Mack and the boys had been sitting on the rusted pipes in the vacant lot that was across from Western Biological Laboratory and between Dora's Bear Flag Restaurant on the right and Lee Chong's grocery on the left, sharing a quart of Old Tennis Shoe, when the man in grey first arrived, riding a motorcycle that looked more like a fighter plane than a motorcycle. He'd pulled right up to Western Biological, the motorcyle making a quiet rushing noise instead of the expected gas-engine rumble, and parked, silencing the strange engine before dismounting and then doing something that made the cycle spark like a broken powerline for a moment. He pulled off the odd helmet on his head, almost but not quite the same grey as the leather clothing he wore, smiled a friendly smile and nodded a greeting to Mack and boys, then proceeded up the stairs and into the Laboratory.
An hour later, as the sun was starting to drop behind Hovden's roofline, sending the "Portola Sardines" sign painted on its side into shadow, Doc and the man in grey appeared at the lab's door, laughing and smiling at each other and shaking hands. Doc gestured up the hill into Monterey proper, away from the Row, and the man in grey nodded. Mack and the boys had finished off the quart of Old Tennis Shoe, and had been considering returning to the Palace Flophouse and Grill, when the Doc turned to them and called out, "Say, Mack!"
Mack shared a look with the boys, then unlimbered himself and strolled across the street. "Afternoon, Doc," he drawled. "And friend," he added.
"Mack," Doc said, "this here is Doug Sangnoir" -- and he pronounced it Frenchy, "sang-nwarr". "Doug's going to be working for me, and he needs a place to stay. Could you or one of your fine men guide him to one of the boardinghouses up on Lighthouse?"
"I'd be very grateful for a little show-around," the man in grey, Doug, said, smiling an open smile that both set Mack at ease and immediately made him wary. Mack felt a man should have no right feeling like an old friend when they didn't have five minutes' history between them, but he did, and that confused and concerned Mack.
But Mack smiled, and nodded, and said he'd be happy to. And the next evening as Mack and the boys watched, Doug left the Laboratory, crossed the street to Lee Chong's grocery, and came back out a few minutes' later with two bottles of Old Tennis Shoe. He entered the vacant lot, and all conversation ceased as he stepped up to Mack and handed him the bottles. "For your trouble last night," he said. "Drink it in good health." Then he nodded to Mack, and nodded to the boys, added a "good night" and turned to climb up the hill to Lighthouse Avenue.
Mack thought about it for a moment. This wasn't William the pimp, trying to be part of something that wouldn't have him. This was a friend of Doc's, and he seemed a good sort. He looked around at the boys, and they nodded or grinned or smirked, and Mack nodded right back at them. "Say, Doug," Mack then called out, and as Doug turned back to them, he held up the bottles of old Tennis Shoe. "Care to join us?"
Doug seemed to think about it for only a moment, and then he said, "I'm not much of a drinking man, but I'd be happy to share a sip or two with you fine gentlemen." And he came back down into the lot, and hopped up onto one of the rusted pipes, and took his turn with the bottle when it came around, wiping the neck on the tail of his shirt like the others did before taking as he promised no more than a sip of the whiskey before passing it to the next in line. And the conversation started back up, and it was like Doug had always been part of Mack and the boys instead of a stranger just a day in town. A little later, Doc stepped out of Western Biological and laughed at the sight, Mack and the boys and Doug deep in discussion, with great sweeping gesticulations and nods of understanding all about, and hearing enough to know the subject was of a depth and complexity that Mack and the boys would never have brought it up themselves, but were nonetheless understanding and contributing and enjoying, Doc knew he had found a kindred soul in Doug Sangnoir and for a moment regretted the day he would inevitably move on.
And after that evening, Doug was a common sight on Cannery Row, running inscrutable errands for Doc, shopping at Lee Chong's, but never visiting Dora's -- and upon hearing the story of his far-distant wife, the beautiful Maggie, Mack and the boys never thought less of him for not doing so. And once or twice a week, Doug would join Mack and the boys in the vacant lot, and he didn't even have to buy the Old Tennis Shoe if he didn't happen to have the pocket cash that evening. But he never joined them more than twice a week, and the boys both respected and appreciated that he knew he was welcome, but not so welcome as to join them every night. Still, Mack and the boys found themselves liking Doug as much as they liked anyone in Cannery Row, which is to say as much as they liked Doc, and like many others on the row they would frequently say amongst themselves, "That Doug is a fine fellow. We ought to do something for him."
Edit: Finally put in a properly wordwrapped version. Between Yuku's occasional wonkiness and the bare-bones text editor I was using on my tablet while on vacation, I couldn't remove the line breaks in the original text before posting it.
