There are a hundred places in New York like Gabriel's. Up front is asmall bar, in back there are a few booths and a half of dozen tables,the husband is the cook, and the wife takes care of the bar. It has aname, which is the first name of the husband or the wife or the townwhere they came from-Lois, Tony's, Estelle's or Maria's or theCalaberian or the Belonia.
To many people in New York, one of these places is the nearest thingto home they would never know. People in New York have twoneighborhoods, the one where they work, and the one where they live.
The way the city is one man's office is next to another man's home.
And the street that is one man's place to make a dollar is alsoanother man's place to make a life. So each of these littlerestaurants has two complete and different groups of customers, thelunch people and the dinner people. The lunch people are the ones whowork in the neighborhood, they appear during the middle of the day.
The dinner people are the ones who live there; they appear at nightafter they finish work. They never meet although to both groups, theplaces home. Sometimes the place means so much to some people thatthey are neither lunch nor dinner people. They really live there. Thecity is their living room; the place is their dining room. One of thepeople who once felt that way about Gabrielle's is a man named JeffCobby.
In a place like Gabrielle's the lunch people start coming into eatabout 12:30. Gabrielle makes the drinks at the bar; she also takes themoney. Every day about noon, she begins to worry. If the regularpeople are not regular, there will soon be no such place asGabrielle's. It is good to have people coming in off the street, butit is the regulars those who come in everyday who are important. SoGabrielle worries until the six men from the office around the cornercome in, and thank God, filled the corner table. These are the peopleshe can depend on. Then in walks the man who comes alone. He eatswhatever fish there is, reads the newspaper, and drinks a half bottleof wine everyday. And here is the young man and young woman who havebeen coming for two whole months now. They are in love Monday,Wednesday, and Thursday. They have a violent fight every Friday.
Gabrielle wonders what they do on Tuesday.
There is in Gabrielle's as there is in every one of these places. Oneman who comes at lunchtime, sits down at the bar, and gets quietlydrunk everyday. He comes to eat lunch. Each day he tells himself thathe will have no more than two drinks, and then gets something to eat.
But somehow, the two drinks always get to be three. And after that hestops counting. These are the regular ones. These are the lunchpeople. And from 12:30 to 3:00, many things happen to the lunchpeople. They fall in and out of love. They decide to live fully andenjoy it, to save money and spend it, to be nicer to people than everbefore. Some promise themselves to eat less, and lose a little weight.
Two men become business partners and have a drink to celebrate it. Aman at the bar has been waiting for a girl, but she never comes, hedecides never to see her again, no matter what, and he has a drink, tocelebrate his decision. The man in the second booth is trying hard notto ask the other man in the same booth for the job, he puts his handin his pocket, and discovers that he has spent all his money. Theseare the things that keep happening at Gabrielle's between 12:30 and3:00. By 3:00 most of the lunch people have gone back to theiroffices, their studios, their adding machines and business meetingsexcept for Jeff Cobby, who has not been in Gabrielle's for five yearsbecause he has not been in New York for five years.
When you come to a town for the first time, it is strange. But JeffCobby was at home as long as it was a new town. Since the US is fullof new towns, he did very well for five years. But then, what happenedwas that there were no more new towns. He wanted to come home.
He came back to New York, and everything was strange. This was hishometown where everything was supposed to be in a certain place, andwas not. All the corners looked like corners he used to know, but notexactly. There was supposed to be a movie theatre here, but it now wasan automobile garage. This was where there was that bar and grill ,but it now was a place to park cars.
Everything was bigger, or smaller, or in the wrong place. Two days ofthis were twenty , then he was walking down the street, and he saw thesign-Gabrielle. Well, he thought, let me get this over with walk in,and find out that all that is left is the name.
As he went down the steps, he remembered why he had forgottenGabrielle's. He had remembered Helen, and when they were lunch people,and cocktail people, and dinner people, and clothing time people. Itwas a long time ago.
He opened the door. No, it could not be the same one, but it was. Thenice middle-aged lady who took care of people's hats and coats wasstill at Gabrielle's. She knew his name and kissed him. She took himinto the kitchen where Gabrielle's husband was still the cook andstill shy.
Jeff came back and sat at the bar, and watched the people in therestaurant, he talked to Gabrielle when it became quiet, and not sobusy. He sat down in a booth with Gabrielle and her husband, and hadsomething to eat and to drink. He was home. New York was his hometown,some things did not change.
He came back the next day for lunch, and the next, and that evening hecame back for dinner. He had walked all over the city; he had seen toomany movies. He had slept too much, and had drunk too much. Except forthe small talk-the good mornings and good nights and isn't it a niceday. He had not really talked to anybody in three days.
The third evening he was sitting at the bar, telling Gabrielle whatSanta Fe was like when he saw a girl, sitting at the far end of theroom. She had just come in. While she leaned forward, she looked veryclosely at the man across the table. Then she took her short whitegloves, one finger at a time, in the way some women do. It hardlyseemed possible that after all these years a little thing like thatcould mean so much.
For the time it took her to get off her gloves, everything stopped forJeff. It was as if all these years, and all these towns had nothappened, all because he saw a girl in Gabrielle's leaning forward,listening, taking off short gloves, one finger at a time. Gabriellesaw him watching, and she nodded her head, yes. It made no differencethough, if it was Helen, or if it was a girl who leaned forward,listening like Helen.
What made the difference was that he was still such a fool, that hewas still in love with a girl who did not love him. It was somethinghe could never tell anyone. They would think he was lying, or wasinsane, or both. But it was true. He wanted to get out fast, before hesaw Helen and she saw him.
Once they saw each other, he knew he would try once again to make herlove him. And if there was one thing he knew, she did not and wouldnot love him. Just as it was true that he had loved her, and alwayswould. Just so it was true, that she never did and never would lovehim. He said goodbye to Gabrielle, and told her he did not feel likehaving dinner after all, He said he would be back. He went out intothe street, and shivered. He would not come back; it was time to finda new town.
You have just heard the American story "About a Place CalledGabrielle's. It was written by Robert Paul Smith. It was published in1958 by Esquire Incorporated. Your Narrator was Shep O’Neal. TheVoice of America invites you to listen again next week at this timefor another American story told in Special English. This is ShirleyGriffith. |