3

Henry’s Boys

Henry Lehman was too intelligent

to leave his business

without an heir worthy of that name.

How could they

—Emanuel and that potato of his brother Mayer—

imagine that a head like Henry

would really stop giving them help

even if it were split between the brains of two sons?

In short, turbulent David

and his mute brother, Dreidel,

shared between them

—in different proportions through biological deficit—

the great cerebral heritage

of a founding father

of a pioneer

of a trailblazer.

This assumption

had to be borne in mind.

Henry Lehman was, after all, an inspiration.

During his life he dealt with everything.

And whatever path he took

proved to have some practical sense

except for

that wretched time

when he fell prey to yellow fever

and the cotton market

lost a leading figure.

And there again,

the name on the signboard

was still his own

while Emanuel and Mayer

were running over the meadows

in a mythical place called Rimpar.

This they couldn’t forget.

All the more now

all the more at this stage

now that

Aunt Rosa’s children

were in their teens, no longer babes:

both David and Dreidel

were wearing long trousers

with the first promises of a beard

on their faces.

They had to be included.

Sooner or later.

Exactly: sooner or later.

For the idea of handing over command

of having someone else beside them

didn’t go down too well

with the arm or with the potato.

So they took their time.

All the more because—let’s not forget—

Aunt Rosa’s family

had never stopped receiving its share:

a third of the profits, promptly.

About this they could not complain.

So there was no great haste.

Or at least so it seemed.

All the more since gradually

day by day

something was changing

inside Lehman Brothers.

Was it perhaps the New York air?

Or simply the fact

that Mayer and his brother were aging?

In short, questions

about the future

arose from time to time.

And Henry’s sons

were entitled to be a part of it.

First of all, David.

Agitated

in his constant jittering

incapable

of sitting still at a table

infused

from his ankles to his jaws

from his big toe to the tips of his ears

with a formidable electric tension

David Lehman

had just deserved

in his uncle’s view

a heroic promotion:

the coal deal was due to him,

and even more

he was owed the highest recognition

for having jolted the family

out of its slumber.

What was this if not genius?

What was this if not business?

What was this if not the sign

of a Henry Lehman

so sorely missed?

And so

while Mayer remained doubtful,

Emanuel

prompted instead

by a “thank you” never adequately expressed,

wondered about involving him

indeed

in the management of the bank. Heyyah!

And the more he thought about it

the fewer difficulties he saw,

bearing in mind moreover

that David

in that explosive excess

was showing appreciable gifts

not so much of intelligence

as of physical resistance to stress

a factor by no means secondary

in the great rodeo of the New York market.

On more than one occasion

at parties and dinners

his unshakable good humor

—a commodity much in demand—

        “Heyyah! A joke? You like it? Shall I?”

together with a German tolerance of alcohol

        “More! Pour it out! Bottoms up! Another round?”

had given the Lehman Brothers

a seal of solid business trust

so much so that

compared to his uncles almost three times his age

he abundantly exceeded

the critical threshold of four uninterrupted hours of public relations.

So that if Mayer

on quite a different battleground

had deserved the status of Kish Kish

his nephew David

outclassed him pitilessly

as happens with new machinery

in comparison to the cogs and wheels of a century ago.

For his repertoire was far wider:

Mayer in the end had

a fine smile and an ear for music

but David

topped this with

numerical acrobatics

conjuring tricks

a store of Yiddish tales

German songs

a perfect knowledge of the English language

together with a brazen impudence

far beyond the limits of a healthy education

yet whose excesses

were instantly forgiven

by everyone

for

their profoundly American spirit,

a Buffalo Bill

in Jewish and metropolitan vein

with an inner ray of Alabama sunshine.

Moreover

young Lehman

turned out to be a figure much admired

by customers of the fair sex

mothers as well as daughters,

where the former admired the élan of the twenty-year-old

and the latter—en masse—

his wild antics

as they danced at a Rosh haShanah

until the first light of dawn. And would have started all over again.

In industrial circles

people asked

with serious interest

whether David

was a machine fueled by coal, diesel, or kerosene.

Emanuel Lehman

therefore felt

that having his very own Achilles

was an ace up his sleeve

and in his own mind

had already counted him

among his band of Atreides.

Yet there was a problem.