As a point of interest, I started composing this in my head while sitting in a park in Monterey on Cannery Row that is in the approximate location of the vacant lot, with Chong's grocery to my left and Pacific Biological Laboratories across the street from me. (The original of Dora's place is long gone, but said park has a bronze bust of her inspiration, Flora Dodd.)
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
An hour later, as the sun was starting to drop behind Hovden's roofline, sending the "Portola Sardines" sign painted on its side into shadow, Doc and the man in grey appeared at the lab's door, laughing and smiling at each other and shaking hands. Doc gestured up the hill into Monterey proper, away from the Row, and the man in grey nodded. Mack and the boys had finished off the quart of Old Tennis Shoe, and had been considering returning to the Palace Flophouse and Grill, when the Doc turned to them and called out, "Say, Mack!"
Mack shared a look with the boys, then unlimbered himself and strolled across the street. "Afternoon, Doc," he drawled. "And friend," he added.
"Mack," Doc said, "this here is Doug Sangnoir" -- and he pronounced it Frenchy, "sang-nwarr". "Doug's going to be working for me, and he needs a place to stay. Could you or one of your fine men guide him to one of the boardinghouses up on Lighthouse?"
"I'd be very grateful for a little show-around," the man in grey, Doug, said, smiling an open smile that both set Mack at ease and immediately made him wary. Mack felt a man should have no right feeling like an old friend when they didn't have five minutes' history between them, but he did, and that confused and concerned Mack.
But Mack smiled, and nodded, and said he'd be happy to. And the next evening as Mack and the boys watched, Doug left the Laboratory, crossed the street to Lee Chong's grocery, and came back out a few minutes' later with two bottles of Old Tennis Shoe. He entered the vacant lot, and all conversation ceased as he stepped up to Mack and handed him the bottles. "For your trouble last night," he said. "Drink it in good health." Then he nodded to Mack, and nodded to the boys, added a "good night" and turned to climb up the hill to Lighthouse Avenue.
Mack thought about it for a moment. This wasn't William the pimp, trying to be part of something that wouldn't have him. This was a friend of Doc's, and he seemed a good sort. He looked around at the boys, and they nodded or grinned or smirked, and Mack nodded right back at them. "Say, Doug," Mack then called out, and as Doug turned back to them, he held up the bottles of old Tennis Shoe. "Care to join us?"
Doug seemed to think about it for only a moment, and then he said, "I'm not much of a drinking man, but I'd be happy to share a sip or two with you fine gentlemen." And he came back down into the lot, and hopped up onto one of the rusted pipes, and took his turn with the bottle when it came around, wiping the neck on the tail of his shirt like the others did before taking as he promised no more than a sip of the whiskey before passing it to the next in line. And the conversation started back up, and it was like Doug had always been part of Mack and the boys instead of a stranger just a day in town. A little later, Doc stepped out of Western Biological and laughed at the sight, Mack and the boys and Doug deep in discussion, with great sweeping gesticulations and nods of understanding all about, and hearing enough to know the subject was of a depth and complexity that Mack and the boys would never have brought it up themselves, but were nonetheless understanding and contributing and enjoying, Doc knew he had found a kindred soul in Doug Sangnoir and for a moment regretted the day he would inevitably move on.
And after that evening, Doug was a common sight on Cannery Row, running inscrutable errands for Doc, shopping at Lee Chong's, but never visiting Dora's -- and upon hearing the story of his far-distant wife, the beautiful Maggie, Mack and the boys never thought less of him for not doing so. And once or twice a week, Doug would join Mack and the boys in the vacant lot, and he didn't even have to buy the Old Tennis Shoe if he didn't happen to have the pocket cash that evening. But he never joined them more than twice a week, and the boys both respected and appreciated that he knew he was welcome, but not so welcome as to join them every night. Still, Mack and the boys found themselves liking Doug as much as they liked anyone in Cannery Row, which is to say as much as they liked Doc, and like many others on the row they would frequently say amongst themselves, "That Doug is a fine fellow. We ought to do something for him."
Edit: Finally put in a properly wordwrapped version. Between Yuku's occasional wonkiness and the bare-bones text editor I was using on my tablet while on vacation, I couldn't remove the line breaks in the original text before posting it.
![[+]](/images/collapse_collapsed.png "[+]")
SpoilerAs a point of interest, I started composing this in my head while sitting in a park in Monterey on Cannery Row that is in the approximate location of the vacant lot, with Chong's grocery to my left and Pacific Biological Laboratories across the street from me. (The original of Dora's place is long gone, but said park has a bronze bust of her inspiration, Flora Dodd.)
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.