Cumnock School - Chronicle Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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That ain't Butch talking, said Mike. Butch don't talk like that, not even after he broke that skirt's neck in Brooklyn, he don't talk like that! Mike was getting excited. So do you want to hear what Butch tells me, or don't ya? Mike's friend was indifferent as he spoke. Sure l do, sure l do! Well it ain't long before Butch is going around looking for a good deed to do, continued the friend, but you know Butch, he don't know where to look first. So he goes over to Barney's, then he looks in on Pete's place, and it's noon when he reaches jim's. jim ain't got no good deeds and Butch is about to leave when one of the boys at the bar tells Butch he can do him a good deed and go out and put five grand on Barometer to win in the sixth. This ain't the kind of a good deed Butch is got in mind, but he ain't got nothing else to do so he goes out to the track and puts the five grand on the horse's nose. What guy in lim's has got five grand? asked Mike. Big Badger, said Mike's friend. Big Badger, repeated Mike with awe in his voice. Everybody along the street spoke with awe, when they talked about Big Badger. Big Badger was tough and not a guy to be crossed. Well, there ain't nothing Butch can do but hang around and wait for the sixth race to be run, says Mike's friend with another shrug of his shoulders. So he ambles down to the finish line to watch the pigs come in and see if there ain't maybe any deeds he can do. And this is the part of the story that's good, said Mike's friend. He was drawing Mike in closer all the time. Butch ain't right. Mike said, shaking his head. So the fifth race is over and Butch is not paying any attention, thinking about them good deeds and when he's going to find something to do good to. Well, the horses come racing down the stretch and Barometer is lead- ing by about four lengths when all of a sudden one horse buckles up and stretches out on the turf. Butch ain't but about ten feet away so he runs over to see the mess, and pretty soon a Doc comes up and examines the horse. 'His leg's broken,' says the Doc pretty soon. And everybody looks around for a gun to put the poor horse out of his misery. And Butch is standing there with his automatic. He don't know whether to take it out or not. Anybody got a gun! Gimme a gun, yells the Doc! Butch don't know whether to take his gun out or not. He don't want 99

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So right away I asks him what's the matter. 'Nothing', he says. And right there, I knew there is something the matter. 'Did you pull a bum job last night?', I asks him. When he hears this, he looks at me kinda funny and then right away he says. 'Oh, nothing like thatl No', he says, 'nothing like that'. 'The cops ain't gotcha for that guy you bumped the other night?' I says. And then what do you think he answers? What? Asked Mike. Well, he looked at me kinda funny and then he says, 'Please, please try and forget that, will ya pleasel' Mike opened his eyes a little wider at this sign of weakness in Butch. The friend sank the eight ball with calm deliberation and then continued. Well, pretty soon I gets him to tell me all about it, and Mike I tell ya he's a changed man. Well, what's eatin him! Mike spat at the floor, a little annoyed with Butch's sudden change. This is what he told me, began the friend again. lt seems that the night after Butch bumped that railroad dick, he's sitting in the barber chair reading the evening paper when he stumbles on to a account of the shoot- ing. lt seems that the dick had a wife and a kid, a little boy, and the whole family was pretty bad off, no means of support or nothing. Well, for some reason this makes Butch sad. Butch has changed, said Mike simply. And so the next morning he goes over to the widow's house to look things over and see maybe if he can't help out. Here Mike's friend sank the nine ball and shrugged his broad shoulders. Lord knows what he thought he could do, after him making her a widow: but over he went and of course the widow's in there crying her eyes out. Butch don't know what to do, so he stands on the sidewalk for about an hour, and then, all of a sudden he gets the idea that maybe if he offered them a little money, they would stop all that crying and everything would be all right again. So up he goes and rings the door bell, but nobody answers, so he walks in and there sitting in the front room is the kid. He ain't but about four- teen years old, so Butch goes over to the kid and tries to get chummy, talk- ing to the kid and telling him everything's going to be all right, when all of a sudden the kid picks up a book he's got there and starts reading. 'Do a good deed every day'3 says the book. And when Butch hears this, it sortive knocks him for a loop, and he can't do nothing but stand there quiet. Pretty soon the kid puts the book down and starts crying again, so Butch goes away from there, but he don't get very far from the house, when this 'Do a good deed every day' hits him smack-dab in the face again. I got a funny feeling all over, says Butch. I got to do a good deed quick! 98

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to kill nothing anymore, but pretty soon the Doc yells. For C-od's sake some- body do a good deed and put this horse out of his misery! Butch is in a muddle. Butch says he don't know whether this is the kind of a good deed he's been looking for or not, but before he can think again he's got his gun out and is blasting away at the horse. Butch don't think fast, you know. Well, said Mike. I don't see where that lets Butch off acting the way he been acting. Well, says Mike's friend. When Butch collects his senses he finds out he's shot to death Barometer. Butch don't think Big Badger will under- stand good deeds like that, he don't think he will understand about that five grand. Butch don't think he can win. ALBERT BEICH CANDLELIGHT A mystic thing is candlelight! A wispy dart of fire in flight That wavering, wandering seeks to rise, Yet glimmering fainter, ever dies. MARY WILEY IMPRESSIONS Dusk, and the temple twilightg Dark, and the fireside brightg Dawn, and the embers dyingg Day, and the sun's white light. MARYWILEY NOCTURNE The faint, sweet smell of jasmine from afar, just hinted in the breeze that watts across The shimmering sands down to the lonely sea, Lingering haunts the night. The moonlight, in reflected glory caught, And sparkling cast a thousand times Back from the dancing folds of waves, ln candle-luminous mist, wavers, and is lost. MARY WILEY lOO