ED LEARY (1939-1944) PART 5
Continuing from the April 2020 MM Report...
Finally, while creating a great scene of capturing a dangerous narcotics addict—implying I was dangerous—pointing a gun at me—telling me to stand-still—not to make a move—both pairs towering over me in height—frisking me—grabbing my umbrella—one of them loudly saying, “None of that,” as though I had intended using it as a weapon—they pushed me toward the doorway—telling people to step aside—out into the street where a huge crowd had gathered—peering and grimacing at me—some laughing—asking questions—others looking at me as though I were the scum of the earth—some with amazement to see a real live criminal.
The police were still arguing over who was to take me to the station—peering down at me—leaning closer to me, asking, “Which of us got here first?”
I decided in favor of the detectives, thinking in all probability that they would be easier to get along with than promotion-conscious harness cops.
I chose wisely.
They turned out to be fairly decent—even arranging to get me a fix when I began getting really sick. I was booked and charged with attempting to obtain narcotics through fraud—a misdemeanour—and was eventually sentenced to another six months on Riker’s Island.
I kept Eddie’s name out of it—not giving them my proper address—telling them that my only possessions were those I had with me—that I had been making it playing cards and shooting craps—that I had not used drugs for long—that I had been living in the Mills Hotel paying by the night.
They asked me about the scripts and I told them I had bought them from a guy on the corner of Forty-third Street and Eighth Avenue—one of the kids from Forty-second Street pointed him out to me—I didn’t know his name and wasn’t sure I could recognize him were we to come face to face. They didn’t believe me but there was nothing they could do about it.
While I was away Eddie corresponded with me regularly, sending money for cigarettes and a few of the necessities—such as a toothbrush and toothpaste—soap—and candy. Candy is a must when a junky kicks a habit.
He kept me informed to some extent of his activities. Much of what was happening with him I had to guess from the well-known reading between the lines.
Sal had finally been sent away for a year—another of the gals had taken a fall—there had been some difficulty at home concerning someone who’d come to visit us drunk and disorderly and Eddie had been asked to move. He was finding the going rough—and missed me. By the time of my discharge Eddie had gone back to Brooklyn. What he failed to mention was that he had—just before moving to Brooklyn—acquired a new partner.
When I got out I went directly to the Brooklyn address. Instead of Eddie opening the door, Georgie, his new partner, opened it saying, “Hello—Ed isn’t home just yet. We have been expecting you. I hope you will like me. Eddie thinks we all three can get along real great. He told me what a swell guy you are.”
George was a nice person but perhaps jealousy caused me to resent him and decide against any plans in which the three of us were to be involved. George had some stuff stashed away and before Eddie got in he gave me a little fix. Eddie arrived all smiles and good will—telling me how much he had missed me—how bad he had felt when he realized—when I didn’t come home the night of the pinch—what must have happened.
Georgie had something to do and excused himself saying, “You two will have a lot to talk about—I’ll see you both later.”
As soon as Georgie left, Eddie came over, put his arms around me and said, “Man I’ve missed you so much—I never thought it could happen that anyone could come to mean as much to me as you do.” He explained that things had gotten pretty bad financially and that he had originally decided to double-up with Georgie to save on expenses, but since living with him had grown to like him. He said he was sure I could understand and that Georgie being there wouldn’t make any difference to our friendship. He had it figured out the three of us could reorganize our original setup—living in Brooklyn this time but still doing business in New York.
He went on to explain he had made some new contacts and we could—with the third party—do even better than when there had just been him and me. I told him it all sounded great but somehow I didn’t like it—also I said I wasn’t sure I liked Georgie.
The section of Brooklyn Eddie and Georgie had settled in is known as Bay Ridge, and although I stayed there only a short time I liked it. A good number of people living in the district are of Scandinavian descent—many going to sea. The bars in the neighborhood cater to seamen and there is a certain air of the romantic and adventurous. Eddie had discovered several Swedish eating places we frequented often—the three of us creating a strange appearance in our sharp clothes and somewhat obvious disregard of the staid conservative manner of our neighbors.
We came and went at all hours of the day and night. It was apparent none of us worked legitimately—still we were never made to feel uncomfortable or treated as outsiders—the principal of live and let live seemingly the opinion of most of the people we came in contact with.
The apartment was spacious and comfortably furnished—but I felt a strangeness with Georgie I was unable to overcome and began to think about leaving.
We settled to a routine satisfactory to the three of us—each of us assuming certain responsibilities of our own. It worked well enough and perhaps we could have continued indefinitely. Somehow though—I was uncomfortable with Georgie. I was jealous of the attention Eddie directed toward him—becoming angry on the slightest pretext—finally telling Georgie I didn’t like him—considered him weak and ineffectual—stupid and a bore—and that I was going to clear out. Eddie grew angry, accusing me of being unkind and unfair—telling me if I didn’t apologize to Georgie I had better make arrangements to live somewhere else. It was true—I had been unfair and I knew it—but it was impossible for me to apologize.
We did spend our last few days together happily, but when I succeeded in locating a room in Manhattan I was relieved to get away. It was time to once again be alone.
We continued seeing each other daily—making the doctors—occasionally falling into a movie—or going to Chinatown for food. It wasn’t long before I began meeting new people and frequently when Eddie and Georgie would suggest our going somewhere together I would already have other plans.
And so we gradually drifted apart. I found new sources of supply for junk—beginning to cop uptown in Harlem. Eventually I failed to keep appointments with Ed and Georgie—and it followed that soon thereafter I stopped seeing them altogether.
One day, running into a mutual friend, I learned Georgie had been arrested and Ed had gone to the hospital in Kentucky to kick his habit. Several years passed and one day I ran into Ed. We were both pleased to see each other but neither of us had any desire to become involved in close association. We talked and reminisced—shot up a couple bags of heroin—spending the night in a Times Square hotel.
Next day—Ed had plans of his own and so did I. We parted good friends.
Up until three years ago, periodically we would meet—sit and talk—and once I went back over to Brooklyn with him and stayed over the weekend. Georgie had disappeared completely and I have never run into him.
I never see Ed anymore and I can’t pick up any news of him. Every now and then I’ll meet someone who remembers us as a team and we’ll discuss the good old days. Everyone remembers Ed with good feelings.
It is possible I’ll see him again—although in my heart I feel he might be dead.
Looking back over our friendship it occurs to me Ed Leary influenced my life in all probability more than anyone else I’ve known.
