By Gregory Clark, December 12, 1931.
“If you were a little bigger,” said Griffin, thoughtfully, “I could sock you for the things you are writing about me in the paper.”
“That,” said I, “is just one of the advantages of being small. Some of the greatest men in history, like Napoleon and Lord Roberts, have gone boldly ahead because they know perfectly well that nobody would sock them.”
“You have to be careful not to get into a row with another little man, though,” said the Griffin.
“To other small men,” said I, “I am always polite. It is only the big men I insult.”
“You say that is only one of the advantages of being small. What are some of the others?” asked the Griffin, politely.
“Too numerous to mention. You can get around so easily. You take up no room. You always have a front seat for everything.”
“You mean,” said Griff, “that you’ve got to have a front seat for everything.”
“We small men,” said I, airily, “who run the world, hire most of the really big men as policemen to see that the big fellows keep their place.”
“I’ll bet you,” said Griffin, “that you can’t take me out on the street now and demonstrate a single instance of your big advantage in being small.”
“Hah!” I laughed.
“Are you game?” asked Griff.
So we put on our hats and coats.
“The first demonstration,” said I as we got out onto King street, “will take place right here at Bay and King. When the red light comes on I will step out and walk right across against the light in full view of the cop. You wait until the next red light before you come across. And you watch what happens.”
We stood at the corner until the red light came against me. Then I stepped smartly out into the cross traffic. The policeman was on the far diagonal corner.
“Hyaahh!” roared the policeman. Fifteen motor cars honked their horns at me. Two trucks blew their wild whistles. It took some fancy stepping, as a matter of fact, to get across at all.
And when I got to the far side there was the cop waiting for me, very red in the face. He grabbed my shoulder.
“For two cents,” he roared, “I’d lock you up for trying to get yourself killed!”
When I looked back Griff was smiling broadly at me. And when the green light changed for him I signalled for him to come on across, because the cop was still standing at my corner and I had no desire to see Griff get into a jam.
But Griff shook his head and waited.
Again the red light came on.
And Griff stepped forth into the traffic, with slow, measured tread, stalked across right into the arms of the cop. No horns blew and several cars politely paused for Griff to pass.
Picking a Victim
I watched the cop eagerly.
“Hello, Sullivan,” said the cop to Griffin. “Did ye see this half pint here try to get himself kilt? If you’ve nothing on your mind follow him. I think there’s something phoney about this little guy.”
“Sure,” said Griff. And turning to me, in a loud Irish voice, Griff said: “Come on, get along there! No loitering on this corner.”
The cop looked after us with an appreciative eye.
“What the heck!” said I.
“He mistook me,” said Griff, “for some plainclothesman by the name of Sullivan.”
“Well,” said I, “that’s one indignity that I will always be spared.”
“True for you,” said Griff. “You have to be content with other indignities.”
“That was not a fair test,” said I.
“Well, try something else then,” said Griff.
“All right, then, we’ll try the bump test. I’ll deliberately bump into somebody on the street. See how they take it. Then you bump into somebody.”
“Pick your victim,” said Griff, as we strolled toward Yonge.
A mild-looking gentleman was walking briskly toward us. As he passed I pretended to turn suddenly to look back, and collided heavily with him.
“What the dickens do you mean?” shouted the mild-looking gentleman, who had a voice several sizes too big for him. “Why don’t you watch where you are going?”
“Sorry,” said I.
“Sorry my neck!” yelled the mild one. “I don’t care if you’re sorry! I’m telling you to be careful!”
“All right, all right,” said I, anxious to drop the matter.
“It isn’t all right,” yelped the kindly-looking man. “I tell you you can’t go barging around the streets like that!”
A crowd was pausing.
“Here,” said Griffin to the other. “Leave him alone!”
The mild-looking gent folded up and hurried on his way.
“I wish,” said I to Griff, “that you hadn’t butted in like that. I was dealing with him.”
“Yes, you were dealing with him,” said Griff. “Now, let me pick one.”
“Pick a small guy if you want some action,” said I.
“I’ll do my own picking,” said he.
Toward us, slowly striding close to the tall buildings of King street, came an enormous truculent looking man. His head was down. He was staring bitterly at the sidewalk. He was as broad as a door and six feet high.
“Nix,” I hissed to Griff as I felt him edging over toward the inside.
To give him a good clear field I edged toward the outside.
Griff deliberately walked into him and slammed him with his shoulder.
I covered my face.
And when I looked at the pavement Griffin was not tying there.
“Why don’t you look where you’re going?” shouted Griff, glaring at the big man, who was backing away, with a horrified expression.
“I’m sorry,” said the big fellow. “I got something on my mind. I’m awfully sorry.”
“I don’t care if you’re sorry!” shouted Griff. “I told you to be careful!”
“Now I’ll Show You Something”
“Here,” said I stepping forward smartly and tapping Griffin on the chest, “you leave him alone!”
I said it to Griff.
But the big fellow took one look at me and gave me a shove.
“What’s this to you?” demanded the big stranger, advancing toward me.
