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Marl Tomasi
SPEAKING OF cPEDIT
The customer took change from her purse and laid it be-
side the dollar bill on the counter.
A half..dollar, a quarter,
two dimes and three pennies. She counted the money aisain,
pointing to the bill and to each coin with a stout, work -worn
finger whose nail was broken and jagged, but clean. he young
man behind the counter was wrapping a pair of gray corduroy
work pants. His red hair made brightness in the somber corner
of the store where men's clothing was sold.
"Joe'll like them, Mrs. Oabrielli," he assured her in a
friendly way, "My father has a couple of pairs he's used in
the shed all winter. Says he 'thee them better than the woolen
ones-"
"Well, take them anyway," Mrs. Oabrielli said. "If Joe
he likes them, then I come back and get another pair."
The clerk must have heard the clatter of the coins on the
counter, but he atked,"You want them charged?"
"No, no. I pay now-"
le flattened the neatly wrapped package and snipped the
twine. "How's Angela's ankle? I haven't seen her pass on her
way to school the last few days."
"Oh, it get better. It get better. Tomorrow she starts
to school again. I try to make her give up this crazy idea
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of sports all the time basketball, baseball. Pretty soon
maybe it will be football for girls, too. Once she used to
say she wanted to teach English when she is finished with school.
Now she says no, she wants to be the sports teacher. I say to
her, 'To be a sports teacher is all right when you're very
young, but what will you do later?' She only laughs and says,
'Oat married.'"
The clerk said, "You're Almo was a good athlete, We played
some gool football our senior year in high school*"
"rah, but that one had brains. Football was all right
for high school, but once he is finished with school he turned
to real work. Work he can do al/ his life."
"Bels still in Quincy?"
The nodded. "With my brother, lie got a fine place there
where they retail monuments. Fight now business is not so
good, but he thinks in a month it will pick up. For Memorial
Day, you know. Always Almo is asking his father in his letters
to came out there; but Joe, I guess he wants to stick in the
sheds all his life-"
After the woman had been escorted to the door, the clerk
returned and perched on the oounters "We've lots of customers
like Yrs. Cabrielli," he began. %omen who come in to buy work
clothes for their husbands. The men aren't fussy about work
clothes. Anything111 do. then it comes to buying a good suit
they come in themselves-" his wide mouth broke into a grin
"but accompanied by their wives. And ten to one they don't
pick out a suit unless the wife likes it, too. Believe me,
it's harder to suit two people than one.
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"This Mrs. Gabrielli's son and I went to sdhool together.
Grades and high school. He was one of the best football men
we had. Good in his studies, too. he won a scholarship but
he never used it. Wanted to get to work right away. You heard
*hat Yrs. Gabrielli said. He's in (uincy selling monuments.
I remember that June we graduated, I had this clerking job
handed to me by an uncle. Almo wasn't as lucky. He loafed
all summer and by fall he was desperate enough to take any kind
of worlc. Vs's the kind of fellow who hates hanging around all
day. Ea could have found work in the quarries or shads but
Joe Gabrielli and his wife said no to that. Finally he was
asked out to "Ilincy with an uncle. He's been there ever since.
It's four years now. I'm still clerking, with only a fourth-
hand Ford to show for it. lolidays Almo rolls home in a new
Chrysler. But he deserves it. He always was a plugcer.
"Now his sister Angela, she's different. She's a nut on
basketball. Shots a small, brown, miry thing. Doesn't look
especially athletic. I'm waiting for the day she puts her foot
down and insists upon going to physical training school. She'll
win. You'll see. Joe Gabrielli and his wife will tear and
rant at her, but she'll finally get her own way.
"My father -Henry MacPherson -and Joe Gabrielli work in the
same shed. My father's a sand blaster. Joe— I don't know
what he does. Joe's like the usual run of Italian married
stonecutters. Works hard, likes to air his views on Italian
and American politics, and likes his grappa and wine. When
my father was abed with a cold last month, Joe sent over a
quart of grappa and told my father to take a cup half coffee
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and half grappa- every four hours until the quart was gone.
The stuff's dynamite, but not bad tasting. Joe makes it every
year from grape mash. Bels never without it.
"When Almo WAS in high school he'd sneak oet a bottle for
the gang. It wouldn't take much to get us feeling good. The
young fellows don't go much for grappa. It's beer for us, or
the other hard drinks. Oreppa was popular during prohibition.
