Chapter XII
Business Deals
BRIGHT and early next morning, along about half past ten o'clock, which is bright and early for New York, I is at Mr. Simons' offices down on Broadway. I sends my name in to him by a white boy which is on guard in an outside room amongst a lot of gold railings. In lessen no time at all the word comes back that I is to walk right in. I walks in and I finds Mr. Simons setting behind the largest desk that ever I seen, in a room mighty near big enough for a church. He acts like he's glad to see me again and he invites me for to have a seat and tell him what's on my mind because, he says, he found my conversation the day previous to be most edifying and helpful.
So I says to him, I says:
"Boss, I wants to ast you a question an' 'pun yore answer depends whither or no I'm goin' ast you a favor lakwise?"
"Shoot," he says.
I says:
"The question comes fust, w'ich it is ez follows: Ef you is earnest 'bout goin' into the mekin' of cullid pitchers fur cullid audiences, lak you told me yistiddy, I desires please, suh, to know w'en you aims to give out yore plans to the public at large th'ough the newspapers?"
He says:
"Pretty soon, I guess—just as soon as I get the scheme sort of shaped up. Why—did you want a job when we open up?"
"Naw suh, not 'at so much," I says. "I got a stiddy job now, valettin' fur Mr. Dallas Pulliam. But I has a right smart extra time on my hands an' I is been kind of figgerin' on mebbe doin' a little somethin' on the side in my sparin' hours. An' so, whut I 'specially craves to know frum you is whether, w'en you gits ready, you intends fur to 'nounce yore plans in the cullid papers yere in this town?"
"Well," he says, "I hadn't thought of it before. But if it would mean anything to you I'd see to it, personally, that it was done and also that in the press notices your name was mentioned in a complimentary way as having given us valuable aid and advice—something of that sort. I suppose you'd like to be put in a favorable light among your friends. Well, I don't blame you. I'm somewhat addicted to printers' ink myself. Was that the favor you wanted to ask of me?"
"Yas suh," I says, "in a way it 'tis an' then again, in a way, it 'tain't. Yere's the idee, boss: I wants to know frum you befo'hand, ef you please, w'en you perposes to mek the 'nouncemint 'cause on 'at se'f-same day they'll be 'nother 'nouncemint in the cullid papers settin' fo'th 'at the new firm of Poindexter & Petty 'spectfully desires to state 'at they is openin' a bookin'-agency fur cullid movin'-pitcher actors in the neighborhood an' 'at lakwise also, in connection wid it, a school fur trainin' cullid folks how to ack fur the screen will later on be added on."
He rears back in his chair and sort of smiles to himself, quiet-like.
"Oh, I see," he says. "I congratulate you on being wide-awake, anyhow. But," he says, "what do you know about training people to act for the screen?"
"Well, suh," I says, "I wuz aimin' to pick up a few p'inters yere an' thar fur future use. An' ef the wust comes to the wust," I says, "I kin get me a pair of these yere tall yaller leather leggin's an' a megaphome an' ack influential an' mebbe I could thar'by git by," I says.
"Some of the white directors are getting by with about that much equipment," he says. "Perhaps you could, too. Well, anyhow, the venture has my best wishes for its success. I can promise you a little more than that: It's probable that later on I can throw some business in your way."
"Thanky, suh, mos' kindly," I says. "'At wuz mainly whut I wuz hopin' fur."
"Do you need any funds to help you out in financing your undertaking?" he says.
"Naw suh, I thinks not," I says. "I got some ready cash on hand an' my partner he's goin' put in a amount ekel to whut I risks. Ef I needs any more on top of 'at, I aims to ast Mr. Dallas Pulliam fur a small loan."
Then I tells him we lives at the Wheatley Court so he can write to me there as soon as he is ready to proceed ahead, and I bids him good-bye and goes back on up-town with hope singing inside of me like one of these here yellow-breast field-larks down home.
It turns out though it's a good thing we don't need no borrowed capital from Mr. Dallas' pocketbook at the outsetting because in lessen two months from that time Old Miss Bad Luck starts shooting at him with the scatter-gun of trouble, both barrels at once.
Which I will go into full details about all that mess the next time I takes my pen in hand.