Chapter 9

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# Chapter 9 ## Overview This entity is [Chapter 9](arke:01KG0725E9A9CCEYGRP2MDJ6G5) of a novel, presented as a structured text chapter containing 429 lines of narrative. It was extracted from a source document on January 27, 2026, and consists of ten smaller text chunks that collectively form the full chapter. The chapter is part of the larger work preserved in the [More Classics](arke:01KFXT0KM64XT6K8W52TDEE0YS) collection. ## Context The chapter is narrated in the first person by Holden Caulfield, a teenage protagonist whose voice and perspective define the novel. It follows his arrival in New York City after leaving Pencey Prep, a boarding school. The narrative captures his alienation, emotional instability, and search for connection in urban isolation. The events unfold over a single evening and reflect the broader themes of adolescence, identity, and societal phoniness that permeate the work. ## Contents The chapter details Holden’s attempts to stave off loneliness upon arriving in New York. He first tries to call several acquaintances from a phone booth at Penn Station but abandons the idea, fearing unwanted encounters with family or judgmental adults. He mistakenly directs his cab to his home before correcting the driver and inquiring about the fate of the ducks in Central Park when the pond freezes—a recurring symbolic concern. Checking into the Edmont Hotel, he observes disturbing and eccentric behavior through neighboring windows, reinforcing his sense of a world filled with “perverts” and phonies. Holden attempts to contact Faith Cavendish, a woman he was told might be open to casual encounters, but she declines his late-night invitation. Feeling restless, he changes clothes and visits the hotel’s Lavender Room nightclub. There, he dances with three women from Seattle, particularly bonding with Bernice, the blonde, whom he admires for her dancing despite her superficiality. He critiques their ignorance and obsession with movie stars, yet still feels a fleeting emotional connection. After buying them drinks, they leave to see a show at Radio City Music Hall—an act that depresses Holden, symbolizing their naïve engagement with commercialized culture. The chapter ends with Holden reflecting on the emptiness of nightclubs without meaningful companionship or alcohol, underscoring his profound loneliness.

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Chapter 9

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1410 9 1411 The first thing I did when I got off at Penn Station, I went into this phone booth. I 1412 felt like giving somebody a buzz. I left my bags right outside the booth so that I could 1413 watch them, but as soon as I was inside, I couldn't think of anybody to call up. My 1414 brother D.B. was in Hollywood. My kid sister Phoebe goes to bed around nine o'clock-- 1415 so I couldn't call her up. She wouldn't've cared if I'd woke her up, but the trouble was, she 1416 wouldn't've been the one that answered the phone. My parents would be the ones. So that 1417 was out. Then I thought of giving Jane Gallagher's mother a buzz, and find out when 1418 Jane's vacation started, but I didn't feel like it. Besides, it was pretty late to call up. Then I 1419 thought of calling this girl I used to go around with quite frequently, Sally Hayes, 1420 because I knew her Christmas vacation had started already--she'd written me this long, 1421 phony letter, inviting me over to help her trim the Christmas tree Christmas Eve and all-- 1422 but I was afraid her mother'd answer the phone. Her mother knew my mother, and I could 1423 picture her breaking a goddam leg to get to the phone and tell my mother I was in New 1424 York. Besides, I wasn't crazy about talking to old Mrs. Hayes on the phone. She once told 1425 Sally I was wild. She said I was wild and that I had no direction in life. Then I thought of <!-- [Page 33](arke:01KFYTAC8NMEKR1EMYYGWX4SY2) --> 1426 calling up this guy that went to the Whooton School when I was there, Carl Luce, but I 1427 didn't like him much. So I ended up not calling anybody. I came out of the booth, after 1428 about twenty minutes or so, and got my bags and walked over to that tunnel where the 1429 cabs are and got a cab. 1430 I'm so damn absent-minded, I gave the driver my regular address, just out of habit 1431 and all--I mean I completely forgot I was going to shack up in a hotel for a couple of days 1432 and not go home till vacation started. I didn't think of it till we were halfway through the 1433 park. Then I said, "Hey, do you mind turning around when you get a chance? I gave you 1434 the wrong address. I want to go back downtown." 