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# Chapter 16 of *The Catcher in the Rye* ## Overview This entity is Chapter 16 of the novel *The Catcher in the Rye* by J.D. Salinger, presented as a structured text segment within a digital archive. The chapter spans lines 2841 to 3065 of the source document and corresponds to pages 62–66 of the original publication. It is part of a larger collection titled [More Classics](arke:01KFXT0KM64XT6K8W52TDEE0YS), which includes canonical literary works. The text is divided into six smaller [chunks](arke:01KG07ACE6EVANJF4FDWAPTZSF) for processing and analysis, each representing a portion of the chapter. ## Context The chapter is narrated by Holden Caulfield, a disaffected teenager navigating New York City after leaving his prep school. It occurs on a Sunday morning, following his return to the city and preceding his planned date with Sally Hayes. Holden’s internal monologue reflects his alienation from adult society, his sensitivity to authenticity, and his deep affection for childhood innocence. His thoughts frequently return to his younger sister, Phoebe, and his memories of school trips to the [Museum of Natural History](arke:01KFYTAC5AK42KB1N99MQ0GMB7), which symbolize stability and permanence in a world he sees as phony and changing. ## Contents The chapter details Holden’s walk through Manhattan after breakfast. He reflects on two nuns he encountered, admiring their humility and contrasting them with wealthy, performative charity. He buys a rare record, “Little Shirley Beans” by Estelle Fletcher, for Phoebe, hoping it will delight her. While searching for a record store, he briefly considers calling his former friend Jane Gallagher but hangs up when her mother answers. He purchases theater tickets to *I Know My Love*—a play starring the Lunts—knowing Sally will be impressed, despite his disdain for actors and theater. He recalls seeing Sir Laurence Olivier in *Hamlet* and criticizes the performance as inauthentic. Walking through Central Park, he observes a poor family and is moved by the young boy’s spontaneous singing of “If a body catch a body coming through the rye,” which inspires the novel’s title. He visits the park’s skating rink hoping to see Phoebe but learns she is likely at the museum. Though he walks all the way to the [Museum of Natural History](arke:01KFYTAC5AK42KB1N99MQ0GMB7), he ultimately decides not to enter, symbolizing his resistance to confronting change. The chapter ends with him taking a cab to meet Sally at the [Biltmore Hotel](arke:01KG072EXBSV0AEAB8M118N27X).

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Chapter 16 of *The Catcher in the Rye*

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2720 16 2721 After I had my breakfast, it was only around noon, and I wasn't meeting old Sally 2722 till two o'clock, so I started taking this long walk. I couldn't stop thinking about those two 2723 nuns. I kept thinking about that beatup old straw basket they went around collecting 2724 money with when they weren't teaching school. I kept trying to picture my mother or 2725 somebody, or my aunt, or Sally Hayes's crazy mother, standing outside some department 2726 store and collecting dough for poor people in a beat-up old straw basket. It was hard to 2727 picture. Not so much my mother, but those other two. My aunt's pretty charitable--she 2728 does a lot of Red Cross work and all--but she's very well-dressed and all, and when she 2729 does anything charitable she's always very well-dressed and has lipstick on and all that 2730 crap. I couldn't picture her doing anything for charity if she had to wear black clothes and 2731 no lipstick while she was doing it. And old Sally Hayes's mother. Jesus Christ. The only <!-- [Page 62](arke:01KFYTAC8RJY0VCZ4TDHK83S62) --> 2732 way she could go around with a basket collecting dough would be if everybody kissed 2733 her ass for her when they made a contribution. If they just dropped their dough in her 2734 basket, then walked away without saying anything to her, ignoring her and all, she'd quit 2735 in about an hour. She'd get bored. She'd hand in her basket and then go someplace 2736 swanky for lunch. That's what I liked about those nuns. You could tell, for one thing, that 2737 they never went anywhere swanky for lunch. It made me so damn sad when I thought 2738 about it, their never going anywhere swanky for lunch or anything. I knew it wasn't too 2739 important, but it made me sad anyway. 