Blessed be,
Joel
[Fitzgerald, John D. The
Great Brain. Dell Publishing, 1967. 112-115]
As the back of the book declares: “The Great Brain is Tom D.
Fitzgerald, aged 10. The story is told by J.D., a sometimes confounded by
always admiring younger brother. Suh people as Mr. Standish, the mean
schoolmaster, regret the day they came up against the Great Brain. But others,
like the Jensen kids lost in Skeleton Cave, Basil, the Greek kid, or Andy, who
has lost his leg and his friends, know that Tom’s great brain never fails to
find a way home.” The story starts with the following declaration: “Most
everyone in Utah remembers 1896 as the year the territory became a state. But
in Adenville it was celebrated by all the kids in town and by Papa and Mamma as
the time of The Great Brain’s reformation”(p. 1).
[After Abie Glassman’s funeral, Papa, Mamma and Uncle Mark
sat talking.]
“Let me
put it this way,” Papa said. “It isn’t that we dislike the Jews or mean to be
unkind to them. It is just that we don’t worry about them the way we worry
about other people. I talked to Mr. Thompson at the meat market. He knew Abie
had stopped buying meat from him weeks ago, but he didn’t worry about it. I
talked to Mr. Harmon at the Z.C.M.I. store. He knew Abie had stopped buying
groceries from him, but he didn’t worry about it. Oh, they had their excuses,
saying that they had thought Abie had stopped batching and was eating in cafes.
But the fact remains we let a man starve to death because nobody worried about
a Jew.”
“I don’t
buy that,” Uncle Mark said.
“Let us
assume,” Papa said patiently, “that Dave Teller, who is a bachelor and cooks
his own meals, suddenly stopped buying meat from Mr. Thompson. You can bet Mr.
Thompson would have made it his business to find out why. And let us assume
that Dave Teller suddenly stopped buying groceries from the Z.C.M.I. store. You
can bet Mr. Harmon would have worried enough about it to find out why. And let
us assume they found out Dave Teller was broke. You can bet they wouldn’t have
let Dave Teller starve to death. And if Dave Teller had fainted three times,
you can bet the people in this town would have insisted on taking Dave to a
doctor whether he wanted to go or not. But Abie was a Jew and so nobody worried
about him. May God forgive us all.”
“I see
what you’re getting at now,” Uncle Mark said. “We are all guilty.”
Mamma
nodded her head as she brushed a tear from her eye with her handkerchief. “God
give us strength,” she said softy, “to bear our burden of guilt.”
Two
days after the funeral Mamma sent me to the Z.C.M.I. store to get several items
for her. Mr. Harmon, as usual, gave me a stick of peppermint candy. I came out
of the store holding the bag of groceries in one hand while I put the stick of
candy into my mouth with the other hand. I took a bite of the candy. It burned
my mouth and stuck in my throat. I tried to swallow it but couldn’t. I spat it
out. I threw the candy away and have never been able to eat peppermint candy
since.
Tom was
sitting on the rail of the corral fence when I got home. I climbed up and sat
down beside him. I told him about the peppermint candy.
“It’s
your guilty conscience, J.D.,” he said when I finished. “You helped to kill
Abie.”
I
thought of all the times Mamma had sent me to the store when I should have
stopped at the variety store [that Abie owned] instead of going to the Z.C.M.I.
store.
“How
was I to know that strongbox wasn’t full of gold pieces,” I defended myself.
“You
are just saying that as an excuse like most people in town,” Tom said. “Maybe I
should have told.”
“Told
what?” I asked.
“You
didn’t think my great brain would let me rest until I knew what was in that
strongbox, did you?” he asked. “I have known there were no gold pieces in the
box for a long time.”
“How
did you find out?” I asked.
“I went
to see Abie and told him I’d overheard two drifters planning to rob him and the
strongbox,” Tom answered.
“You
lied,” I accused him.
“How
else could I find out?” Tom said. “At first Abie just laughed. He stopped
laughing when I threatened to call Papa and Uncle Mark so they could make him
put the gold in the bank before he got robbed. Then he began to cry.”
“To
cry?” I asked, bewildered.
“Yes,”
Tom said. “Then he opened the strongbox and showed me it was empty. He told me
it had taken every cent he owned to open the store. Then he made me put my hand
on a prayer book and swear I would never tell. He said as long as people
thought he had a strongbox full of gold pieces he could remain in Adenville. He
said he would have to leave if people found out the strongbox was empty.”
“What
did he mean?” I asked.
“I
thought he meant if people thought he was rich they would respect him more,”
Tom said. “But I was wrong. It was like Papa said – Abie would rather die than
take charity.”
“I’d
hate to have it on my conscience that I let a man starve to death,” I couldn’t
help saying.
“It
wasn’t me who let Abie starve to death,” Tom said. “I knew there was no gold in
the strongbox, but that only meant that Abie wasn’t a rich man to me. When
Mamma sent me to the store, I always went to the variety store first. Many
times when Abie didn’t have exactly what Mamma wanted, I went all the way back
home to ask her if she couldn’t use something else Abie had suggested. No,
J.D., it wasn’t me who let Abie starve to death. It was people like you.”
“But
you will get all the blame,” I said, “when people find out you knew the
strongbox was empty all the time.”
“The
people who didn’t buy from Abie and didn’t worry about him would love to have
somebody to blame for his death,” Tom said. “But they are going to have to live
with their guilty consciences because I’m never going to tell, and neither are
you. Give me your word, J.D., you will never tell.”
“Not
even to Papa and Mamma?” I asked.
“Not
even Papa and Mamma,” Tom said.
“But
you told me,” I protested.
“I had
to tell somebody, J.D.,” Tom said. “I knew I could trust you.”
I gave
me word and kept it until now.
