The City of Dreadful Night

by O. Henry

　　

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"During the recent warmed-over spell," said myfriend Carney, driver of express wagon No. 8,606,"a good many opportunities was had of observinghuman nature through peekaboo waists. "The Park Commissioner and the Commissionerof Polis and the Forestry Commission gets togetherand agrees to let the people sleep in the parks untilthe Weather Bureau gets the thermometer down againto a living basis. So they draws up open-air resolu-tions and has them 0. K.'d by the Secretary of Agri-culture, Mr. Comstock and the Village ImprovementMosquito Exterminating Society of South Orange,N. J. "When the proclamation was made opening up tothe people by special grant the public parks that be-long to 'em, there was a general exodus into CentralPark by the communities existing along its borders.In ten minutes after sundown you'd have thoughtthat there was an undress rehearsal of a potatofamine in Ireland and a Kishineff massacre. Theycome by families, gangs, clambake societies, clans,clubs and tribes from all sides to enjoy a cool sleep onthe grass. Them that didn't have oil stoves broughtalong plenty of blankets, so as not to be upset withthe cold and discomforts of sleeping outdoors. Bybuilding fires of the shade trees and huddling togetherin the bridle paths, and burrowing under the grasswhere the ground was soft enough, the likes of 5,000head of people successfully battled against the nightair in Central Park alone. "Ye know I live in the elegant furnished apart-ment house called the Beersheba Flats, over againstthe elevated portion of the New York Central Rail-road. "When the order come to the flats that all handsmust turn out and sleep in the park, according to theinstructions of the consulting committee of the CityClub and the Murphy Draying, Returfing and Sod-ding Company, there was a look of a couple of firesand an eviction all over the place. "The tenants began to pack up feather beds, rub-ber boots, strings of garlic, hot-water bags, porta-ble canoes and scuttles of coal to take along for thesake of comfort. The sidewalk looked like a Russiancamp in Oyama's line of mareb. There was waitingand lamenting up and down stairs from Danny Geog-hegan's flat on the top floor to the apartments ofMissis Goldsteinupski on the first. "'For why," says Danny, coming down and ragingin his blue yarn socks to the janitor, 'should I beturned out of me comfortable apartments to lay inthe dirty grass like a rabbit? 'Tis like Jerome tostir up trouble wid small matters like this insteadof -- " "'Whist!' says Officer Reagan on the sidewalk,rapping with his club. ''Tis not Jerome. 'Tis byorder of the Polis Commissioner. Turn out everyone of yez and hike yerselves to the park.' "Now, 'twas a peaceful and happy home that allof us had in them same Beersheba Flats. TheO'Dowds and the Steinowitzes and the Callahans andthe Cohens and the Spizzinellis and the McManusesand the Spiegelmayers and the Joneses -- all nationsof us, we lived like one big family together. Andwhen the hot nights come along we kept a line ofchildren reaching from the front door to Kelly's on thecorner passing along the cans of beer from one toanother without the trouble of running after it. Andwith no more clothing on than is provided for in thestatutes, sitting in all the windies, with a cool growlerin every one, and your feet out in the air, and theRosenstein girls singing on the fire-escape of the sixthfloor, and Patsy Rourke's flute going in the eighth,and the ladies calling each other synonyms out the win-dies, and now and then a breeze sailing in over MisterDepew's Central -- I tell you the Beersheba Flats wasa summer resort that made the Catskills look likea bole in the ground. With his person full of beerand his feet out the windy and his old woman fryingpork chops over a charcoal furnace and the childrendancing in cotton slips on the sidewalk around theorgan-grinder and the rent paid for a week -- whatdoes a man want better on a hot night than that?And then comes this ruling of the polis driving peopleout o' their comfortable homes to sleep in parks --'twas for all the world like a ukase of them Rus-sians -- 'twill be heard from again at next electiontime. "Well, then, Officer Reagan drives the whole lotof us to the park and turns us in by the nearestgate. 'Tis dark under the trees, and all the childrensets up to howling that they want to go home. "'Ye'll pass the night in this stretch of woodsand scenery,' says Officer Reagan. ''Twill be fineand imprisonment for insoolting the Park Commis-sioner and the Chief of the Weather Bureau if ye re-fuse. I'm in charge of thirty acres between here andthe Agyptian Monument, and I advise ye to give notrouble. 