From his desk close by, Patrick “Bat” Lanahan looked up over a pile of fat ragged case records. He wore a tiny transistor radio around his neck, with a lead into one ear. Yeah, he said, speaking into a telephone, cigarette dangling, glasses falling off his nose, okay, okay, okay. Okay I said. So shut up for a minute. What? I said shut up. Now let me tell you…
Who’s got Sadie Grossman? Mrs. Kelly screamed again, and only those nearby even heard her, and no one paid her any attention. Whose case? she screamed at the unit clerk.
They say she says it’s Mr. Lanahan…
Mr. Lanahan!
Yeah, okay, just a minute, hold on a minute. I said hold on a minute. Okay, so put another dime in. Yeah? He looked up at Mrs. Kelly.
Sadie Grossman is going to commit suicide.
So?
She’s going to kill herself, the unit clerk screamed, holding the phone to her ear. She’s out on a window ledge.
Every little bit helps, Lanahan said, returning to his telephone conversation. Now listen to me, Carlita baby, you gotta file another complaint, see? That’s right. Yeah. And I’m holding your check till you do. Yeah, that’s what I said, I’m holding your check. No, it won’t do you any good to scream at me, you go scream at your probation officer. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah! He hung up.
You’d better get out there, Mrs. Kelly said.
Who, me? Lanahan said. Where?
No! the unit clerk cried, phone pressed to her ear, oh no!
You get out there and try to stop her, Mr. Lanahan.
Me? But it was my idea.
The unit clerk put down her phone which began to ring again at once. She stared at Lanahan, at Henry Lightcap, at Mrs. Kelly. She jumped, the clerk said.
Couldn’t have happened at a better time, Lanahan said. The old hag was planning to move again, tenth time this year. Gave me more trouble all by herself than any sixteen AFDC cases, may she rest in peace.
But they caught her, the unit clerk said, as her phone kept on ringing. She placed one hand on it, as if to still its insistent throbbing.
Oh shit…Lanahan’s smile faded away. His telephone rang. And as he revolved in his chair to answer the phone the pencil slipped from his ear and three overstuffed case records slid from the pile on his desk and fell to the floor, scattering a multitude of absolutely useless and irreplaceable documents. Look what you’re doin’ to me! he cried in pain picking up the phone first. Yeah?…
With his little finger he picked fastidiously at one nostril. Though only about thirty years old, his flesh wore already the pallor of smog and cement, his hair was half gone, his belly hung soft and paunchy in its sack of skin, and his bottom had broadened to conform to the seat of the wide padded office chair in which he would spend most of the remainder of his waking life. Like a majority of the men in the office he had removed his jacket; he wore a white shirt, already sweat-stained, a narrow rep (reverse pattern) tie knotted tightly around his fat neck, dark pants, black socks, black shoes. When he walked he waddled, feet splayed outward like a duck’s, when he sat he slumped. The only muscles in his entire body which functioned regularly and well were those of the tongue, the lips, the jaw, those in his right thumb and forefinger, needed in grasping a pen, those in the middle finger of the left hand, with which he dialed telephone numbers, and in the middle finger of his right hand, with which he entertained his wife. When he leaned back in the swivel seat his feet rose off the floor and thus suspended he looked helpless as a man in a dental chair, where he also spent much of his time. He wore glasses with round gold rims, tres chic, and suffered from constipation, nerves, dizzy spells, bouts of nausea and bad dreams. Henry regarded him for a few minutes, as he did every morning, with astonishment, with awe, with an unwilling suspension of disbelief. For in Bat Lanahan he saw, dimly, as through a smoky glass, the prefigure of the new man, homo urbanus universalis, and his own fate.
A type, however, which would not come about quickly or easily. For even in the orthodox-liberal atmosphere of the office of human welfare, ancient antagonisms simmered close beneath the surface, preserving ethnic diversity. The office force divided itself into three tribal groups of nearly equal size: the Jewish, the Irish, the African. Henry Lightcap, belonging to none of the three and therefore able to move freely among them all, was aware that each tribe feared, hated and despised the other two, and that the only sentiment they shared was a common contempt for their welfare clients—i.e., the “animals.” Even naive Henry could not help but be aware of these subsurface currents and yet he still believed that the American melting pot would someday stop boiling, that things were gradually getting better, that all might yet be well. (Give me your muddled masses, yearning to eat free…)
But in fact Henry knew for sure only one thing in the whole world, to wit:
This is not the way to live.
