story # 2 based on the painting NIGHTHAWKS by Edward Hopper 1942. It hangs in the Instutute of Art in Chicago.

NIGHTHAWKS

Shortie and Margo-May

By

Archie L. Tautfest, Jr.

"Want a cup of Joe"

Ya ask what's new.
Well our boys are doin' okay with the Japs, but we're sure getting kicked in Italy.
Ya know I really thought we'd have the guys home by now, but ....

Say have a refill, and I'll tell ya 'bout the other night. The place was empty, and I was cleanin' as always, when in walks Old Shortie Miller. Ya know Shortie, he has that shack down by the river. Yeah, he's the one in the newspaper a couple of months ago, who put the cable across the river, so no U-boats could torpedo the city.
Well, when Shortie sits down, I says to him, "Ya want some java?"
"Yeah Philly, some java -- lots of cream." he says back to me.
"Comin' right up." I says.
When I slides his coffee and cream in front of
him, I asks, "Anything else, burger or somethin'?"
He shakes his head, then looks like he thinks for a minute, and then he says, "Maybe you could get me a ham
and cheese. Second thought, make it a grilled ham and
cheese."
"Sure. Ya want my super duper grilled ham and cheese?" I says.
"What's the super duper?" he asks.
"Well it's a grilled ham and cheese, and I put a slice of onion and a slice of tomatoe on it, before I grill it." I says.
"Sounds good to me." he says.
While I'm slicin' a couple of thin slices of ham, ya know how scarce ham is to get. Well, while I'm puttin' his sandwich together to grill, Shortie pipes up and says,
"Guess what Philly."
"What?" I asks over my shoulder
"I'll tell you, you won't see me after tonight."
"Yeah, where ya goin'?"
"I'm goin' to the sea." he says
"Sea?" I asks.
"Yes, the sea. I'm sailin' tonight on the high tide." he states.
"High tide? We're too far up the river to have high
t ide." I says.
"That may be, but I'm sailin' at high tide." he says.




Now, you and me both know that we're more than four hundred miles from any Ocean. So I look at Shortie for a minute or so, kinda sizin' him up, to se if I maybe oughta call the bughouse or somethin'.
Well, he catches me lookin' at him and he says, "I ain't Buggy. I got an idea."
"Yeah, what kinda idea." I asks.
"Come here and I'll tell ya." he says.
I walks over to where he sits, and he leans across the Counter, and in a low voice, he starts to tell me his swell idea. He no more than gets, "Here's my plan...." out of his mouth, when I smell somethin' burnin'.
I turn around to look, I sees smoke rollin' out from
under Shorties ham and cheese. I runs over to the grill a and flips the sandwich, and as I do, I says a few damns and hells and such.
"Not so bad," I says to Shortie, "just a little crisp around the edges."
"That's okay I like 'em crispy." he says.
"Go ahead and tell me your idea. I'm gunna stay here and watch your sandwich." I says to Shortie.
It's a good thing nobody was in here that night. I don't want anybody to see me burn the food.




Shortie starts his story, or he starts tellin' me his swell idea.
"You see, if I take my row boat, and fill it with dynamite, and row down river to the ocean, I can sit there 'till one of them U-boats or sneekie Jap ships starts up river. Then I can row the boat towards them, and before the dynamite blows, I jump into the water and swim to shore. They won't know what hit 'em."
Now, I can tell ya, when Shortie finishes his story, I stand there lookin' at him with my mouth wide open. I counln't believe the story I'd just heard Shortie tell me.
I don't say anythin' to Shortie. I just slide his ham and cheese on a plate, with some chips and a couple of pickles, and hand it to him.
"Well?" Shortie says, as he's about to take a bite of his half burnt sandwich.
"Well What?" I answers.
"My idea. Ain't it good?" he says. Then he takes his
f first bite of the ham and cheese.
"Shortie did ya think this thing out?" I asks.
With a mouth full of ham and cheese, Shortie says, "Sure have."





I looked at him again. I knew that although I didn't stick my beak in other peoples business, that this time I had to say somethin'. Shortie was gunna hurt somebody if I didn't.
I thought maybe I could talk him out of it. "Shortie do ya think you're boat'll go that far?" I asks.
"That far? Margo-May'll go 'round the world if I wanted.
But I don't want. Them Huns and Japs'll sink poor Margo, if she took me 'round the world." says Shortie.
Now I wasn't sure, but I figured Margo-May was his row boat, but I asks anyways, "Who's Margo-May?"
"Why she's my boat. That's who." he says. Then after a swallow of coffee, he goes on. "Yeah she's a good ol' boat. Like my other Margo-May, she was a good ol' gal, she was. -- I miss her." When he finished, he was lookin' out in space. Not at anythin', just into some dreamland of his.
Ol' Shortie's been walkin' that ten blocks, from the river to here, everyday since I own this joint. He'll have a cup of mud or two, and a piece of apple pie, or a steak sandwich. Anyways, I've known him for years, but until he told me that day, I didn't know that there had been a Mrs. Shortie.
Ya know me. I ain't one to stick my beak where it don't belong, but I asks Shortie, "What ever happened to Margo- May?"

