Page 24 of Shadow Ticket
lid-dle
Com-mie rats! won’t
Feel so, hotsy tot-sy—
Cause Brownshi-irts don’t,
Go down, with-
-out—a fight! Some
lid-dle
Com-mie rats—
and so forth, as meantime a gent with a swastika armband moves in on Hicks for a swift-finger once-over—finds the little snub-nose, lifts it smoothly away. “Hey,” Hicks points out.
“Only temporary— Oh, izzat you? Hicksie?”
“Ooly Schaufl, holy smokes, how long’s it been.”
“Going by Ulrich these days. Heard about your P.I. license, Steamy Detective himself here, salary, commission, unlimited ammunition. Whoo-ee!”
“Looks better in the movies, less fun than you’d think.”
“Don’t start tellin me how you miss all that headbustin, I sure’s heck don’t.”
“Good old days.” They eyeball each other.
“Well, old, anyway.”
“Not that I’m headed for some retired torpedoes’ home in Oshkosh, um, Ulrich, I’m as bad as I ever was, you need anybody leaned on, you know you can always—”
“I’m not sure…maybe it’s only since the private dick license, you seem more respectable somehow.”
“Ouch. Call me anything but that.”
His old mentor. Whaddaya know. They were briefly at North Division High together, Ooly was the older kid, too old in fact for high school anymore, too smart to be taking years over again, so it must’ve been something else.
“Somethin about violent criminals in the family, hope that’s OK with you.”
“Welcome to the delinquent bin, stranger. You ought to fit in fine.”
Ooly went on to a brief yard apprenticeship up at Waupun before finding himself launched bang into the Roaring Twenties, the appeal of pure action never more keenly felt, the newly rich everywhere, young, beautiful,Republican, throwing parties in lakeside houses which in more tropical surroundings you could’ve mistaken for hotels all jittery with cocaine, whoopee and swing that went on for days, except possibly at Marquette during Lent.
“Kids, all of ’em, dimwits in plus fours, flappers of both sexes, no idea of what was lying in wait, empty-headed and innocent and about to be jumped by the forces of Red revolution—wasn’t it a man’s duty to resist? Ain’t it why we were all out there on the fence line?”
“C’mon, it was only plant owners nervous about their property, working stiffs looking for better pay, and hell, who ain’t?”
Look of concern, “You didn’t go Bolshevik on us, I hope, a Commie flatfoot?”
“How about your pal Hitler, you’re handing your life over to this li’l comedian now?”
“Hey, just a friendly brat-and-beer get-together—we’re National Socialists, ain’t it? So—we’re socializing. Try it, you might have fun.”
“The Nazz-eyes? Sure, I’ll be in touch with ya about that one…”
“Enjoy it while you can, pal. Don’t wait too long. Leavin th’ station, now’s the time to climb on board, later maybe it won’t be so easy…”
