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American Sunday Monthly Maga/.ine Section «« ►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! ”