And it was the fact that between David and Dreidel

the position in the bank

was not really intended for the buccaneer of the polka

but was rightfully due to the silent prince.

Now, it should be said

that both Mayer and Emanuel

due to a kind of sacred respect

had never spoken to anyone

in the whole family

not even to Aunt Rosa

about that strange moment

when Dreidel

to all intents and purposes

had transformed himself

into the brother they needed for a majority vote:

in fact it was thanks to him

that Lehman Brothers

had now taken off in New York

as a bank.

The uncles

by tacit agreement

not wishing to unduly burden the boy

had kept the memory well to themselves,

promising each other

to award him a share of the company

once he had come of age,

since after all

though he never spoke

the episode of the window ledge was more than enough

to put an end to any question.

So they prepared for the day

when Henry’s voice

would once again be heard

to all intents and purposes

inside Lehman Brothers . . .

assuming that

this voice would be heard

seeing that Dreidel

not only gave no hint of making any sound

but the few times he had done so

could not be considered a success.

Even the typewriter

had served no purpose:

a gift from Uncle Mayer

who had hoped at least

he might put down in writing

what he was hiding from the world in terms of speech.

To no avail: the sheets of paper remained blank.

No use either

trying to appeal

to the boy’s pride

making him understand

in a roundabout way

that maybe one day

he would be the one

to take his father’s place

at the very heart of the bank.

Nothing. The silence continued.

All hope was thus enclosed

in the seemingly broad lapse of time

that separated Henry’s mute heir

from the official threshold of twenty-one years.

But time, we know, is a strange factor.

Man imagines he has it in his grasp

but its workings often operate in reverse

and what seems far away

is here in a flash.

Which is what happened

more or less

in the Lehman household

and the fateful birthday of a spinning top

however far away it seemed,

began all of a sudden

to be imminent.

And critical.

Why, alas

does the passage of time

catch us

nine times out of ten

unprepared?

Everyone

had now developed

the clear notion

that the boy’s silence

had extended over time

into a semblance of ill will

like a repudiation of humanity in its widest sense.

There again, there was no doubt

that the intermittent moments of speech

to which he had so far accustomed them

had always amounted to

subtle variations on the theme of repugnance,

for which he gave no advance warnings.

But there was something more.

On watching his behavior

there was a clear impression

that Dreidel himself was becoming

like those insects

which, when attacked, yield to the first instinct of reacting

with all their strength

and in their reaction are ready even to die.

In short, a hornet

disguised as a spinning top

whose sting

was designed to strike just once in its life

violently

then all would be over.

But if this were the general impression,

why was it never expressed?

And yet there was no doubt:

year after year

everyone

starting with Aunt Rosa

felt more and more

first the doubt

then the certainty

that Dreidel was developing

the proud inner conviction that he had a deadly weapon

whose charge

he would fire

suddenly

sooner or later

on who-knows-who and for who-knows-why

in exactly the same way

that he had insulted the King of Sugar

on a veranda in Louisiana

or the southern flag

on that stage in Alabama.

While in the first instance

Dreidel was saved

by the margin of waywardness

that is granted to children,

on the second occasion

the situation was far more serious,

and it was only the town’s remembrance of his father

that muffled the outcry

of those who hurled imprecations of

plague cholera and worse upon them.

In both cases

however

—and now it was clear—

Dreidel had offered

no more than a taste

—a preview, for those who chose to understand—

of just how much poison a hornet possessed.

They might underestimate.

They might minimize.

But meanwhile he was sharpening his sting.

They would see.

Sugar!

Did anyone really think

that Dreidel Lehman would stop at this?

The flag!

Did anyone in the family

think so little of him

as to believe that a real hornet

would stop at the risk of being lynched

for spitting on the standard at the start of a war?

Of course not.

He was capable of much more.

And if those had been

annoyances of an insect,

they were nothing

compared to the real sting

which at the critical moment

would be, yes, fatal.

And unforgettable.

The prospect was this.

Not exactly a pretty one.

The boy was preparing himself

like a volcano

to allow all his anger to explode

and he didn’t care

whether in doing so

he would be banished

not only from the bank

but from every human frontier.

It would happen.

But for now he was perfectly quiet.

Silent.

Somber.

Dreidel Lehman

was waiting

coolly and calmly

for his moment.