- 1 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/20(土) 00:55:30
- 2 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/20(土) 00:56:43
- 3 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/21(日) 00:52:01
- 4 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/21(日) 04:21:55
- 5 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/21(日) 06:18:48
【ニュース速報】【速報】やっぱり官僚つこうた 文部科学省職員事実認めるも 「どういうことか分かりません」
- 6 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/21(日) 12:00:37
- 7 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/21(日) 12:19:16
- 8 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/21(日) 17:23:44
- 9 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/21(日) 18:31:58
- 10 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/21(日) 18:34:20
- 11 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/03/27(土) 01:32:57
- 12 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/04/04(日) 20:21:02
- 13 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/04/11(日) 17:32:05
- 14 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/04/23(金) 01:10:09
- 15 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/04/25(日) 19:58:23
- 16 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/04/29(木) 17:54:08
- 17 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/05/05(水) 20:19:05
- 18 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/05/29(土) 20:50:07
- 19 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/05/30(日) 19:07:44
- 20 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/05/30(日) 19:58:10
- 21 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/06/05(土) 13:58:03
- 22 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/06/15(火) 07:26:18
- 23 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/06/20(日) 01:11:59
- 24 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/06/27(日) 22:03:57
- 25 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/03(土) 15:14:54
- 26 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/08(木) 07:31:37
- 27 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:29:13
- "I awreddy got it," Sunny said. She waved five bucks at me. "See? All I'
m takin' is the five you owe me. I'm no crook."
All of a sudden I started to cry. I'd give anything if I hadn't, but I d
id. "No, you're no crooks," I said. "You're just stealing five--"
"Shut up," old Maurice said, and gave me a shove.
"Leave him alone, hey," Sunny said. "C'mon, hey. We got the dough he owe
s us. Let's go. C'mon, hey."
"I'm comin'," old Maurice said. But he didn't.
"I mean it, Maurice, hey. Leave him alone."
"Who's hurtin' anybody?" he said, innocent as hell. Then what he did, he
- 28 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:29:33
- snapped his finger very hard on my pajamas. I won't tell you where he snapped i
t, but it hurt like hell. I told him he was a goddam dirty moron. "What's that?"
he said. He put his hand behind his ear, like a deaf guy. "What's that? What am
I was still sort of crying. I was so damn mad and nervous and all. "You'
re a dirty moron," I said. "You're a stupid chiseling moron, and in about two ye
ars you'll be one of those scraggy guys that come up to you on the street and as
k for a dime for coffee. You'll have snot all over your dirty filthy overcoat, a
nd you'll be--"
Then he smacked me. I didn't even try to get out of the way or duck or a
- 29 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:29:56
- nything. All I felt was this terrific punch in my stomach.
I wasn't knocked out or anything, though, because I remember looking up
from the floor and seeing them both go out the door and shut it. Then I stayed o
n the floor a fairly long time, sort of the way I did with Stradlater. Only, thi
s time I thought I was dying. I really did. I thought I was drowning or somethin
g. The trouble was, I could hardly breathe. When I did finally get up, I had to
walk to the bathroom all doubled up and holding onto my stomach and all.
But I'm crazy. I swear to God I am. About halfway to the bathroom, I sor
t of started pretending I had a bullet in my guts. Old 'Maurice had plugged me.
Now I was on the way to the bathroom to get a good shot of bourbon or something
- 30 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:32:32
- to steady my nerves and help me really go into action. I pictured myself coming
out of the goddam bathroom, dressed and all, with my automatic in my pocket, and
staggering around a little bit. Then I'd walk downstairs, instead of using the
elevator. I'd hold onto the banister and all, with this blood trickling out of t
he side of my mouth a little at a time. What I'd do, I'd walk down a few floors-
-holding onto my guts, blood leaking all over the place-- and then I'd ring the
elevator bell. As soon as old Maurice opened the doors, he'd see me with the aut
omatic in my hand and he'd start screaming at me, in this very high-pitched, yel
low-belly voice, to leave him alone. But I'd plug him anyway. Six shots right th
rough his fat hairy belly. Then I'd throw my automatic down the elevator shaft--
- 31 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:32:46
- after I'd wiped off all the finger prints and all. Then I'd crawl back to my roo
m and call up Jane and have her come over and bandage up my guts. I pictured her
holding a cigarette for me to smoke while I was bleeding and all.
