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American Sunday Monthly Maga/.ine Section
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►HEN Louie Finklestone, formerly
in the cloak and suit business,
decided to buy out Sol Epstein’s
delicatessen store on Lenox Ave
nue, there was only one thing
that bothered him. The craze
for turkey sandwiches was at its
height at the time and he feared
it would create too much competition in the neigh
borhood.
“ Before you could say Jack Robinsky, Epstein,”
he complained, ‘‘there might could be a delicatessen
on every block, ain’t it?”
“Such a foolishness you talk it, Finklestone!”
replied Epstein impatiently, “you would anyhow
got to admit it yourself that this is the only delica
tessen in four blocks either way, no?”
“To-day, yes, Sol, but to-morrow, y’understand,
there might could be a dozen yet! ”
“Tell it to me once, Finklestone, where would
they put them? There ain’t no stores vacant.”
“ No stores vacant, sagt cr! How about the corner
store across the street, isn’t that no store? ”
Epstein was a bit non-plussed, but only for a mo
ment.
“ My dear sir,” he declared, confidently, “I wasn’t
even considering that corner store at all for the
simple reason that store is on the wrong side from
the street.”
“ The wrong side from the street! Would you want
it should be on the same side yet? What are you
talking, Epstein?”
“ You don’t understand it at all. In the wholesale
business, Finklestone, like what you been making it,
ain’t it, whether a feller would be located on this
street oder that street, on this side oder that side,
upstairs or downstairs, it wouldn’t be no difference
on account anyway he would have to go out after
his trade, ain’t it, aber in the retail business, Finkel-
stone, it is something else again. In the retail busi
ness, Finkelstone, a feller must got to depend on the
passing trade, y’understand me, and the public
always flavors one side from the street more as the
other, like, f’rinstance, a feller would be right-handed
oder left-handed, ain’t it? Well, on Lenox Avenyer
this is the right side from the street. I give you my
woid, Finkelstone, the woist I could wish it a feller
is he should open it once a delicatessen on the other
side from the street, positively/”
Epstein’s eloquence and evident sincerity were so
convincing that with very little more dickering, the
deal was closed and Finkelstone went into possession
of the delicatessen store.
From the very start, Finkelstone did a good busi
ness.
About two weeks after he had bought the place,
however, while explaining to his wife the advant
ages of being on the right side of the street, Finkel
stone stopped abruptly. His lower jaw fell and he
was inarticulate for the moment. There, in the
window of that very store, which he had begun to
regard as doomed to a vacant existence for the rest
of its days, he read by the light of an arc light which
electricians had just strung up, the following sign:
AN UP-TO-THE-MINUTE DELICATESSEN
STORE WILL BE OPENED HERE NEXT
SATURDAY AT 6 O’CLOCK. FOR THE
BENEFIT OF MY PATRONS A FIRST-CLASS
CABARET SHOW
WILL BE GIVEN EVERY EVENING FROM
8 P. M. TILL i A. M.
EAT YOUR TURKEY SANDWICH AND SEE
THE TURKEY TROT AT THE SAME TIME!
SOL EPSTEIN, I’ROP’R,
FORMERLY ACROSS THE STREET.
“Oi geu'oldtt The lowlife! The goneff! He
would take it my blood, the—”
“ What did he done, what did he done? ” demanded
Mrs. Finkelstone excitedly, quite unable to under
stand her husband’s burst of temper as he finished
reading the announcement across the street, “tell
me once, Louie, did he done you something?”
r C? • 1 1 (O 99
ron£ aide from the btreet
“Done me something, the lowlife! Before I would
be through mit him, Sadie, I give you my woid he
would be wishing he never set eyes on me yet, the
dirty goneff!”
Louie helped himself to another di
so completely filled his mouth
that the rage he still
felt was evidenced
only by a series of
gurgles.
By and by, he ex
plained Epstein’s
perfidy to his wife
and long after he
had gotten to bed
that night he lay
awake thinking
how he could
avenge it.
Finkelstone slept
lit'le that night,
but he was up at six
o’clock the next
morning neverthe
less attending to
business. Every
time he looked across
the street he had to
eat a dill pickle to
suppress h i s emo
tions, and as the
workmen were .now busily engaged fitting up the
new place his eyes were constantly in that direction.