“Lay off,” warned Griff, thrusting his arm out.
“O.K.” said the mystified stranger and hurried on his way.
We walked silently to Yonge and turned up.
“I am picking tough spots,” said I. “I’m doing it deliberately. But to make an honest. demonstration I ought to select normal instances of how the world favors and respects the small man. We’ll go in here for lunch. Now you watch who gets waited on first.”
“I’ll watch,” said Griffin. “How much did we have up on this bet?”
“We didn’t have anything,” said I. “Now, to be fair, I don’t want you currying the favor of the waitress. You just act naturally. No cheating.”
I selected a table at which the waitress was not a young chit of a girl who might be influenced by Griff’s Clive Brook1 style of manly beauty. I picked a nice, motherly waitress with a cheery countenance.
I do not admit that I was cheating when I smiled at the waitress. It is my nature to be merry and bright. I just acted myself.
I ordered my meal in a friendly way. I asked the old girl’s advice on what was the nicest thing.
“What would YOU eat?” I asked, in a homely and natural way.
Griff, on the other hand, didn’t even speak. He just grunted and pointed at the things he wanted on the menu. He never even looked at the waitress. She was not there, as far as he was concerned.
And when she brought the soup, despite the fact that I smiled at her from a distance as she arrived, I’ll be jiggered if she didn’t lay Griff’s soup down first.
And the fish. And the meat. And the dessert.
Every course, she served Griff first.
“She’s afraid of you,” I said.
“Possibly,” said Griff.
“Or else,” said I, ingeniously, “maybe I look to her like the host. I have that indefinable air of being the one who is buying the lunch. And naturally she waits on my guest first.”
“Are you paying for the lunch?” asked Griff.
“Dutch as usual,” said I, narrowly.
“You don’t even live up to appearances then,” said Frederick.
As we sat smoking there dawned on our mutual gaze a monstrous sight. It was the back of the neck of the hugest man you ever saw. He had a small bullet head. His ears. were cauliflower ears. His neck was as big as my waist. His shoulders were four feet across.
“That’s Bozarius,” said Griff, “the wrestler.”
“There you are,” said I. “Now I’ll show you something. We’ll wait and follow this Bozarius out and I’ll pick a fight with him. Just you watch what happens.”
“I’ll stand close,” said Griff.
“You’d better if you want to see everything that happens.
We sat smoking, while I revolved in my mind plans to display my theories on the huge person of the half-ton wrestler.
Very Hard to Demonstrate
He rose monstrously from his table. He waddled out of the restaurant with a leisurely air. He paused in the lobby to employ a toothpick in a large way.
I stepped up to him.
“Cut that out!” I commanded, sharply.
I could feel Griff close behind me.
The vast Bozarius slowly lowered his gaze and stared at me in alarm.
“Cut what out?” he asked weakly.
“Cut out using that toothpick in public!”
“Oh, dat’s all right,” said Bozarius, smiling timidly.
“Here” said I, and I snatched the toothpick from him and threw it away, “who do you think you are?”
Bozarius looked after the toothpick, then slowly at his enormous hands and then back at me.
“Vell,” said he, “whatever you say.”
“Come on now,” I commanded, feeling I had the upper hand of him. “Get out of here and don’t come back if you are going to stand around chewing toothpicks.”
Bozarius backed nervously away from me.
“All right,” said he. “I’m going.”
This was a demonstration that exceeded even my greatest expectations.
I followed the huge Bozarius menacingly and he backed away from me.
I looked about to see if anybody else besides Griffin was witnessing this masterpiece of the control of mind over matter.
There was a large mirror on the wall of the lobby in which I beheld Bozarius backing from me, next came I, in tense and menacing attitude, and close back of me appeared Griffin, who, with warning look on his face, was looking over my head at Bozarius and making signals, tapping his head, making circles with his finger around his head and indicating that I was off my nut.
I turned fiercely to Griff and Bozarius made a headling exit from the lobby.
“What’s the idea?” I rasped.
“It’s all right,” said Griff, amiably. “Bozarius has no sense of humor whatever. He would have squeezed you with one hand until you were six feet long if I hadn’t saved the situation.”
“Maybe,” said I sadly, “it would have been better if he had squeezed me a little bit.”
We strolled back to the office.
We walked up to one of the elevators, of which the chauffeur is a man I have known for twenty years. I call him by his first name. I have given him rabbits, fish, cigars and tips on the market. I have even given him passes to athletic events. I may say that nobody in the place has put himself on a basis of friendship and understanding with these men more consistently than I.
Griff entered the elevator ahead of me. And the elevator door slammed in my face.
And as I stood in the foyer. I was forced to the conclusion that, while good stuff may come in small packages, it is one of those things you have to take on faith, because it is very hard to demonstrate.
Editor’s Notes: This is one of the pre-Greg-Jim stories that featured Fred Griffin as Greg’s partner. It was also more common at the time to do “stunt stories” where they purposefully went out to try something out or test a theory.
- Clive Brook was a film actor. ↩︎
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