Palisades Park Read Online Free PDF

actual intention?”
    “Oh Good Lord, no! I’d never really do that, not even to Hoover.”
    Adele caught the agent’s eye and mimed the tipping of a glass. Crais took a step closer to Franklin, and to the smell on his breath at eight in the morning.
    “I … think I understand,” he said slowly. “Mr. Worth, may I suggest you refrain from writing any further letters to President Hoover.”
    “Yes, yes, of course,” Franklin agreed gruffly.
    As she showed him out, Adele promised the agent that in the future she and her mother would more closely monitor Franklin’s correspondence.
    He tipped his hat. “Thank you, ma’am, your country appreciates it.”
    Again with the ma’am. Adele forced a smile, then closed the door. Marie, just a few steps behind her, said, “I’m so embarrassed I could die.”
    “ You’re embarrassed? He looked like John Gilbert, for God’s sake!”
    By the time Adele got to Palisades to ready the root-beer stand for tomorrow’s opening, she felt humiliated, angry, and in absolutely no mood to have some husky blond guy from across the midway put the make on her—so she bit off his head with one bite.
    But opening days always put Adele in a better mood. The next day, the park smelled of French fries, waffles, roast beef sandwiches, and sizzling hot dogs; the weather was perfect, sunny but not too hot, and crowds intent on having a good time thronged the midways. Palisades may have been just an amusement park, not Broadway, but there was still an air of theatricality about it: many concession agents not only had a signature bally but a wardrobe designed to capture attention. Kid Fiddles worked the crowd with a cowboy hat and a live horse. Jimmy Feathers, whose grocery wheel paid off in these hard times not with kewpie dolls but with food, did his bally in five different languages, which always drew a big “tip,” or crowd. Jackie Bloom wore an immaculate white linen suit, and despite the hundred fifteen-watt bulbs illuminating the prizes in his showcases, he always managed to look cool and composed:
    “Knock down a cat, win a prize! Kayo just one fuzzy feline and win a piece of fine imported china!”
    “Try your hand at the Penny Pitch, first throw is free, hit the right square with the penny and win a prize!”
    “Ride the Skyrocket, see the moon and stars up close, come hurtling back to earth and up again! Just ten cents for a Skyrocket to the stars!”
    Adele launched into her own bally:
    “Root beer, ice-cold root beer! Only legal beer in the park! Not as much fun as malt, but just as delicious and twice as foamy! C’mon, lift a glass to Carrie Nation!”
    It wasn’t the Great White Way, but it was still performing—and Adele loved to perform.
    *   *   *
    From across the midway, Eddie noted that the snippy blonde at the root-beer stand was building a pretty good tip with her grind. But Lew’s wasn’t half bad either: “Cotton candy, popcorn! Watch it being made, sugar spun into delectable fairy floss right before your very eyes!” Business was brisk and Eddie was kept busy providing pink clouds of candy on a stick for the crowds. Everything went smoothly until late afternoon and the sound of a loud, slurred voice emanating from Jackie Bloom’s stand next door:
    “Hey! Hey! I godda great idea—”
    Eddie glanced over to see a man bobbing on his heels like a wobbly ten-pin, who then bent over to pick something off the ground. In his back pocket was a flask, doubtless containing a recent vintage of bathtub gin.
    Eddie heard him call out, “Gotcha!”—and when the drunk stood up again he was holding a tiny white kitten in his fist, one of a new litter of woodshop cats stalking the park for scraps of food. Eddie saw where this was heading, and so did Jackie Bloom, who held up his palms and said, “Now, wait a second, pal … put the little critter down…”
    “No, no, thiz great, see?” the man announced loudly. “Use a cat —to knock down a cat! Oughta get