U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [383]
106
The Camera Eye (45) the narrow yellow
room teems with talk
125
-v-MARY FRENCH
127
The Camera Eye (46) walk the streets and
walk the streets
149
NEWSREEL LII assembled to a service for the
dear departed
152
ART AND ISADORA
153
NEWSREEL LIII Bye bye blackbird
162
MARGO DOWLING
163
NEWSREEL LIV there was nothing significant
about the morning's trading
188
ADAGIO DANCER
189
NEWSREEL LV THRONGS IN STREETS
194
The Camera Eye (47) sirens bloom in the fog
over the harbor
195
CHARLEY ANDERSON
197
NEWSREEL LVI his first move was to board a
fast train for Miami
236
The Camera Eye (48) westbound to Havana
Puerto-Mexico Galveston
238
MARGO DOWLING
243
NEWSREEL LVII the psychic removed all cloth-
ing
255
MARGO DOWLING
256
NEWSREEL LVIII In my dreams it always seems
277
NEWSREEL LIX the stranger first coming to De-
troit
285
-vi-CHARLEY ANDERSON
287
NEWSREEL LX Was Céline to blame?
325
MARGO DOWLING
327
NEWSREEL LXI High high high up in the hills
340
CHARLEY ANDERSON
342
NEWSREEL LXII STARS PORTEND EVIL
378
MARGO DOWLING
379
NEWSREEL LXIII but a few minutes later this
false land disappeared
426
NEWSREEL LXIV WEIRD FISH DRAWN FROM
SARGASSO SEA
433
The Camera Eye (49) walking from Plym-
outh to North Plymouth
435
NEWSREEL LXV STORM TIES UP SUBWAY;
FLOODS AND LIGHTNING DARKEN CITY
437
MARY FRENCH
439
NEWSREEL LXVI HOLMES DENIES STAY
460
The Camera Eye (50) they have clubbed us
off the streets
461
NEWSREEL LXVII when things are upset, there's
always chaos
464
RICHARD ELLSWORTH SAVAGE
477
-vii-The Camera Eye (51) at the head of the val- ley in the dark of the hills 522
POWER SUPERPOWER
525
MARY
53
FRENCH 3
55
VAG
9
-viii-CHARLEY ANDERSON
Charley Anderson lay in his bunk in a glary red buzz. Oh. Titine, damn that tune last night. He lay flat with his eyes hot; the tongue in his mouth was thick warm sour felt. He dragged his feet out from under the blanket and hung them over the edge of the bunk, big white feet with pink knobs on the toes; he let them drop to the red carpet and hauled himself shakily to the porthole. He stuck his head out.
Instead of the dock, fog, little greygreen waves slap-ping against the steamer's scaling side. At anchor. A gul screamed above him hidden in the fog. He shivered and pul ed his head in.
At the basin he splashed cold water on his face and neck. Where the cold water hit him his skin flushed pink. He began to feel cold and sick and got back into his bunk and pul ed the stil warm covers up to his chin. Home. Damn that tune.
He jumped up. His head and stomach throbbed in time now. He pul ed out the chamberpot and leaned over it. He gagged; a little green bile came. No, I don't want to puke. He got into his underclothes and the whipcord pants of his uniform and lathered his face to shave. Shaving made him feel blue. What I need's a . . . He rang for the steward.
"Bonjour, m'sieur.""Say, Bil y, let's have a dou-ble cognac tootsuite." He buttoned his shirt careful y and put on his tunic; looking at himself in the glass, his eyes had red rims and his face looked green under the sunburn. Suddenly he began to feel sick again; a sour gagging was wel ing up from his stomach to his throat. God, these French boats stink. A knock, the steward's frog smile and "Voilá, m'sieur," the white plate slopped with a thin amber spil --3-ing out of the glass. "When do we dock?" The steward shrugged and growled, "La brume."
Green spots were stil dancing in front of his eyes as he went up the linoleumsmel ing companionway. Up on deck the wet fog squeezed wet against his face. He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned into it. Nobody on deck, a few trunks, steamerchairs folded and stacked. To wind-ward everything was wet. Drops trickled down the brassrimmed windows of the smokingroom. Nothing in any di-rection but fog. Next time around he met Joe Askew. Joe looked fine. His little mustache spread neat under his thin nose. His eyes were clear.
"Isn't this the damnedest note, Charley? Fog."
"Rotten."
"Got a head?"
"You look