William Burnett - Round Trip

CRIME: Gangster

PLACE: Chicago, USA

YEAR: 1929

BRIEFING: The twenties in America saw the rapid emergence of an entirely new form of criminal: the gangster. These ruthless villains, who ruled by the machine-gun, took a stranglehold on vice, gambling and bootlegging in the biggest cities of the USA. The most notorious was undoubtedly Al Capone, nicknamed Scarface, who graduated from petty crime to controlling all the rackets in Chicago, with most of the local police and politicians on his payroll. His ruthless disposal of enemies and rebel gangsters was legendary. In Britain, the only real rivals to Capone were the Kray twins, Reginald and Ronald, whose firm ran the London underworld in the sixties with a similar mixture of threats, violence and murder.

AUTHOR: William Riley Burnett (18991981), an unpublished Idaho novelist and playwright before he moved to Chicago in the late twenties and there found his true metier, is the man credited with immortalising the gangster in fiction. His novel, Little Caesar, published in 1929, is today regarded as the book which typifies the whole genre. A remarkable chronicle of the rise and fall of a tough Chicago gangster, Cesare Bandello, known as Rico, it was the first naturalistic crime novel as well as being the first piece of fiction about the power of the criminal underworld. Based on Burnetts acute observation of Chicagos gangsters and racketeers, it was an instant publishing sensation-selling half a million copies-and made the author a household name. Little Caesar similarly revolutionised the movies when it was adapted for the screen in 1930, establishing Edward G. Robinson as a major Hollywood star. It set the benchmark against which all the subsequent gangster pictures have been judged, right up to and including The Godfather (1972) and its sequels. Burnetts later novels and screenplays set further standards in the crime genre, especially Scarface (1931), with Paul Muni playing a gangster modelled on Al Capone; High Sierra (1941), starring Humphrey Bogart as a former convict whose past crimes catch up with him; and The Asphalt Jungle (1950), which was initially a movie featuring Sterling Hayden, and ten years later the inspiration for a groundbreaking TV series starring Jack Warden. Round Trip is one of W. R. Burnetts few short stories and has a special significance in that it, too, is about a gangster in the days of Al Capone and was first published in Harpers Magazine in 1929 the self-same year that Little Caesar astonished readers of crime fiction everywhere.

THE STORY:

It was about ten oclock when the lookout let George in. The big play was usually between twelve and three, and now there were only a few people in the place. In one corner of the main room four men were playing bridge, and one of the centre wheels was running.

Hell, Mr Barber, the lookout said. Little early tonight, aint you?

Yeah, said George. Boss in?

Yeah, said the lookout, and he wants to see you. He was grinning all over his face. But he didnt say nothing to me.

Somebody kicked in, said George.

Yeah, said the lookout, thats about it.

Levin, one of the croupiers, came over to George.

Mr Barber, he said. The Spade just left. He and the Old Man had a session.

George grinned and struck at one of his spats with his cane.

The Spade was in, was he? Well, no wonder the Old Man was in a good humour.

How do you do it, Mr Barber? asked the croupier.

Yeah, we been wondering, put in the lookout.

Well, said George, I just talk nice to em and they get ashamed of themselves and pay up.

The croupier and the lookout laughed.

Well, said the croupier, its a gift, thats all.

Somebody knocked at the entrance door, and the lookout went to see who it was. The croupier grinned at George and walked back to his chair. George knocked at Weinbergs door, then pushed it open. As soon as he saw George, Weinberg began to grin and nod his head.

The Spade was in, he said.

George sat down and lighted a cigar.

Yeah, so I hear.

He settled the whole business, George, said Weinberg. You couldve knocked my eyes off with a ball bat.

Well, said George, I thought maybe hed be in.

Did, eh? Listen, George, how did you ever pry The Spade loose from three grand?

Its a business secret, said George and laughed.

Weinberg sat tapping his desk with a pencil and staring at George. He never could dope him out. Pretty soon he said: George, better watch The Spade. Hes gonna try to make it tough for you.

Hell try.

I told him he could play his IOUs again, but he said hed never come in this place as long as you was around. So I told him goodbye.

Well, said George, he can play some then, because Im leaving you.

Weinberg just sat there tapping with his pencil.

Im fed up, said George. Im going to take me a vacation. Im sick of Chi. Same old dumps, same old mob.

How long you figure to be away? asked Weinberg.

About a month. Im going over east. I got some friends in Toledo.

Well, said Weinberg, youll have a job when you get back.

He got up, opened a little safe in the wall behind him, and took out a big, unsealed envelope.

Heres a present for you, George, he said. Im giving you a cut on The Spades money besides your regular divvy. I know a right guy when I see one.

OK, said George, putting the envelope in his pocket without looking at it.

Matter of fact, said Weinberg, I never expected to see no more of The Spades money. He aint paying nobody. Hes blacklisted.

George sat puffing at his cigar. Weinberg poured out a couple of drinks from the decanter on his desk. They drank.

Dont get sore now, said Weinberg, when I ask you this question, but listen, George, you aint going to Toledo to hide out, are you?

George got red in the face.

Say he said, and started to rise.

All right! All right! said Weinberg hurriedly. I didnt think so, George, I didnt think so. I just wondered.

Tell you what Ill do, said George. Get your hat and Ill take you down to The Spades restaurant for some lunch.

Weinberg laughed but he didnt feel like laughing.

Never mind, George, he said. I just wondered.

All right, said George. But any time you get an idea in your head Im afraid of a guy like The Spade, get it right out again, because youre all wrong.

Sure, said Weinberg.

After another drink they shook hands, and George went out into the main room. There was another table of bridge going now, and a faro game had opened up.

The lookout opened the door for George.

I wont be seeing you for a while, said George.

That so? said the lookout. Well, watch your step wherever youre going.

George got into Toledo late at night. He felt tired and bored, and he didnt feel any better when the taxi-driver, who had taken him from the depot to the hotel, presented his bill.

Brother, said George, you dont need no gun.

Whats that! exclaimed the taxi-driver, scowling.

You heard me, said George. You dont need no gun.

Well, said the taxi-driver, thats our regular rate, Mister. Maybe you better take a street car.

Then he climbed into his cab and drove off. George stood there staring at the cab till it turned a corner.

Damn hick! he said. Talking to me like that!

The doorman took his bags.

You sure got some smart boys in this town, said George.

The doorman merely put his head on one side and grinned.

There were three men ahead of George at the desk, and he had to wait. The clerk ignored him.

Say, said George, finally, give me one of them cards. I can be filling it out.