Mr. Pinkney was the sort of man who never referred to foreigners, save as “damned foreigners,” nor to women without adding “God bless ’em.”
“Do you know what some of those Jews are doing? Yes, sir, let me tell you! They’re bringing business up Telfair Avenue. When my father built there, yes, sir, it was the finest district in Corinth. He thought he’d leave it for his children and his children’s children. Never thought the town would grow to it. Now, sir, just take a drive past the place. I had to sell it three years ago. What are they doing? Putting up apartments, yes, sir, apartments.”
He looked fiercely at Hamilton as if to see whether Robert could possibly have any sympathy with a foreigner who put up apartment buildings.
“Five years ago that Jew real estate man, Abrams, came to me. Said it was inevitable that business must expand and that it would march up Telfair Avenue. Said he was negotiating for some leases there and advised me to convert my property into something that would pay. Pay, sir, pay! I told him that my father hadn’t built his house to pay, but to live in. Ha, Ha!”
Jarvis and Pinkney and the other gentlemen laughed.
“That’s a good one, all right,” said Jarvis.
“Yes, sir, live in. Well, he said that as the lower part of Telfair Avenue became a business section, the value of the upper part would fall because it would lose its exclusiveness. And he advised me to tear down the home or at least remodel it into an apartment building, and move out in Fairview. Said he was moving there himself.”
Pinkney looked about sharply and paused a moment to accentuate the effect of the denouement of the incident.
“What did I tell him? I said, ‘So you’re moving out to Fairview? Well, that’s every reason in the world why I shouldn’t! Just like that, sir. Shut him up, right off, like that.’”
“That’s the way to fix ’em!” said Jarvis, nodding his head.