As Division Street--a few blocks on the lower East Side--was the
center of the new type of cloak-manufacturing, he referred to us
by the name of that street. My business was on Broadway, yet I
was included in the term, "Division Street manufacturer."
"What is Division Street going to do next?" he asked. "Sell a
fifteen-dollar suit for fifteen cents?"
I smiled
"That's a great place, that is. There are two big business streets in
New York--Wall Street and Division." He broke into a laugh at his
own joke and I charitably joined in. I endeavored to take his
thrusts good-naturedly and for many minutes I succeeded, but at
one point when he referred to us as "manufacturers," with a
sneering implication of quotation marks over the word, I flared up
"You don't seem to like the Division Street manufacturers, do
you?" I said.
"I suppose you have a reason for it." "I have a reason? Of course I
have," he retorted. "So has every other decent man in the
business."
"It depends on what you call decent. Every misfit claims to be
more decent than the fellow who gets the business.
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