House of Ghosts (22 page)

Herbert Swedge had never been one to run away from a fight. He repositioned himself behind the lectern, gripping it with both hands. He leaned forward, jutting his chin in defiance. “Mr. Abramowitz has drawn conclusions that are incorrect, and he has used these mistakes to intentionally form misleading statements.”

Slocum stood at his side sternly watching the room. Paul wondered if he was mentally keeping notes on how people were reacting. Final grades for the semester were still to be turned into the registrar, and the professor had much discretion in the final decision.

Swedge continued, “American investors have the right to place their money in ventures that promise handsome returns. The only country that offered promise of return and appreciation of principle in the early part of the Depression was
Germany. Where the greatest opportunity lay was in German heavy industry that required a massive infusion of cash. It is true that military orders fueled the expansion of the German economy, and that’s how I forecast the United States will finally emerge from the Depression.”

Shouts cascaded from the balcony demanding better answers. “Mr. Swedge,” Repetti said, “I sense my fellow students want to know how you can justify aiding and abetting a monstrous regime that is founded on repression, intimidation and murder. If he didn’t have foreign help, Hitler wouldn’t be on the march.”

Pandemonium was the situation. Slocum ended the lecture by pointing at Abramowitz. “I’m not finished with you.” He turned and escorted Herbert from the room. As Abramowitz and Repetti walked up the aisle, the room exploded in cheers and applause. Dave and Paul made their way out through a side entrance and were waiting for Sheldon as he entered the hallway.

“My hat’s off to you Sheldon.” Dave asked, “I thought that I knew about most of the Nazi-loving opportunists. I never heard of Herbert Swedge or his son.”

Sheldon put his arm around Dave’s neck. “My boy, that’s my little secret. I have more dirt on the high and mighty than you’ll ever know. Rothstein, send my regards to your brother.” Sheldon walked off with Repetti.

Paul felt a knot in his stomach. “How does he know about Jake, and who else is on to us?”

They made their way to the student center for a snack before their next class. The center was electric. Word had made its way through the student population that the Nazis were on their way to France. For the first time since the Czech invasion, the foreign students were clamoring for action. Paul found Sarah in the cafeteria line and eased in behind her. “I wish you were at the lecture. Sheldon Abramowitz bombarded the guest lecturer who is nothing but an apologist for the investment bankers who have financed Hitler. I’m afraid Slocum is going to take it out on us with the final exam.”

Sarah moved her tray along the line, picking up a cottage cheese platter. Paul was always teasing her about the perpetual diet she was on. “What’s going to happen to the people who managed to get to Belgium and Holland thought they were safe? I fear for the entire European Jewish population.”

Paul tilted his head in the direction of some students sitting across the room. “What’s going on with our French foreign exchange students? They didn’t give a shit when the Germans were beating hell out of the Poles. Their silence was deafening. Now that the other democracies are being cut down like a field of wheat, they’re upset.”

“What are you doing tonight?” Sarah asked. “Maybe we could take in a movie.
I could use a few hours escape from reality.”

Paul would have liked nothing better, however, Jake called an executive committee meeting. Paul hadn’t mentioned a word to Sarah about his clandestine activities. Trips upstate to the faction’s training facility were becoming a problem. He was running out of excuses for not seeing her some weekends. Paul used a part time job on the pier with his brother as an excuse. It was plausible, he needed the money.

“I’d love to come over, but tonight my mother asked me to take her to a friend’s house across Brooklyn and not in a great neighborhood. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Sarah understood what Paul was dealing with. “If it’s not my parents asking me to do something for them, then it is Minnah.” She leaned over and gave Paul a kiss. “I’ll be looking forward to tomorrow.”

With the end of class that Friday, a weekend respite began before exams. Paul was to meet Dave at 4:00 beside the subway entrance at West 4th Street. Dave was running late as usual, giving Paul the time to go over to the news kiosk and pick up the afternoon edition of the
Tribune
. The German army boasted their offensive was proceeding precisely as planned, but at a pace beyond the Werhmacht’s expectations. In Holland, airborne divisions seized intact bridges allowing tanks to cross flooded areas without difficulty.

