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RoalduB Richmond
Assistant Director
Federal Writers' Project
STONECUTTER DRUNK
In the back room of the Lambs' Club, a den of gambling
and drinking, the little man lay an a soiled bed and stared
at the ceiling. He was a granite -cutter but he hadn't worked
for months. Instead he had been on one of his periodic
drunks.
The front roam was empty save for a man sleeping an the
couch. Table and floor were littered with cigarette butts,
newspapers, magazines. The screened -in gambling room was
thick with smoke and rough voices. A green -shaded light
cast its brilliance over the large round table and the cards.
The hard faces of the players were in shadow. Brown beer
bottles stood on the wood and the men tilted them from time
to time. A running -fire of vile jokes without mirth and
vicious profanity without meaning was kept up. A few on-
lookers watched silently from the shadows. About the board
were truck -drivers, stonecutters, bootleggers, professional
gamblers, and loafers. Their voices were harsh and coarse,
their laughter held no humor. Hands that were sinewy and
grimy held the cards at the rim of the lighted circle.
The little man in the back roam lay flat on his back
and looked at the ceiling. The light showed a face that
was still strong and fine. Time, hard work and dissipation
had left surprisingly few ravages. :a'turo was no longer
young but his hair was thick and dark. Sweat glistened on
his forehead, under the eyes, along the upper lip. Now and
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then he moaned and twisted in his misery.
"I don't know how long I been dr nk," Arturo said. Odd-
ly he talked and looked quite normal. "I don't know when's
the last tine I ate something. Al]. I know is I'm seeing
things now. Seeing and hearing things, all kinds of things.
So bad I'm afraid to close my eyes. Christ! So I leave
the light on and look at the ceiling. Once in awhile I
drink another bottle of beer. But it don't help me much
any more." He scrubbed brow and eyes with the knuckles
of one hand, a clean hand of grace and strength. Arturo
had always been immaculate. He still prided Ilimself on
his appearance, good looks and good clothes. Even in the
depths of debauchery he kcpt hinnelf neat and clean.
I cut stone all my life and I drank all my life. Both
will kill a man in his forties. And I've done plenty of
both. It don't matter much which way you go. I'm over
fifty now. Old... I don't look it? No, maybe not. But
I feel it inside... I'm a letter -cutter when I work.
It's fine delicate work. You got to have a steady hand and
a sharp eye to cut letters. It's nervous work, it strains
a man. After eight hours of that you need a drink, all
right. You need a dozen drink.
don't know why I drink this way. I always have. I
go along a year or so all right. Take a few at night, go
to work in the morning. Then I don't know all at
once I get started like this. God, it's awful. Three-four
months, sometimes longer. Don't work, don't oat, nothing
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but drink. Can't get away from it. Maybe in my blood, my
father was the same way. But I don't try to blame him.
I guess I got nothing to hold me from drinking. This
is the only home I got since my wife left me. The boys that
run this place have been good to me. People say they're bad*
but they're good to me. They help out lots of others, too.
I've seen them. They help a lot more guys than the people
that talk about them do, I know that. Maybe they gamble
and drink and fight. Maybe they were bootleggers in Pro-
hibition. They're men and they got hearts like gold. If
you're down and out they ain't kicking in your teeth
they're helping you up. I ought to know.
My wife was a good woman but what a talker. What a
tongue: my God, that woman's tongue. She got it from her
old lady. Her old lady was the same way. rUiddalena was
beautiful when I married her though. The old lady didn't
want her to marry me. We had to run away and do it. We
had two daughters I ain't seen them since they was small
kids. They're both grown up and married. They say they're
pretty girls, too. And I'm a grandfather now... My wife
married another stonecutter. A good fellows friend of mine.
I feel sorry for him. 1 woman with a tongue like that is
bad for any man. It goes all the time. It drives a man
crazy.
