Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

48 Adr. Monday and Other Tales of Jewish Amsterdam

The sisters had one friend, one friend together. His name was Mr. Jacobs, and Father said he knew him quite well.

"He is the son of the Jacobs who used to work at Asscher's as a diamond polisher. The father was a small man, you know, and he squinted. The Jacobs who hangs around downstairs is Lowee Jacobs, he's the son of old man Jacobs with the squint. A travelling salesman, he is. No, he is not married, he just likes to go on a spree, now and then. What's wrong about that? When he gets married, he'll have long enough to live in sorrow.

Usually on Friday afternoon, Lowee Jacobs would come to see the sisters. He always stayed until Sunday night. The children of the district got a cent for every errand they ran for him. Buy rolls with beef at Meyer's, buy gherkins at Mouwes', cheese at Berlin's, and pastries at Snatagers', chicken at Heimy Cozijn, and don't forget what they sold at "The Bishops" by the bottle.

"From the money he spends on those two whores, he could run a decent Jewish family with a lot of children," Mother would say.

"If you ask me," Grandmother commented, "he does not earn his money honestly. Anyone who spends it so easily didn't have to work very hard to get it."

Father remained silent. But a couple of days later he would say, "I saw Mr. Lebovitz this morning."

"I suppose he said 'Good morning?'"

"How did you guess? But you will never guess about whom he spoke to me?"

"So—who?"

"About Lowee Jacobs."