Look at Me!

“Look at me! My hands are dirty, I need a shave; my clothes need washing. I am a pig.”

Rodger and I sat opposite this late middle-aged man as he ranted on about his life. We were sitting in a bar across the street from the law school where we were both first year law students. The second semester was about to start. A tired Christmas tree stood next to the jukebox.

The man had a heavy accent, Eastern European perhaps. “What did you do in your old country?” I asked.

“Boys, in my country, I was a doctor. Yes, Doctor Alex LaTrania.”  He took a drag on his unfiltered cigarette and watched the smoke float toward the ceiling.

Rodger lifted his mug and drained what was left of his beer, a signal for Dr. LaTrania. “Boys, I am embarrassed by my situation. Please, would you buy me a beer?”

The New Warren Lounge was home mostly to aging men, down on their luck. The tables were sticky with a mixture of spilled beer, catsup, mustard and dust from the street. Ray, the bartender, was a crusty old man tired of dealing with drunks, men paying for their hamburgers, hardboiled eggs and beer with change picked up begging on the street. It was the law school students, who paid with actual paper currency, that kept the doors open.

What drew these young men into the bar though, was the go-go girl who danced on the bar top, mostly for tips. Three nights a week, a girl would dance between seven and eleven o’clock.  Cindy was my favorite. She usually worked Tuesday nights.

I motioned to Ray for refills for Rodger, Dr. LaTrania and me. “Thank you. Very kind. Someday I get my job back and I repay you boys,” the doctor said.

“Did you try to get your license here, Doctor?” Rodger asked.

Dr. LaTrania grimaced. “Sure, I try, but look at me, I am a pig. My hands are dirty, I need a shave.”

Rodger gave me a look; one I knew well. If this guy was a doctor, I was an astronaut. “You know, Doctor, maybe you can’t work as a physician, but Saint Michael’s Hospital is only a block away. How about if tomorrow morning we go to the hospital and see if they can find work for you, maybe in the lab.”

It was my turn to look at Rodger. What was he thinking? Dr. LaTrania took a long swallow of his beer, nearly emptying his mug. I turned to look at Cindy who was just going on again. She had a habit of keeping time to the music by making a soft clicking sound with her tongue, which I found charming.

“Okay boys that is a good idea then. I have to go home and clean up, but let’s have one more for the road first. I promise, tomorrow morning after I sleep and shave, we go to the hospital.”

Rodger caught Ray’s eye and asked for three more. Ray shook his head in disgust. He felt we should know better I guess.  We drank our beers and watched Cindy dance to Neil Diamond’s Cracklin’ Rosie. She enjoyed the attention, but having sat right in front of her at the bar a few times, I knew she kept her distance from the law students. She was friendly in a polite sort of way, but never familiar. Dr. LaTrania got up to go. Rodger got his address, fully intending to try to help the old man.  He lived only three doors down in a rooming house.

The next morning promptly at eight, we showed up and knocked on the rooming house door. A woman of about 65 answered. She looked surprised to see two young, clean cut men standing there.  “What do you want?”

“We’re here to pick up Doctor Alex LaTrania for a job interview,” Rodger said.

“Why? You gotta be kidding. He don’t work.” Then she turned toward the steps and yelled, “Alex. Two boys here to see you.” We heard some fumbling around and a few curse words. “You boys don’t want to get mixed up with him, “the landlady said, “He’s just a drunk.”

As he started to come down the stairs, we could hear him, talking to himself. “Look at me! I am a pig. My hands are dirty. I need a shave.” As he got closer, I noticed for the first time that he had a limp. Not quite ready to give up hope, I saw an immediate opportunity. “What happened to your leg?” I asked.

“I broke it, long time ago.”

“Which bone, the tibia or the fibula?” I asked, certain a medical doctor would know.

“The big one, I think. I smashed it up.” Rodger and I laughed. We couldn’t help it. We were pleased to have been taken in by this man.

“Alex, why don’t we go to the diner. We’ll get you some eggs and coffee.”

Alex looked at Rodger and shook his head. “Come on boys. Let’s go to the New Warren and have a beer.”

We left Alex at the door to the New Warren. I turned to Rodger and said, “We could take him for a beer you know.”

Rodger shook his head. “Yeah, and two weeks from now I’ll be saying, look at me I am a pig.”