Sax Man

(Previous installment)

He continued on, past Franklin and an aging garage which he bemusedly noticed had been gussied up with out-of-place evergreens on the corners at each level, then to Wells where he paused at the Dont Walk light. As he waited for the light to change an El train clattered overhead, its roar drowning out every other sound on the street. He peered up, beyond the elevated tracks to the marble building just beyond. It was here, at the Driscoll Building, that his father had operated a passenger elevator for forty-four years. Henry remembered visiting him at work now and then, curiously entering the compartment which was his father's home for ten hours a day, his only comfort a narrow cushionless stool. His father would greet him warmly, not as his son but play-acting as if young Henry was a tenant of the building, with all of the Good morning, sirs and Fine weather we're havings and What floor will it bes that the job required. Henry's father showed up there and worked every day for forty-four years, missing only a rare day from serious illness, enduring the back pain from ten hour stretches on the stool and resisting all suggestions of retirement until automation of the elevator made the decision for him.

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