Butch Minds the Baby
ONE EVENING along about seven o'clock I am sitting in Mindy's restaurant
putting on the gefillte fish, which is a. dish I am very fond of, when in comes
three parties from Brooklyn wearing caps as follows: Harry the Horse, Little
Isadore and Spanish John.
Now these parties are not such parties as I will care
to have much truck with, because I often hear rumors about them that are very
discreditable, even if the rumors are not true. In fact, I hear that many
citizens of Brooklyn will be very glad indeed to see Harry the Horse, Little
Isadore and Spanish John move away from there, as they are always doing
something that is considered a knock to the community, such as robbing people,
or maybe shooting or stabbing them, and throwing pineapples, and carrying on generally.
I am really much surprised to see these parties on Broadway, as it is well known that the Broadway coppers just naturally
love to shove such parties around, but here they are in Mindy's, and there I
am, so of course I give them a very large hello, as I never wish to seem
inhospitable, even to Brooklyn parties. Right away they come over to my table and sit down, and Little Isadore reaches out
and spears himself a big hunk of my gefillte fish with his fingers,
but I overlook this, as I am using the only knife on the table:
Then they all sit there looking at me without saying
anything, and the way they look at me makes me very nervous indeed. Finally I figure that maybe they are a little embarrassed being
in a high-class spot such as Mindy's, with legitimate people around and about,
so I say to them, very polite:
"It is a nice
night."
"What is nice about
it?" asks Harry the Horse, who is a thin man with a sharp face and sharp
eyes.
Well, now that it is put up to me in this way, I can see there is nothing so nice about the night, at that, so I try to think of something else jolly to say, while Little Isadore keeps spearing at my gefillte
fish with his fingers, and Spanish
John nabs one of my potatoes. . .
. . "Where does Big Butch live?" Harry the Horse asks. .
.
After apprehensive loss of
memory and much parrying of this enquiry, the narrator states as such:“You know Big Butch has a very bad disposition, and there is no telling
what he may say to me if he does not like the idea of me taking you to him."
"Everything is very kosher," Harry the Horse
says. "You need not be afraid of anything whatever. We have a business
proposition for Big Butch. It means a nice score for him, so you take us to him
at once, or the chances are I will have to put the arm on somebody around
here."
Well, as the only one around there for him to put the
arm on at this time seems to be me, I can see where it will be good policy for
me to take these parties to Big Butch, especially as the last of my gefiIIte
fish is just going down Little Isadore's gullet, and Spanish John is finishing
up my potatoes, and is donking a piece of rye bread in my coffee, so there is
nothing more for me to eat. . .
. . .Well, it finally comes out that the
idea of Harry the Horse and Little Isadore and Spanish John is to get Big Butch
to open the coal company's safe and take the pay-roll money out, and they are
willing to give him fifty per cent of the money for his bother. . .
Butch says: “. You boys
know I cannot stand another fall, what with being away three times already, and
in addition to this I must mind the baby, My old lady goes to Mrs. Clancy's
wake tonight up in the Bronx, and the chances are she will be there all night,
as she is very fond of wakes, so I must mind little John Ignatius Junior”. . .
After a great deal of to-ing and fro-ing over the pros and cons concerning Big
Butch's proposed bust of the big safe.- and his two stern warnings to keep voices down so as
not to wake the baby, Butch. . . turns away and goes back to
the stoop as much as to say he is through arguing, and sits down beside John
Ignatius Junior again just in time to keep a mosquito from carrying off one of
John's legs., Anybody can see that Big Butch is very fond of this baby, though
personally I will not give you a dime a dozen for babies, male and female.
The gangster have a hushed debate, when Spanish John seems to have a bright idea -
so much so that Harry the Horse and Little Isadore ‘get all pleasured up over
what he has to say’. He passes on the word to the Big baby-watcher:
"Listen, Butch," Harry says in a whisper,
"we can take the baby with us, and you can mind it and work,
too!"
So Butch picks up the baby and leads us into his joint,
and gets out some pretty fair beer, though it is needled a little, at
that, and we sit around the kitchen chewing the fat in whispers. There is a
crib in the kitchen, and Butch puts the baby in this crib, and it keeps on
snoozing away first rate while we are talking. In fact, it is sleeping so sound
that I am commencing to figure that Butch must give it some of the needled beer
he is feeding us, because I am feeling a little dopey myself.
Finally Butch says that as long as he can take John Ignatius Junior with
him he sees no reason why he shall not go and open the safe for them, only he
says he must have five per cent more to put in the baby's bank when he gets
back, so as to round himself up with his ever-loving wife in case of a beef
from her over keeping the baby out in the night air. Harry the Horse says he
considers this extra five per cent a little strong, but Spanish John, who seems
to be a very square guy, says that after all it is only fair to cut the baby in
if it is to be with them when they are making the score, and Little Isadore
seems to think this is all right, too. So Harry the Horse gives in, and says
five per cent it is.
Well, as they do not wish to start out until after
midnight, and as there is plenty of time, Big Butch gets out some more needled
beer, and then he goes looking for the tools with which he opens safes, and
which he says he does not see since the day John Ignatius Junior is born and he
gets them out to build the crib.
Now this is a good time for me to bid one and all
farewell, and what keeps me there is something I cannot tell you to this day,
because personally I never before have any idea of taking part in a safe
opening, especially with a baby, as I consider such actions very dishonorable.
When I come to think things over afterwards, the only
thing I can figure is the needled beer, but I wish to say I am really very much
surprised at myself when I find myself in a taxicab along about one o'clock in
the morning with these Brooklyn parties and Big Butch and the baby.