The goddam movies. They can ruin you. I'm not kidding.
I stayed in the bathroom for about an hour, taking a bath and all. Then
I got back in bed. It took me quite a while to get to sleep--I wasn't even tired
--but finally I did. What I really felt like, though, was committing suicide. I
felt like jumping out the window. I probably would've done it, too, if I'd been
sure somebody'd cover me up as soon as I landed. I didn't want a bunch of stupid
rubbernecks looking at me when I was all gory.
- 32 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:33:54
- d Maurice. If you think I was dying to see him again, you're crazy. So I just la
id around in bed for a while and smoked another cigarette. I thought of giving o
ld Jane a buzz, to see if she was home yet and all, but I wasn't in the mood.
What I did do, I gave old Sally Hayes a buzz. She went to Mary A. Woodru
ff, and I knew she was home because I'd had this letter from her a couple of wee
ks ago. I wasn't too crazy about her, but I'd known her for years. I used to thi
nk she was quite intelligent, in my stupidity. The reason I did was because she
knew quite a lot about the theater and plays and literature and all that stuff.
If somebody knows quite a lot about those things, it takes you quite a while to
find out whether they're really stupid or not. It took me years to find it out,
- 33 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:34:03
- in old Sally's case. I think I'd have found it out a lot sooner if we hadn't nec
ked so damn much. My big trouble is, I always sort of think whoever I'm necking
is a pretty intelligent person. It hasn't got a goddam thing to do with it, but
I keep thinking it anyway.
Anyway, I gave her a buzz. First the maid answered. Then her father. The
n she got on. "Sally?" I said.
"Yes--who is this?" she said. She was quite a little phony. I'd already
told her father who it was.
"Holden Caulfield. How are ya?"
"Holden! I'm fine! How are you?"
- 34 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:34:34
- "Swell. Listen. How are ya, anyway? I mean how's school?"
"Fine," she said. "I mean--you know."
"Swell. Well, listen. I was wondering if you were busy today. It's Sunda
y, but there's always one or two matinees going on Sunday. Benefits and that stu
ff. Would you care to go?"
"I'd love to. Grand."
Grand. If there's one word I hate, it's grand. It's so phony. For a seco
nd, I was tempted to tell her to forget about the matinee. But we chewed the fat
for a while. That is, she chewed it. You couldn't get a word in edgewise. First
she told me about some Harvard guy-- it probably was a freshman, but she didn't
- 35 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:35:11
- checked out. I didn't see old Maurice around anywhere. I didn't break my neck l
ooking for him, naturally, the bastard.
I got a cab outside the hotel, but I didn't have the faintest damn idea
where I was going. I had no place to go. It was only Sunday, and I couldn't go h
ome till Wednesday--or Tuesday the soonest. And I certainly didn't feel like goi
ng to another hotel and getting my brains beat out. So what I did, I told the dr
iver to take me to Grand Central Station. It was right near the Biltmore, where
I was meeting Sally later, and I figured what I'd do, I'd check my bags in one o
f those strong boxes that they give you a key to, then get some breakfast. I was
sort of hungry. While I was in the cab, I took out my wallet and sort of counte
- 36 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:36:13
- d my money. I don't remember exactly what I had left, but it was no fortune or a
nything. I'd spent a king's ransom in about two lousy weeks. I really had. I'm a
goddam spendthrift at heart. What I don't spend, I lose. Half the time I sort o
f even forget to pick up my change, at restaurants and night clubs and all. It d
rives my parents crazy. You can't blame them. My father's quite wealthy, though.
I don't know how much he makes--he's never discussed that stuff with me--but I
imagine quite a lot. He's a corporation lawyer. Those boys really haul it in. An
other reason I know he's quite well off, he's always investing money in shows on
Broadway. They always flop, though, and it drives my mother crazy when he does
it. She hasn't felt too healthy since my brother Allie died. She's very nervous.
- 37 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:36:53
- That's another reason why I hated like hell for her to know I got the ax again.