1435 The driver was sort of a wise guy. "I can't turn around here, Mac. This here's a 1436 one-way. I'll have to go all the way to Ninedieth Street now." 1437 I didn't want to start an argument. "Okay," I said. Then I thought of something, all 1438 of a sudden. "Hey, listen," I said. "You know those ducks in that lagoon right near 1439 Central Park South? That little lake? By any chance, do you happen to know where they 1440 go, the ducks, when it gets all frozen over? Do you happen to know, by any chance?" I 1441 realized it was only one chance in a million. 1442 He turned around and looked at me like I was a madman. "What're ya tryna do, 1443 bud?" he said. "Kid me?" 1444 "No--I was just interested, that's all." 1445 He didn't say anything more, so I didn't either. Until we came out of the park at 1446 Ninetieth Street. Then he said, "All right, buddy. Where to?" 1447 "Well, the thing is, I don't want to stay at any hotels on the East Side where I 1448 might run into some acquaintances of mine. I'm traveling incognito," I said. I hate saying 1449 corny things like "traveling incognito." But when I'm with somebody that's corny, I 1450 always act corny too. "Do you happen to know whose band's at the Taft or the New 1451 Yorker, by any chance?" 1452 "No idear, Mac." 1453 "Well--take me to the Edmont then," I said. "Would you care to stop on the way 1454 and join me for a cocktail? On me. I'm loaded." 1455 "Can't do it, Mac. Sorry." He certainly was good company. Terrific personality. 1456 We got to the Edmont Hotel, and I checked in. I'd put on my red hunting cap 1457 when I was in the cab, just for the hell of it, but I took it off before I checked in. I didn't 1458 want to look like a screwball or something. Which is really ironic. I didn't know then that 1459 the goddam hotel was full of perverts and morons. Screwballs all over the place. 1460 They gave me this very crumby room, with nothing to look out of the window at 1461 except the other side of the hotel. I didn't care much. I was too depressed to care whether 1462 I had a good view or not. The bellboy that showed me to the room was this very old guy 1463 around sixty-five. He was even more depressing than the room was. He was one of those 1464 bald guys that comb all their hair over from the side to cover up the baldness. I'd rather be 1465 bald than do that. Anyway, what a gorgeous job for a guy around sixty-five years old. 1466 Carrying people's suitcases and waiting around for a tip. I suppose he wasn't too 1467 intelligent or anything, but it was terrible anyway. 1468 After he left, I looked out the window for a while, with my coat on and all. I didn't 1469 have anything else to do. You'd be surprised what was going on on the other side of the 1470 hotel. They didn't even bother to pull their shades down. I saw one guy, a gray-haired, 1471 very distinguished-looking guy with only his shorts on, do something you wouldn't <!-- [Page 34](arke:01KFYTAC7SRY78R1XK9Y3T1Z0V) --> 1472 believe me if I told you. First he put his suitcase on the bed. Then he took out all these 1473 women's clothes, and put them on. Real women's clothes--silk stockings, high-heeled 1474 shoes, brassiere, and one of those corsets with the straps hanging down and all. Then he 1475 put on this very tight black evening dress. I swear to God. Then he started walking up and 1476 down the room, taking these very small steps, the way a woman does, and smoking a 1477 cigarette and looking at himself in the mirror. He was all alone, too. Unless somebody 1478 was in the bathroom--I couldn't see that much. Then, in the window almost right over his, 1479 I saw a man and a woman squirting water out of their mouths at each other. It probably 1480 was highballs, not water, but I couldn't see what they had in their glasses. Anyway, first 1481 he'd take a swallow and squirt it all over her, then she did it to him--they took turns, for 1482 God's sake. You should've seen them. They were in hysterics the whole time, like it was 1483 the funniest thing that ever happened. I'm not kidding, the hotel was lousy with perverts. I 1484 was probably the only normal bastard in the whole place--and that isn't saying much. I 1485 damn near sent a telegram to old Stradlater telling him to take the first train to New York. 1486 He'd have been the king of the hotel. 