But I'd like to see the girls. I think I saw the oldest
one. When Joe Richarelli died a lot of people cane up from
Quincy. Joe did a lot for the Italians here, you know... I
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vas in the station when these people got off the train. I
saw this girl and I got a funny feeling. You know, in my
throat, up my back, and mj heart went fast. It must have
been Nina, the oldest. She's in Quincy. She was lovely
black black hair and blue eyes. ry awn daughter walking
by not knowing me, not even seeing me. I felt bad. I
felt bad a long time over that. I know it was Nina. She
was with some of my wife's people. They didn't say hello
either. Viell„ it don't natter... The girls are all right.
I saw my wife two -three years ago at a wake. She was
fat. She had grown old. She tried to talk with me a little,
but there was nothing to say. I got away as quick as I
could. I went and got drunk with her husband instead.
cone from Tuscany near Florence. I was young when
114 father and mother died. They left a little money. Every-
one was going to america, so I went, too. I had relatives
in Barre and I came to live with them about 1900 or 1902,
it was, 37 years ago. Some of them were cutting stone. I
went into the sheds with them to learn the trade. The older
men are dead now. The younger ones kept away from stone-
cutting
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all except one boy. He cuts stone because he's
got a wife and kids .o support. He don't want to do it but
he has to.
Uhen I got married I was only nineteen too young.
But I thought I was a big shot, earning twelve -fifteen bucks
a day. Imagine a kid nineteen making that money?... /L7addalena's
hair was red -gold, her eyes were blue. I wanted her and I took
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her. But I was too young and wild to be married. I couldn't
settle down. I wasn't made for married life. And she nag -nag
nagged with that tongue of hers. The more she nagged the
more I drank. Finally she took the two girls and left me.
She got married again pretty quick, she was still young and
good looking. I didn't try it again I had enough. Maybe
I'd been better off with her maybe worse perhaps just
the same. You can't tell about that. The way I took hasn't
led far. But I've only had myself to hurt.
in the sheds it's pretty bad. The dirt floor is damp
and wet, the sheds are cold in winter. There's always the
dust and the noise. The noise bothered me worst of all,
made me crazy. I had to laugh once in awhile my folks
wanted me to be a musician. And I land in a stoneshed with
hell's own racket bustin7 ny ears. It's a funny thing, this
world, this life... All you go through and when you finish
what?
Arturo closed his eyes, covered them with his hand, and
tried to relax. His bare arms and shoulders were still firm
and strong. Great tremors swept his body making the blankets
quiver. A sob broke from his clenched teeth. "When I shut
my eyes they come back," he groaned. "I got to have another
bottle of beer." He smiled when the bottle was in his hand.
"Makes me feel better just to hold it," he said. After a
time he raised it high and let half the contents run down
his throat. "What a man suffers," he said. "The man who
drinks makes his awn hell. When you get older you can't
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take it."
To be young. To do a good day's work, then take a
couple drinks, a bath, and dress. In clean clothes. Dress
up every nights eat a big supper, and go downtown. Hang
around with the boys and watch the girls go by. Money in
your pockets, nice clothes, good pals, pretty girls. It's
your world then. You better take it what else you got?
Drink, dance, fight, make love, raise hell, and laugh. Get
sick of one town, move on to another granite town, new friends,
new girls, new places... That's when you are young. You
don't give a damn for nothing. You don't want to. Afterwards
you get troubles and worries enough.
Now I got to get over this. I got to sober up and get
back to work if I can get back in. I guess I can, they
call me a good letter cutter. It'll take a few days to get
onto my feet. It'll take a lot of suffering but I'll do
it. I always have done it. God, when I think of the time
I've wasted in my life. Wasted my whole damn life, I guess..
But I'm through this time, all through for awhile. I'm
going to sober up and cut plenty of stone. You wait and see.
Before you go will you open another bottle of beer for
me? Thanks a lot. This one will put me to sleep I hope.
Arturo lay back on the bed, the beaded brown bottle in
his hand. The trembling had stopped now. But his eyes were
still wide open and staring at the ceiling.