After I put my bags in one of those strong boxes at the station, I went
into this little sandwich bar and bad breakfast. I had quite a large breakfast,
for me--orange juice, bacon and eggs, toast and coffee. Usually I just drink som
e orange juice. I'm a very light eater. I really am. That's why I'm so damn skin
ny. I was supposed to be on this diet where you eat a lot of starches and crap,
to gain weight and all, but I didn't ever do it. When I'm out somewhere, I gener
ally just eat a Swiss cheese sandwich and a malted milk. It isn't much, but you
get quite a lot of vitamins in the malted milk. H. V. Caulfield. Holden Vitamin
- 38 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:37:50
- While I was eating my eggs, these two nuns with suitcases and all--I gue
ssed they were moving to another convent or something and were waiting for a tra
in--came in and sat down next to me at the counter. They didn't seem to know wha
t the hell to do with their suitcases, so I gave them a hand. They were these ve
ry inexpensive-looking suitcases--the ones that aren't genuine leather or anythi
ng. It isn't important, I know, but I hate it when somebody has cheap suitcases.
It sounds terrible to say it, but I can even get to hate somebody, just looking
at them, if they have cheap suitcases with them. Something happened once. For a
while when I was at Elkton Hills, I roomed with this boy, Dick Slagle, that had
these very inexpensive suitcases. He used to keep them under the bed, instead o
- 39 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:38:13
- f on the rack, so that nobody'd see them standing next to mine. It depressed hol
y hell out of me, and I kept wanting to throw mine out or something, or even tra
de with him. Mine came from Mark Cross, and they were genuine cowhide and all th
at crap, and I guess they cost quite a pretty penny. But it was a funny thing. H
ere's what happened. What I did, I finally put my suitcases under my bed, instea
d of on the rack, so that old Slagle wouldn't get a goddam inferiority complex a
bout it. But here's what he did. The day after I put mine under my bed, he took
them out and put them back on the rack. The reason he did it, it took me a while
to find out, was because he wanted people to think my bags were his. He really
did. He was a very funny guy, that way. He was always saying snotty things about
- 40 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:38:29
- them, my suitcases, for instance. He kept saying they were too new and bourgeoi
s. That was his favorite goddam word. He read it somewhere or heard it somewhere
. Everything I had was bourgeois as hell. Even my fountain pen was bourgeois. He
borrowed it off me all the time, but it was bourgeois anyway. We only roomed to
gether about two months. Then we both asked to be moved. And the funny thing was
, I sort of missed him after we moved, because he had a helluva good sense of hu
mor and we had a lot of fun sometimes. I wouldn't be surprised if he missed me,
too. At first he only used to be kidding when he called my stuff bourgeois, and
I didn't give a damn--it was sort of funny, in fact. Then, after a while, you co
uld tell he wasn't kidding any more. The thing is, it's really hard to be roomma
- 41 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:38:50
- tes with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs--if yours are real
ly good ones and theirs aren't. You think if they're intelligent and all, the ot
her person, and have a good sense of humor, that they don't give a damn whose su
itcases are better, but they do. They really do. It's one of the reasons why I r
oomed with a stupid bastard like Stradlater. At least his suitcases were as good
Anyway, these two nuns were sitting next to me, and we sort of struck up
a conversation. The one right next to me had one of those straw baskets that yo
u see nuns and Salvation Army babes collecting dough with around Christmas time.
You see them standing on corners, especially on Fifth Avenue, in front of the b
- 42 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:39:05
- ig department stores and all. Anyway, the one next to me dropped hers on the flo
or and I reached down and picked it up for her. I asked her if she was out colle
cting money for charity and all. She said no. She said she couldn't get it in he
r suitcase when she was packing it and she was just carrying it. She had a prett
y nice smile when she looked at you. She had a big nose, and she had on those gl
asses with sort of iron rims that aren't too attractive, but she had a helluva k
ind face. "I thought if you were taking up a collection," I told her, "I could m
ake a small contribution. You could keep the money for when you do take up a col
"Oh, how very kind of you," she said, and the other one, her friend, loo
- 43 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:39:20
- ked over at me. The other one was reading a little black book while she drank he
r coffee. It looked like a Bible, but it was too skinny. It was a Bible-type boo
k, though. All the two of them were eating for breakfast was toast and coffee. T
hat depressed me. I hate it if I'm eating bacon and eggs or something and somebo
dy else is only eating toast and coffee.
