Little Murders Page #5

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was... persecution!

Persecution!

So they weren't so glib about God.

God was in my mother's

every conversation.

How she got her family

out of Russia, thank God, in one piece.

About the pogroms, the steerage.

About those that didn't make it.

Got sick and died.

Who could they ask for help?

If not God, then who?

The Great Society?

The department of welfare?

Travelers Aid?

This city was a... a concretejungle

to the families that came here.

They had to carve homes

and lives out of concrete.

Cold concrete.

You think they didn't call on God,

those poor, suffering greenhorns?

You see this suit I'm wearing?

Expensive? Custom-made.

My father... thank God

he's not alive today...

worked 16 hours a day

in a shop on Broome Street.

And his artistry for a 10th

of what you pay today...

makes meat loaf

out of this suit.

145-147 Broome Street.

So tired, so broken in spirit...

that when he climbed

the six flights of stairs each night...

to the three-room, unheated flat...

the five of us were crowded in...

171 Attorney Street...

that he did not have

the strength to eat.

The man did not have

the strength to eat!

Turning thinner...

and yellower by the day.

For lack of what?

A well-balanced diet?

Too much cholesterol?

Too many carbohydrates

and starchy substances in his blood?

Not on your sweet life.

For lack of everything!

What was God to my father?

I'll tell ya. Sit down. I'm not finished.

I'll tell ya

what God was to my father.

God got my father up those

six-and-a-half flights of stairs...

not counting the stoop...

every night!

God got my mother worn gray

from lying to her children...

about a better tomorrow

she didn't believe in.

Up every morning with enough

of the failing strength...

that finally deserted her last year

at Miami Beach at the age of 91...

to face another day

of hopelessness and despair.

3134 Biscayne Boulevard.

God.

And you tell me you don't want him

in the ceremony!

Look at these hands.

The hands of a judge?

The hands of a professional man?

Not on your sweet life.

The hands of a worker!

I worked!

These hands toiled

from the time I was nine.

Strike that. Seven.

Every morning up at 5:00...

dressing in the pitch black to run down

seven flights of stairs, 13 steps a flight...

I'll never forget them... to run

five blocks to the Washington market...

unpacking crates

for 75 cents a week.

A dollar if I worked

on Sundays. Maybe.

Where was my God then?

Where, on those

bitter cold mornings...

with my hands so blue with frostbite

they looked like ladies' gloves...

was God?

Here. In my heart.

Where he was, has been

and will always be...

till the day they carry me feetfirst

out of this courtroom.

Knock wood.

God grants it soon.

My first murder trial...

Where you going? I'm not finished.

- You're not gonna marry us.

- I'm not finished.

Don't be a smart punk.

You're a know-it-all

wise-guy punk, aren't ya?

I've seen your kind.

You'll come up before me again!

[Echoes]

[Big Band On Radio]

You were never married before?

[Sighs]

Your parents, they're alive?

I think so.

You think so?

Where do they live?

Chicago, I guess.

You think, you guess.

What kind of answers are these?

I haven't kept up contact.

[Sighs]

They know you're getting married?

Look, Alfred.

Patsy's mother is very upset.

I'm upset. I don't say

I believe in God.

The question is wide open. But with me

it's not a matter of belief in God.

It's a matter of belief

in institutions.

I'm a great believer in institutions.

Bitterness is a...

bad way to start a marriage.

Patsy's not bitter.

I'm not bitter.

I'm bitter. If you don't believe in God,

why do you care if they use his name?

I'm a lousy debater,

Mr. Newquist.

- Nervous, son?

- Nah.

- "Nah" what?

- No, I'm not nervous, Mr. Newquist.

Why don't you call me Dad?

- I didn't call my own father "Dad."

- What did you call him?

I didn't call him anything.

The occasion never came up.

Look, couldn't you

concede me one "Dad"?

I mean, not all the time,

but, you know, once in a while.

- "Hello, Dad." "Hiya, Dad."

- Daddy.

"Do you want

some tobacco, Dad?"

For Christ's sake,

I want an answer!

[Tolling]

[Tolling Continues]

[All Yelling]

[Yelling Continues]

I'm the father of the bride.

You don't understand.

I'm the father

of the bride. Patsy.

- I'll never, never forgive you.

- Oh.

He's a world-famous

photographer, you know.

He does collages for Harper's Bazaar.

- This is Alfred, who's stealing my little girl away.

- Hello.

- I'm here.

- Oh, Lester.

And I'm willing to

forgive and forget.

There are no atheists in foxholes

these days, huh, Reverend?

They've all gone into

the ministry, eh?

[Chuckles]

Ethical Culture told them they didn't

have to have God in the ceremony...

but they had to have

Ethical Culture in the ceremony.

Your father-in-law wants me to mention

the Deity in the ceremony.

He wants me to sneak it in.

He's offered me a lot of money to do it.

I don't know

what to tell you, Henry.

Well, if it's all right with you...

I'd like to take the money

and not mention the Deity.

First Existential can use the money.

I haven't made up my mind.

I might go into teaching.

I absolutely deplore your views...

but I respect your right

to have them.

What I really want to do

is direct films.

Well, the first year at least,

we'll live at my place.

I gave him $2,500.

They looked everywhere. Even the state

of New York has God in the ceremony.

I gave him $2,500.

[Chuckles]

No, my family isn't here.

I gave him $2,500.

I plan to go on working

into my eighth month.

No, my family is not here.

I gave him $2,500.

[Clears Throat]

No, my family's not here.

It's wonderful to marry a tall man.

So many complications when you marry

a person shorter than yourself.

[Carol]

I gave him $2,500.

B*tch.

[Mumbling]

- [Reverend] May we proceed?

- [Phone Ringing]

- May we proceed?

- [Heavy Breathing]

- Fags!

- May we proceed?

- You want me to have them?

- Will you take them?

Alfred.

[Man]

Shh, shh, shh.

[Man]

Shh.

You all know why we're here.

There's often so much sham

about this business of marriage.

Everyone accepts it. Ritual.

That's why I was so heartened when Alfred

asked me to perform this ceremony.

He has certain beliefs,

which I assume you all know.

He is an atheist, which is perfectly

all right. Really it is.

I happen not to be, but inasmuch

as this ceremony connotes...

an abandonment of ritual...

in the search for truth...

I agreed to perform it.

First, let me state to you, Alfred...

and to you, Patricia...

that of the 200 marriages

that I have performed...

all but seven have failed.

So the odds are not good.

We don't like to admit it,

especially at the wedding ceremony...

but it's in the back

of all our minds, isn't it?

How long will it last?

We all think that, don't we?

We don't like to bring it out in the open,

but we all think that.

Well, I say, why not bring it out

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