Over time, the numbers racket dried up, and seeking other sources of revenue, Big Barney decided to open a tavern next to the provincial bus terminus on Berri St., which became known as “Barneys” or “B.B’s”. No one ever called it “Beryls”. He thought that bus passengers would be thirsty, and he was right. Business was brisk. Unfortunately, there was no job for Little Issie. His retirement however was quite brief and he soon found work at Yankel Carsley’s store on St. Catherine St. West, which was a front for stolen “swag”: stuff that “fell off the back of trucks”.
Yankel needed someone to make deliveries, someone who wouldn’t be particularly noticed. It was a perfect fit for “Little Issie”.
Yankel also had a sideline. He distilled “bathtub” gin in the basement of his store. It was marketed as “premium” quality which, surprisingly enough, it actually was! Much of it was driven across the border to be sold in the U.S. during prohibition. Of course Yankel had a number of customers in Montreal, Big Barney amongst them.
It was Yankel’s wife’s nephew Jacob who distilled the liquor – under Yankel’s supervision.
There was one small problem. Well, really more of an inconvenience. Jacob didn’t speak. Ever. Doctors his parents consulted always gave the same diagnosis. “He’ll grow out of it”. Now in his twenties, the chances of that happening were slim.
His parents thought that it may have been caused when Jacob tumbled off the wagon they were on as they travelled to the port of Dnieppe when leaving Ukraine. The wagon hit a particularly deep rut and Jacob had landed on his head. He wasn’t examined until they had arrived in Montreal, by which time he had stopped speaking. Not a word. When the immigration officer in Montreal asked him a question, Jacob didn’t respond. The officer simply assumed it was because Jacob didn’t understand English. Which was also true.
As luck would have it – although I’m not certain that luck played any part in it, Little Issie and Jacob got along well. Extremely well. Talking for either of them was neither necessary or important. Little Issie preferred not to and Jacob didn’t. They were happy just to be together. Silent. Together. Perhaps not talking is the key to successful relationships!
Little Issie enjoyed his new job. Customers were always happy when he brought their “packages” and generally showed their appreciation by tipping him – usually a nickel or dime which he always shared with Jacob. They also shared black poppy seed bagels. Little Issie eating the tops, Jacob the bottoms. They were inseparable.
Unfortunately, this didn’t last as illness intervened. Not theirs.
Yankel and his wife Rachel decided to move to Florida when her arthritis required a warmer temperature. Over his strenuous objections, non-verbal, of course, they took Jacob with them. He would eventually find work as a dishwasher in a Cuban restaurant, where there was no need for him to speak. He did however learn to understand Spanish.
Little Issie died shortly after Jacob left. Which may have only been a coincidence. He was buried in that same “new” suit he had received at the orphanage. Yes, it did still fit.