They let me give them ten bucks as a contribution. They kept asking me i
f I was sure I could afford it and all. I told them I had quite a bit of money w
ith me, but they didn't seem to believe me. They took it, though, finally. The b
oth of them kept thanking me so much it was embarrassing. I swung the conversati
on around to general topics and asked them where they were going. They said they
- 44 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:40:50
- were schoolteachers and that they'd just come from Chicago and that they were g
oing to start teaching at some convent on 168th Street or 186th Street or one of
those streets way the hell uptown. The one next to me, with the iron glasses, s
aid she taught English and her friend taught history and American government. Th
en I started wondering like a bastard what the one sitting next to me, that taug
ht English, thought about, being a nun and all, when she read certain books for
English. Books not necessarily with a lot of sexy stuff in them, but books with
lovers and all in them. Take old Eustacia Vye, in The Return of the Native by Th
omas Hardy. She wasn't too sexy or anything, but even so you can't help wonderin
g what a nun maybe thinks about when she reads about old Eustacia. I didn't say
- 45 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:41:12
- anything, though, naturally. All I said was English was my best subject.
"Oh, really? Oh, I'm so glad!" the one with the glasses, that taught Eng
lish, said. "What have you read this year? I'd be very interested to know." She
was really nice.
"Well, most of the time we were on the Anglo-Saxons. Beowulf, and old Gr
endel, and Lord Randal My Son, and all those things. But we had to read outside
books for extra credit once in a while. I read The Return of the Native by Thoma
s Hardy, and Romeo and Juliet and Julius--"
"Oh, Romeo and Juliet! Lovely! Didn't you just love it?" She certainly d
idn't sound much like a nun.
- 46 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:42:35
- "Yes. I did. I liked it a lot. There were a few things I didn't like abo
ut it, but it was quite moving, on the whole."
"What didn't you like about it? Can you remember?" To tell you the truth
, it was sort of embarrassing, in a way, to be talking about Romeo and Juliet wi
th her. I mean that play gets pretty sexy in some parts, and she was a nun and a
ll, but she asked me, so I discussed it with her for a while. "Well, I'm not too
crazy about Romeo and Juliet," I said. "I mean I like them, but--I don't know.
They get pretty annoying sometimes. I mean I felt much sorrier when old Mercutio
got killed than when Romeo and Juliet did. The think is, I never liked Romeo to
o much after Mercutio gets stabbed by that other man--Juliet's cousin--what's hi
- 47 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:43:21
- s name?"
"That's right. Tybalt," I said--I always forget that guy's name. "It was
Romeo's fault. I mean I liked him the best in the play, old Mercutio. I don't k
now. All those Montagues and Capulets, they're all right--especially Juliet--but
Mercutio, he was--it's hard to explain. He was very smart and entertaining and
all. The thing is, it drives me crazy if somebody gets killed-- especially someb
ody very smart and entertaining and all--and it's somebody else's fault. Romeo a
nd Juliet, at least it was their own fault."
"What school do you go to?" she asked me. She probably wanted to get off
- 48 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:45:12
- the subject of Romeo and Juliet.
I told her Pencey, and she'd heard of it. She said it was a very good sc
hool. I let it pass, though. Then the other one, the one that taught history and
government, said they'd better be running along. I took their check off them, b
ut they wouldn't let me pay it. The one with the glasses made me give it back to
"You've been more than generous," she said. "You're a very sweet boy." S
he certainly was nice. She reminded me a little bit of old Ernest Morrow's mothe
r, the one I met on the train. When she smiled, mostly. "We've enjoyed talking t
o you so much," she said.
