Thursday The Rabbi Walked Out

34

HENRY MALTZMAN DRUMMED HIS FINGERS IMPATIENTLY ON the desktop. "If you want to sell your house, Joe, you'll fix it up. Have it painted—"

"Painted?" Krasker was aghast. "That will cost me a thousand, fifteen hundred bucks, maybe more."

"So what? I'll get you another five thousand for it." "Will you give me that in writing?"

"Yeah, That'll be the day. Look. Joe, get this through your head. Houses aren't bought; they're sold, and if you want to sell them, they've got to be attractive. I took a party out to see your place last week, and he pulls out a jackknife and starts jabbing it into the doorframe where the paint is all bubbled and chipped. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he wanted to see if the wood was rotted. Get the point? When a place is run down, the customer always thinks it's worse than it is. Now, it doesn't have to cost you all that much to spruce it up. It doesn't have to be an A number one job, like if you were doing it for yourself. I got a couple of Greek boys that will slap some paint on it for cheap, and it will look real good."

Krasker finally let himself be convinced. "All right, let them come down and give me an estimate."

Maltzman leaned back in his chair and smiled his satisfaction. "I'll talk to them personally and tell them I want them to give you the best price they can. I throw a lot of work their way, and they're good boys. Now, how about Sunday? I'm depending on you to come through for me."

Krasker squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and focused his eyes on the desktop. It was not easy to disagree with Henry Maltzman. "I don't know, Henry," he said. "I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It seems a terrible thing to fire a rabbi, especially where he hasn't done anything."

"That's why, because he hasn't done anything." Maltzman answered quickly. "I’ve proposed I don't know how many ideas that would build up the temple, increase the membership, and instead of going along, or even remaining neutral, he's actually bucked me, said he wouldn't permit it, or that it was against religion or something, and practically every other president has had the same experience with him. Besides, we're not firing him, we're just voting not to re-hire him."

"What's the difference?"

"Cummon. Joe! I checked into this, you know. When he first came, he was given a one-year contract, like a trial, then he was given a five-year contract, then a few years back, he was offered a life contract, and he turned it down, he wanted it only for one vear, to be renewed each vear.

Now what does that mean? It means he wants to be free to leave. So each time his contract expires, it's like a new deal, like when a lease expires. I'm not suggesting we send him a letter saying he has to leave, or that we're getting another rabbi. I just want for the secretary to send him a letter saying, 'Dear Rabbi, the board voted eight to seven or ten to five or whatever it is against renewing your contract.' Now that doesn't mean he's fired. It means he's like a tenant at will, he could stay on for years maybe. It's just that he won't have a contract."

"Would we pay him?"

"Oh sure. If he does the work, we've got to, we'd pay him the way we pay Stanley, the janitor, he doesn't have a contract."

Krasker nodded. "All right, so he's a tenant at will. But like you said, he could stay on for years. How does that help you? You want him out, and I don't mind admitting, I'd rather have somebody else. But how does it help, if he's still here even though he doesn't have a contract?"

"It wouldn't—much." Maltzman admitted. "Although I think it would help some. Stands to reason, if the guy has no contract, he can be fired anytime. Okay, so say something happens where he interferes with what we on the board want to do, we can always say, 'If you don't like it. Rabbi, pick up your marbles and go somewhere else.' But it's my hunch it won't happen that way. I'm banking that as soon as he gets the letter from the secretary, he'll sit down and write a letter of resignation, that's the way I figure it." He smiled. "And we'll send him a letter right back, accepting his resignation."

"Well—"

"I'm counting on you. Joe."

"Well, what happens if we take a vote and the rabbi wins?"

Maltzman shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing, we're back at square one, the secretary writes him a letter telling him that the board voted to renew his contract, and—"

"No," Krasker shook his head impatiently. "It's bound to get back to the rabbi who voted against him, and that could be embarrassing if you have to come to him about your kid's Bar Mitzvah, or daughter's wedding."

"Sure, I've thought of that. So we'll vote by secret ballot, the votes go to the secretary to count. If the rabbi wins, he just announces it. If the rabbi loses, if there's a little fuss, he announces the score, he doesn't name names because you don't sign your ballot."

"Well how does it look?"

"It looks close. Joe. Damn close. I don't mind admitting. I'm counting on you. I went over it yesterday with Bill Shaefer. You do his accounting, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah, I’ve had his account for years."

"Well, I went over each and every name, and with yours we have eight, which is just enough. Bill was sure you'd go along, but I said I wanted to hear it from you myself, personal. How about it, Joe? Can I count on you?"

The reference to Bill Shaefer, one of his bigger accounts, was not lost on Krasker. "Oh sure, Henry. It's just that I wanted to know all the ins and outs. Know what I mean?"

"Oh, sure. I don't blame you." He reached for a file on his desk.

But Krasker was reluctant to leave. "What you said at the meeting Sunday, about this guy Jordon, was it true? About him being an anti-Semite?"

"It's true all right."

"Because I've got this account, a doctor, and we were talking about the murder, and he was saying what a nice guy Jordon was, and how he always made a big contribution to the Hospital Fund."

"So what? He also probably liked dogs, and was kind to children. Hitler liked dogs, too, and music. But he didn't like us. One thing has nothing to do with the other."

"Well, I just thought you'd like to know."