New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [347]
Every few months, however—usually when Salvatore was alone some-where—Paolo would suddenly appear. He was always sharply dressed. He’d smile and embrace Salvatore, and they’d chat and maybe eat something together. But there seemed to be a hardness about Paolo now; Salvatore could imagine him becoming cold, and threatening. Their old comradeship was gone. Before departing, Paolo always left money with Salvatore for their parents.
Salvatore and Angelo had discussed going out to live on Long Island, but they soon agreed that neither of them wanted to. So they rearranged the family lodgings so that Uncle Luigi could move in with them too, and with three men working hard and splitting the rent, they could all put a little money aside each week. Uncle Luigi, who pocketed his tips and consumed almost nothing beyond the leftovers he ate in the restaurant, must have accumulated quite a lot of savings, Salvatore suspected, though his uncle’s finances were always a mystery. Once, when he asked Uncle Luigi what he did with his money, his uncle told him: “I invest it.” And when Salvatore asked him how he decided what to invest in, Uncle Luigi answered: “I pray to St. Anthony.” Salvatore never knew if he was serious about this or not.
Salvatore never forgot what Anna had said. He always looked out for Angelo, and he really didn’t mind. He loved his little brother. After Anna’s death, he’d started showing him the world. When the Carusos first arrived in New York, the subway system would take them up as far as Harlem; but in the two decades that followed, it was extended up into the Bronx, across to Brooklyn and far into Queens. The fare was only five cents, no matter where one went. Sometimes he and Angelo would ride out into the growing suburbs just to say they’d been there.
Salvatore would also take Angelo to a ball game. With Babe Ruth playing for the Yankees, baseball in New York was exciting. Thanks to Paolo, who’d somehow got them tickets, they’d also gone up to the Polo Grounds to see Jack Dempsey fight Luis Firpo, El Toro Salvaje de las Pampas. That had been an event to remember, with Dempsey knocked clean out of the ring before he came back to win.
But Angelo’s favorite outing was going to the movies. The movies weren’t expensive. They’d watch the Keystone Kops, and Charlie Chaplin, who’d settled in America and switched from stage to screen. They’d see D. W. Griffith’s great stories over and over. From the moment that the organist started to play, Angelo’s face would become rapt. He also had an amazing memory, and he could name every movie his favorite stars had performed in, and facts about their performances and lives in the way that other kids could remember baseball scores. He followed the careers of Mary Pickford and Lillian Gish with special devotion.
These stars, however, seemed to be the only women in Angelo’s life. Salvatore liked going out with girls, and one day he wanted to marry, but not until he’d saved up some money. In the meantime, once a week, he’d make a visit to the old Tenderloin District, around Broadway in the Thirties. There were plenty of prostitutes in Little Italy, but he preferred to keep this part of his life private. Uncle Luigi knew what he did, and always cautioned him to be careful. “Do you know,” he told him, “they made it so difficult for our troops to get rubbers in the war that nearly three-quarters of our boys caught something?” He even told him