The Prince of West End Avenue Read Online Free PDF Page B

mankind. She had a mission. She had "gotten her act together."
    "Either you become a lawyer or a doctor, or like that, or else you just marry some nice Jewish guy who is a lawyer or a doctor. That's what they think." She meant her parents. "Okay, so I didn't get the greatest grades in school. So what do they do? Get this: they start bringing home these guys from the Community Center—you know, at the temple?—on Friday nights, every Friday a new guy. D'you believe this? Weird! I mean, wee-urd! Little Mandy got the hell out of there. Sheesh! Let me tell you something: I'm no dummy, no matter what they think. I've got a head on my shoulders."
    Poor parents! Perhaps they could take comfort in their daughter's Ph.Th.D., to say nothing of her newly minted romantic alliance with Dr. Comyns.
    But that she should have said to me, "I'm no dummy . . . I've got a head on my shoulders"—those were her very words!—that she should have expressed her anger to me, as if I were somehow to blame (as in a sense I am), who after that would not believe in Purpose?
    Yes, yes, I know how innocent of significance those words must seem—perfectly ordinary words, quite unworthy of note. Be patient, please. Soon enough you will understand their relationship to the historical moment I propose to reveal, the nexus in Time of Magda Damrosch and Dada and me.
    Meanwhile, the sun had disappeared behind the clouds.

    The day became gray. I felt an autumnal chill and shivered. Therapist and convalescent returned to the Emma Lazarus.
    She left me in the lobby, where she had found me, casually, almost callously, certainly abruptly. "Okay, you did fine. You're on your own."
    I was. Indeed, I am.

    "Poliakov," said Lipschitz, "that pick's heavy, it weighs you down."
    "I ain't got no pick."
    "You will have." Lipschitz emitted an elaborate sigh. "Meanwhile, make like you do. Go back and try again."
    We did as we were told. This time the Red Dwarf staggered on stage as if bearing the weight of an elephant on his shoulder. He grinned triumphantly at Lipschitz.
    Lipschitz shook his head in disbelief but gave up. "Nut" he said to me.
    I peered down at my Assistant. "Is she to be buried in Christian burial?"
    "Stop! Stop!" screamed La Dawidowicz.
    Lipschitz struck his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Oy, nobody told him. You've got the old script, Otto. We've made some changes in the scene."
    "What changes?" said Hamburger, coming out of the wings. "Nobody told me about any changes, either. You're improving on Shakespeare now, mastermind?"
    The cabal had been at work again!
    "It was felt," said Lipschitz, licking his lips, "that all these references to 'Christian burial' might offend some people. After all, many members of our audience are orthodox, not to say fanatic. How does it look? So we thought, what difference we get rid of a few words, make substitutions."
    "Well, what is my line now?"
    "Simple. You say, 'Is she to be buried in Mineola?' This same word you substitute in the other places."
    "Wonderful!" said Hamburger. "Brilliant! Mineola, as everyone knows, is just south of Elsinore."
    "That's what you want me to say? 'Is she to be buried in Mineola?' '
    "Perfect. You got it. A little more emphasis on the she, but otherwise, perfect."

    "I won't do it."
    "That's it, don't knuckle under to the fascists." The Red Dwarf executed a defiant little jig.
    Lipschitz dismissed him with a wave of the hand. "Why not?
    "Because I'd be a laughingstock. They'd hoot me from the stage."
    "Mineola is funny?" said La Dawidowicz.
    "Please, Tosca, let me reason with him." Lipschitz turned back to me. "Okay, let's just say for the sake of argument— mind you, I admit nothing—but for the sake of argument, okay? Okay, it's funny. So what? You remember dear Adolphe, may he rest in peace, what he said: Act five'—these are his own words, I quote—Act five opens in the comic mode.' So people laugh. Good, I say. This was Adolphe's conception of the scene. Otto, I beg you, do