1487 The trouble was, that kind of junk is sort of fascinating to watch, even if you don't 1488 want it to be. For instance, that girl that was getting water squirted all over her face, she 1489 was pretty good-looking. I mean that's my big trouble. In my mind, I'm probably the 1490 biggest sex maniac you ever saw. Sometimes I can think of very crumby stuff I wouldn't 1491 mind doing if the opportunity came up. I can even see how it might be quite a lot of fun, 1492 in a crumby way, and if you were both sort of drunk and all, to get a girl and squirt water 1493 or something all over each other's face. The thing is, though, I don't like the idea. It 1494 stinks, if you analyze it. I think if you don't really like a girl, you shouldn't horse around 1495 with her at all, and if you do like her, then you're supposed to like her face, and if you 1496 like her face, you ought to be careful about doing crumby stuff to it, like squirting water 1497 all over it. It's really too bad that so much crumby stuff is a lot of fun sometimes. Girls 1498 aren't too much help, either, when you start trying not to get too crumby, when you start 1499 trying not to spoil anything really good. I knew this one girl, a couple of years ago, that 1500 was even crumbier than I was. Boy, was she crumby! We had a lot of fun, though, for a 1501 while, in a crumby way. Sex is something I really don't understand too hot. You never 1502 know where the hell you are. I keep making up these sex rules for myself, and then I 1503 break them right away. Last year I made a rule that I was going to quit horsing around 1504 with girls that, deep down, gave me a pain in the ass. I broke it, though, the same week I 1505 made it--the same night, as a matter of fact. I spent the whole night necking with a 1506 terrible phony named Anne Louise Sherman. Sex is something I just don't understand. I 1507 swear to God I don't. 1508 I started toying with the idea, while I kept standing there, of giving old Jane a 1509 buzz--I mean calling her long distance at B.M., where she went, instead of calling up her 1510 mother to find out when she was coming home. You weren't supposed to call students up 1511 late at night, but I had it all figured out. I was going to tell whoever answered the phone 1512 that I was her uncle. I was going to say her aunt had just got killed in a car accident and I 1513 had to speak to her immediately. It would've worked, too. The only reason I didn't do it 1514 was because I wasn't in the mood. If you're not in the mood, you can't do that stuff right. 1515 After a while I sat down in a chair and smoked a couple of cigarettes. I was 1516 feeling pretty horny. I have to admit it. Then, all of a sudden, I got this idea. I took out 1517 my wallet and started looking for this address a guy I met at a party last summer, that <!-- [Page 35](arke:01KFYTAC5NQYASTMKQHNK91CV1) --> 1518 went to Princeton, gave me. Finally I found it. It was all a funny color from my wallet, 1519 but you could still read it. It was the address of this girl that wasn't exactly a whore or 1520 anything but that didn't mind doing it once in a while, this Princeton guy told me. He 1521 brought her to a dance at Princeton once, and they nearly kicked him out for bringing her. 1522 She used to be a burlesque stripper or something. Anyway, I went over to the phone and 1523 gave her a buzz. Her name was Faith Cavendish, and she lived at the Stanford Arms 1524 Hotel on Sixty-fifth and Broadway. A dump, no doubt. 1525 For a while, I didn t think she was home or something. Nobody kept answering. 1526 Then, finally, somebody picked up the phone. 1527 "Hello?" I said. I made my voice quite deep so that she wouldn't suspect my age 1528 or anything. I have a pretty deep voice anyway. 1529 "Hello," this woman's voice said. None too friendly, either. 1530 "Is this Miss Faith Cavendish?" 1531 "Who's this?" she said. "Who's calling me up at this crazy goddam hour?" 1532 That sort of scared me a little bit. "Well, I know it's quite late," I said, in this very 1533 mature voice and all. "I hope you'll forgive me, but I was very anxious to get in touch 1534 with you." I said it suave as hell. I really did. 1535 "Who is this?" she said. 1536 "Well, you don't know me, but I'm a friend of Eddie Birdsell's. He suggested that 1537 if I were in town sometime, we ought to get together for a cocktail or two." 1538 "Who? You're a friend of who?" Boy, she was a real tigress over the phone. She 1539 was damn near yelling at me. 1540 "Edmund Birdsell. Eddie Birdsell," I said. I couldn't remember if his name was 1541 Edmund or Edward. I only met him once, at a goddam stupid party. 