The Associated Press reported massive bombing in Rotterdam. Within hours, explosions and fires decimated the center of the city. The Dutch, while putting up a spirited defense, were in retreat. Because of the consolidation of Dutch forces, the Belgian left flank was exposed, causing the Belgians to pull back. The Germans were in the process of crossing the Albert Canal. The Belgians highly touted fort, Eben Emael, said to be impregnable, fell to German airborne units.

Dave finally appeared. “Did you get a hold of Jake?”

Paul handed him the
Tribune
. “We’re meeting at Katz’s at six?”

The security breach with Abramowitz was a problem requiring immediate attention. They rode the subway without exchanging a word. When Paul arrived home, he found his father sitting in the living room listening to the CBS recap of the Nazi onslaught. Abe was still in his pajamas. “Sitting day after day before the radio isn’t going to change anything.”

Abe looked at Paul. “I have family over there and am powerless to help them. This news is just a confirmation of their deaths.”

Before Paul could answer, Jake rushed into the apartment and slammed the
door, drawing his mother out of her bedroom. “Paulie, I got two tickets to the Dodger game tonight. Get your stuff together.”

It was a novelty to go to a night game. High intensity lights had just been installed in Ebbet’s Field. Paul feigned surprise at Jake’s excuse for missing their mother’s traditional Friday dinner. “I’ve got a lot of studying to do.”

“Kid, I busted my butt to get these.” Jake waved the tickets in the air. “We have to get going, the game starts at 7:00.”

“Baseball and the Dodgers,” Rachel said, “Have fun.”

They kissed their mother good-bye and left the apartment. “I’ve seen this guy Abramowitz a few times,” Jake said. “I always thought the guy was a schmuck, but maybe I’ve shortchanged him. When we get to Katz’s, I want you to tell the committee all about him.”

The committee was waiting in rear room. Jake broke protocol and announced they would examine various issues as the meal was served. By his look, those in attendance knew things were more serious than the news of the day. After a few remarks, Jake asked Paul to tell the members of the board the facts of the Abramowitz situation.

Paul went through the entire episode of the morning lecture. The three older members were not happy. “How much pull does this America First really have?” Lou Ginsberg asked.

“Its growing by leaps and bounds. Princeton University where Swedge’s son is a sophomore, America First is becoming influential. Multiply that by the number of colleges across the country and they have a boatload of activists for the isolationist cause,” Dave said.

“This Sheldon Abramowitz, he’s from Brooklyn?” Ginsberg asked in a subdued tone. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“He lives over on Fourth Avenue. Dave and I are only familiar with him from seeing him at school,” Paul said between bites of his sandwich.

“I know Abramowitz’s father Harry. He has a plumbing supply on Twenty-fifth. I’ve seen the kid in there, seems like a pretty smart young man, always polite and knows the business,” Bernie Hershkowitz said.

“We have to recognize that we have a potential nightmare on our hands,” Jake said, gesturing with a half-eaten pickle. “If Abramowitz knows of our activities, then others will. I suggest we invite him for a cup of coffee.”

Paul pushed his plate away. “I don’t think he’ll voluntarily come.”

“He’s an egomaniac. He’ll come,” Jake said.

Harold Katz carried in seven cups of scalding tea. At eighty, while not an official member of the committee, he could sit and give advice. He placed the
cups in front of each member, and then took an empty seat. There was definitely something on his mind, as he usually left them alone. “I don’t mean to butt in, but there’s a question I would like to ask.” He deferred to Jake who nodded his approval. “Lindbergh.”

Lou Ginsberg put down his spoon after stirring sugar in his tea. “Again with that nonsense! I thought we straightened that out. How many…”

Jake interrupted. Ginsberg didn’t have any patience with Katz, calling him a dottering old fool behind his back. “Go ahead, Harold.”

