He drove home and started pulling things out of the refrigerator to eat. He felt a compulsion to stuff the body against despair. He wanted to handle food, to cook it and smell it, watch animal blood spurting in the pan. Take back muscle and blood. Take back gristle. He needed chewy meat and seltzer water fizzing in his teeth. It adds a little reserve to my strength of will.
He spent ten minutes making a sandwich but didn't have the heart to eat it. He went into the living room and picked up a newspaper to make sure his ads looked okay-the notices that his clubs were closed. George was hulked on the sofa in Jack's old robe, a beer can sweating in his hand.
Jack called his brother Earl in Detroit.
He called his sister Eva here in Dallas to talk for the third or fourth time about what happened. Eva began to weep. She was totally broken up. He handed the phone to George because he wanted his roommate to hear his sister weep. It was a broken hacking sob. Authentic. Jack and Eva wept and George stood with the phone planted on the left side of his head, looking impressed.
Jack went to bed. He stared at the ceiling in the dark. Every time a truck passed on Thornton Freeway it made a noise like paper ripping. The phone rang and he went into the living room and picked it up. He listened about twenty seconds. Then he put on his clothes and drove to the Carousel.
He went up the narrow stairs and turned on the lights. The dogs started barking in the back room. He sat in his office running his hand through his hair. He needed a scalp treatment fast.
He heard the footsteps. Then Jack Karlinsky walked into the office. He looked a little tired. He wore an open-collar shirt and his neck was stretched and ridged. He looked old at this hour, unprepared. He brushed some dog hair off the sofa and sat down.
"It's terrible, what's happening to this city, Jack. Every hour brings new words of grief abroad and wonderment how this could happen. Already the Europeans are talking this is conspiracy. What do we expect? They have their centuries of daggers in the back, frame-ups and poisons. This is adverse thinking. It builds up a pressure which is bad for the city, bad for us all."
"When I think of my father coming out of some Polish village."
"Polish village, exactly."
"To the carpenters' union in Chicago."
"To raise a boy who grows up owning a business, Jack. This is what we want to defend. What is the first thing people say about this tragedy? What does my mother say, eighty-eight years old, in a nursing home? She calls me on the phone. Do I have to tell you what she says? Thank God this Oswald isn't a Jew.' '
"Thank God."
"Am I right? How many people are saying the exact same thing these last two days? Thank God this Oswald isn't a Jew.' '
' 'Whatever he is, at least we know he's not a Jew.
"Am I right? These are the things people say."
"When I think of my father," Jack Ruby said.
"Of course. This is what I say."
"Always drinking, drinking. Out of work for years. My mother talked Yiddish to the day she died. She couldn't write her name in English."
"This is exactly the situation we find ourselves today. I'm saying there are things that need protection."
"I'm a great believer in you have to stand up for your natural values."
"Don't hide who you are."
"Don't hide. Don't run."
"This is a subject I talked to Carmine only today. I've been talking to Carmine direct. He made reference to he was anxious about Oswald. It makes the whole country look bad, all this talk on a level of conspiracy. I'll tell you what people want. They want this Oswald to vanish. That's how you close the book on loose talk. People want him off the map, Jack. He's a nuisance to behold."
"It's a tide of emotion where anything can happen."
"It's a wave. You feel it in the streets. It carries everyone along. We're involved one way or another whether we like it or not. Look at the ad that ran in the paper with a thick black border. Signed with a Jewish name. People notice things like that. They file it away. There's a lot of extreme feelings that attach themselves to Jews."
"I personally feel I've been dropped in a pool of shit."
Jack Karlinsky nodded.
"Let me tell you something right straight out. The man who gets Oswald, people will say that's the bravest man in America. And it's just a matter of time before somebody clips him. They're saying reports of mob action any time. The people want a blank space where he's standing. This act, they'll build a monument, whoever does it. It's the shortest road to hero I ever saw."
"You talk to Carmine."
"Carmine mentioned your name. From Tony Push. They know about you, Jack, in New Orleans."
"I did some things in the Cuba days."
"In other words this Oswald is an aggravation. He knows some little iffy things. He has some names he's playing around in his mind. Carmine wants to clear the air."
"I was over at headquarters, dropping in this afternoon. There's talk they're moving him to the county jail."
"I was about to say. It's a procedure they have to follow in a felony case. This city, it's screwy, the way certain affairs are handled in the legal arena. Commit a violent crime and there's a good chance you'll walk. This is a feature of the local climate. You know as well as I. Murder is easier to get exonerated than breaking and entering, Jack."
"It's considered how people behave."
"Am I right? It's considered settling things Old West-style. They have it ingrained in the way they think. You get a shvartzer kills another shvartzer in a gunfight, the case won't even go to trial."
"Nobody cares enough to try a case like that."
"This is what I say. I'm saying. Popping a guy like Oswald, this is the same approach. Can you project a heavy sentence to take this guy out?"
"People want to lose him."
"You'll see total rejoice. As things now stand, Jack, what are you worth to the city of Dallas? You're a Chicago guy to them. You're an operator from the North. Worse, a Jew. You're a Jew in the heart of the gentile machine. Who are we kidding here? You're a strip-joint owner. Asses and tits. That's what you mean to Dallas."
"Who are we kidding?"
"Who are we kidding here?"
"When I think of my mother."
"Exactly what I'm saying."
"My mother went crazy in a big way. I can't describe the horror. I used to look in her eyes and there was nothing there that you could call a person. She screamed and raged. That was her life. My father hit her. He hit us. She hit us. She thought we were all shtupping each other. Brothers and sisters having constant sex. I never went to school. I fought. I delivered envelopes for Al Capone."
"I'm saying. This is my point. It builds up a pressure that's bad for us all."
There was a short heavy silence.
' Thank God he's not a Jew.
' Thank God whatever he is, at least he's not a Jew.' '
"Jack, I'm sure you hear the same thing in the street I've been hearing for almost two days. The man who kills that communist bastard is saving the city of Dallas from world shame. This is what they're saying in the streets."