2740 I started walking over toward Broadway, just for the hell of it, because I hadn't 2741 been over there in years. Besides, I wanted to find a record store that was open on 2742 Sunday. There was this record I wanted to get for Phoebe, called "Little Shirley Beans." 2743 It was a very hard record to get. It was about a little kid that wouldn't go out of the house 2744 because two of her front teeth were out and she was ashamed to. I heard it at Pencey. A 2745 boy that lived on the next floor had it, and I tried to buy it off him because I knew it 2746 would knock old Phoebe out, but he wouldn't sell it. It was a very old, terrific record that 2747 this colored girl singer, Estelle Fletcher, made about twenty years ago. She sings it very 2748 Dixieland and whorehouse, and it doesn't sound at all mushy. If a white girl was singing 2749 it, she'd make it sound cute as hell, but old Estelle Fletcher knew what the hell she was 2750 doing, and it was one of the best records I ever heard. I figured I'd buy it in some store 2751 that was open on Sunday and then I'd take it up to the park with me. It was Sunday and 2752 Phoebe goes rollerskating in the park on Sundays quite frequently. I knew where she 2753 hung out mostly. 2754 It wasn't as cold as it was the day before, but the sun still wasn't out, and it wasn't 2755 too nice for walking. But there was one nice thing. This family that you could tell just 2756 came out of some church were walking right in front of me--a father, a mother, and a 2757 little kid about six years old. They looked sort of poor. The father had on one of those 2758 pearl-gray hats that poor guys wear a lot when they want to look sharp. He and his wife 2759 were just walking along, talking, not paying any attention to their kid. The kid was swell. 2760 He was walking in the street, instead of on the sidewalk, but right next to the curb. He 2761 was making out like he was walking a very straight line, the way kids do, and the whole 2762 time he kept singing and humming. I got up closer so I could hear what he was singing. 2763 He was singing that song, "If a body catch a body coming through the rye." He had a 2764 pretty little voice, too. He was just singing for the hell of it, you could tell. The cars 2765 zoomed by, brakes screeched all over the place, his parents paid no attention to him, and 2766 he kept on walking next to the curb and singing "If a body catch a body coming through 2767 the rye." It made me feel better. It made me feel not so depressed any more. 2768 Broadway was mobbed and messy. It was Sunday, and only about twelve o'clock, 2769 but it was mobbed anyway. Everybody was on their way to the movies--the Paramount or 2770 the Astor or the Strand or the Capitol or one of those crazy places. Everybody was all 2771 dressed up, because it was Sunday, and that made it worse. But the worst part was that 2772 you could tell they all wanted to go to the movies. I couldn't stand looking at them. I can 2773 understand somebody going to the movies because there's nothing else to do, but when 2774 somebody really wants to go, and even walks fast so as to get there quicker, then it 2775 depresses hell out of me. Especially if I see millions of people standing in one of those 2776 long, terrible lines, all the way down the block, waiting with this terrific patience for seats 2777 and all. Boy, I couldn't get off that goddam Broadway fast enough. I was lucky. The first <!-- [Page 63](arke:01KFYTAC85M53E46R6HWH73FND) --> 2778 record store I went into had a copy of "Little Shirley Beans." They charged me five bucks 2779 for it, because it was so hard to get, but I didn't care. Boy, it made me so happy all of a 2780 sudden. I could hardly wait to get to the park to see if old Phoebe was around so that I 2781 could give it to her. 2782 When I came out of the record store, I passed this drugstore, and I went in. I 2783 figured maybe I'd give old Jane a buzz and see if she was home for vacation yet. So I 2784 went in a phone booth and called her up. The only trouble was, her mother answered the 2785 phone, so I had to hang up. I didn't feel like getting involved in a long conversation and 2786 all with her. I'm not crazy about talking to girls' mothers on the phone anyway. I 2787 should've at least asked her if Jane was home yet, though. It wouldn't have killed me. But 2788 I didn't feel like it. You really have to be in the mood for that stuff. 