These Italians'd order carloads of grapes. They'd make wine.
Prom the grape mash they'd make the grappa, Sore of them did.
a thrivinc; businees. There aren't many of them bother to make
wine and EPappa now except for their own use at home.
"Ealf of our customers are women like Mrs. Oabrielli.
They think it's a disgrace to have their purohases charged for
even a week. sl.he' want to pay for their goods when they buy
them. If they haven't the vxmey, they don't buy. hey wait.
Thy wait until they have the money.
"Some, of course, are more modern than Pre. Oabrielli.
The stores in town are practically dependent on customers cannaected in some way with the granite business. They're glad to
extend credit. Where would the stores be if the stonecutters'
families took it into their heads to do their shopping in other
towns? They'd have to close up. If it wasn't for the granite
industry there wouldn't be anything to keep the people in Barre.
harreld be like any other lazy Vermont town.
"speaking of credit, these stores gave plenty of credit
during the strike of 122. From What I hear, most of the customers
have paid up these bills. When there was talk a few years back
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of another strike, the larger stores got together and tried to
agree on refusing credit during the strike period, thinking
that it would kill the stril:e before it was started.
a.
ky father was in the strike of '22. Ea never says much
about it. I'm Scotch -Irish. Yy grandfather was Scotland -born.
Old rnoch MacPherson. You still hear his name mentioned in
town. One of the best quarriers Barre's had. I don't remember
much about him except that he was a tall gaunt man with red
whiskers. Always in need or a shave. Wore a heavy moustache,
too. It fell over his mouth like a falls. Fe used to get razzed
about it a lot. He didn't care. 70 seid it was a health measure.
My grandmother used to be him to cut it off. Ile said it wasn't
any worse than her boiling sugar anA water to a thick syrup
and spreading it on a sheet of paper to catch flies. 3he made
fly -catchers with syrup; he used whiskers and moustache for
dust catchers, l!e said the beard held the dust and kept it
from his nose .and mouth. Ye wore his whiskers up to the day
he died.
They say old Enoch VaoPherson could guess the weight of
a gralite block to within five pounds. Ihey had some kind of
a celebration here in Barre years back, before I was born.
They put ten pieces of granite on a table, all different grades
of granite. Then the quarriers and stonecutters were blind-
folded and they were asked to tell by the feel which granite
was the best piece. Old Enoch won the ten dollars.
"Enoch used to sing us a song the quarrymen had sung in
ncotland when he was young. I don't remember the words. It
wasn't the gay, rollicking song you'd expect. It sounded like
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a hymn. Low, with a monotonous tune. It was about most men
needing a God only for their souls, but that a quarryman needed
two. One for his soul, and one to guide his hands and feet
in the quarries. My father says it used to give old Enoch's
wife the shivers every time he sang it."
A new customer claimed the clerk's attention. he was a
boy of ,4even or twelve. Park, lively. "My old man wants a
toque like the one he bought last week," he told the clerk.
"A red one. he lost the other one last night."
"how'd he lose it?" the clerk asked.
"Oh, up near the cemetery. been shoveling snow up
there all week. He said the sun come out good and hot for a
little while yesterday, so he took his toque off. When he
looked for it, it was gone. Buried in the snow, I guess. I'm
glad it wasn't me that lost a toque. have skinned me-"
"owls the skating these days?" the clerk asked.
"Aw, there's too much snow," the boy complained. "When
there isn't snow, it thaws. So what you going to do? I, guess
the best weather for skating is over-"
he trammed the package the clerk handed him in his macke
maw .2ocket. "The old man said he'll come in and pay for it
pay-day-"
The clerk grinned after the boy's back. "Pis people are
more modern -minded than Joe gabrielli and his wife, he's an
Irish kid. his father works for the city. Doesn't make vary
much to keep a family of four kids going. He's always paid
his bills with us. Barrels got a fair-sized list working for
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the city. But there's very few who take real charity. Barrove
proud of that record -m
The street was beginning to fill with home -goers after
the day's work. Two midlle-aged women entered and lingered
at a counter tl.at was stacked with men's underwear.
The red-haired clerk smiled. REello, Mrs. Fermanos.
Reno, Yrs. Mieuelo-"