There was not a stroke of work in the
shop. I was so absorbed in my new vocation that I would pass my
evenings in a cloak-makers' haunt, a caf? on Delancey Street,
where I never tired talking sleeves, pockets, stitches, trimmings,
and the like. There was a good deal of card-playing in the place,
but somehow I never succumbed to that temptation.
But then, under the influence of some of the fellows I met there, I
developed a considerable passion for the Jewish theater. These
young men were what is known on the East Side as "patriots," that
is, devoted admirers of some actor or actress and members of his
or her voluntary claque. Several of the other frequenters were also
interested in the stage, or at least in the gossip of it; so that, on the
whole, there was as much talk of plays and players as there was of
cloaks and cloak-makers. Our shop discussions certainly never
reached the heat that usually characterized our debates on things
theatrical
The most ardent of the "patriots" was a young contractor named
Mindels.
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