Aided by the Sadie Grossman diversion, Henry escaped the attentions of Mrs. Kelly. Sitting now at his own desk, shuffling his own papers, he eyed with gratitude the glossy nylon knees of young Sylvia Dresnick, whose desk faced his own. Miss Dresnick’s legs had once been hidden by a modesty panel attached to the front of her desk but a thoughtful co-worker, about two weeks before, had unscrewed and hidden the panel in the broom closet of the men’s room, where it belonged. And even as he stared she crossed her legs, allowing him a glimpse of higher things.
Good Christ! he thought, feeling something like a toothache where he knew he had no teeth, feeling a longing in his core like a homesick soldier’s desire for home. Poor Henry, he opened his case records and shuffled his forms, his papers, his cards and tags and paper clips. Attention badly divided, he tried to organize his materials while at the same time watching Miss Dresnick turn in her chair on her beautiful pivot, rise and glide like a seraph toward the banks of filing cases. The dress she wore had a golden hue, printed with gladiolas, and clung magnetically to her small graceful waist, her perfectly rounded rear. As what or who would not?
She won’t last long here, said Lanahan.
No, Henry agreed, she don’t look like no social worker.
Actually she majored in marketing.
Marketing?
Keep your mind on your work, Henry. And listen, that reminds me, you haven’t joined the union yet. Lanahan got up, came over to Henry and dropped a card on the papers before him. Lightcap stared at it, saw his name typed on one line, his address, his job title. Federation of Municipal Welfare Workers, U.S.A. I filled it out for you, Lanahan said. Just sign.
How much will this cost me?
Ten dollars.
I already joined that other one, the AFL-CIO outfit.
We all did. We join ’em both. That way we get some action. The unions are like everything else, they won’t move unless you scare them with competition. Sign the card.
Miss Dresnick came back to her desk, a sloppy dirty dog-eared case record bulging with human misery in her bare and shapely arms. They watched her sit down. Lanahan squeezed his shoulder:
Sign the card.
Yes, sure…Though I’ll be damned…
Sign the card and shut up. All we want from you is your name on the card and your ten dollars. You got ten dollars?
I don’t know…He signed the card and searched his pockets. Here, take it, it’s all I have.
They watched Miss Dresnick cross her legs again, adjust her glasses and open the case record. She wore stockings of the sheerest midnight black, giving her legs a delicious salacious lubricious bohemian luster, sinful and unjust.
My God, Lanahan muttered, as the telephones rattled, unheeded, everywhere around them. What’s it like to get into something like that?
A man can get used to anything, Henry said, wishing it were more than half true.
Listen, Henry, I want you to have lunch with me. I want to talk to you. The phone rang on Lanahan’s desk. Henry had not been given a telephone of his own; when his clients called, he was summoned to the unit clerk’s desk. Lanahan’s phone jingled.
Mr. Lightcap! the unit cle
rk shouted. Telephone!
Lunch, right? Lanahan insisted. Henry nodded agreement, getting up to take his call, and accidentally dislodged a couple of case records. Papers cascaded to the floor: application forms, birth certificates, authorizations to investigate, medical reports, school reports, out-of-own inquiries, or letters from the Veterans Administration, from the Social Security Administration, from the Social Service Clearance Center, from the Domestic Relations Court, from the Child Welfare Service, from the Rikers Island School of Correction, from various private welfare agencies, from the probation officer, from former employers of the client, notes from the resource consultant’s office, from the housing consultant’s office, from the Rehabilitation Center, from the unit supervisor, from the group supervisor, from the Assistant Administrator’s office, rent receipts, letters of complaint from landlords and neighbors, letters of complaint from clients and relatives, memos from the Dental Clinic, from the Psychiatric Clinic, from the Well-Baby Clinic, from the Retarded Children Clinic, a dishonorable military discharge, a rubber check, a death certificate, gas and light bills compound and overdue, insurance affidavits, social history summaries, narrative reports, case studies, social audit memoranda, face sheets, coded social data sheets, financial reports, signature cards, work report forms, transportation account forms, field visit schedules, lost check affidavits, change of address forms, rental deposit contracts, form letters to and from the Rent Control Office, to and from the Public Housing Authority, to and from the Department of Sanitation and the Department of Public Safety and the Department of Buildings, salary verification letters from the employers of legally responsible relatives, inquiries to and from the Police Department, Fire Department and Narcotics Bureau, carbon copies and photostatic copies of many of the above, paper clips and rubber bands, chewing gum wrappers and candy bar wrappers, reports to and from the Workmen’s Compensation Board and the Employment Security Office, psycho-socio-medical summaries for the state psycho-socio-medical team in Albany, a social service survey sheet from the Department of Health, Education and Welfare, letters to and from the commissioner’s office, the mayor’s office, the governor’s office, the senator’s office, the White House, old marriage certificates and baptismal certificates, naturalization papers and canceled insurance policies, insurance assignment forms, property assignment forms, automobile evaluation forms, additions to and deletions from the Procedures Manual and the official form-sheet index and the Policies Manual, a budgetary allowance handbook with revised appendices, memoranda and errata, several case description sheets from the field book, appointment cards, referral cards, clinic cards, canceled bank books, a guidesheet for home-makers on a public assistance budget, a list of forms needed for processing an Aid to Families with Dependent Children case, for an Old Age Assistance case, for a Disability Assistance case, for a Needy Blind case, for a Nursing Home case, for a Temporary AFDC case, for a Crippled Children case, the deed to a burial plot in the Montefiore Cemetery, application withdrawal forms, hold-check forms, cancel-check forms, stop-payment forms, release-check forms, suspend-case forms, renew-case forms, close-case forms, reopen-case forms, reclose-case forms, special nonrecurring-grant forms, and special initial-grant forms, and regular nonrecurring-grant forms, etc. (Etc.)
