“Look, I don’t approve of what you’re doing. Not at all. My hands are not exactly clean either, so maybe I shouldn’t be the one to speak. One day this life will catch up to you and when it does it’s not going to end well. Maybe you should get out now, before it’s too late. In the meantime, I am very unhappy to hear about that goniff (thief) Sammy. Something must be done.”
Marvin’s father was a union official and a labour organiser and someone with both considerable connections and influence. He had been responsible for improving the working conditions, benefits and salaries of the workers in the shmatte (clothing) trade and played a leading role in the formation of the Policemen’s Brotherhood. While he was certainly not appreciated by management, he was regarded as a saviour by frontline workers. “Listen carefully to me, Marvin,” he said. “I want to know the next time you plan to bring stuff to Sammy. The exact day and time. It’s important that you leave him with a large load of stuff. Understand? One more thing. You speak of this to no one, not even Muttie.” Marvin nodded in agreement.
(At this point dear reader, you may think that you know where this story is headed – maybe not – read on)
Five days later, after notifying his father, Marvin and Muttie walked into the back room of Solly’s Soda store carrying several burlap bags filled with jewellery and silver they had ‘borrowed’ from the Bernstein home. The Bernstein’s of Westmount. They entered Sammy’s ‘office’ and asked him if they could store the bags for a day or two until they could be delivered to the buyers. Sammy was quick to agree. He had already planned to sell as much of it as he could before they returned and this time keep 100% of the proceeds. Maybe he’d give them 20%. If he was in a good mood. He knew that these two ‘pishers’ (kids) could do nothing about it. Nothing. With a wide grin he continued to buff his nails. It was a grin that would not last long. Neither would the shine on his nails.
As soon as Marvin and Muttie left and turned the corner, several police cars pulled up in front of Solly’s. Twelve policemen, guns drawn, entered the store. Several minutes later, Sammy and two of his associates were marched out of the store in handcuffs along with several bulging bags and taken to the Laurier St. station where they were booked for possession of stolen property. No one paid any attention to Sammy’s claim that the goods belonged to someone else. For good measure, they also confiscated his manicure sets.
Sammy never returned to the neighbourhood. He had been sentenced to 17 years in prison and released early on condition that he not return to Montreal. Even Big Barney never mentioned him again.
The incident at Solly’s was never spoken of. Not by Marvin. Not by his father. Not by Muttie. The stuff they had left with Sammy was returned to the Bernsteins. Most of it. Muttie and Marvin remained fences in Mile End but only dealt with ‘special orders’. The majority of their stuff found its way out of and into some of the finest homes in Westmount. After all they had a reputation to maintain.
Fat Marvin and Muttie grew older together. Neither married. Eventually they moved into the Old People’s Home across Fletcher’s Field and would often reminisce about ‘the good old days’ while lunching at Shap’s restaurant on Mount Royal.
They passed away within days of each other and were buried in adjacent plots in the Beth David section of the cemetery on de la Savane. If you look very closely at Marvin’s tombstone, you’ll notice there is an “S” as his middle initial. He no longer cared what his Italian friends thought.