- 49 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:47:54
- I said I'd enjoyed talking to them a lot, too. I meant it, too. I'd have
enjoyed it even more though, I think, if I hadn't been sort of afraid, the whol
e time I was talking to them, that they'd all of a sudden try to find out if I w
as a Catholic. Catholics are always trying to find out if you're a Catholic. It
happens to me a lot, I know, partly because my last name is Irish, and most peop
le of Irish descent are Catholics. As a matter of fact, my father was a Catholic
once. He quit, though, when he married my mother. But Catholics are always tryi
ng to find out if you're a Catholic even if they don't know your last name. I kn
ew this one Catholic boy, Louis Shaney, when I was at the Whooton School. He was
the first boy I ever met there. He and I were sitting in the first two chairs o
- 50 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:48:07
- utside the goddam infirmary, the day school opened, waiting for our physicals, a
nd we sort of struck up this conversation about tennis. He was quite interested
in tennis, and so was I. He told me he went to the Nationals at Forest Hills eve
ry summer, and I told him I did too, and then we talked about certain hot-shot t
ennis players for quite a while. He knew quite a lot about tennis, for a kid his
age. He really did. Then, after a while, right in the middle of the goddam conv
ersation, he asked me, "Did you happen to notice where the Catholic church is in
town, by any chance?" The thing was, you could tell by the way he asked me that
he was trying to find out if I was a Catholic. He really was. Not that he was p
rejudiced or anything, but he just wanted to know. He was enjoying the conversat
- 51 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:50:56
- ion about tennis and all, but you could tell he would've enjoyed it more if I wa
s a Catholic and all. That kind of stuff drives me crazy. I'm not saying it ruin
ed our conversation or anything--it didn't--but it sure as hell didn't do it any
good. That's why I was glad those two nuns didn't ask me if I was a Catholic. I
t wouldn't have spoiled the conversation if they had, but it would've been diffe
rent, probably. I'm not saying I blame Catholics. I don't. I'd be the same way,
probably, if I was a Catholic. It's just like those suitcases I was telling you
about, in a way. All I'm saying is that it's no good for a nice conversation. Th
at's all I'm saying.
When they got up to go, the two nuns, I did something very stupid and em
- 52 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:51:39
- barrassing. I was smoking a cigarette, and when I stood up to say good-by to the
m, by mistake I blew some smoke in their face. I didn't mean to, but I did it. I
apologized like a madman, and they were very polite and nice about it, but it w
as very embarrassing anyway.
After they left, I started getting sorry that I'd only given them ten bu
cks for their collection. But the thing was, I'd made that date to go to a matin
ee with old Sally Hayes, and I needed to keep some dough for the tickets and stu
ff. I was sorry anyway, though. Goddam money. It always ends up making you blue
- 53 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:52:00
After I had my breakfast, it was only around noon, and I wasn't meeting
old Sally till two o'clock, so I started taking this long walk. I couldn't stop
thinking about those two nuns. I kept thinking about that beatup old straw baske
t they went around collecting money with when they weren't teaching school. I ke
pt trying to picture my mother or somebody, or my aunt, or Sally Hayes's crazy m
other, standing outside some department store and collecting dough for poor peop
le in a beat-up old straw basket. It was hard to picture. Not so much my mother,
- 54 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:52:49
- but those other two. My aunt's pretty charitable--she does a lot of Red Cross w
ork and all--but she's very well-dressed and all, and when she does anything cha
ritable she's always very well-dressed and has lipstick on and all that crap. I
couldn't picture her doing anything for charity if she had to wear black clothes
and no lipstick while she was doing it. And old Sally Hayes's mother. Jesus Chr
ist. The only way she could go around with a basket collecting dough would be if
everybody kissed her ass for her when they made a contribution. If they just dr
opped their dough in her basket, then walked away without saying anything to her
, ignoring her and all, she'd quit in about an hour. She'd get bored. She'd hand
in her basket and then go someplace swanky for lunch. That's what I liked about
- 55 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:53:26
- those nuns. You could tell, for one thing, that they never went anywhere swanky
for lunch. It made me so damn sad when I thought about it, their never going an
ywhere swanky for lunch or anything. I knew it wasn't too important, but it made
me sad anyway.
I started walking over toward Broadway, just for the hell of it, because
I hadn't been over there in years. Besides, I wanted to find a record store tha
t was open on Sunday. There was this record I wanted to get for Phoebe, called "
Little Shirley Beans." It was a very hard record to get. It was about a little k
id that wouldn't go out of the house because two of her front teeth were out and
she was ashamed to. I heard it at Pencey. A boy that lived on the next floor ha
- 56 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:56:03
- d it, and I tried to buy it off him because I knew it would knock old Phoebe out
, but he wouldn't sell it. It was a very old, terrific record that this colored
girl singer, Estelle Fletcher, made about twenty years ago. She sings it very Di
xieland and whorehouse, and it doesn't sound at all mushy. If a white girl was s
inging it, she'd make it sound cute as hell, but old Estelle Fletcher knew what
the hell she was doing, and it was one of the best records I ever heard. I figur
ed I'd buy it in some store that was open on Sunday and then I'd take it up to t
he park with me. It was Sunday and Phoebe goes rollerskating in the park on Sund
ays quite frequently. I knew where she hung out mostly.
