"Tom Reamy - San Diego Lightfoot Sue" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reamy Tom)

surreptitiously and jokingly as Christian College Now Yiddish. I couldn't help chuckling a bit at that
witticism, though I am glad to say it: was a genial little guffaw rather than a malicious snicker. Germany in
her well-known tolerance and noble-mindedness has completely outgrown her old, disfiguring
anti-SemitismтАФafter all, we must admit in all fairness that perhaps a third of our great men are Jews or
carry Jewish genes, Haber and Einstein among themтАФdespite what dark and, yes, wicked memories
may lurk in the subconscious minds of oldsters like myself and occasionally briefly surface into awareness
like submarines bent on ship murder.

My happily self-satisfied mood immediately reasserted itself, and with a smart, almost military gesture I
brushed to either side with a thumbnail the short, horizontal black mustache which decorates-my upper
lip, and I automatically swept back into place the thick comma of black hair (I confess I dye it) which
tends to fall down across my forehead.

I stole another glance up at the Ostwald, which made me think of the matchless amenities of that
wondrous deluxe airliner: the softly purring motors, that powered its propellersтАФelectric motors,
naturally, energized by banks of lightweight TSE batteries and as safe as its helium; the Grand Corridor
running the length of the passenger deck from the Bow Observatory to the stern's like-windowed Games
Room, whicli becomes the Grand Ballroom at night; the other peerless rooms letting off that corridorтАФ
the Gesettschaftsraum der Kapitan (Captain's
12

S'ttlTZ LETBEB

Lounge) with its dark woodwork, manly cigar smoke and Damenttsche (Tables for Ladies), the Premier
Dining Room with its linen napery and silverplated aluminum dining service, the Ladies' Retiring Room
always set out profusely with fresh flowers, the Schwartzwald bar, the gambling casino with its roulette,
baccarat, chemmy, blackjack (vingt-et-un), its tables for skat and bridge and dominoes and sixty-six, its
chess tables presided over by the delightfully eccentric world's champion Nimzowitch, who would defeat
you blindfold, but always brilliantly, simultaneously or one at a time, in charmingly baroque brief games
for only two gold pieces per person per game (one gold piece to nutsy Nimzy, one to the DLG), and the
supremely luxurious staterooms with costly veneers of mahogany over balsa; the hosts of attentive
stewards, either as short and skinny as jockeys or else actual dwarfs, both types chosen to save weight;
and the titanium elevator rising through the countless bags of helium to the two-decked Zenith
Observatory, the sun deck wind-screened but roofless to let in the ever-changing clouds, the mysterious
fog, the rays of the stars and good old Sol, and all the heavens. Ah, where else on land or sea could you
buy such high living?

I called to mind in detail the single cabin which was always mine when I sailed on the OstwaldтАФ meine
Stammkabine. I visualized the Grand Corridor thronged with wealthy passengers in evening dress, the
handsome officers, the unobtrusive, ever-attentive stewards, the gleam of white shirt fronts, the glow of
bare shoulders, the muted dazzle of jewels, the music of conversations like string quartets, the lilting low
laughter that traveled along.

Exactly on time I did a neat "Links, marchierenr ("To the left, march!") and passed through the
impressive portals of the Empire State and across its towering lobby to the mutedly silver-doored banks
of elevators. On my way I noted the silver-glowing date:
CATCH THAT ZEPPELIN! 13

6 May 1937 and the time of day: 1:07 P.M. Good! тАФsince the Ostwald did not cast oft until the tick of
3:00 P.M., I would be left plenty of time for a leisurely lunch and good talk with my son, if he had