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Not by compulsion nor arbitrary selection, but of his own free will, he who serves the public through the press is a soldier. And as a soldier he is ready at the proper time to go forward and give up his life if need be. "No member of a sturdy army was more worthy of a gallant end than Jacson Gootes.
He enunciated clearly and precisely, speaking in an even monotone, pausing not at all, as if reading from some prepared script, though his eyes were fixed upon a vacant spot where wall and ceiling joined. "In the death today of Jacson Gootes the Daily Intelligencer lost a son. It is an old and good custom on these solemn occasions to pause and remember the dead.
"I'm reasonably certain youve been authorized to advance me the other thirty, but I hope we're both sensible people and I'll be glad to sign a receipt for the full amount if youll let me have twentyfive." "Albert, youre a fine fellow a prince." On a page from his notebook he wrote, Of Jacson Gootes, $50 U.S. and I signed it. He handed me another twentydollarbill and put his wallet away.
It is well to be provident and I'd paid for my meal in more than money. Jacson Gootes came limply from the phonebooth, his bumptiousness gone. "No soap." He shook his head dejectedly. "Old Man said only pity for the lower mammals prevented him from letting me go to work for Hearst right away. Sorry." His nerves appeared quite shattered; capable of restoration only by Old Grandad.
Gootes produced a reporter's badge from the captain's bars. "Oh. Excuse me. Say, that was a sharp little stunt, Mr " "Name of Jacson Gootes. Intelligencer." "Captain Eltwiss. How did you learn stuff like that?" I looked at him, for the name was somehow vaguely familiar. But to the best of my knowledge I had never seen that smooth, boyish face before. "Talent. Natural talent.
He continued to subject me to the indignity of being "ghosted," a thoroughly expressive term, which by a combination of bad conjugation and the suggestion of insubstantiality defines the sort of prose produced, by Jacson Gootes.
Jacson Gootes made a pass in the air, simulated astonishment at the twentydollar bill which appeared miraculously between his fingers and put it in my hand. "Thank you," I replied coolly. "Just what is this for?" "Faith, me boy, such innocence Ive never seen since I left the old sod.
He whisked the cards out and showed them to me, the ace of spades ghoulishly visible, its ominousness tempered only by the word "Bicycle" printed across it. "Don't hold out on your Uncle Jacson or I might have the boys take you for a little trip. A block of concrete tastefully inscribed 'A Weener' ought to make an amusing base for a birdbath, say." "Listen, Gootes." I was firm.
"Acute chap. Newspaperman. Name of Gootes. Jacson Gootes, Daily Intelligencer, not Thrilling Wonder Stories." I thought I saw an answer to my most pressing problem. One has to stoop occasionally to methods which, if they didnt lead to important ends, might almost be termed petty; but afterall there was no reason Mr Jacson Gootes shouldnt buy me a dinner in return for information valuable to him.
You just keep squawking to the bookkeeping department and youll get further than coming up against the Old Man. Now let's go out and look at nature in the raw." "But my copy," I protested. "Oh, that," he said airily, "I'll run that off when we come back. Deadlines mean nothing to Jacson Gootes, the compositors' companion, the proofreaders' pardner, the layoutman's love.
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