Katz stared at Ginsberg then continued, “The bastard travels around the country giving speeches on why the United States shouldn’t get involved in Europe. He’s on the radio as often as that hatemonger priest from Detroit.”

Ginsberg pounded the table. “Tell us how we should kill Lindbergh. Why don’t we do away with the priest too?”

Moe Feinberg couldn’t contain his disbelief. “Harold, are you nuts or just senile? You’re talking about murdering Charles Lindbergh. Maybe the pickle juice has had an affect on your brain.”

Katz stood. “Okay, I’m nuts and senile. Mark my words, Lindbergh is big trouble.” He went round the table clearing the dishes and left the room.

Jake looked at Moe. “He is not crazy or senile. I’ve been reading the same stories, and I understand Lindbergh is going to step up his number of radio broadcasts. With his popularity, he could force Congress to fight Roosevelt’s attempt to aid the British and push the country further into isolationism. I think we have to have a contingency plan to deal with him.”

Jake led the way from the back room and walked behind the refrigerated display case where Harold was trimming a large piece of corned beef. He waited for Ginsberg and Feinberg to pass. “I value your opinion,” he said, shaking the old man’s hand. “Don’t mind those two.”

Paul and Dave were in the backseat of Ginsberg’s new blue Oldsmobile. Jake slid into the front seat and received a cold stare from Ginsberg who tightly gripped the wheel. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” Ginsberg said in a left-handed apology.

“Harold’s entitled to his opinion,” Jake said. “Let’s go.”

Ginsberg navigated to the other side of the borough and pulled into a parking space opposite the Abramowitz house. Paul didn’t have any friends that lived in their own homes. The neighborhood was upper middle class and grass grew instead of concrete in the front yards. Paul and Dave exited the Olds as Jake said through the window, “Dave, stay on the sidewalk in case he tries to make a run for it.”

Paul crossed the street, five strides ahead of Dave and climbed the steps to the front door. Poking its muzzle through the curtains on the old wood door, a collie began growling. Within seconds, Sheldon was looking at Paul. “To what do I owe this pleasure?

Paul prepared to race back to the car if Abramowitz let the mouthful of teeth loose. Abramowitz opened the door grinning ear to ear. “I didn’t think you ventured outside of Flatbush.”

Paul didn’t take the bait. “My brother wants to know if you would like to go for a cup of coffee?”

Abramowitz stepped onto the landing and closed the door. “Let’s go see the master of the universe.”

The trio made their way across the street. Dave opened the left rear door and pointed to the middle of the seat. Lou started the big V-8 and pulled away. He drove no more than twenty-five miles an hour, aimlessly taking lefts and rights. Sheldon tried to appear relaxed, but his apprehension grew. Jake wasn’t in a hurry to break the ice, allowing Lou to tour the area.

“My brother told me about your speech today,” Jake said, without turning around. “Notoriety is not what produces results.”

Sheldon started to speak, but Jake cut him off. “You have a great deal of information on many subjects. What bothers me is your reference about me. To the best of my recollection, we’ve never met. Without bullshit, I want to hear how you know about the Faction.”

Sheldon waited to be sure that Jake was finished, not wanting to make a bad situation worse. They were on the way to Long Island. Arriving at an industrial section of Garden City, Ginsberg pulled into the parking lot of Dependable Trucking and killed the engine. Jake turned to Abramowitz cupping his right hand to his ear, indicating that he couldn’t hear him.

Sheldon cleared his throat that had gone dry. “Jake, I want to become a part of what you’re doing. We may not use the same tactics, but our aims are the same.”

Paul could sense that his brother was losing patience. He touched Sheldon’s elbow trying to move him off his soapbox. “Sheldon,” Jake said in a measured way, “I don’t want to hear what we agree on. I have to tell you, I’ve beat hell out of tougher and smarter guys than you. I’d hate for you to have your graduation party in the hospital.”