1542 "I don't know anybody by that name, Jack. And if you think I enjoy bein' woke up 1543 in the middle--" 1544 "Eddie Birdsell? From Princeton?" I said. 1545 You could tell she was running the name over in her mind and all. 1546 "Birdsell, Birdsell. . . from Princeton.. . Princeton College?" 1547 "That's right," I said. 1548 "You from Princeton College?" 1549 "Well, approximately." 1550 "Oh. . . How is Eddie?" she said. "This is certainly a peculiar time to call a person 1551 up, though. Jesus Christ." 1552 "He's fine. He asked to be remembered to you." 1553 "Well, thank you. Remember me to him," she said. "He's a grand person. What's 1554 he doing now?" She was getting friendly as hell, all of a sudden. 1555 "Oh, you know. Same old stuff," I said. How the hell did I know what he was 1556 doing? I hardly knew the guy. I didn't even know if he was still at Princeton. "Look," I 1557 said. "Would you be interested in meeting me for a cocktail somewhere?" 1558 "By any chance do you have any idea what time it is?" she said. "What's your 1559 name, anyhow, may I ask?" She was getting an English accent, all of a sudden. "You 1560 sound a little on the young side." 1561 I laughed. "Thank you for the compliment," I said-- suave as hell. "Holden 1562 Caulfield's my name." I should've given her a phony name, but I didn't think of it. <!-- [Page 36](arke:01KFYTAC6M5NJWMFJM2KXYTZQH) --> 1563 "Well, look, Mr. Cawffle. I'm not in the habit of making engagements in the 1564 middle of the night. I'm a working gal." 1565 "Tomorrow's Sunday," I told her. 1566 "Well, anyway. I gotta get my beauty sleep. You know how it is." 1567 "I thought we might have just one cocktail together. It isn't too late." 1568 "Well. You're very sweet," she said. "Where ya callin' from? Where ya at now, 1569 anyways?" 1570 "Me? I'm in a phone booth." 1571 "Oh," she said. Then there was this very long pause. "Well, I'd like awfully to get 1572 together with you sometime, Mr. Cawffle. You sound very attractive. You sound like a 1573 very attractive person. But it is late." 1574 "I could come up to your place." 1575 "Well, ordinary, I'd say grand. I mean I'd love to have you drop up for a cocktail, 1576 but my roommate happens to be ill. She's been laying here all night without a wink of 1577 sleep. She just this minute closed her eyes and all. I mean." 1578 "Oh. That's too bad." 1579 "Where ya stopping at? Perhaps we could get together for cocktails tomorrow." 1580 "I can't make it tomorrow," I said. "Tonight's the only time I can make it." What a 1581 dope I was. I shouldn't've said that. 1582 "Oh. Well, I'm awfully sorry." 1583 "I'll say hello to Eddie for you." 1584 "Willya do that? I hope you enjoy your stay in New York. It's a grand place." 1585 "I know it is. Thanks. Good night," I said. Then I hung up. 1586 Boy, I really fouled that up. I should've at least made it for cocktails or something. 1587 10 1588 It was still pretty early. I'm not sure what time it was, but it wasn't too late. The 1589 one thing I hate to do is go to bed when I'm not even tired. So I opened my suitcases and 1590 took out a clean shirt, and then I went in the bathroom and washed and changed my shirt. 1591 What I thought I'd do, I thought I'd go downstairs and see what the hell was going on in 1592 the Lavender Room. They had this night club, the Lavender Room, in the hotel. 1593 While I was changing my shirt, I damn near gave my kid sister Phoebe a buzz, 1594 though. I certainly felt like talking to her on the phone. Somebody with sense and all. But 1595 I couldn't take a chance on giving her a buzz, because she was only a little kid and she 1596 wouldn't have been up, let alone anywhere near the phone. I thought of maybe hanging 1597 up if my parents answered, but that wouldn't've worked, either. They'd know it was me. 1598 My mother always knows it's me. She's psychic. But I certainly wouldn't have minded 1599 shooting the crap with old Phoebe for a while. 1600 You should see her. You never saw a little kid so pretty and smart in your whole 1601 life. She's really smart. I mean she's had all A's ever since she started school. As a matter 1602 of fact, I'm the only dumb one in the family. My brother D.B.'s a writer and all, and my 1603 brother Allie, the one that died, that I told you about, was a wizard. I'm the only really 1604 dumb one. But you ought to see old Phoebe. She has this sort of red hair, a little bit like 1605 Allie's was, that's very short in the summertime. In the summertime, she sticks it behind <!