The Leather Duke

“We’ll go in together. We’ll play it fair, right down the line. If I get the job I’ll meet you out here at five o’clock with the money and if you get it, I’ll be waiting for you. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” conceded Sam, “but I’ve got an awful hunch that I’m going to be the sucker.”

He drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, then followed Johnny into the building of the Towner Leather Company.

Inside, a short flight of stairs led to a glass-paneled door. Johnny pushed open this second door and they found themselves in an office where thirty or forty office workers toiled at various desks.

Immediately in front of them a young woman sat at a desk, which contained a small switchboard. She had taffy-colored hair, very nice features and plenty of what a girl ought to have. She looked inquiringly at Johnny and he brightened.

“Well, well,” he said, “this is a little better than I expected.”

“And what did you expect?” the girl asked coolly. “A two-headed octopus?”

“Touché,” exclaimed Johnny, “or as we say in Brooklyn, touch. I’m making a survey of what lonely men in Chicago do. Lonely men, who are strangers in town. Suppose this was Saturday night; where would such a man go for a little entertainment and, shall we say, fun?”

“Depends on the lonely man’s financial condition,” the girl said.

“Suppose we say the man has a... a couple of bucks?”

“Two dollars, eh? Then I guess he’d go to the Clybourn Dance Hall, or the Bucket of Blood as we call it on Clybourn Avenue.”

“Bucket of Blood, eh? Charming name. Mmm, well, suppose said lonely man had a larger stake, say about twenty bucks, where would they go then?”

“Oh, in that case he could go to the College Inn, or the Edgewater Beach Hotel, or even the Chez Hogan, on East Rush Street. Provided, of course, that he had a girl.”

“Ah yes, the girl. That’s important. But how could said lonely man who was a stranger in town find said girl to accompany him to said night spots?”

“Why, I guess he could stand on a street corner and whistle at the girls who passed. He’d probably get a few slaps in the face, he’d likely wind up in jail, but he might, he might just possibly get a girl and it would serve him right if he did. Now, mister, are there any other questions you want to ask?”

“Yes, what do they call you around here?”

“They call me, ‘hey you,’ on account of my name is Nancy Miller. Now, fun’s fun, but I’ve got work to do. Now, what are you selling and who is it you’d like to have say no?”

“Get ready for a surprise, Nancy. We’re selling — us.” Johnny beamed at the girl, who looked at him sharply. “There’s a little old sign outside the door. It says ‘Man Wanted.’ ”

“Oh, Mister!” cried Nancy Miller. “So you’re looking for a job!”

“He is,” chimed in Sam Cragg. “I’m not.”

Johnny ignored Sam. “Sure, Nancy, how else am I going to get that twenty dollars by Saturday?”

“You could get a loan on your Cadillac.”

“If I had a Cadillac. Ha ha! No foolin’, Taffy, we need a job badly. How’s about giving us the lowdown on this one?”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all. This is a working job. You actually do things with your hands. The pay is thirty-two dollars—”

“Thirty-two bucks!” cried Johnny.

“—For a forty-hour week. But as you actually work forty-four hours you get thirty-six-fifty a week...”

“That isn’t very much.”

“No,” exclaimed Sam. “It ain’t. In fact, we couldn’t work that cheap, so thanks just the same.”

Johnny regarded him coldly. “How much are we making a week now?” He turned back to Nancy Miller. “A man’s got to start somewhere. A big place like this I suppose there’s a chance for advancement...”

“Oh, certainly. You stick to the job and work hard you can be making thirty-eight, forty dollars a week, in no time at all. Say, about six years.”

Sam groaned, but johnny nodded gloomily. “We’ll take the job.”

“What do you mean, we? There’s only one job vacant. Which of you wants it? And I don’t do the hiring. It’s Mr. Johnson who has the opening... Do you want to see him?”

“We who are about to die, salute you!” Johnny said. “In short, yes, we’ll see your Mr. Johnson and” — looking at Sam — “may the best man win.”

The girl shook her head and made a connection on the switchboard. After a moment she said into the phone: “Mr. Johnson, there are a couple of men here asking about that job... Mmm, yes, all right... Thank you, I’ll tell them.” She broke the connection. “He’ll be right down.”

“He asked if we looked okay, didn’t he?” asked Johnny. “There are some pretty awful looking characters come in here. Take up a lot of time...”

“All right,” said Johnny, “if I’m the lucky one, I’ll have twenty dollars on Saturday.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not at all, Nancy; you’re just about my size—”

“Stop right there, fella. I don’t go out with factory hands.”

“Women,” said Johnny, bitterly. “You’d go out with me if I were unemployed, but just because my hands are stained from honest toil—”