He counted the marble-topped tables, an even
dozen of them, as they were carried into the place,
and he rapidly calculated how many Epstein would
be able to accommodate.
“Four at a table makes forty-eight. For fifteen
cents a toikey sandwich and a cup coffee, forty-eight
times, makes $7.20,” he figured mysteriously, and
the calculation seemed to afford him considerable
gratification.
The day before the opening of Epstein’s store,
Finkelstone went to market and selected fifteen
large turkeys.
Early Saturday evening, Epstein’s new store
opened with a blare of electric light and burst of
melody from a special orchestra hired for the oc
casion.
Mrs. Finkelstone gazed ruefully across the street
at the file of persons crowding into Epstein’s store
and then at the row of turkeys on her own
shelves.
“I guess we could eat it ourselves them fifteen
toikeys, you sddemid!” she rebuked her husband,
who was busily engaged sharpening his carvers and
evidently preparing for a big rush of trade.
“Them as wants toikey trot will go to Epstein’s,
but them as wants toikey sandwiches will come to
me!” he declared, more hopefully perhaps than pres
ent indications seemed to warrant.
About 7.30 twenty or thirty young fellows trooped
into Epstein’s store and sat down at the tables.
They were followed a few minutes later by as many
more, who took up the remaining seats. Strangely
enough every one gave the same order—a turkey
sandwich and a cup of coffee. The store began to fill
up.
But although the store was crowded, Epstein and
his assistants soon found themselves idle. No one
was buying anything at the counters, everyone
seeming to be waiting for seats at the tables.
Epstein glared suggestively at those who having
finished their sandwich and coffee still kept their seats,
but they were apparently oblivious of his attention.
Several of those who had grown tired of waiting
left the store and made their way across the street
to Finkelstone’s.
Indeed, Finkelstone was busier than he had ever
been before. He and his wife and his three assistants
cut bread and carved turkey till their arms ached
but still they were unable to keep up with the de
mands of the constant procession of customers who
having apparently filled their souls with music at
By HerVman Harris
Oi gewoldtl The lowlife! The goneff! He would take it my blood, the
Epstein’s place had crossed the street to fill their
stomachs with turkey at Finkelstone’s.
Epstein saw what was happening and grew frantic.
In vain, he had his waiters clear away the empty
plates and cups, but the original forty-eight custom
ers still kept their places. And so it went the whole
night. The original forty-eight stayed right through
to the end of the performance, while those who had
waited to take their places grew tired and one by
one left the place in disgust and wandered ox er to
Finkelstone’s.
Figuring up his receipts that night Epstein found
that he had collected just fifteen cents for each chair
in the place, a total of $7.20! Although he had done
a little business at the counters, his total receipts
didn’t even pay the cabaret performers, not to say
anything of the other expenses of the evening.
Finkelstone, on the other hand, had done a tremen
dous business. His cash register showed that he
had taken in over $200 that day which, after de
ducting a mysterious item of $7.20, left him a very
handsome profit.
For several days thereafter, exactly the same thing
occurred. All that Epstein would take in at his
twelve tables would be the $7.20, the amount paid
by the first forty-eight customers who entered the
place before the performance began and stayed till
it was over, while each night Finkelstone deducted
S7.20 from his receipts and still realized a tremen
dous profit.
The Thursday following the opening of the new
store, Epstein closed up for good.
Later in the day he wandered over to Finkel
stone’s place.
“Would you want to buy it maybe another delica
tessen, Finkelstone?” he asked, crestfallenly.
“That would depend entirely on the location,
Mr. Epstein!” replied Finkelstone, enjoying the
other’s discomfiture.
“What’s the use talking, Finkelstone: you know it
well enough which store I would mean—the store
across the street!”
“Nothing doing, Epstein. The W'oist I could
wish it a feller is he should open it once a delicatessen
on the other side of the street, on account, Y’under
stand, it was the wrong side from the street!” and
as Epstein opened the door and actually ran across
the street, Finkelstone yelled after him:
“And what is more, Mr. Epstein, when a lowlife
delicatessener would go to woik and try to put one
under a wholesale cloak and suiter, he would quick
find he was on the wrong side of the street whichever
side he was on! ”