2789 I still had to get those damn theater tickets, so I bought a paper and looked up to 2790 see what shows were playing. On account of it was Sunday, there were only about three 2791 shows playing. So what I did was, I went over and bought two orchestra seats for I Know 2792 My Love. It was a benefit performance or something. I didn't much want to see it, but I 2793 knew old Sally, the queen of the phonies, would start drooling all over the place when I 2794 told her I had tickets for that, because the Lunts were in it and all. She liked shows that 2795 are supposed to be very sophisticated and dry and all, with the Lunts and all. I don't. I 2796 don't like any shows very much, if you want to know the truth. They're not as bad as 2797 movies, but they're certainly nothing to rave about. In the first place, I hate actors. They 2798 never act like people. They just think they do. Some of the good ones do, in a very slight 2799 way, but not in a way that's fun to watch. And if any actor's really good, you can always 2800 tell he knows he's good, and that spoils it. You take Sir Laurence Olivier, for example. I 2801 saw him in Hamlet. D.B. took Phoebe and I to see it last year. He treated us to lunch first, 2802 and then he took us. He'd already seen it, and the way he talked about it at lunch, I was 2803 anxious as hell to see it, too. But I didn't enjoy it much. I just don't see what's so 2804 marvelous about Sir Laurence Olivier, that's all. He has a terrific voice, and he's a helluva 2805 handsome guy, and he's very nice to watch when he's walking or dueling or something, 2806 but he wasn't at all the way D.B. said Hamlet was. He was too much like a goddam 2807 general, instead of a sad, screwed-up type guy. The best part in the whole picture was 2808 when old Ophelia's brother--the one that gets in the duel with Hamlet at the very end-- 2809 was going away and his father was giving him a lot of advice. While the father kept 2810 giving him a lot of advice, old Ophelia was sort of horsing around with her brother, 2811 taking his dagger out of the holster, and teasing him and all while he was trying to look 2812 interested in the bull his father was shooting. That was nice. I got a big bang out of that. 2813 But you don't see that kind of stuff much. The only thing old Phoebe liked was when 2814 Hamlet patted this dog on the head. She thought that was funny and nice, and it was. 2815 What I'll have to do is, I'll have to read that play. The trouble with me is, I always have to 2816 read that stuff by myself. If an actor acts it out, I hardly listen. I keep worrying about 2817 whether he's going to do something phony every minute. 2818 After I got the tickets to the Lunts' show, I took a cab up to the park. I should've 2819 taken a subway or something, because I was getting slightly low on dough, but I wanted 2820 to get off that damn Broadway as fast as I could. 2821 It was lousy in the park. It wasn't too cold, but the sun still wasn't out, and there 2822 didn't look like there was anything in the park except dog crap and globs of spit and cigar 2823 butts from old men, and the benches all looked like they'd be wet if you sat down on <!-- [Page 64](arke:01KFYTAC561Q4MR52D29SJ723K) --> 2824 them. It made you depressed, and every once in a while, for no reason, you got goose 2825 flesh while you walked. It didn't seem at all like Christmas was coming soon. It didn't 2826 seem like anything was coming. But I kept walking over to the Mall anyway, because 2827 that's where Phoebe usually goes when she's in the park. She likes to skate near the 2828 bandstand. It's funny. That's the same place I used to like to skate when I was a kid. 2829 When I got there, though, I didn't see her around anywhere. There were a few kids 2830 around, skating and all, and two boys were playing Flys Up with a soft ball, but no 2831 Phoebe. I saw one kid about her age, though, sitting on a bench all by herself, tightening 2832 her skate. I thought maybe she might know Phoebe and could tell me where she was or 2833 something, so I went over and sat down next to her and asked her, "Do you know Phoebe 2834 Caulfield, by any chance?" 