Evening star., 1925-12-06
Mr.. Pickett's Point of View


~ LID PICKETT had patchy hair
and red rims around his lit
tie blue eyes. In the of
tlce.' his by virtue of be-
ing janitor and local poten-
tate of "A Madison avenue overshop
apartment house. he put his fiat feet
on a soap box and leaned back in
the cast off swivel chair which was
his official throne. He had resigned
himself in these latter days to janitor-
hood and the solacing luxury of
philosophy. New York's a hard
place was the way he put 1t.
Looking up from this point of
vantage through a grated cellar win
dow and watching the world pass by
ION Madison avenue). Pickett made
many such mental observations and
q few ocular ones. What he meant,
being broke as usual. was that New
York was a hard place to be broke
In. and considering his world career
as third-rate prize fighter. stoker. deck
hand, soldier without fortune, race
horse rubber, roulette croupier and
bigamist (having been deserted by
three smart wives). he spoke with EN-
phatic authority. There amt enough
ground sticks troo this here town. he
elaborated. It's all rock, concrete,
birds oughter go home where they
come from or where 1t amt SO hard"
1t diverted old Pickett to think that
he could guess the home locality of
everybody he saw, and as for the
dwellers in the domain of his apart
ment house. he had entire histories
worked out for them and much ad-
vice to which they were quite wei
come. Marry the bird who's comm
here after ye.' he told the top-fioor
blonde who could still claim a year or
two more of looks. When she de-
manded to know how dared he, he
added. We'll, ye can have the bird
arrested If he beats ye. Take a
chance" She was from Columbus.
Ohio. he decided, or maybe Toledo.
AS a matter of fact. she was from
Copenhagen. and the bird was her
divorced husband.
But Pickett's advice was much the
same for all. either to Go back where
ye come from an where It amt so
hard or to Take chanct and marry
the bird" AS they passed his cellar
window before turning into the mar
row entrance to the stairs he kept a
sort of tab on them by their shoes
and their steps. At one time or an.
other he'd advised nearly all of them
the henna-haired cabaret dancer from
probably. Grand Haven, Mich; the
bizarre French dressmaker from Mis-
soula. Mont. who was such a "tur
rible adj for herself; that beauty shop
proprietress who demonstra.et. the
futility of her calling. and without
the slightest doubt was horn and
raised in Trenton. y. J.; the retired
political boss Of the eleventh precinct
of Pittsburgh, who even now put
certain spell on Pickett: the two
young advertising men from Syracuse.
the distinguished young Wall Street
financier. a native New Yorker. II
ever there was one (Which Is a mat
ter of reasonable doubt, who was
probably riding out In this obscurity
a family scandal. and Sylvia and
Susan. the young ladies in the ad.
joining miniature apartments on the
third floor, facing the court. They
Ark. respectively and respectfully.
A T least In one insta nee Pickett hit
it with a fair degree Of accuracy.
though her name. Susan Meadows.
was a gtve-away clue and could not
possibly mean anything but black
eyed Susans In a warm Midwest clover
field. many honey bees, several big
dawdling white clouds and q tinge Of
sunburn at the base Of her round
throat. He'd watched her old brown
shoes get shabbier and more scuffed
and, as Spring advanced into April.
her step become slower. Almost he
could picture her dark head down.
cast and, with q benevolence born Of
fewer demands for heat at this benign
season, he hurried up the cellar
stairs to interrupt her in the entrance
hall.
When he spoke to her at the foot OF
the stairs her start out Of reverfe
and her raising upon him a Iumi-
nous regard out Of her gray eyes al
most disconnected his intention. But
Pickett was pretty we'll crusted. Say.
lady-what I mean, kid, is this here:
I can get a subtenant fer yer place.
Amt you tried out the hardness Of
this here town enough"
Perhaps her chin quivered for sec
ond. but from the vehemence and fire
in her low-voiced reply it might have
been from anger. NO" she said
mo, I haven't"
Pickett's little blue eyes biinked
Well then. kid, looka here" he went
on violently. What's gettin' ye
down? II 1t amt this here hard town,
why don't yer marry the bird and
have done with it,"
She tried to brush by him to the
stairs. and then she turned. What
bird?" oh. yes, there was a tear in
the corner OF her eye by now.
But tears were common enough to
Pickett. why. that Wall Street bird
a-course,' he persisted. Take a
chanct. You'd nick him for alimdny.
anyway. even II his folks didn't buy
ye off wit a fortune"
"Oh"' she blazed at him. You let
me alone. Pickett. You just let me
alone" She was really crying as she
scurried away UP the stairs.
In her tiny apartment Susan leaned
stared pensively down into the small
dark courtyard Vaguely she was
yearning and expecting the languorous
night to tell her what it was she
wanted for April was nearly over
The courtyard had been a rose garden
once. and Il fragrance, perhaps only
imaginary-a ghost fragrance OF all
those roses and the freshness Of their
small, green, wet leaves-was rising
to her through the layers of concrete
and brick.
Earth was part Of Susan. She was
not fragile. In her distant home
where the Mississippi drifts slowly by
old Sainte Genevieve in Missouri, and
where climbing rambler and banked
lilacs partly covered the gray stain
of time on the house. she used to
escape away over the fence and put
her face in the dark. heavy grass close
to the ground until she could feel 1t
breathing. She remembered that now.
Rousing, finally. she stretched her
arms with her fingers locked behind
her head and the shadow Of q day
dream still in the gray velvet eyes
which were her chance for beauty.
"Ohf" she nnurmured "Oh! And
whatever that meant was too indeh.
nite for lot Of clumsy words. Busiiy