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His cousin freddie brought him on the heist one hot night in early june, ray carney was having one of his run-around days, uptown downtown zipping across the city, keeping the machine humming first up was radio row to unload the final three consoles, two rcas in a magnum Box and pick up the tv he left he’d, given up on the radios, hadn’t sold one in a year and a half, no matter how much he marked them down and begged. Now they took up space in the basement that he needed for the new recliners coming in from argent next weekend, whatever he picked up from the dead. Ladies apartment, that afternoon, the radios were top of the line. Three years ago now, padded blankets hid their slick, mahogany cabinets fastened by leather straps to the truck bed, the pickup bounced in the unholy rut of the west side highway. Just that morning there was another article in the tribune about the city tearing down the elevated highway, narrow and indifferently cobblestoned.

The road was a botch from the start. On the best days, it was bumper to bumper a bitter argument of hunks and curses and on rainy days the potholes were treacherous lagoons. One grim slush last week a customer wandered into the store, with his head wrapped, like a mummy beaned by a chunk of falling balustrade while walking under the damn thing said he was going to sue carney said you’re in your rights around 23rd street. The pickup’s wheels bit into a crater and he thought one of the rcas was going to launch from the bed into the hudson river. He was relieved when he was able to sneak off at duane street without incident.

Carney’S man on radio road was halfway down. Courtland off greenwich right in the thick he got a space outside samuel’s, amazing radio, repair all makes and went to check that aranowitz was in twice in the last year. He’D come all the way down to find the shop shut in the middle of the day. A few years ago, walking past the cram. Storefronts was like twirling, a radio dial, this door blared jazz into the street out of horn loudspeakers the next door, german symphonies, then ragtime, and so on.

Sns electronics, landy’s top notch steinway the radio king. Now he was more likely to hear rock and roll in a desperate lore of the teenage scene and to find the windows crammed with television sets. The latest wonders from dumont, motorola and the rest consoles and blonde hardwood the sleek new portable lines and three-in-one hi-fi combos with picture tube, tuner and turntable in the same cabinet. Smart. What hadn’t changed was carney’s meandering sidewalk route around the massive bins and buckets of vacuum, tubes, audio transformers and condensers that drew in tinkerers from all over the tri-state.

Any part you need all makes all models reasonable prices. There was a hole in the air where the 9th avenue l used to run that disappeared thing. His father had taken him there once or twice on one of his mysterious errands when he was little carney still thought. He heard the train sometimes rumbling behind the music and haggling of the street around once hunched over the glass counter, with a loop screwed into his eye, socket poking one of his gizmos, mr carney. He coughed there were many white men who called him, mr downtown anyway.

The first time carney came to the row on business. The white clerks pretended not to see him attending the hobbyists who came in after him. He cleared his throat. He gestured and remained a black ghost store after store accumulating the standard humiliations until he climbed the black iron steps to aronowitz and sons and the proprietor asked. Can i help you, sir?

Can i help you as in? Can i help you as opposed to what are you doing here? Ray carney in his years had a handle on the variations that first day carney told him. He had a radio in need of repair. He had just picked up his sideline and gently used appliances.

Aronowitz cut him off when he tried to explain the problem and got to work unscrewing the case carney didn’t waste his breath on subsequent visits, merely set the radios before the maestro, and let him have his way with it. The routine went weary, sighs and grunts as he surveyed the problem. With a jab and flash of silver implements. His diagnometer tested fuses resistors. He calibrated voltage rummaged through unlabeled trays in the steel filing cabinets along the walls of the gloomy shop.

If something big was a foot aronowitz twirled in his chair and scurried into the workshop in the back to more grunts, he reminded carney of a squirrel in the park. Darting held a skelter after lost nuts. Maybe the other squirrels of radio row understood this behavior, but it was animal madness to this civilian. Often carney went down the street for

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