2835 "Who?" she said. All she had on was jeans and about twenty sweaters. You could 2836 tell her mother made them for her, because they were lumpy as hell. 2837 "Phoebe Caulfield. She lives on Seventy-first Street. She's in the fourth grade, 2838 over at--" 2839 "You know Phoebe?" 2840 "Yeah, I'm her brother. You know where she is?" 2841 "She's in Miss Callon's class, isn't she?" the kid said. 2842 "I don't know. Yes, I think she is." 2843 "She's prob'ly in the museum, then. We went last Saturday," the kid said. 2844 "Which museum?" I asked her. 2845 She shrugged her shoulders, sort of. "I don't know," she said. "The museum." 2846 "I know, but the one where the pictures are, or the one where the Indians are?" 2847 "The one where the Indians." 2848 "Thanks a lot," I said. I got up and started to go, but then I suddenly remembered 2849 it was Sunday. "This is Sunday," I told the kid. 2850 She looked up at me. "Oh. Then she isn't." 2851 She was having a helluva time tightening her skate. She didn't have any gloves on 2852 or anything and her hands were all red and cold. I gave her a hand with it. Boy, I hadn't 2853 had a skate key in my hand for years. It didn't feel funny, though. You could put a skate 2854 key in my hand fifty years from now, in pitch dark, and I'd still know what it is. She 2855 thanked me and all when I had it tightened for her. She was a very nice, polite little kid. 2856 God, I love it when a kid's nice and polite when you tighten their skate for them or 2857 something. Most kids are. They really are. I asked her if she'd care to have a hot 2858 chocolate or something with me, but she said no, thank you. She said she had to meet her 2859 friend. Kids always have to meet their friend. That kills me. 2860 Even though it was Sunday and Phoebe wouldn't be there with her class or 2861 anything, and even though it was so damp and lousy out, I walked all the way through the 2862 park over to the Museum of Natural History. I knew that was the museum the kid with 2863 the skate key meant. I knew that whole museum routine like a book. Phoebe went to the 2864 same school I went to when I was a kid, and we used to go there all the time. We had this 2865 teacher, Miss Aigletinger, that took us there damn near every Saturday. Sometimes we 2866 looked at the animals and sometimes we looked at the stuff the Indians had made in 2867 ancient times. Pottery and straw baskets and all stuff like that. I get very happy when I 2868 think about it. Even now. I remember after we looked at all the Indian stuff, usually we 2869 went to see some movie in this big auditorium. Columbus. They were always showing <!-- [Page 65](arke:01KFYTAC4QEFWKV2XNRCEDK7PX) --> 2870 Columbus discovering America, having one helluva time getting old Ferdinand and 2871 Isabella to lend him the dough to buy ships with, and then the sailors mutinying on him 2872 and all. Nobody gave too much of a damn about old Columbus, but you always had a lot 2873 of candy and gum and stuff with you, and the inside of that auditorium had such a nice 2874 smell. It always smelled like it was raining outside, even if it wasn't, and you were in the 2875 only nice, dry, cosy place in the world. I loved that damn museum. I remember you had 2876 to go through the Indian Room to get to the auditorium. It was a long, long room, and you 2877 were only supposed to whisper. The teacher would go first, then the class. You'd be two 2878 rows of kids, and you'd have a partner. Most of the time my partner was this girl named 2879 Gertrude Levine. She always wanted to hold your hand, and her hand was always sticky 2880 or sweaty or something. The floor was all stone, and if you had some marbles in your 2881 hand and you dropped them, they bounced like madmen all over the floor and made a 2882 helluva racket, and the teacher would hold up the class and go back and see what the hell 2883 was going on. She never got sore, though, Miss Aigletinger. Then you'd pass by this long, 2884 long Indian war canoe, about as long as three goddam Cadillacs in a row, with about 2885 twenty Indians in it, some of them paddling, some of them just standing around looking 2886 tough, and they all had war