It wasn't as cold as it was the day before, but the sun still wasn't out
- 57 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:56:20
- , and it wasn't too nice for walking. But there was one nice thing. This family
that you could tell just came out of some church were walking right in front of
me--a father, a mother, and a little kid about six years old. They looked sort o
f poor. The father had on one of those pearl-gray hats that poor guys wear a lot
when they want to look sharp. He and his wife were just walking along, talking,
not paying any attention to their kid. The kid was swell. He was walking in the
street, instead of on the sidewalk, but right next to the curb. He was making o
ut like he was walking a very straight line, the way kids do, and the whole time
he kept singing and humming. I got up closer so I could hear what he was singin
g. He was singing that song, "If a body catch a body coming through the rye." He
- 58 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:56:32
- had a pretty little voice, too. He was just singing for the hell of it, you cou
ld tell. The cars zoomed by, brakes screeched all over the place, his parents pa
id no attention to him, and he kept on walking next to the curb and singing "If
a body catch a body coming through the rye." It made me feel better. It made me
feel not so depressed any more.
Broadway was mobbed and messy. It was Sunday, and only about twelve o'cl
ock, but it was mobbed anyway. Everybody was on their way to the movies--the Par
amount or the Astor or the Strand or the Capitol or one of those crazy places. E
verybody was all dressed up, because it was Sunday, and that made it worse. But
the worst part was that you could tell they all wanted to go to the movies. I co
- 59 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:57:12
- uldn't stand looking at them. I can understand somebody going to the movies beca
use there's nothing else to do, but when somebody really wants to go, and even w
alks fast so as to get there quicker, then it depresses hell out of me. Especial
ly if I see millions of people standing in one of those long, terrible lines, al
l the way down the block, waiting with this terrific patience for seats and all.
Boy, I couldn't get off that goddam Broadway fast enough. I was lucky. The firs
t record store I went into had a copy of "Little Shirley Beans." They charged me
five bucks for it, because it was so hard to get, but I didn't care. Boy, it ma
de me so happy all of a sudden. I could hardly wait to get to the park to see if
old Phoebe was around so that I could give it to her.
- 60 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 13:57:45
- When I came out of the record store, I passed this drugstore, and I went
in. I figured maybe I'd give old Jane a buzz and see if she was home for vacati
on yet. So I went in a phone booth and called her up. The only trouble was, her
mother answered the phone, so I had to hang up. I didn't feel like getting invol
ved in a long conversation and all with her. I'm not crazy about talking to girl
s' mothers on the phone anyway. I should've at least asked her if Jane was home
yet, though. It wouldn't have killed me. But I didn't feel like it. You really h
ave to be in the mood for that stuff.
I still had to get those damn theater tickets, so I bought a paper and l
ooked up to see what shows were playing. On account of it was Sunday, there were
- 61 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:00:00
- only about three shows playing. So what I did was, I went over and bought two o
rchestra seats for I Know My Love. It was a benefit performance or something. I
didn't much want to see it, but I knew old Sally, the queen of the phonies, woul
d start drooling all over the place when I told her I had tickets for that, beca
use the Lunts were in it and all. She liked shows that are supposed to be very s
ophisticated and dry and all, with the Lunts and all. I don't. I don't like any
shows very much, if you want to know the truth. They're not as bad as movies, bu
t they're certainly nothing to rave about. In the first place, I hate actors. Th
ey never act like people. They just think they do. Some of the good ones do, in
a very slight way, but not in a way that's fun to watch. And if any actor's real
- 62 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:00:13
- ly good, you can always tell he knows he's good, and that spoils it. You take Si
r Laurence Olivier, for example. I saw him in Hamlet. D.B. took Phoebe and I to
see it last year. He treated us to lunch first, and then he took us. He'd alread
y seen it, and the way he talked about it at lunch, I was anxious as hell to see
it, too. But I didn't enjoy it much. I just don't see what's so marvelous about
Sir Laurence Olivier, that's all. He has a terrific voice, and he's a helluva h
andsome guy, and he's very nice to watch when he's walking or dueling or somethi
ng, but he wasn't at all the way D.B. said Hamlet was. He was too much like a go
ddam general, instead of a sad, screwed-up type guy. The best part in the whole
picture was when old Ophelia's brother--the one that gets in the duel with Hamle
- 63 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:00:53
- t at the very end--was going away and his father was giving him a lot of advice.