-- [Page 37](arke:01KFYTAC968250N99S0V1J9K7D) --> 1606 her ears. She has nice, pretty little ears. In the wintertime, it's pretty long, though. 1607 Sometimes my mother braids it and sometimes she doesn't. It's really nice, though. She's 1608 only ten. She's quite skinny, like me, but nice skinny. Roller-skate skinny. I watched her 1609 once from the window when she was crossing over Fifth Avenue to go to the park, and 1610 that's what she is, roller-skate skinny. You'd like her. I mean if you tell old Phoebe 1611 something, she knows exactly what the hell you're talking about. I mean you can even 1612 take her anywhere with you. If you take her to a lousy movie, for instance, she knows it's 1613 a lousy movie. If you take her to a pretty good movie, she knows it's a pretty good movie. 1614 D.B. and I took her to see this French movie, The Baker's Wife, with Raimu in it. It killed 1615 her. Her favorite is The 39 Steps, though, with Robert Donat. She knows the whole 1616 goddam movie by heart, because I've taken her to see it about ten times. When old Donat 1617 comes up to this Scotch farmhouse, for instance, when he's running away from the cops 1618 and all, Phoebe'll say right out loud in the movie--right when the Scotch guy in the 1619 picture says it--"Can you eat the herring?" She knows all the talk by heart. And when this 1620 professor in the picture, that's really a German spy, sticks up his little finger with part of 1621 the middle joint missing, to show Robert Donat, old Phoebe beats him to it--she holds up 1622 her little finger at me in the dark, right in front of my face. She's all right. You'd like her. 1623 The only trouble is, she's a little too affectionate sometimes. She's very emotional, for a 1624 child. She really is. Something else she does, she writes books all the time. Only, she 1625 doesn't finish them. They're all about some kid named Hazel Weatherfield--only old 1626 Phoebe spells it "Hazle." Old Hazle Weatherfield is a girl detective. She's supposed to be 1627 an orphan, but her old man keeps showing up. Her old man's always a "tall attractive 1628 gentleman about 20 years of age." That kills me. Old Phoebe. I swear to God you'd like 1629 her. She was smart even when she was a very tiny little kid. When she was a very tiny 1630 little kid, I and Allie used to take her to the park with us, especially on Sundays. Allie had 1631 this sailboat he used to like to fool around with on Sundays, and we used to take old 1632 Phoebe with us. She'd wear white gloves and walk right between us, like a lady and all. 1633 And when Allie and I were having some conversation about things in general, old 1634 Phoebe'd be listening. Sometimes you'd forget she was around, because she was such a 1635 little kid, but she'd let you know. She'd interrupt you all the time. She'd give Allie or I a 1636 push or something, and say, "Who? Who said that? Bobby or the lady?" And we'd tell her 1637 who said it, and she'd say, "Oh," and go right on listening and all. She killed Allie, too. I 1638 mean he liked her, too. She's ten now, and not such a tiny little kid any more, but she still 1639 kills everybody--everybody with any sense, anyway. 1640 Anyway, she was somebody you always felt like talking to on the phone. But I 1641 was too afraid my parents would answer, and then they'd find out I was in New York and 1642 kicked out of Pencey and all. So I just finished putting on my shirt. Then I got all ready 1643 and went down in the elevator to the lobby to see what was going on. 1644 Except for a few pimpy-looking guys, and a few whory-looking blondes, the 1645 lobby was pretty empty. But you could hear the band playing in the Lavender Room, and 1646 so I went in there. It wasn't very crowded, but they gave me a lousy table anyway--way in 1647 the back. I should've waved a buck under the head-waiter's nose. In New York, boy, 1648 money really talks--I'm not kidding. 1649 The band was putrid. Buddy Singer. Very brassy, but not good brassy--corny 1650 brassy. Also, there were very few people around my age in the place. In fact, nobody was 1651 around my age. They were mostly old, show-offy-looking guys with their dates. Except at <!