'Tis sleeping on the grass yez all have beencondemned to by the authorities. Yez'll be permittedto leave in the morning, but ye must retoorn be night.Me orders was silent on the subject of bail, but I'11find out if 'tis required and there'll be bondsmen atthe gate.' "There being no lights except along the automo-bile drives, us 179 tenants of the Beersheba Flatsprepared to spend the night as best we could in theraging forest. Them that brought blankets and kin-dling wood was best off. They got fires started andwrapped the blankets round their heads and laiddown, cursing, in the grass. There was nothing tosee, nothing to drink, nothing to do. In the dark wehad no way of telling friend or foe except by feelingthe noses of 'em. I brought along me last winterovercoat, me toothbrush, some quinine pills and thered quilt off the bed in me flat. Three times duringthe night somebody rolled on me quilt and stuck hisknees against the Adam's apple of me. And threetimes I judged his character by running me hand overhis face, and three times I rose up and kicked the in-truder down the hill to the gravelly walk below. Andthen some one with a flavor of Kelly's whiskey snug-gled up to me, and I found his nose turned up theright way, and I says: ' Is that you, then, Patsey?and he says, 'It is, Carney. How long do you thinkit'll last?' "' I'm no weather-prophet,' says I, 'but if theybring out a strong anti-Tammany ticket next fall itought to get us home in time to sleep on a bed onceor twice before they line us up at the polls.'"A-playing of my flute into the airshaft, I saysPatsey Rourke, 'and a-perspiring in me own windyto the joyful noise of the passing trains and the smellof liver and onions and a-reading of the latest mur-der in the smoke of the cooking is well enough forme,' says he. 'What is this herding us in grass for,not to mention the crawling things with legs that walkup the trousers of us, and the Jersey snipes thatpeck at us, masquerading under the name and denom-ination of mosquitoes. What is it all for Carney, andthe rint going on just the same over at the flats?' "Tis the great annual Municipal Free NightOuting Lawn Party,' says I, 'given by the polis,Hetty Green and the Drug Trust. During the heatedseason they hold a week of it in the principal parks.'Tis a scheme to reach that portion of the peoplethat's not worth taking up to North Beach for afish fry.' "' I can't sleep on the ground,' says Patsey, 'widany benefit. I have the hay fever and the rheuma-tism, and me car is full of ants.' "Well, the night goes on, and the ex-tenants ofthe Flats groans and stumbles around in the dark,trying to find rest and recreation in the forest. Thechildren is screaming with the coldness, and the jan-itor makes hot tea for 'em and keeps the fires goingwith the signboards that point to the Tavern and theCasino. The tenants try to lay down on the grass byfamilies in the dark, but you're lucky if you can sleepnext to a man from the same floor or believing inthe same religion. Now and then a Murpby, acci-dental, rolls over on the grass of a Rosenstein, ora Cohen tries to crawl under the O'Grady bush, andthen there's a feeling of noses and somebody is rolleddown the hill to the driveway and stays there. Thereis some hair-pulling among the women folks, andeverybody spanks the nearest howling kid to him bythe sense of feeling only, regardless of its parentageand ownership. 'Tis hard to keep up the social dis-tinctions in the dark that flourish by daylight in theBeersheba Flats. Mrs. Rafferty, that despises theasphalt that a Dago treads on, wakes up in the morn-ing with her feet in the bosom of Antonio Spizzinelli.And Mike O'Dowd, that always threw peddlers down-stairs as fast as he came upon 'em, has to unwind oldIsaacstein's whiskers from around his neck, and wakeup the whole gang at daylight. But here and theresome few got acquainted and overlooked the discom-forts of the elements. There was five engagements tobe married announced at the flats the next morning. About midnight I gets up and wrings the dew outof my hair, and goes to the side of the drivewayand sits down. At one side of the park I could seethe lights in the streets and houses; and I was thinkinghow happy them folks was who could chase the duckand smoke their pipes at their windows, and keep cooland pleasant like nature intended for 'em to. Just then an automobile stops by me, and a fine-looking, well-dressed man steps out. 'Me man,' says he, 'can you tell me why all thesepeople are lying around on the grass in the park?I thought it was against the rules.' "''Twas an ordinance,' says I, 'just passed bythe Polis Department and ratified by the Turf Cut-ters' Association, providing that all persons not car-rying a license number on their rear axles shall keepin the public parks until further notice. Fortu-nately, the orders comes this year during a spell offine weather, and the mortality, except on the bordersof the lake and along the automobile drives, will notbe any greater than usual.' "'Who are these people on the side of the bill?'asks the man. "'Sure,' says I, 'none others than the tenants ofthe Beersheba Flats -- a fine home for any man,especially on hot nights. May daylight come soon!' "'They come here be night,' says be, 'and breathein the pure air and the fragrance of the flowers andtrees. They do that,' says be, 'coming every nightfrom the burning beat of dwellings of brick and stone.' "'And wood,' says I. 'And marble and plasterand iron.' "'The matter will be attended to at once,' says theman, putting up his book. "'Are ye the Park Commissioner?' I asks. "'I own the Beersheba Flats,' says he. 'Godbless the grass and the trees that give extra benefitsto a man's tenants. The rents shall be raised fifteenper cent. to-morrow. Good-night,' says he."

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