paint all over their faces. There was one very spooky guy in 2887 the back of the canoe, with a mask on. He was the witch doctor. He gave me the creeps, 2888 but I liked him anyway. Another thing, if you touched one of the paddles or anything 2889 while you were passing, one of the guards would say to you, "Don't touch anything, 2890 children," but he always said it in a nice voice, not like a goddam cop or anything. Then 2891 you'd pass by this big glass case, with Indians inside it rubbing sticks together to make a 2892 fire, and a squaw weaving a blanket. The squaw that was weaving the blanket was sort of 2893 bending over, and you could see her bosom and all. We all used to sneak a good look at 2894 it, even the girls, because they were only little kids and they didn't have any more bosom 2895 than we did. Then, just before you went inside the auditorium, right near the doors, you 2896 passed this Eskimo. He was sitting over a hole in this icy lake, and he was fishing 2897 through it. He had about two fish right next to the hole, that he'd already caught. Boy, that 2898 museum was full of glass cases. There were even more upstairs, with deer inside them 2899 drinking at water holes, and birds flying south for the winter. The birds nearest you were 2900 all stuffed and hung up on wires, and the ones in back were just painted on the wall, but 2901 they all looked like they were really flying south, and if you bent your head down and 2902 sort of looked at them upside down, they looked in an even bigger hurry to fly south. The 2903 best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. 2904 Nobody'd move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would 2905 still be just finished catching those two fish, the birds would still be on their way south, 2906 the deers would still be drinking out of that water hole, with their pretty antlers and their 2907 pretty, skinny legs, and that squaw with the naked bosom would still be weaving that 2908 same blanket. Nobody'd be different. The only thing that would be different would be 2909 you. Not that you'd be so much older or anything. It wouldn't be that, exactly. You'd just 2910 be different, that's all. You'd have an overcoat on this time. Or the kid that was your 2911 partner in line the last time had got scarlet fever and you'd have a new partner. Or you'd 2912 have a substitute taking the class, instead of Miss Aigletinger. Or you'd heard your 2913 mother and father having a terrific fight in the bathroom. Or you'd just passed by one of 2914 those puddles in the street with gasoline rainbows in them. I mean you'd be different in 2915 some way--I can't explain what I mean. And even if I could, I'm not sure I'd feel like it. <!-- [Page 66](arke:01KFYTAC5AK42KB1N99MQ0GMB7) --> 2916 I took my old hunting hat out of my pocket while I walked, and put it on. I knew I 2917 wouldn't meet anybody that knew me, and it was pretty damp out. I kept walking and 2918 walking, and I kept thinking about old Phoebe going to that museum on Saturdays the 2919 way I used to. I thought how she'd see the same stuff I used to see, and how she'd be 2920 different every time she saw it. It didn't exactly depress me to think about it, but it didn't 2921 make me feel gay as hell, either. Certain things they should stay the way they are. You 2922 ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone. I 2923 know that's impossible, but it's too bad anyway. Anyway, I kept thinking about all that 2924 while I walked. 2925 I passed by this playground and stopped and watched a couple of very tiny kids 2926 on a seesaw. One of them was sort of fat, and I put my hand on the skinny kid's end, to 2927 sort of even up the weight, but you could tell they didn't want me around, so I let them 2928 alone. 2929 Then a funny thing happened. When I got to the museum, all of a sudden I 2930 wouldn't have gone inside for a million bucks. It just didn't appeal to me--and here I'd 2931 walked through the whole goddam park and looked forward to it and all. If Phoebe'd been 2932 there, I probably would have, but she wasn't. So all I did, in front of the museum, was get 2933 a cab and go down to the Biltmore. I didn't feel much like going. I'd made that damn date 2934 with Sally, though.

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