§ 52 There Spake True Friendship
To a prosperous cloak and suit merchant on the lower East Side came an acquaintance of many years’ standing. The newcomer had made a failure of it as a pushcart huckster, and then as a dealer in castoff garments. But he was undismayed; his ambition still soared. It seemed that now he aspired to open a regular store—on borrowed capital.
“But I don’t want I should ask my friends for the money,” he explained. “So this morning I go by that bank over yonder on the other side of the street and I talk with the bank president, a feller named Howard, about it. But what should I know about banks? Nothing, that’s what. He says to me I should make him a note with indorsements. I asks him what is a note, and what is this here indorsement? So he asks me who do I know in this neighborhood what has plenty money, and I says to him that I know you—that we came over together, greeners, on the same ship from Poland eighteen years ago. And then he fixes up this here piece of paper, and he says to me I should bring it over here and get you to sign your name on the back of it, and then I should bring it back to him and he would right away give me the two thousand dollars I need. So, here I am, Goldberg.”
Mr. Goldberg’s voice was husky with emotion as he answered:
“Moe,” he said, “honestly for you I am positively ashamed that you should do this thing. Ain’t always we been friends both in the old country and over here? Ain’t always I loved you like a brother? And now when you need some money do you come to me and ask for it, man to man? No, you go to a goy like that Howard. Oy! Oy! for you I hang my head that you should do so!
“Listen: I am the one which is going to help you and not some feller in a bank. You get that Howard to sign his name on the back of this paper and then I give you the money!”