called us. She begs you not to jump!”
“How did Flo know I was coming here?”
“She saw you put on your bathing suit before you left the house. She doesn’t want to be a widow, Mr. Holden.”
Holden looked at the cop, and there was a weariness in his voice that echoed the tone Eddie had heard on Palisade Avenue: “I’m just so tired of being out of work. Of feeling worthless.”
“You’re not worthless, Art,” Eddie said.
“Who the fuck are you?” the cop demanded.
“A friend of his from the park.”
“The park? Is this a publicity stunt, did they arrange this…?”
“Oh, shit, ” Arthur snapped with uncharacteristic indelicacy, “you’ve both just gone and ruined this whole thing. Would’ve been a grand dive, too. I hope you’re damn well satisfied with yourselves!”
With that, he picked up his pants and put them back on. When he’d finished dressing, Officer Stengel apologetically took him into custody.
Arthur was charged with disorderly conduct and held a few hours in the Fort Lee jail, then released in the custody of his wife pending a hearing.
Less than a week later he received a suspended sentence in exchange for a promise to the judge that he would not attempt again to dive off the George Washington Bridge. Arthur gladly agreed, since that morning he had been rehired by the Rosenthals to return to Palisades Park.
The day of his triumphant comeback happened to be one on which Marie had brought Antoinette and Jack to the park, and Eddie, wanting to share in Arthur’s victory, got Lew to cover for him as he, Marie, and the kids went over to the free-act stage at four o’clock. Eddie lifted Antoinette onto his shoulders so she could see; Marie hoisted Jack up into her arms. They watched as Holden strode onstage in his white diving trunks, basked in a round of applause from the audience, then began to climb the one-hundred-and-twenty-foot ladder.
“Daddy, what’s he doing?” Antoinette asked.
“He’s going to jump into that tank over there.”
Her eyes followed Holden all the way to the small platform at the top. He walked out to the edge of the diving board—and jumped.
Antoinette gasped as he sprang off the platform, doing a backward somersault, his body gracefully turning over in midair, then plummeting down, down—plunging feetfirst into his customary five feet of water.
Antoinette’s eyes were wide with amazement.
“Oooh,” she said, a sigh of both wonder and delight.
Arthur climbed out of the tank, unhurt and unfazed by his long fall. He raised a hand to the crowd, which burst into applause.
So did Antoinette, her little hands clapping together gleefully as she watched the silver-haired diver take his bows.
* * *
Jack Rosenthal showed up for work every morning at eight A.M. , always sporting a light-colored suit, spats, and a cane. When Eddie arrived around ten thirty he was amused to hear the sound of violin music issuing from the administration building—Jack, on his coffee break, filling the amusement park not with the sounds of a calliope, but a Mozart prelude.
The Rosenthals were sticklers for cleanliness—insisting that every stand be regularly scrubbed inside and out, even fining concessionaires five dollars for every burned-out lightbulb on their marquee. Irving Rosenthal spent more of his time at first managing the brothers’ interests in Coney Island, but when he did show up—always wearing a dark blue or black suit—he would patrol the midways, assuring himself that each ride and concession was spotless and that all refreshments were up to snuff. Anna Halpin made certain that these rules were strictly complied with, and Eddie was beginning to share some of the other men’s resentment toward her.
So each Friday morning Eddie and Lew would scrub down the candy stand until it shined … until one Friday in late June when Eddie had to do it on his own, since Lew was nowhere to be found. As the morning wore on, Lew continued to be a
“How did Flo know I was coming here?”
“She saw you put on your bathing suit before you left the house. She doesn’t want to be a widow, Mr. Holden.”
Holden looked at the cop, and there was a weariness in his voice that echoed the tone Eddie had heard on Palisade Avenue: “I’m just so tired of being out of work. Of feeling worthless.”
“You’re not worthless, Art,” Eddie said.
“Who the fuck are you?” the cop demanded.
“A friend of his from the park.”
“The park? Is this a publicity stunt, did they arrange this…?”
“Oh, shit, ” Arthur snapped with uncharacteristic indelicacy, “you’ve both just gone and ruined this whole thing. Would’ve been a grand dive, too. I hope you’re damn well satisfied with yourselves!”
With that, he picked up his pants and put them back on. When he’d finished dressing, Officer Stengel apologetically took him into custody.
Arthur was charged with disorderly conduct and held a few hours in the Fort Lee jail, then released in the custody of his wife pending a hearing.
Less than a week later he received a suspended sentence in exchange for a promise to the judge that he would not attempt again to dive off the George Washington Bridge. Arthur gladly agreed, since that morning he had been rehired by the Rosenthals to return to Palisades Park.
The day of his triumphant comeback happened to be one on which Marie had brought Antoinette and Jack to the park, and Eddie, wanting to share in Arthur’s victory, got Lew to cover for him as he, Marie, and the kids went over to the free-act stage at four o’clock. Eddie lifted Antoinette onto his shoulders so she could see; Marie hoisted Jack up into her arms. They watched as Holden strode onstage in his white diving trunks, basked in a round of applause from the audience, then began to climb the one-hundred-and-twenty-foot ladder.
“Daddy, what’s he doing?” Antoinette asked.
“He’s going to jump into that tank over there.”
Her eyes followed Holden all the way to the small platform at the top. He walked out to the edge of the diving board—and jumped.
Antoinette gasped as he sprang off the platform, doing a backward somersault, his body gracefully turning over in midair, then plummeting down, down—plunging feetfirst into his customary five feet of water.
Antoinette’s eyes were wide with amazement.
“Oooh,” she said, a sigh of both wonder and delight.
Arthur climbed out of the tank, unhurt and unfazed by his long fall. He raised a hand to the crowd, which burst into applause.
So did Antoinette, her little hands clapping together gleefully as she watched the silver-haired diver take his bows.
* * *
Jack Rosenthal showed up for work every morning at eight A.M. , always sporting a light-colored suit, spats, and a cane. When Eddie arrived around ten thirty he was amused to hear the sound of violin music issuing from the administration building—Jack, on his coffee break, filling the amusement park not with the sounds of a calliope, but a Mozart prelude.
The Rosenthals were sticklers for cleanliness—insisting that every stand be regularly scrubbed inside and out, even fining concessionaires five dollars for every burned-out lightbulb on their marquee. Irving Rosenthal spent more of his time at first managing the brothers’ interests in Coney Island, but when he did show up—always wearing a dark blue or black suit—he would patrol the midways, assuring himself that each ride and concession was spotless and that all refreshments were up to snuff. Anna Halpin made certain that these rules were strictly complied with, and Eddie was beginning to share some of the other men’s resentment toward her.
So each Friday morning Eddie and Lew would scrub down the candy stand until it shined … until one Friday in late June when Eddie had to do it on his own, since Lew was nowhere to be found. As the morning wore on, Lew continued to be a
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