not the gold.

D:
Others had gotten gold.

C:
And lived in, you see it . . . the cruelty of the Middle Age.
Especially
here—cursed by . . . We can see that there are cursed folk . . . I thought: What does it mean?

The plagues of Egypt.

Surely
they afflicted . . .
this
is the: the power to see did not lessen their danger. For the Jews, though, it does not say, but it says they were not giv'n a sign until the final, so they must have lived with those ten plagues, and, stricken by them, too, looked for . . . (
Pause
.) They . . . (
Pause.
)

I thought about the gash of, the blood on the door, what did it mean, and it was
obviously
a . . . an . . .
imbalance.
Differences in diet,
some
thing a . . . an . . . an . . . in, say a, a intestinal malady which they were not subject to. And the Egyptians died and the Jews lived and
though
subject to the plagues of that life they said it was a sign. So, here, the opposite. A curse. A heaviness. The
weight
of gold . . . and, as an element . . . for, certainly, all . . . if we look, as I looked in that room, protected by the walls, by heat, by the, “and
blest
by the dust of the crumbling manuscripts . . . ”
Protected
. . . And I saw all things are literal.

They mean exactly what they seem to mean. (
Pause.
) Those men coming back were never to reach home. They were infected. They were weighted down, the same god which had sent the gold which sent the storm.

Although
others had gone before.

Although
these . . .

And reached home (
Pause.
)

And reached home with their prize.

Which formed the basis of their fortune.

Three

F:
You see: one needn't have confidence, because it is also possible to lose—so there is a result to your actions
what-ever
you do. (
Pause.
) And you cannot combat human misery.

G:
Who cannot?

F:
A boy died. In Alabama. In some southern state. A black boy in a
state
where, they had said, and they needn't have said it . . .

G:
Niggers.

F:
In a word as things that
we
would say, that
they
would censure. You would say, “A conquered people.” As they were. A love of . . . of, a tradition of honor, true or not, as all traditions are. A history of loss.
One
aspect of white males at the door, at the schoolyard door, barring a frightened five-year-old, a black girl in a . . .

G:
In a yellow dress.

F:
Thirty years later in that state, in that same state a boy who, as a student had worked for the Governor, a black boy a white, a, Louisiana . . .

G:
What dif . . . ?

F:
Well, that's what we say, you see: Who possess the prerogative to say: Your History, your Mores, your . . . finally, what makes you different is, and, do not say “A Luxury . . . ” But, a
stupidity
, a
trick,
and, fostered on you by the: Too much
time
. . . too much time on your hands—as all culture—
Heat.
The need to . . . or, otherwise, say, say, “The Great Chain of Being,” if, in England, but not
here,
because here what we are is without hist . . . and things change, and some things do not change. (
Pause.
) But, to
Western
eyes, which is to say, the minds of people from the
North,
rapacious, sons steeped in the Blazonment . . . a knight rides out and, you know him by his shield, or as the Bard says, “Reputation.” We say, “Advertising,” yes, an English shirt, a French whore, a dumb cracker, a nig, any of those things one said, one said that only shallow people

Cannot judge by first impressions.

In that Southern State, however, a boy died, a black boy,
who
everyone said, I don't know, some . . . some . . . a

G:
Some sharecropper's son.

F:
The no, son, of no, son of a doctor . . . a poor boy, HE WOULD BE PRESIDENT. Everyone said in twenty years. Who worked at this, who worked at that, at those accomplishments, which, here below (
Pause.
)

Here below . . .

And one says, “What are they trying to Hide?”

What overcome? As I would overcome, or they, if I had,
with those, as reported, twenty-hour days, but they said, “Here . . . ” and changed the lives of everyone who came in contact with the boy, “Perhaps here we have found an instance of a perfect man.”
Why
did he die so young? What would it matter had he lived, who moved so many by his . . . and the
answer
is . . . the answer is: That human misery is lifted only by this—it would, it would, it would seem . . . O . . . by an act of love, who knew him knew that, and I thought: “How sad.” An outpouring . . . a
sainted
reminiscence of the boy, over the years . . . now,
who
could keep that up? How it would, how inevitably, induce shame, induce guilt in those . . . how do we know he only had one parent . . .