-- [Page 38](arke:01KFYTACA3AHA55VNT4JVQR1BD) --> 1652 the table right next to me. At the table right next to me, there were these three girls 1653 around thirty or so. The whole three of them were pretty ugly, and they all had on the 1654 kind of hats that you knew they didn't really live in New York, but one of them, the 1655 blonde one, wasn't too bad. She was sort of cute, the blonde one, and I started giving her 1656 the old eye a little bit, but just then the waiter came up for my order. I ordered a Scotch 1657 and soda, and told him not to mix it--I said it fast as hell, because if you hem and haw, 1658 they think you're under twenty-one and won't sell you any intoxicating liquor. I had 1659 trouble with him anyway, though. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, "but do you have some 1660 verification of your age? Your driver's license, perhaps?" 1661 I gave him this very cold stare, like he'd insulted the hell out of me, and asked 1662 him, "Do I look like I'm under twenty-one?" 1663 "I'm sorry, sir, but we have our--" 1664 "Okay, okay," I said. I figured the hell with it. "Bring me a Coke." He started to 1665 go away, but I called him back. "Can'tcha stick a little rum in it or something?" I asked 1666 him. I asked him very nicely and all. "I can't sit in a corny place like this cold sober. 1667 Can'tcha stick a little rum in it or something?" 1668 "I'm very sorry, sir. . ." he said, and beat it on me. I didn't hold it against him, 1669 though. They lose their jobs if they get caught selling to a minor. I'm a goddam minor. 1670 I started giving the three witches at the next table the eye again. That is, the 1671 blonde one. The other two were strictly from hunger. I didn't do it crudely, though. I just 1672 gave all three of them this very cool glance and all. What they did, though, the three of 1673 them, when I did it, they started giggling like morons. They probably thought I was too 1674 young to give anybody the once-over. That annoyed hell out of me-- you'd've thought I 1675 wanted to marry them or something. I should've given them the freeze, after they did that, 1676 but the trouble was, I really felt like dancing. I'm very fond of dancing, sometimes, and 1677 that was one of the times. So all of a sudden, I sort of leaned over and said, "Would any 1678 of you girls care to dance?" I didn't ask them crudely or anything. Very suave, in fact. But 1679 God damn it, they thought that was a panic, too. They started giggling some more. I'm 1680 not kidding, they were three real morons. "C'mon," I said. "I'll dance with you one at a 1681 time. All right? How 'bout it? C'mon!" I really felt like dancing. 1682 Finally, the blonde one got up to dance with me, because you could tell I was 1683 really talking to her, and we walked out to the dance floor. The other two grools nearly 1684 had hysterics when we did. I certainly must've been very hard up to even bother with any 1685 of them. 1686 But it was worth it. The blonde was some dancer. She was one of the best dancers 1687 I ever danced with. I'm not kidding, some of these very stupid girls can really knock you 1688 out on a dance floor. You take a really smart girl, and half the time she's trying to lead 1689 you around the dance floor, or else she's such a lousy dancer, the best thing to do is stay 1690 at the table and just get drunk with her. 1691 "You really can dance," I told the blonde one. "You oughta be a pro. I mean it. I 1692 danced with a pro once, and you're twice as good as she was. Did you ever hear of Marco 1693 and Miranda?" 1694 "What?" she said. She wasn't even listening to me. She was looking all around the 1695 place. 1696 "I said did you ever hear of Marco and Miranda?" 1697 "I don't know. No. I don't know." <!-- [Page 39](arke:01KFYTAC7QX2053R91TDYAPQKE) --> 1698 "Well, they're dancers, she's a dancer. She's not too hot, though. She does 1699 everything she's supposed to, but she's not so hot anyway. You know when a girl's really 1700 a terrific dancer?" 1701 "Wudga say?" she said. She wasn't listening to me, even. Her mind was 1702 wandering all over the place. 1703 "I said do you know when a girl's really a terrific dancer?" 1704 "Uh-uh." 1705 "Well--where I have my hand on your back. If I think there isn't anything 1706 underneath my hand--no can, no legs, no feet, no anything--then the girl's really a terrific 1707 dancer." 