Telephone, Mr. Lightcap, telephone!
Hastily, before they were trampled, scattered and lost forever, Henry shoveled up the precious and useless and irreplaceable papers with his big sad hairy hands and dumped them in a wrinkled bundle back on his desk, among the various other papers and forms and documents, planning to sort them out later, and went to the unit clerk’s desk to answer his phone call, the first one he’d received this morning, since most of the clients on his caseload were not yet familiar with his name and many had not even seen him yet. He had about eighty or ninety regular cases in his load, he wasn’t sure of the number because he’d not yet had a chance to count them, and was beginning to realize he never would get such a chance, life being what it is.
He grabbed the phone: Hello, this is Henry. I mean…this is Mr. Lightcap.
Mistah Lightcap, suh, came a gravel-throated voice in reply, dis Cynthia Jackson, you ’member me, you was out mah place las Tuesday?…
Who?
Cynthia Jackson, the voice explained, patient. You was out mah place las’ Tuesday, you ’member? An’ you know I’se bout to have a baby agin and Mistah Jackson he done run out agin an’ he ain’t made his payments for three months now an’ dat ain’t dah worse of it, Mistah Lightcap, he stole mah check, yassuh, he took duh whole thing an’ didn’t gimme one cent of it, Mistah Lightcap, an’ I’se s’posed to go to duh hos’pal dis aftanoon an’ we cain’t pay duh rent an’ Mistah Venech he say he gonna trun us all out an’ duh light company shut off duh gas agin I mean dey done dat already I mean duh lights an’ we ain’t got no money agin an’ de chillun dey’s hongry, Mistah Lightcap an’ Mistah Lightcap, you ’member Opal Mae she’s duh one wit de what dey call eplipsey an’ she’s havin’ a fit raht now an’ all de othuh chillun dey’s scairt to death an’ I got to gonter duh hos’pal saftanoon iff’n I kin find fifty cents for duh subway an’ Mistah Lightcap I wanna know what you gonter do about this?
What?
An’ dat ain’t all, Mistah Lightcap, you ’member mah sistuh Sylvia Moore? You ’member her, she’s dah one wat’s s’posed to take keer duh chillun while I’se in dah hos’pal well Mistah Lightcap I’se shamed to tell you dis but I guess I got to ’cause she sure done let me down agin, yassuh she run off wit Mistah Jackson and not only dat she leff all her chilluns here wit me an’ now we got about ’leven-thirteen babies a-crawlin’ on dah floor an’ fallin’ down dah stairs an’ playin’ in dah toilet bowl an’ dat reminds me, Mistah Lightcap, de lan’lord dat Mistah Venech he say two weeks ago he gonter send a plumber ’round to fix dat thing but he nevah done it, no suh, he nevah, an’ he say he won’ do nuthin’ till ah pays dah rent an’ Mistah Lightcap how’s I s’posed pay dah rent when ah ain’t got no money?
I see. Good God…He looked desperately around for help but Mrs. Kelly was deep in conference with two other caseworkers and a telephone and Lanahan was a half a block away by the wall of filing cabinets and Miss Dresnick, the lovely and silken Miss Dresnick, was busy filling out a form with one hand and holding her phone in the other, and there was no one, no one else in the whole fourth floor maze of desks and white shirts and telephones and papers and cigarette smoke and balding heads and blond wigs that he knew, could appeal to, for immediate aid. Caseworkers rushed by, loaded with papers, followed by a unit clerk with a handful of IBM cards, followed by an administrator with a face like a peptic ulcer.