Butch has John Ignatius Junior
rolled up in a blanket, and John is still pounding his ear. Butch hands me a package and tells me to be
very careful with it. He gives Little Isadore a smaller package, which Isadore
shoves into his pistol pocket, and when Isadore sits down in the taxi something
goes wa-wa, like a sheep, and Big Butch becomes very indignant because it seems
Isadore is sitting on John Ignatius Junior's doll, which says
"Mamma" when you squeeze it. It seems Big Butch figures that
John Ignatius Junior may wish something to play with in case he wakes up, and
it is a good thing for Little Isadore that the mamma doll is not squashed so it
cannot say "Mamma" any more, or the chances are Little Isadore will
get a good bust in the snoot. . .
. . .I hear
myself thinking very plain that I am a big sap to be on a job like this, especially with a baby, but I keep going just the
same, which shows you what a very big sap I am, indeed. . .
. . . there is not room for all of us (around the
safe). However, we can see what Big Butch is doing, and I wish to say while I
never before see a professional safe opener at work, and never wish to see
another, this Butch handles himself like a real artist.
He starts drilling into the safe around the
combination lock, working very fast and very quiet, when all of a sudden what
happens but John Ignatius Junior sits up on the blanket and lets out a squall.
Naturally this is most disquieting to me, and personally I am in favor of
beaning John Ignatius Junior with something to make him keep still, because I
am nervous enough as it is. But the squalling does not seem to bother Big
Butch. He lays down his tools and picks up John Ignatius Junior and starts
whispering, "There, there, there, my itty oddleums. Da-dad is here."
Well, this sounds very nonsensical to me in such a
situation, and it makes no impression whatever on John Ignatius Junior. He
keeps on squalling, and I judge he is squalling pretty loud because I see Harry
the Horse and Spanish John both walk past the window and look in very anxious.
Big Butch jiggles John Ignatius Junior up and down and keeps whispering baby
talk to him, which sounds very undignified coming from a high-class safe
opener, and finally Butch whispers to me to hand him the package I am carrying.
He opens the package, and what is in it but a baby's nursing bottle full
of milk. Moreover, there is a little tin stew pan, and Butch hands the pan to
me and whispers to me to find a water tap somewhere in the joint and fill the
pan with water. So I go stumbling around in the dark in a room behind the
office and bark my shins several times before I find a tap and fill the pan. I
take it back to Big Butch, and he squats there with the baby on one arm, and
gets a tin of what is called canned heat out of the package, and lights this
canned heat with his cigar lighter, and starts heating the pan of water with
the nursing bottle in it.
Big Butch keeps sticking his finger in the pan of water while it is
heating and. . .
(Later) Well, in the meantime John
Ignatius Junior finishes his bottle and starts mumbling again, and Big Butch
gives him a tool to play with, and finally Butch needs this tool and tries to
take it away from John Ignatius Junior, and the baby lets out such a
squawk that Butch has to let him keep it until he can sneak it away from him,
and this causes more delay.
Finally Big Butch gives up trying to drill the safe
open, and he whispers to us that he will have to put a little shot in it to
loosen up the lock, which is all right with us, because we are getting tired of
hanging around and listening to John Ignatius Junior's glug-glugging. As far as
I am personally concerned, I am wishing I am home in bed.
Well, Butch starts pawing through his satchel looking
for something and it seems that what he is looking for is a little bottle of
some kind of explosive with which to shake the lock on the safe up some, and at
first he cannot find this bottle, but finally he discovers that John Ignatius
Junior has it and is gnawing at the cork, and Butch has quite a battle making
John Ignatius Junior give it up.
There comes a point, amid the toy
problem and the squalling, when Butch has to allow somebody to hold his baby. .
.
John Ignatius Junior does not like Isadore, and I do not blame him, at that, because
he starts to squirm around quite some in Isadore's arms and lets out a squall,
but all of a sudden he becomes very quiet indeed, and, while I am not able to
prove it, something tells me that Little Isadore has his hand over John
Ignatius Junior's mouth.Well, Big Butch joins us right away in the back room,
and sound comes out of John Ignatius Junior again as Butch takes him from
Little Isadore, and I am thinking that it is a good thing for Isadore that the
baby cannot tell Big Butch what Isadore does to him.
"I put in
just a little bit of a shot," Big Butch says, "and it will not make any more noise than
snapping your fingers."
But a second later there is a big
whoom from the office, and the whole joint shakes, and John Ignatius Junior
laughs right out loud. The chances are he thinks it is the Fourth of July.
. . Big Butch loses no time in getting his dukes into the safe and grabbing out
two big bundles of cash money. . . Then
the safe-busting party departs. They split up as the cops arrive to investigate
the explosion – and the gang start a gun-battle with the police ..
All this time Big Butch and me are walking in the
other direction toward Seventh Avenue, and Big Butch has John Ignatius in his
arms, and John Ignatius is now squalling very loud, indeed. The chances are he
is still thinking of the big whoom back there which tickles him so and is
wishing to hear some more whoom. Anyway, he is beating his own best record for
squalling, and as we go walking along Big Butch says to me like this:
"I dast not run," he says, "because if
any coppers see me running they will start popping at me and maybe hit John
Ignatius Junior, and besides running will joggle the milk up in him and make
him sick. My old lady always warns me never to joggle John Ignatius Junior when
he is full of milk."
"Well, Butch," I say, "there is no milk
in me, and I do not care if I am joggled up, so if you do not mind, I will
start doing a piece of running at the next corner."
But just then around the corner of Seventh Avenue toward which we are
headed comes two or three coppers with a big fat sergeant with them, and one of
the coppers. . .
This excerpt is about Runyon's famous characters, not his plots. Thus I have selected only passages dealing with the relationships of the gangsters to the narrator and to Butch and his baby. I hope these induce you to read the full story, and/or re-read Damon Runyon in the original. Just possibly you may half-agree with me that he deserves second place in the pantheon.
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