1708 She wasn't listening, though. So I ignored her for a while. We just danced. God, 1709 could that dopey girl dance. Buddy Singer and his stinking band was playing "Just One of 1710 Those Things" and even they couldn't ruin it entirely. It's a swell song. I didn't try any 1711 trick stuff while we danced--I hate a guy that does a lot of show-off tricky stuff on the 1712 dance floor--but I was moving her around plenty, and she stayed with me. The funny 1713 thing is, I thought she was enjoying it, too, till all of a sudden she came out with this very 1714 dumb remark. "I and my girl friends saw Peter Lorre last night," she said. "The movie 1715 actor. In person. He was buyin' a newspaper. He's cute." 1716 "You're lucky," I told her. "You're really lucky. You know that?" She was really a 1717 moron. But what a dancer. I could hardly stop myself from sort of giving her a kiss on the 1718 top of her dopey head--you know-- right where the part is, and all. She got sore when I 1719 did it. 1720 "Hey! What's the idea?" 1721 "Nothing. No idea. You really can dance," I said. "I have a kid sister that's only in 1722 the goddam fourth grade. You're about as good as she is, and she can dance better than 1723 anybody living or dead." 1724 "Watch your language, if you don't mind." 1725 What a lady, boy. A queen, for Chrissake. 1726 "Where you girls from?" I asked her. 1727 She didn't answer me, though. She was busy looking around for old Peter Lorre to 1728 show up, I guess. 1729 "Where you girls from?" I asked her again. 1730 "What?" she said. 1731 "Where you girls from? Don't answer if you don't feel like it. I don't want you to 1732 strain yourself." 1733 "Seattle, Washington," she said. She was doing me a big favor to tell me. 1734 "You're a very good conversationalist," I told her. "You know that?" 1735 "What?" 1736 I let it drop. It was over her head, anyway. "Do you feel like jitterbugging a little 1737 bit, if they play a fast one? Not corny jitterbug, not jump or anything--just nice and easy. 1738 Everybody'll all sit down when they play a fast one, except the old guys and the fat guys, 1739 and we'll have plenty of room. Okay?" 1740 "It's immaterial to me," she said. "Hey--how old are you, anyhow?" 1741 That annoyed me, for some reason. "Oh, Christ. Don't spoil it," I said. "I'm 1742 twelve, for Chrissake. I'm big for my age." <!-- [Page 40](arke:01KFYTAC5YWJTH54X209NFJ7HQ) --> 1743 "Listen. I toleja about that. I don't like that type language," she said. "If you're 1744 gonna use that type language, I can go sit down with my girl friends, you know." 1745 I apologized like a madman, because the band was starting a fast one. She started 1746 jitterbugging with me-- but just very nice and easy, not corny. She was really good. All 1747 you had to do was touch her. And when she turned around, her pretty little butt twitched 1748 so nice and all. She knocked me out. I mean it. I was half in love with her by the time we 1749 sat down. That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if 1750 they're not much to look at, or even if they're sort of stupid, you fall half in love with 1751 them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can 1752 drive you crazy. They really can. 1753 They didn't invite me to sit down at their table-- mostly because they were too 1754 ignorant--but I sat down anyway. The blonde I'd been dancing with's name was Bernice 1755 something--Crabs or Krebs. The two ugly ones' names were Marty and Laverne. I told 1756 them my name was Jim Steele, just for the hell of it. Then I tried to get them in a little 1757 intelligent conversation, but it was practically impossible. You had to twist their arms. 1758 You could hardly tell which was the stupidest of the three of them. And the whole three 1759 of them kept looking all around the goddam room, like as if they expected a flock of 1760 goddam movie stars to come in any minute. They probably thought movie stars always 1761 hung out in the Lavender Room when they came to New York, instead of the Stork Club 1762 or El Morocco and all. Anyway, it took me about a half hour to find out where they all 1763 worked and all in Seattle. They all worked in the same insurance office. I asked them if 1764 they liked it, but do you think you could get an intelligent answer out of those three 1765 dopes? I thought the two ugly ones, Marty and Laverne, were sisters, but they got very 1766 insulted when I asked them. You could tell neither one of them wanted to look like the 1767 other one, and you couldn't blame them, but it was very amusing anyway. 