Wednesday the Rabbi got wet

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The phone rang, and Rabbi Small reached for it. "David? Mort Brooks. Can you give me a lift to the temple? I got a flat."

"All right, but don't keep me waiting." "I'll be out front when you drive up."

Sure enough, the Hebrew school principal was waiting on the curb as the rabbi, with squealing brakes, brought his car to a halt. "When are you going to trade in this junk heap?" Brooks asked derisively as he climbed into the passenger seat.

The rabbi glanced at the sporty convertible parked in the driveway and replied pointedly, "I'm giving you a lift and not you me."

"A flat tire can happen to anybody." Brooks was wearing flared slacks and a houndstooth sport jacket. His collar was open at the throat, which was encircled by a silk neckerchief knotted at one side.

"You going to a garden party?" the rabbi asked sourly.

"Right, after Sunday school, at least, a cookout." He twisted in his seat to catch a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror and bestowed a self-satisfied smirk at his reflection. "Sundays I think of as my day of rest and I like to dress for it."

"Not Saturdays?"

"Saturdays, too, with modern tensions and pressures, you need two days a week."

"What tensions are you under?" the rabbi asked.

"Are you kidding? With a schoolful of spoiled brats and their doting mothers and fathers to contend with?" He shuddered delicately. "When I get home, I'm a positive wreck. Caroline is after me to give it up."

"And go back to the theater?"

"Right," Brooks said. "But you know how things are on Broadway these days. Women are so impractical." He slewed around to face the rabbi. "And they're not the only ones, David. I have it from the grapevine that you're planning to challenge the board on their vote last week to sell the Goralsky Block, that's not very practical, not practical at all."

"This grapevine of yours—" "You mean it isn't true?"

"Oh, it's true enough," the rabbi said. "I just wonder how this grapevine works."

Brooks smiled. "You told Kaplan and he told various members of the board, which includes my neighbor Cy Feinstone. It was a unanimous vote, so do you think you're going to change it?"

"It was unanimous." said the rabbi, "because Kaplan railroaded it through. It doesn't mean there was no opposition. I know how these things work, a vote is taken and then someone says, 'Let's make it unanimous,' so they vote again and it comes out unanimous."

"Don't kid yourself, David. Cy normally doesn't vote with Kaplan, but he voted for this. Why? Because it's a natural. What does the temple want with a block of stores? It's just a lot of trouble, and here someone comes along and offers them a terrific price. Naturally, they're going to take it."

"But they also voted to buy the New Hampshire property," the rabbi objected.

"Well, why not? What are they going to do with all that money around? Raise salaries? Lower dues? The mortgage is paid off, the buildings are in good shape. Some temples, I understand, set up reserve funds to draw on in case of necessity, but people feel that's just an invitation to the rabbi and the cantor and the teachers in the school to ask for more money. Besides, Kaplan very cleverly tied the two motions together in one package, the only way you could have stopped it was with plenty of political muscle, and it's even going to be harder to reverse it."

"Oh, I don't know."

"Be practical, David. Who've you got on your side? On the board, nobody except a couple of past presidents, and most of the time they don't attend meetings."

"Well, maybe not on the board, but in the congregation—"

Brooks shook his head and said pityingly, "Most of them don't even know you."

"Oh, come now."

"I mean it, David. Of course, they know who you are, but that's it, they see you only on the High Holy Days, so that's a couple of days a year, maybe those who come to the Friday evening services regularly know you, but you never draw more than seventy-five— a hundred tops, and you've got to consider that knowing you doesn't mean liking you, David. It's a fifty-fifty proposition at best, because you're not an easy man to like. You know what you really got going for you? Inertia, that's your ace in the hole. Firing a rabbi is trouble, it means taking positive action, and people are mentally and emotionally lazy, they won't fire you, but that doesn't mean they'll back you in a fight with the board, and this year, remember, it's even worse than other years."

"Why is it worse this year, Morton?"

"Because other years you could count on the Orthodox element, but that's Kaplan and his crew, and it's him you're fighting."

The rabbi smiled. "So what do you advise?"

"Don't fight them. Let it go. David, they've beaten you, so take it like a good sport. You know, let go of the rope."

"Why are you so concerned, Morton? How are you affected?"

Brooks stared at him in amazement. "I'm your friend." "Oh."

"Besides, over the years we've adjusted to each other. How do I know what another rabbi would be like?"