The Greater Coney

by O. Henry

　　

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"Next Sunday," said Dennis Carnahan, "I'll be after going down to see thenew Coney Island that's risen like a phoenix bird from the ashes of theold resort. I'm going with Norah Flynn, and we'll fall victims to all thedry goods deceptions, from the red-flannel eruption of Mount Vesuvius tothe pink silk ribbons on the race-suicide problems in the incubator kiosk. "Was I there before? I was. I was there last Tuesday. Did I see thesights? I did not. "Last Monday I amalgamated myself with the Bricklayers' Union, and inaccordance with the rules I was ordered to quit work the same day onaccount of a sympathy strike with the Lady Salmon Canners' Lodge No.2, ofTacoma, Washington. "'Twas disturbed I was in mind and proclivities by losing me job, bein'already harassed in me soul on account of havin' quarrelled with NorahFlynn a week before by reason of hard words spoken at the Dairymen andStreet-Sprinkler Drivers' semi-annual ball, caused by jealousy and pricklyheat and that divil, Andy Coghlin. "So, I says, it will be Coney for Tuesday; and if the chutes and the shortchange and the green-corn silk between the teeth don't create diversionsand get me feeling better, then I don't know at all. "Ye will have heard that Coney has received moral reconstruction. The oldBowery, where they used to take your tintype by force and give ye knockoutdrops before having your palm read, is now called the Wall Street of theisland. The wienerwurst stands are required by law to keep a news tickerin 'em; and the doughnuts are examined every four years by a retiredsteamboat inspector. The nigger man's head that was used by the oldpatrons to throw baseballs at is now illegal; and, by order of the PoliceCommissioner the image of a man drivin' an automobile has beensubstituted. I hear that the old immoral amusements have beensuppressed. People who used to go down from New York to sit in the sandand dabble in the surf now give up their quarters to squeeze throughturnstiles and see imitations of city fires and floods painted on canvas.The reprehensible and degradin' resorts that disgraced old Coney are saidto be wiped out. The wipin'-out process consists of raisin' the pricefrom 10 cents to 25 cents, and hirin' a blonde named Maudie to selltickets instead of Micky, the Bowery Bite. That's what they say -- Idon't know. "But to Coney I goes a-Tuesday. I gets off the 'L' and starts for theglitterin' show. 'Twas a fine sight. The Babylonian towers and theHindoo roof gardens was blazin' with thousands of electric lights, and thestreets was thick with people. 'Tis a true thing they say that Coneylevels all rank. I see millionaires eatin' popcorn and trampin' alongwith the crowd; and I see eight-dollar-a-week clothin'-store clerks in redautomobiles fightin' one another for who'd squeeze the horn when they cometo a corner. "'I made a mistake,' I says to myself. 'Twas not Coney I needed. When aman's sad 'tis not scenes of hilarity he wants. 'Twould be far better forhim to meditate in a graveyard or to attend services at the Paradise RoofGardens. 'Tis no consolation when a man's lost his sweetheart to orderhot corn and have the waiter bring him the powdered sugar cruet instead ofsalt and then conceal himself, or to have Zozookum, the gipsy palmist,tell him that he has three children and to look out for another seriouscalamity; price twenty-five cents. "I walked far away down on the beach, to the ruins of an old pavilion nearone corner of this new private park, Dreamland. A year ago that oldpavilion was standin' up straight and the old-style waiters was slammin' aweek's supply of clam chowder down in front of you for a nickel andcallin' you 'cully' friendly, and vice was rampant, and you got back toNew York with enough change to take a car at the bridge. Now they tell methat they serve Welsh rabbits on Surf Avenue, and you get the right changeback in the movin'-picture joints. "I sat down at one side of the old pavilion and looked at the surfspreadin' itself on the beach, and thought about the time me and NorahFlynn sat on that spot last summer. 