While the father kept giving him a lot of advice, old Ophelia was sort of horsi
ng around with her brother, taking his dagger out of the holster, and teasing hi
m and all while he was trying to look interested in the bull his father was shoo
ting. That was nice. I got a big bang out of that. But you don't see that kind o
f stuff much. The only thing old Phoebe liked was when Hamlet patted this dog on
the head. She thought that was funny and nice, and it was. What I'll have to do
is, I'll have to read that play. The trouble with me is, I always have to read
that stuff by myself. If an actor acts it out, I hardly listen. I keep worrying
about whether he's going to do something phony every minute.
- 64 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:01:54
- After I got the tickets to the Lunts' show, I took a cab up to the park.
I should've taken a subway or something, because I was getting slightly low on
dough, but I wanted to get off that damn Broadway as fast as I could.
It was lousy in the park. It wasn't too cold, but the sun still wasn't o
ut, and there didn't look like there was anything in the park except dog crap an
d globs of spit and cigar butts from old men, and the benches all looked like th
ey'd be wet if you sat down on them. It made you depressed, and every once in a
while, for no reason, you got goose flesh while you walked. It didn't seem at al
l like Christmas was coming soon. It didn't seem like anything was coming. But I
kept walking over to the Mall anyway, because that's where Phoebe usually goes
- 65 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:05:16
- when she's in the park. She likes to skate near the bandstand. It's funny. That'
s the same place I used to like to skate when I was a kid.
When I got there, though, I didn't see her around anywhere. There were a
few kids around, skating and all, and two boys were playing Flys Up with a soft
ball, but no Phoebe. I saw one kid about her age, though, sitting on a bench al
l by herself, tightening her skate. I thought maybe she might know Phoebe and co
uld tell me where she was or something, so I went over and sat down next to her
and asked her, "Do you know Phoebe Caulfield, by any chance?"
"Who?" she said. All she had on was jeans and about twenty sweaters. You
could tell her mother made them for her, because they were lumpy as hell.
- 66 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:05:53
- "Phoebe Caulfield. She lives on Seventy-first Street. She's in the fourt
h grade, over at--"
"You know Phoebe?"
"Yeah, I'm her brother. You know where she is?"
"She's in Miss Callon's class, isn't she?" the kid said.
"I don't know. Yes, I think she is."
"She's prob'ly in the museum, then. We went last Saturday," the kid said
"Which museum?" I asked her.
She shrugged her shoulders, sort of. "I don't know," she said. "The muse
- 67 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:06:44
"I know, but the one where the pictures are, or the one where the Indian
"The one where the Indians."
"Thanks a lot," I said. I got up and started to go, but then I suddenly
remembered it was Sunday. "This is Sunday," I told the kid.
She looked up at me. "Oh. Then she isn't."
She was having a helluva time tightening her skate. She didn't have any
gloves on or anything and her hands were all red and cold. I gave her a hand wit
h it. Boy, I hadn't had a skate key in my hand for years. It didn't feel funny,
- 68 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:07:17
- though. You could put a skate key in my hand fifty years from now, in pitch dark
, and I'd still know what it is. She thanked me and all when I had it tightened
for her. She was a very nice, polite little kid. God, I love it when a kid's nic
e and polite when you tighten their skate for them or something. Most kids are.
They really are. I asked her if she'd care to have a hot chocolate or something
with me, but she said no, thank you. She said she had to meet her friend. Kids a
lways have to meet their friend. That kills me.
Even though it was Sunday and Phoebe wouldn't be there with her class or
anything, and even though it was so damp and lousy out, I walked all the way th
rough the park over to the Museum of Natural History. I knew that was the museum
- 69 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:07:29
- the kid with the skate key meant. I knew that whole museum routine like a book.
