Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

174 Air. Monday and Other Tales of Jewish Amsterdam

Sol ate at the refreshment bar of the Railway Station and did not have to pay for his food. He ate very well, making it a point to sit down with the manager in the waiting room of the station. Nobody knows how many rolls with salt brisket, wurst, roast beef, and cheese he swallowed every day but it must have been a Himalaya of bread. The steady work and the food appeared to agree with him because he became more balanced, inwardly. Gradually the ravenous look disappeared from his bulging eyes. However, despite all his eating he remained as thin as a locust.

Mother remarked "How that Sol has changed. You really wouldn't recognise him. That work suits him."

I believe that he had been selling rolls along the station platform for a couple of years when the incident with Mr. Sheep occurred.

Mr. Sheep was a small-time jeweler. During a short boom he had earned quite a lot of money and had been brainy enough to make conservative but profitable investments. His wife, Mrs. Sheep was a friend of my mother. One day Mother came back from a visit to the Sheep family and told us that Sol had addressed Mr. Sheep at the station. Although he did not know him at all, he had heard talk about him in our home. "Aren't you Mr. Sheep?" he had asked.

"Yes," Mr. Sheep had replied. "And who might you be?"

That gave Sol his opening, and he told a long story about how he knew Mr. Sheep by name although they had never met. Finally he asked, could he have a private talk with Mr. Sheep? He had a business proposition to put to him.