'Twas before reform struck theisland; and we was happy. We had tintypes and chowder in the ribalddives, and the Egyptian Sorceress of the Nile told Norah out of her hand,while I was waitin' in the door, that 'twould be the luck of her to marrya red-headed gossoon with two crooked legs, and I was overrunnin' with joyon account of the allusion. And 'twas there that Norah Flynn put her twohands in mine a year before and we talked of flats and the things shecould cook and the love business that goes with such episodes. And thatwas Coney as we loved it, and as the hand of Satan was upon it, friendlyand noisy and your money's worth, with no fence around the ocean and nottoo many electric lights to show the sleeve of a black serge coat againsta white shirtwaist. "I sat with my back to the parks where they had the moon and the dreamsand the steeples corralled, and longed for the old Coney. There wasn'tmany people on the beach. Lots of them was feedin' pennies into the slotmachines to see the 'Interrupted Courtship' in the movin' pictures; and agood many was takin' the sea air in the Canals of Venice and some wasbreathin' the smoke of the sea battle by actual warships in a tank filledwith real water. A few was down on the sands enjoyin' the moonlight andthe water. And the heart of me was heavy for the new morals of the oldisland, while the bands behind me played and the sea pounded on the bassdrum in front. "And directly I got up and walked along the old pavilion, and there on theother side of, half in the dark, was a slip of a girl sittin' on thetumble-down timbers, and unless I'm a liar she was cryin' by herselfthere, all alone. "'Is it trouble you are in, now, Miss,' says I; 'and what's to be doneabout it?' "' 'Tis none of your business at all, Denny Carnahan,' says she, sittin'up straight. And it was the voice of no other than Norah Flynn. "'Then it's not,' says I, 'and we're after having a pleasant evening, MissFlynn. Have ye seen the sights of this new Coney Island, then? I presumeye have come here for that purpose,' says I. "'I have,' says she. 'Me mother and Uncle Tim they are waiting beyond.'Tis an elegant evening I've had. I've seen all the attractions that be.' "'Right ye are,' says I to Norah; and I don't know when I've been thatamused. After disportin' me-self among the most laughable moralimprovements of the revised shell games I took meself to the shore for thebenefit of the cool air. 'And did ye observe the Durbar, Miss Flynn?' "'I did,' says she, reflectin'; 'but 'tis not safe, I'm thinkin', to ridedown them slantin' things into the water.' "'How did ye fancy the shoot the chutes?' I asks. "'True, then, I'm afraid of guns,' says Norah. 'They make such noise inmy ears. But Uncle Tim, he shot them, he did, and won cigars. 'Tis afine time we had this day, Mr. Carnahan.' "'I'm glad you've enjoyed yerself,' I says. 'I suppose you've had aroarin' fine time seein' the sights. And how did the incubators and thehelter-skelter and the midgets suit the taste of ye?' "'I -- I wasn't hungry,' says Norah, faint. 'But mother ate a quantity ofall of 'em. I'm that pleased with the fine things in the new ConeyIsland,' says she, 'that it's the happiest day I've seen in a long time,at all.' "'Did you see Venice?' says I. "'We did,' says she. 'She was a beauty. She was all dressed in red, shewas, with --' "I listened no more to Norah Flynn. I stepped up and I gathered her in myarms. "' 'Tis a story-teller ye are, Norah Flynn', says I. 'Ye've seen no moreof the greater Coney Island than I have meself. Come, now, tell the truth-- ye came to sit by the old pavilion by the waves where you sat lastsummer and made Dennis Carnahan a happy man. Speak up, and tell thetruth.' "Norah stuck her nose against me vest. "'I despise it, Denny,' she says, half cryin'. 'Mother and Uncle Tim wentto see the shows, but I came down here to think of you. I couldn't bearthe lights and the crowd. Are you forgivin' me, Denny, for the words wehad?' "' 'Twas me fault,' says I. 'I came here for the same reason meself.Look at the lights, Norah,' I says, turning my back to the sea -- 'ain'tthey pretty?' "'They are,' says Norah, with her eyes shinin'; 'and do ye hear the bandsplayin'? Oh, Denny, I think I'd like to see it all.' "'The old Coney is gone, darlin',' I says to her. 'Everything moves.When a man's glad it's not scenes of sadness he wants. 'Tis a greaterConey we have here, but we couldn't see it till we got in the humour forit. Next Sunday, Norah darlin', we'll see the new place from end to end."

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