Phoebe went to the same school I went to when I was a kid, and we used to go th
ere all the time. We had this teacher, Miss Aigletinger, that took us there damn
near every Saturday. Sometimes we looked at the animals and sometimes we looked
at the stuff the Indians had made in ancient times. Pottery and straw baskets a
nd all stuff like that. I get very happy when I think about it. Even now. I reme
mber after we looked at all the Indian stuff, usually we went to see some movie
in this big auditorium. Columbus. They were always showing Columbus discovering
America, having one helluva time getting old Ferdinand and Isabella to lend him
the dough to buy ships with, and then the sailors mutinying on him and all. Nobo
- 70 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:07:47
- dy gave too much of a damn about old Columbus, but you always had a lot of candy
and gum and stuff with you, and the inside of that auditorium had such a nice s
mell. It always smelled like it was raining outside, even if it wasn't, and you
were in the only nice, dry, cosy place in the world. I loved that damn museum. I
remember you had to go through the Indian Room to get to the auditorium. It was
a long, long room, and you were only supposed to whisper. The teacher would go
first, then the class. You'd be two rows of kids, and you'd have a partner. Most
of the time my partner was this girl named Gertrude Levine. She always wanted t
o hold your hand, and her hand was always sticky or sweaty or something. The flo
or was all stone, and if you had some marbles in your hand and you dropped them,
- 71 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:08:23
- they bounced like madmen all over the floor and made a helluva racket, and the
teacher would hold up the class and go back and see what the hell was going on.
She never got sore, though, Miss Aigletinger. Then you'd pass by this long, long
Indian war canoe, about as long as three goddam Cadillacs in a row, with about
twenty Indians in it, some of them paddling, some of them just standing around l
ooking tough, and they all had war paint all over their faces. There was one ver
y spooky guy in the back of the canoe, with a mask on. He was the witch doctor.
He gave me the creeps, but I liked him anyway. Another thing, if you touched one
of the paddles or anything while you were passing, one of the guards would say
to you, "Don't touch anything, children," but he always said it in a nice voice,
- 72 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:08:39
- not like a goddam cop or anything. Then you'd pass by this big glass case, with
Indians inside it rubbing sticks together to make a fire, and a squaw weaving a
blanket. The squaw that was weaving the blanket was sort of bending over, and y
ou could see her bosom and all. We all used to sneak a good look at it, even the
girls, because they were only little kids and they didn't have any more bosom t
han we did. Then, just before you went inside the auditorium, right near the doo
rs, you passed this Eskimo. He was sitting over a hole in this icy lake, and he
was fishing through it. He had about two fish right next to the hole, that he'd
already caught. Boy, that museum was full of glass cases. There were even more u
pstairs, with deer inside them drinking at water holes, and birds flying south f
- 73 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:09:16
- or the winter. The birds nearest you were all stuffed and hung up on wires, and
the ones in back were just painted on the wall, but they all looked like they we
re really flying south, and if you bent your head down and sort of looked at the
m upside down, they looked in an even bigger hurry to fly south. The best thing,
though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. No
body'd move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would
still be just finished catching those two fish, the birds would still be on thei
r way south, the deers would still be drinking out of that water hole, with thei
r pretty antlers and their pretty, skinny legs, and that squaw with the naked bo
som would still be weaving that same blanket. Nobody'd be different. The only th
- 74 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/24(土) 14:10:18
- ing that would be different would be you. Not that you'd be so much older or any
thing. It wouldn't be that, exactly. You'd just be different, that's all. You'd
have an overcoat on this time. Or the kid that was your partner in line the last
time had got scarlet fever and you'd have a new partner. Or you'd have a substi
tute taking the class, instead of Miss Aigletinger. Or you'd heard your mother a
nd father having a terrific fight in the bathroom. Or you'd just passed by one o
f those puddles in the street with gasoline rainbows in them. I mean you'd be di
fferent in some way--I can't explain what I mean. And even if I could, I'm not s
ure I'd feel like it.
I took my old hunting hat out of my pocket while I walked, and put it on
- 75 ：非公開＠個人情報保護のため：2010/07/30(金) 07:55:58
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