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Updated: June 20, 2025
"But the real-estate business ain't like the cloak business, Mr. Potash," B. Rashkin said. "Real estate!" Abe interrupted. "Vacant lots ain't no real estate, Rashkin. Vacant lots is just imitation real estate. You couldn't say you got it real estate when you only got vacant lots, no more as a feller what buys a gold setting could say he's got it a diamond ring."
"You and Perlmutter must be pretty good friends together," Rashkin commented. "But, anyhow, I am perfectly willing to help you all I can, because when a feller practically calls you a bloodsucker and a horse-thief, Mr. Potash, naturally you don't feel too friendly toward him. But one thing I got to say, Mr.
Rashkin cried, shaking his fist under Abe's nose. "What for you didn't take up your option?" Abe stepped back hurriedly and put a sample table between himself and B. Rashkin. "Must I take it up the option?" he said calmly. "Couldn't I let you keep it the four hundred dollars if I wanted to?" Rashkin looked at Ferdy Rothschild. "That's a fine murderer for you. What?" he exclaimed.
"Diamonds is something else again," said B. Rashkin. "I ain't no judge of diamonds, Mr. Potash, but about real estate, Mr. Potash, I ain't no fool neither, y'understand, and these here three lots what I talk to you about is the only three vacant lots in the neighborhood." "Might you think that's a recommendation, maybe, Rashkin," Abe replied, "but I don't.
"And then, Mawruss," Abe went on, "Rashkin hears that the I. O. M. A. is going to make you a permanent loan, so he goes to see Sugarman too." "That's right," Morris agreed. "And he says to Sugarman that so long as Sugarman is got to search the title to your house he wouldn't have to search the title to Rashkin's house, because both houses stands on the same piece of property.
Potash, I would be glad to sell my house, too." Here he made a rapid mental calculation and arrived approximately at the price that would yield Morris a profit. "I had myself an offer of forty-six seven-fifty for my house, Mr. Potash," he hazarded. Abe was ostentatiously surprised. "So!" he said, with an elaborate assumption of recovering his composure. "Yes, Mr. Potash," Rashkin went on.
Rashkin said. "I know your face," Abe said, "but your name ain't familiar. I guess I seen you in Seattle, ain't it?" B. Rashkin nodded. He had never been farther West than Jersey City Heights. "Well, how is things in Seattle, Mister er " "Rashkin," B. Rashkin supplied. "Rashkin?" Abe went on, and then he paused, but not for an answer. "Rashkin why, I don't know no one from that name in Seattle."
I got lots of consideration for you, Ferdy, after the way you treated me already. Yes, Ferdy, I think a whole lot of you, Ferdy. You could come to me with your tongue hanging out from hunger yet, and I wouldn't lift a little finger." Ferdy turned and appealed to B. Rashkin. "Ain't them fine words to hear from my own brother-in-law?" he said.
"Not much, Mawruss," Abe admitted, "but I know one thing about gold bricks, Mawruss: you don't got to pay no taxes on 'em." That evening B. Rashkin again presented himself at the One Hundred and Eighteenth Street residence of Morris Perlmutter, and with him came Isaac Pinsky, of the firm of Pinsky & Gubin, architects. Mr.
"All right, give me a roll tongue sandwich," Abe concluded, and once more addressed B. Rashkin. "Of course you would take back a second mortgage, Mr. Rashkin," he said. "Well, I might take two or three thousand dollars, a purchase-money mortgage, but no more," Rashkin replied, as the waitress returned empty-handed. "Rolls is all out," she said. "I'll have to give you white bread."
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