they drank and cards they played, the constant gambling, the dirty jokes they told as if nothing was worth laughing at that did not degrade women or insult anyone with faith.
Normally Friday he would go to the YMCA on Varick Street. He had come to know the work of the YMCA when he was in the infantry. The YMCA was one of the groups in the Christian Commission that sent Bibles, ministers and religious tracts to the front, along with blankets. When his fellow soldiers mocked him, he sometimes found solace with representatives of the commission. One minister had aided him in setting up regular prayer meetings in his company, but often he was the only attendee. It had been a frustrating time. When he arrived in the city with exactly five dollars in his pocket, and that borrowed, he quickly found the YMCA, whose officers helped him to his present job—such as it was.
After the usual greasy supper at their boardinghouse—unidentifiable meat in watery gravy topped with lard and eked out with turnips and mushy cabbage—he allowed Edward to take him by the arm and steer him in the direction of the Bowery. Anthony seldom walked there with its garish gaslights and huge crowds jostling each other off the pavement. The street was chockablock with carriages and wagons among the pedestrians. Women arm in arm accosted them as the two men struggled through the crowd. Many of the men and women were poorly dressed, tenement dwellers he judged, but he saw many young men, clerks, apprentices, office workers like the two of them. Anthony turned his face away from the advances of the wanton girls, but Edward bantered with them. On they went to a place where a placard proclaimed grog and dancing. It cost them twenty-five cents to enter, although Anthony noticed a separate smaller door for women, who apparently were passed in free.
Smoke, bad air, the smell of unwashed bodies and cheap perfume choked him, made him dizzy so that he wanted to flee, but he plowed on, following Edward to a seat. Waitresses in harem costumes sidled among the tables with trays, occasionally stopping to flirt with a man who bought them a drink. Sometimes they sat on a man’s lap wriggling in a manner he could only suppose was some kind of obscene activity. Up above on a balcony, women hung over the edge and called to men at the tables. They wore low-cut dresses and little else, being uncorseted, with their hair hanging loose and wanton. This was the kind of place those obscene books Edward bought near their office led him to frequent.
Edward ordered a whiskey for himself and soda for Anthony. Anthony would not stoop to alcohol even to blend in with the ruffians who frequented this place. Why would Edward waste his scarce money here?
A brawny man whom everybody seemed to know as Charlie the Chopper announced that a fight was about to start. A space had been cleared in the center of the room for two men stripped down to long underwear and undershirts to square off with bare knuckles. The fighting did not bother Anthony, although he knew prizefighting was illegal. At least the worst the men would get out of it would be a battered head or a bloody nose and bruises. Still, he could not share the half-mad excitement that swept the room. Even women were jumping up and down rooting for their favorite, Dan the Drayman, who was fighting a bigger man called Hooting Tommy. Tommy was bigger, but Dan was faster and more experienced as a fighter, Anthony judged. He had a good jab and an unexpected uppercut that staggered the bigger man. Anthony idly wondered if he could take Dan. He had a mighty jab of his own, honed in his army scraps. He noticed that Dan dropped his hand after he hit Tommy, leaving himself open. Yes, he could take him.
Anthony watched the audience instead. Certainly the bloodlust they were screaming out was unedifying, but less appalling than the open sexual lust he had observed before. At least for the length of the fight, even the ladies with their bosoms
Normally Friday he would go to the YMCA on Varick Street. He had come to know the work of the YMCA when he was in the infantry. The YMCA was one of the groups in the Christian Commission that sent Bibles, ministers and religious tracts to the front, along with blankets. When his fellow soldiers mocked him, he sometimes found solace with representatives of the commission. One minister had aided him in setting up regular prayer meetings in his company, but often he was the only attendee. It had been a frustrating time. When he arrived in the city with exactly five dollars in his pocket, and that borrowed, he quickly found the YMCA, whose officers helped him to his present job—such as it was.
After the usual greasy supper at their boardinghouse—unidentifiable meat in watery gravy topped with lard and eked out with turnips and mushy cabbage—he allowed Edward to take him by the arm and steer him in the direction of the Bowery. Anthony seldom walked there with its garish gaslights and huge crowds jostling each other off the pavement. The street was chockablock with carriages and wagons among the pedestrians. Women arm in arm accosted them as the two men struggled through the crowd. Many of the men and women were poorly dressed, tenement dwellers he judged, but he saw many young men, clerks, apprentices, office workers like the two of them. Anthony turned his face away from the advances of the wanton girls, but Edward bantered with them. On they went to a place where a placard proclaimed grog and dancing. It cost them twenty-five cents to enter, although Anthony noticed a separate smaller door for women, who apparently were passed in free.
Smoke, bad air, the smell of unwashed bodies and cheap perfume choked him, made him dizzy so that he wanted to flee, but he plowed on, following Edward to a seat. Waitresses in harem costumes sidled among the tables with trays, occasionally stopping to flirt with a man who bought them a drink. Sometimes they sat on a man’s lap wriggling in a manner he could only suppose was some kind of obscene activity. Up above on a balcony, women hung over the edge and called to men at the tables. They wore low-cut dresses and little else, being uncorseted, with their hair hanging loose and wanton. This was the kind of place those obscene books Edward bought near their office led him to frequent.
Edward ordered a whiskey for himself and soda for Anthony. Anthony would not stoop to alcohol even to blend in with the ruffians who frequented this place. Why would Edward waste his scarce money here?
A brawny man whom everybody seemed to know as Charlie the Chopper announced that a fight was about to start. A space had been cleared in the center of the room for two men stripped down to long underwear and undershirts to square off with bare knuckles. The fighting did not bother Anthony, although he knew prizefighting was illegal. At least the worst the men would get out of it would be a battered head or a bloody nose and bruises. Still, he could not share the half-mad excitement that swept the room. Even women were jumping up and down rooting for their favorite, Dan the Drayman, who was fighting a bigger man called Hooting Tommy. Tommy was bigger, but Dan was faster and more experienced as a fighter, Anthony judged. He had a good jab and an unexpected uppercut that staggered the bigger man. Anthony idly wondered if he could take Dan. He had a mighty jab of his own, honed in his army scraps. He noticed that Dan dropped his hand after he hit Tommy, leaving himself open. Yes, he could take him.
Anthony watched the audience instead. Certainly the bloodlust they were screaming out was unedifying, but less appalling than the open sexual lust he had observed before. At least for the length of the fight, even the ladies with their bosoms
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