Look, Mrs. Moore, he said into the telephone, you hold on a minute. I’ll…
Your time is up, madame, the operator said. If you wish to continue this call, please deposit ten cents.
Mistah Lightcap dis heah’s Cynthia Jackson an’ ah ain’t got no mo’ ten cents an’ I wanna know what is you gonna do an’ will you revuss dat chawges please, operator?
Yes, yes, Henry cried, reverse the charges, reverse the charges!
May I have your name, address, the name of your firm, and your telephone number, sir? the operator asked.
What? What? Well, this is…this is…My God, what’d you say? What’s all that again?
Ah said dis is Cynthia Jackson not Sylvia Moore an’ I wanna know is you gonna help me or is you ain’t ’cause ah cain’t stand her a-talkin’ all day, Mistah Lightcap, and if you is mah investigatah then ah want some action…
Your name, address, the name of your firm, and your telephone number, sir.
Mistah Lightcap, is you?…
Wait a minute! he shouted. I’ll be out there right away. You hear me, Mrs. Moore? Mrs. Jackson? I’ll come out there. Good God, don’t make a move yet, I’ll be out there right away. Goodby!
Mistah Lightcap…
Sir, you will please…
He hung up. Instantly, before the phone had even come firmly to rest in it
s cradle, it jangled again, loud and shrill. Henry turned his back on it and advanced to Mrs. Kelly’s desk. His throat felt hot, dry, sore and ticklish. He knew the streptococci were crawling, breeding and multiplying today. He stopped, waited, loosening his necktie, while his supervisor concluded her discussion with those before him. But when he thought his turn had come he was summoned again by the unit clerk, again waving the telephone at him.
Mister Lightcap, telephone…
He hesitated, hesitated, then still without an opening to Mrs. Kelly’s ear, went back to the unit clerk’s desk and took the telephone from her.
Mr. Lightcap speaking…
’Alo, ’alo, theese Rogelio Bellabista nomber two seex wan eight seven seven. Meestair Lightcap I want report some mother-fucking pendejo of a cabrón steal my check again and my mother she coming from Puerto Rico yesterday bring the other children and now we got seex keeds sleeping wan bed and my mawther she sleep on the floor last night and we need a new bed Meestair Lightcap and the other caseworker she promise us new bed two months ago and we never get him and my brother Hilario he stab with knife and they put him in hospital and we got no money now and my wheelchair is broke and won’t run and my wife she run away again with my brother Antonio son of a black puta cabrón and I theenk I go crazy and cut her throat Meestair Lightcap if you don’ do something for us queeck because Meestair Lightcap I cannot leeve like these anymore an’ if you don’t help us I shoot the keeds and cut my mawther and go back to Puerto Rico where she nice and warm and leeve with my seester-in-law Hildoina and be wan beeg fat pimp like before an’ you wouldn’t want me do that Meestair Lightcap so you got to help us queeck with new check or I write letter to the Mayor and the Gobernador and the First Lady too and I get you in real trouble Meestair Lightcap real queeck, eh? How you like that?
What? Who? You’ll what?
An’ Meestair maybe I only keeding you know me Meestair Lightcap heh! He! He! But I wan’ you know about our troubles he is very bad and listen my mawther need glasses and she need the teeth what you call them? Eh? She got no teeth, and the wheel come off my wheelchair I no can feex by myself and the keeds no go to school unless you get them shoes and you never send the money for the shoes like you promise Meestair Lightcap and now the landlord he mad too he say my mawther and the other keeds got to get out or he raise the rent one hawndred fifty dollar because he say too many people for one room and he won’t feex stairs and lights they all burn out an’ rats and cockroaches like wild animals, Meestair Lightcap fight all night, can’t get no sleep and you remember that big hole in roof she falling through? He no feex that either won’t do nothing Meestair Lightcap you got to help us please Meestair Lightcap you got to help us please Meestair Lightcap you got to help us or I go crazy kill all the keeds they drive me crazy Meestair Lightcap scream and fight all the time an’ my mawther she very old an’ can’t see good Meestair Lightcap almost fall down stairs and when she go to store to buy some bread the boys they mump her in the hall downstairs take all the money now we got nothing to eat Meestair Lightcap and keeds they are two very seeck keeds I don’ know what’s wrong with them they throw up all the time and red spots all over the face and the window she broke and I can’t feex window because I got no paper no cardboard an’ my wheelchair he won’t move and I wanna know what you do to help us Meestair Lightcap? Eh?