1768 I danced with them all--the whole three of them--one at a time. The one ugly one, 1769 Laverne, wasn't too bad a dancer, but the other one, old Marty, was murder. Old Marty 1770 was like dragging the Statue of Liberty around the floor. The only way I could even half 1771 enjoy myself dragging her around was if I amused myself a little. So I told her I just saw 1772 Gary Cooper, the movie star, on the other side of the floor. 1773 "Where?" she asked me--excited as hell. "Where?" 1774 "Aw, you just missed him. He just went out. Why didn't you look when I told 1775 you?" 1776 She practically stopped dancing, and started looking over everybody's heads to 1777 see if she could see him. "Oh, shoot!" she said. I'd just about broken her heart-- I really 1778 had. I was sorry as hell I'd kidded her. Some people you shouldn't kid, even if they 1779 deserve it. 1780 Here's what was very funny, though. When we got back to the table, old Marty 1781 told the other two that Gary Cooper had just gone out. Boy, old Laverne and Bernice 1782 nearly committed suicide when they heard that. They got all excited and asked Marty if 1783 she'd seen him and all. Old Mart said she'd only caught a glimpse of him. That killed me. 1784 The bar was closing up for the night, so I bought them all two drinks apiece quick 1785 before it closed, and I ordered two more Cokes for myself. The goddam table was lousy 1786 with glasses. The one ugly one, Laverne, kept kidding me because I was only drinking 1787 Cokes. She had a sterling sense of humor. She and old Marty were drinking Tom 1788 Collinses--in the middle of December, for God's sake. They didn't know any better. The <!-- [Page 41](arke:01KFYTAC855KR675GM1HD69RNM) --> 1789 blonde one, old Bernice, was drinking bourbon and water. She was really putting it away, 1790 too. The whole three of them kept looking for movie stars the whole time. They hardly 1791 talked--even to each other. Old Marty talked more than the other two. She kept saying 1792 these very corny, boring things, like calling the can the "little girls' room," and she 1793 thought Buddy Singer's poor old beat-up clarinet player was really terrific when he stood 1794 up and took a couple of ice-cold hot licks. She called his clarinet a "licorice stick." Was 1795 she corny. The other ugly one, Laverne, thought she was a very witty type. She kept 1796 asking me to call up my father and ask him what he was doing tonight. She kept asking 1797 me if my father had a date or not. Four times she asked me that--she was certainly witty. 1798 Old Bernice, the blonde one, didn't say hardly anything at all. Every time I'd ask her 1799 something, she said "What?" That can get on your nerves after a while. 1800 All of a sudden, when they finished their drink, all three of them stood up on me 1801 and said they had to get to bed. They said they were going to get up early to see the first 1802 show at Radio City Music Hall. I tried to get them to stick around for a while, but they 1803 wouldn't. So we said good-by and all. I told them I'd look them up in Seattle sometime, if 1804 I ever got there, but I doubt if I ever will. Look them up, I mean. 1805 With cigarettes and all, the check came to about thirteen bucks. I think they 1806 should've at least offered to pay for the drinks they had before I joined them--I 1807 wouldn't've let them, naturally, but they should've at least offered. I didn't care much, 1808 though. They were so ignorant, and they had those sad, fancy hats on and all. And that 1809 business about getting up early to see the first show at Radio City Music Hall depressed 1810 me. If somebody, some girl in an awful-looking hat, for instance, comes all the way to 1811 New York--from Seattle, Washington, for God's sake--and ends up getting up early in the 1812 morning to see the goddam first show at Radio City Music Hall, it makes me so 1813 depressed I can't stand it. I'd've bought the whole three of them a hundred drinks if only 1814 they hadn't told me that. 1815 I left the Lavender Room pretty soon after they did. They were closing it up 1816 anyway, and the band had quit a long time ago. In the first place, it was one of those 1817 places that are very terrible to be in unless you have somebody good to dance with, or 1818 unless the waiter lets you buy real drinks instead of just Cokes. There isn't any night club 1819 in the world you can sit in for a long time unless you can at least buy some liquor and get 1820 drunk. Or unless you're with some girl that really knocks you out.

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Chapter 9