He kinda came out of his dream land, and looks at me for a second or two. "Margo-May?" he asks.

"Yeah you were talkin' 'bout Margo-May being a good ol' gal." I answers.

"Oh Margo-May -- Yes she was. She was good to me, she was. Never a word of back talk, no she didn't."

"Did ya have any kids?" I asks.

"Kids?" -- he asks. Then for the first time since I'd known him, his mouth curled up into a smile, and like a volcano eruption, a sound comes out of his mouth, first like a quiet giggle, like some dames do, then louder and louder, when finally Shortie is poundin' on the counter, tryin' to beat back the side splittin' laugh that has over taken him.

I first thought he was sick, but I then decides that he is laughin'. I just stood there lookin' at him. I don't know what got into him. After about five minutes, his laughin' dies down enough for him to say again, "Kids?" Then he starts laughin' again, this time not so long though.

Well every time he stops laughin', he says "Kids?" then he starts all over again.

After what seems like all night, he finally calms down enough that I can ask, "Look Shortie, what's so funny about kids? Guys and dames have kids all the time."

This time he only giggles a while, before he says, "Philly you're right. Guys and dames have kids all the time, but not me and Margo-May! Margo-May, she was my dog."

"Dog?" I says.

"Yeah, dog. -- Had her for over twenty years, since she was a pup. You thought she was my wife." Then Shortie starts laughin' again.

I felt a little foolish, mistaken Margo-May, the dog, for Shorties wife, and all. –
"Well anyways Shortie," I says, "don't you think your idea 'bout sailin' down the river with a boat load of dynamite is a little dangerous?"
"Somebody's got to do it." he says.
"What if ya hit somethin' on the way, and you hurt somebody?" I asks.
"We're at war ain't we? We got boys dyin' right now don't we? If them U-boats get up river, or them slant-eyes sail up river, they'll do more damage than I will."
I stand there tryin' to figure out how I'm gunna handle ol' Shortie. "Look Shortie, why don't ya talk to the Coast Guard. Maybe instead of loadin' your boat with dynamite, maybe you could be a look out for the Coast Guard."

"Look out?" he questions.

"Yeah, maybe they'd give you a short wave radio, so if you saw anythin', you could radio them." I says, as convincin' as I could.

Shorties eyes light up, and he says, "Short wave radio? Yeah I could sit there at night and watch the entrance to the river. Short wave radio, huh?"

"Maybe." I says.

"Philly, that's a good idea. I'll go tonight”
"Go?" I asks.
"Yeah, no since wastin' time." he says.

"Why don't ya call?" I asks.





"No need to, when they see me and Margo-May, they'll know they got somethin'."

"They got somethin' alright," I thought, but I don't want to bust Shorties balloon, so I didn't say anythin'.

About that time Shortie stands up, and hands me a six-bit and says, "Well Philly, I guess I'll be seein' ya."

Yeah, -- sure -- tomorrow about the same time.

"Nopah, … after the war." he says.

I look at him kinda strangely and I says to him, "After the war?"

"Yep, I'm a goin' to unload the dynamite, then pack my bed roll, and head down river. In a couple of days I'll be workin' for the Coast Guard."

"Ya mean ya got a boat load of explosives sittin' at the dock?" I asks.




"Sure do." he says.

"Where did ya get it?" I asks.

"Oh, I've been borrowin' it, a stick at a time, over on 26th street, where they're blastin' that rock, where they're goin' to build that new government building." he says.

"What if that stuff would've gone up before now?" I asks.

"I didn't think of that." he says, shruggin' his shoulders.

"Look Shortie, it don't sound like I can talk you out of this, but do me a favor will ya.

"Sure, maybe."

"When you unload your Margo-May, just dump the stuff in the river, that way there won't be any chance of somebody gettin' hurt." I says to him.

We talk for a while longer, me tryin' to tell Shortie not to go down river, and him tellin' me that he had to do his share for the country.

Anyways, Shortie left that night, and I ain't seen him since. But I did hear tell from somebody, that they ran into Shortie down river. So I guess he and Margo-May made it. No they didn't say if he was watchin' for the Coast Guard. Knowin' Shortie, it don't mean that he's not out in the Margo-May every night, watchin' for U-boats and Jap ships.

"You want a refill of Joe?"


September 16, 1987