Read Online Bread Upon the Waters by Irwin Shaw - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Irwin Shaw
Ads: Link
to the boiler room and Strand found the key. He opened the cellar door and Conroy, with quick, efficient movements, took hold of the bicycle. Strand offered to help get it up the stairs, but Hazen said, impatiently, “Conroy can handle it himself, can’t you, Conroy?”
“Of course, sir,” Conroy said.
Strand locked the door and put the key back in the boiler room. Conroy was waiting for the two men when they came out of the building into the sunlight.
“Just leave it with the doorman,” Hazen said.
“Yes, sir,” Conroy said and mounted the bicycle.
“Until Monday morning,” Hazen said.
“Yes, sir,” Conroy said. “If you need me over the weekend, my answering service will get me.”
“If I need you,” Hazen said.
He and Strand watched the man ride off. “I don’t imagine he belongs to any union,” Strand said, “your Mr. Conroy. On tap for work on the weekends.”
“Able fellow,” Hazen said. “He’s paid enough to put in an extra hour here and there. And he’s not married. That helps.” He chuckled. “If you don’t mind, perhaps we could go a little way on your walk together.”
“Which way would you like to go?” Strand asked. “Into the park?”
Hazen shook his head, smiling. “Not just yet, please. The memories are still rather fresh. Perhaps toward Lincoln Center…?”
“Fine,” Strand said, as they began to walk. “I always like to look at it. It gives me some hope that in the long run the city will not be totally destroyed.”
They walked comfortably in silence for a while. “I’ve been wondering about your name,” Strand said.
“Why?”
“There’s a William Hazen whose name is a footnote to American military history.”
“Really?” Hazen sounded interested. “What did he do?”
“He went to West Point, then fought the Indians and during the Civil War he was a colonel under Sherman in Georgia at the head of a regiment of Ohio volunteers and captured Fort McAllister.”
“Good Lord, man,” Hazen said, “how do you know all that?”
“A history teacher is a mine of useless information.”
“What else did he do? If he was important enough, maybe I’ll claim him.”
“He became a general and started the Signal Corps.”
Hazen laughed. “The Signal Corps. I have an old friend who was an infantryman in World War Two and he wasn’t very fond of the Signal Corps. According to him, in the infantry they said, ‘Take the star out of the window, Mother, your son’s in the Signal Corps.’ I guess I won’t claim him after all. Anyway, my family came to New York in 1706 and never got to Ohio. What about your ancestors?”
“I don’t know much about them,” Strand said, sorry he had brought the subject up. “My parents came to New York in 1920, from Lancashire. My father had been gassed on the Somme and he said he’d had enough of England. When I asked him about his and my mother’s family, he said they weren’t worth talking about.” He shrugged. “I took his word for it.”
Now the silence between them was a little strained and when Hazen spoke again, it was on a different subject. “I’ve been thinking about something you said last night,” he said. “About that Puerto Rican boy in your history class.”
“His name is Romero, Jesus Romero.”
“You know,” Hazen went on, “scholarships are quite easily arranged for promising young people these days. Especially for those in minority groups. In the best colleges. Do you think the boy would be interested?”
Strand considered for a moment. “I’m afraid on the basis of his marks, he wouldn’t be considered promising. I understand from other teachers that he’s practically useless in their classes. I doubt that he’ll pass enough subjects even to graduate.”
“Too bad,” Hazen said. “Do you think he’s intelligent enough so that if he applied himself for a year or so he could pull up his grades?”
“Not in River High School, no. It’s not an atmosphere conducive to
“Of course, sir,” Conroy said.
Strand locked the door and put the key back in the boiler room. Conroy was waiting for the two men when they came out of the building into the sunlight.
“Just leave it with the doorman,” Hazen said.
“Yes, sir,” Conroy said and mounted the bicycle.
“Until Monday morning,” Hazen said.
“Yes, sir,” Conroy said. “If you need me over the weekend, my answering service will get me.”
“If I need you,” Hazen said.
He and Strand watched the man ride off. “I don’t imagine he belongs to any union,” Strand said, “your Mr. Conroy. On tap for work on the weekends.”
“Able fellow,” Hazen said. “He’s paid enough to put in an extra hour here and there. And he’s not married. That helps.” He chuckled. “If you don’t mind, perhaps we could go a little way on your walk together.”
“Which way would you like to go?” Strand asked. “Into the park?”
Hazen shook his head, smiling. “Not just yet, please. The memories are still rather fresh. Perhaps toward Lincoln Center…?”
“Fine,” Strand said, as they began to walk. “I always like to look at it. It gives me some hope that in the long run the city will not be totally destroyed.”
They walked comfortably in silence for a while. “I’ve been wondering about your name,” Strand said.
“Why?”
“There’s a William Hazen whose name is a footnote to American military history.”
“Really?” Hazen sounded interested. “What did he do?”
“He went to West Point, then fought the Indians and during the Civil War he was a colonel under Sherman in Georgia at the head of a regiment of Ohio volunteers and captured Fort McAllister.”
“Good Lord, man,” Hazen said, “how do you know all that?”
“A history teacher is a mine of useless information.”
“What else did he do? If he was important enough, maybe I’ll claim him.”
“He became a general and started the Signal Corps.”
Hazen laughed. “The Signal Corps. I have an old friend who was an infantryman in World War Two and he wasn’t very fond of the Signal Corps. According to him, in the infantry they said, ‘Take the star out of the window, Mother, your son’s in the Signal Corps.’ I guess I won’t claim him after all. Anyway, my family came to New York in 1706 and never got to Ohio. What about your ancestors?”
“I don’t know much about them,” Strand said, sorry he had brought the subject up. “My parents came to New York in 1920, from Lancashire. My father had been gassed on the Somme and he said he’d had enough of England. When I asked him about his and my mother’s family, he said they weren’t worth talking about.” He shrugged. “I took his word for it.”
Now the silence between them was a little strained and when Hazen spoke again, it was on a different subject. “I’ve been thinking about something you said last night,” he said. “About that Puerto Rican boy in your history class.”
“His name is Romero, Jesus Romero.”
“You know,” Hazen went on, “scholarships are quite easily arranged for promising young people these days. Especially for those in minority groups. In the best colleges. Do you think the boy would be interested?”
Strand considered for a moment. “I’m afraid on the basis of his marks, he wouldn’t be considered promising. I understand from other teachers that he’s practically useless in their classes. I doubt that he’ll pass enough subjects even to graduate.”
“Too bad,” Hazen said. “Do you think he’s intelligent enough so that if he applied himself for a year or so he could pull up his grades?”
“Not in River High School, no. It’s not an atmosphere conducive to
Similar Books
