Broken Necks/Mishkin's ldealist

"He runs the elevator in the building on the West Side where I work sometimes," said my Falstaffian friend, Mr. Feodor Mishkin, "and if you want I will take you and see him."

"I am now an editor, Feodor, and am finished interviewing elevator men."

"Ha, you are finished with a lot of things, if you want me to tell the truth. But if you had any sense you would go see Sem before he moves."

"Where is he moving?"

"Where is he moving? What a question to ask! Where should he move? He is moving to Palestine. That's where he's moving."

"So you are still interested in Zionism, Feodor?"

"Who, me! Are you crazy? Who is talking about Zionism? If a man wants to move to Palestine, in your mind already he is a Zionist movement. And besides what have I got to do with where Sem is moving?"

"All right. Tell me about Sam."

"I'll tell you what, then. You come to the dinner which we are giving to Sem tomorrow night and you will see what a comedy this is."

"How does it happen, Feodor, you are giving a dinner to an elevator man?"

"It happens. That's how it happens. Maybe to you Sem is an elevator man. But to other people he is maybe something more. A comedy, a clown who makes them sigh, an idealist. Do you know what it is, an idealist?"

"It is hard to say, Feodor. There are so many different kinds of idealists."

"Oho, that's what you think. Well, everybody don't look on things the way you do. I've heard enough of people say that your point of view is more funny to them in a different way than Sem, the elevator man."

"At least when you are through insulting me, Feodor, you will cheer me up by telling me why this Sam is so funny. I want to laugh, too."

“I see. To you a man who is a comedy is somebody who will make you laugh. Well, if you expect Sem to make you laugh, you had better go to a vaudeville show instead. Because there are some comedies which make you cry just as much. Sem is an old man. He has been running this elevator in the building for ten years, maybe twenty years. Anyway, the elevator is his home. He eats there, he sleeps there, he meets his friends there. But the reason he is a comedy is because he can't read or write. You understand?"

"You mean he is a naive, Feoder?"

"Feh! Naive! Who said naive! If a man can't read or write he is naive by you. By me he is something else, something tragic and comic, and he has a soul and he lives in such a way that you laugh at him and feel sorry for yourself at the same time. I'll tell you Sem would have gone to Palestine long ago but there was no elevator for him to run. Now in Jaffa there is a building with an elevator. And so he is going finally. After twenty years of dreaming. Ah, he is a great Jew."

"The story sounds mixed up, Feodor. I must ask what and why and how is Sam a great Jew."

"Aha. You must ask! Go on ask. You will never find out. Because you will never understand. By you he has to do something to be a great Jew! Nobody can fool you. What has he done? And why is he great? Well, I'll tell you. He is a great man because he thinks he belongs to a great race. Don't interrupt me, please. It would do you good to know a man like Sem."

"I never doubt for a moment, Feodor, but that the Jews are a great race. Everybody admits it."

"All right. You know the whole story already. Hm, it is unnecessary to talk to you. In advance you know everything. But, believe me, Sem is somebody you don't know, smart as you are. He is an idealist. And why? Because to Sem everybody who does something important is a Jew. Mayor Dever is a Jew. President Coolidge is a Jew. And when you ask Sem who is the champion prize fighter of the world, he looks at you and grows happy and answers you, "Demskey, a great Jew."

"Delusions, eh?"

"Bah! Delusions. By you everything is delusions, smellusions. Why is it a delusion? Why isn't it adream? When you say to Sem, 'Sem what do you think of Lloyd George?' he answers you, 'Say, mister, in the first place his name ain't Lloyd George. His real name is Levy George, and he is a great Jew.' So you see, everybody is to Sem a Jew. And he will spend a whole hour talking to you about John L. Solomon and William Jennings Hyman and Herman Ford."

"I see the joke, Feodor, and——"

"Aha! To you everything is a joke. We laugh, yes; but we don't call it a joke. In his elevator Sem has a picture stuck up from the war. To him the picture is from General Pershinger, the great Jew general. I'll tell you something. To be an idealist like Sem is to be happy. He is a poor man and eats a little sandwich for noon. And maybe his head is a little bit wrong, but the world he lives in is better from mine or yours."

"But why do you allow him to go to Palestine at his age, Feodor?"

"Because he thinks in Palestine there is a kingdom, a land of milk and honey. And for years already he has been talking about it, about the gold temples and the court where the King of the Jews lives. It is all like a fairy-tale to him, Palestine. And it would be wrong to keep him away from it."

"But when he finds out, Feodor. Good Lord, he will die of a broken heart."

"You think so, eh? Well, you know as usual—nothing. The doctor who we took him to for examination says he can live at the utmost less than a month. He has got a disease—heart failure. Well, what is there wrong? In two weeks he will be on a boat, a slow boat. And somewhere in the middle of the ocean he will die. Ah, you don't understand such things. But the whole West Side is already weeping and laughing for Sem. He will die like a true idealist. Come, can I sell you a pair of tickets for the banquet?"