Read Online Chicago by Brian Doyle - Free Book Online

a moment the dogs fell back and let the car leave. A minute later every dog was gone and the street was as empty as before.
    I had strained to see if any of the dogs in the street conducted or commanded the others, or if signals were communicated from Edward to them in some ascertainable way, but I had seen nothing I could understand as a message, and Edward, when I appealed to him for an explanation, declined to clarify the matter. Mr Pawlowsky was only slightly more forthcoming, saying only that ruffians were a regular and unfortunate aspect of life in the city, and that while he understood the urge to cohere in small bands of like-minded companions, he did not see any reason to accept what amounted to an invitation to violence, especially since he had himself been in a violent organization; and though he was now retired from the Navy, he could at need, as he had explained gently to the Gaylords, summon former professional companions to defend the building and the street, and his advice to the Gaylords, and to any other entrepreneurial bands they might be in contact with along these lines, was to consider the area between Broadway and the lake, from Belmont to Addison, as territory protected by the United States Navy, as well as other shadowy but formidable entities whose identities he was not at liberty to divulge, but whose agents took many forms, as perhaps they had noticed today.
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    Some mornings I would get up crazy early and take the very first bus downtown along the lake—the Sound Asleep Bus, as its driver called it. This was Donald B. Morris, whose name I learned on the first dark morning I boarded the bus; I had forgotten to get tokens, and had not a cent on my own personal person, but I greeted the driver in an ingratiating way, and began to mumble something about not having a cent, and he smiled and said his name was Donald B. Morris, and I was welcome on the community of the bus, and he would cut me slack twice but not more than twice, was that clear? I said yes sir and he said Don’t call me sir, son, my name is Donald B. Morris, and I believe there is a seat right rear window for you. No one like that seat because the hump of the wheel there and some trick of the engine make it too hot for comfort but you young and can bear the heat. On this bus we are a peaceful people and there is no loud music or any of that. Generally on this bus people sleep until we arrive downtown. Your ride is my treat this morning. Next time the last time I treat. Also do not board the bus and ask passengers for change. That is not done on this bus. When you are seated we will proceed. Estimated time of arrival at Dearborn Street is twenty-two minutes. Pleasure to have you aboard. If you look out the left side the bus you will see the sun coming up over the lake in about twelve minutes. Do not stare directly at the sun. My advice is look at the lake in front of where the sun come up. Such a shimmer is rarely seen. Here we go.
    Partly because Donald B. Morris was such an interesting man, and for reasons having to do with work, I began to take the Sound Asleep Bus fairly regularly in February, rising at five in the morning and showering hurriedly and then trying to time my sprint to the lakefront for exactly 5:39 for Donald B. Morris’s punctual arrival at 5:41. After a few rides I was granted a seat directly behind Donald B. Morris, which I took to be a great compliment, although it might also have been the case that I was the only person actually awake on the bus except for Donald B. Morris, and he rather liked having someone to talk to; everyone else got on the bus, went to their usual seat, and fell asleep so thoroughly that Donald B. Morris would have to go and gently wake most of them when we arrived at Dearborn Street.
    Donald B. Morris, it turned out, was a gifted and amazing monologist, and the pattern of our conversations was set early on: I would ask a brief question and he would sail