Ham On Rye

I did. I rode it in. I made it down Westview Street, walked down 21st Street, turned south down Longwood Avenue to 2122. I walked up the neighbor's driveway, found the berry bush, crawled over it, through the open screen and into my bedroom. I undressed and went to bed. I must have consumed over a quart of whiskey. My father was still snoring, just as he had been when I had left, only at the moment it was louder and uglier. I slept anyhow.

As usual I approached Mr. Hamilton's English class thirty minutes late. It was 7:30 a.m. I stood outside the door and listened. They were at Gilbert and Sullivan again. And it was still all about going to the sea and the Queen's Navy. Hamilton couldn't get enough of that. In high school I'd had an English teacher and it had been Poe, Poe, Edgar Allan Poe.

I opened the door. Hamilton went over and lifted the needle from the record. Then he a

He paused, glancing at the faces in his class. He was very, very dignified. Then he looked at me.

"Mr. Chinaski, whether you arrive at 7:30 a.m. or whether you arrive at all will not matter. I am assigning you a 'D' for English 1. "

"A 'D,' Mr. Hamilton?" I asked, flashing my famous sneer.

"Why not an 'F'?"

"Because 'F,' at times, equates with 'Fuck.' And I don't think you're worth a 'Fuck."'

The class cheered and roared and stomped and stamped. I turned around, walked out, closed the door behind me. I walked down the hallway, still hearing them going at it in there.

52

The war was going very well in Europe, for Hitler. Most of the students weren't very vocal on the matter. But the instructors were, they were almost all left-wing and anti-German. There seemed to be no right-wing faction among the instructors except for Mr. Glasgow, in Economics, and he was very discreet about it.

It was intellectually popular and proper to be for going to war with Germany, to stop the spread of fascism. As for me, I had no desire to go to war to protect the life I had or what future I might have. I had no Freedom. I had nothing. With Hitler around, maybe I'd even get a piece of ass now and then and more than a dollar a week allowance. As far as I could rationalize, I had nothing to protect. Also, having been born in Germany, there was a natural loyalty and I didn't like to see the whole German nation, the people, depicted everywhere as monsters and idiots. In the movie theatres they speeded up the newsreels to make Hitler and Mussolini look like frenetic madmen. Also, with all the instructors being anti-German I found it personally impossible to simply agree with them. Out of sheer alienation and a natural contrariness I decided to align myself against their point of view. I had never read Mein Kampf and had no desire to do so. Hitler was just another dictator to me, only instead of lecturing me at the di

Sometimes as the instructors talked on and on about the evils of nazism (we were told always to spell "nazi" with a small "n" even at the begi

"The survival of the human race depends upon selective accountability!"

Which meant, watch out who you go to bed with, but only I knew that. It really pissed everybody off. I don't know where I got my stuff:

"One of the failures of Democracy is that the common vote guarantees a common leader who then leads us to a common apathetic predictability!"

I avoided any direct reference to Jews and Blacks, who had never given me any trouble. All my troubles had come from white gentiles. Thus, I wasn't a nazi by temperament or choice; the teachers more or less forced it on me by being so much alike and thinking so much alike and with their anti-German prejudice. I had also read somewhere that if a man didn't truly believe or understand what he was espousing, somehow he could do a more convincing job, which gave me a considerable advantage over the teachers.

"Breed a plow horse to a race horse and you get an offspring that is neither swift nor strong. A new Master Race will evolve from purposeful breeding!"

"There are no good wars or bad wars. The only thing bad about a war is to lose it. All wars have been fought for a so-called good Cause on both sides. But only the victor's Cause becomes history's Noble Cause. It's not a matter of who is right or who is wrong, it's a matter of who has the best generals and the better army!"

I loved it. I could make up anything I liked. Of course, I was talking myself further and further away from any chance with the girls. But I had never been that close anyhow. I figured because of my wild speeches I was alone on campus but it wasn't so. Some others had been listening. One day, walking to my Current Affairs class, I heard somebody walking up behind me. I never liked anybody walking behind me, not close. So I turned as I walked. It was the student body president, Boyd Taylor. He was very popular with the students, the only man in the history of the college to have been elected president twice.

"Hey, Chinaski, I want to talk to you."

I'd never cared too much for Boyd, he was the typical good- looking American youth with a guaranteed future, always properly dressed, casual, smooth, every hair of his black mustache trimmed. What his appeal was to the student body, I had no idea. He walked along beside me.

"Don't you think it looks bad for you, Boyd, to be seen walking with me?"

"I'll worry about that."

"All right. What is it?"

"Chinaski, this is just between you and me, got it?"

"Sure."

"Listen, I don't believe in what guys like you stand for or what you're trying to do."

"So?"

"But I want you to know that if you win here and in Europe I'm willing to join your side."

I could only look at him and laugh.

He stood there as I walked on. Never trust a man with a perfectlytrimmed mustache…

Other people had been listening as well. Coming out of Current Affairs I ran into Baldy standing there with a guy five feet tall and three feet wide. The guy's head was sunk down into his shoulders, he had a very round head, small ears, cropped hair, pea eyes, tiny wet round mouth. A nut, I thought, a killer.

"HEY, HANK!" Baldy hollered.

I walked over. "I thought we were finished, LaCrosse."

"Oh no! There are great things still to do!"

Shit! Baldy was one too!

Why did the Master Race movement draw nothing but mental and physical cripples?

"I want you to meet Igor Stirnov."

I reached out and we shook hands. He squeezed mine with all his strength. It really hurt.

"Let go," I said, "or I'll bust your fucking missing neck!"

Igor let go. "I don't trust men with limp handshakes. Why do you have a limp handshake?"

"I'm weak today. They burned my toast for breakfast and at lunch I spilled my chocolate milk."

Igor turned to Baldy. "What's with this guy?"

"Don't worry about him. He's got his own ways."

Igor looked at me again.

"My grandfather was a White Russian. During the Revolution the Reds killed him. I must get even with those bastards!"

"I see."

Then another student came walking toward us. "Hey, Fenster!" Baldy hollered.

Fenster walked up. We shook hands. I gave him a limp one. I didn't like to shake hands. Fenster's first name was Bob. There was to be a meeting at a house in Glendale, the Americans for America Party. Fenster was the campus representative. He walked off. Baldy leaned over and whispered into my ear,

"They're Nazis!"