THE GREAT GATSBY
36
From East Egg, then, came the Chester Beckers and the Leeches, and a man named Bunsen, whom I
knew at Yale, and Doctor Webster Civet, who was drowned last summer up in Maine. And the
Hornbeams and the Willie Voltaires, and a whole clan named Blackbuck, who always gathered in a
corner and flipped up their noses like goats at whosoever came near. And the Ismays and the
Chrysties (or rather Hubert Auerbach and Mr. Chrystie’s wife), and Edgar Beaver, whose hair, they
say, turned cotton-white one winter afternoon for no good reason at all.
Clarence Endive was from East Egg, as I remember. He came only once, in white knickerbockers,
and had a fight with a bum named Etty in the garden. From farther out on the Island came the
Cheadles and the O. R. P. Schraeders, and the Stonewall Jackson Abrams of Georgia, and the
Fishguards and the Ripley Snells. Snell was there three days before he went to the penitentiary, so
drunk out on the gravel drive that Mrs. Ulysses Swett’s automobile ran over his right hand. The
Dancies came, too, and S. B. Whitebait, who was well over sixty, and Maurice A. Flink, and the
Hammerheads, and Beluga the tobacco importer, and Beluga’s girls.
From West Egg came the Poles and the Mulreadys and Cecil Roebuck and Cecil Schoen and Gulick
the state senator and Newton Orchid, who controlled Films Par Excellence, and Eckhaust and Clyde
Cohen and Don S. Schwartze (the son) and Arthur McCarty, all connected with the movies in one
way or another. And the Catlips and the Bembergs and G. Earl Muldoon, brother to that Muldoon
who afterward strangled his wife. Da Fontano the promoter came there, and Ed Legros and James
B. (“Rot-Gut.”) Ferret and the De Jongs and Ernest Lilly—they came to gamble, and when Ferret
wandered into the garden it meant he was cleaned out and Associated Traction would have to
fluctuate profitably next day.
A man named Klipspringer was there so often and so long that he became known as “the
boarder.”—I doubt if he had any other home. Of theatrical people there were Gus Waize and
Horace O’donavan and Lester Meyer and George Duckweed and Francis Bull. Also from New York
were the Chromes and the Backhyssons and the Dennickers and Russel Betty and the Corrigans and
the Kellehers and the Dewars and the Scullys and S. W. Belcher and the Smirkes and the young
Quinns, divorced now, and Henry L. Palmetto, who killed himself by jumping in front of a subway
train in Times Square.
Benny McClenahan arrived always with four girls. They were never quite the same ones in physical
person, but they were so identical one with another that it inevitably seemed they had been there
before. I have forgotten their names—Jaqueline, I think, or else Consuela, or Gloria or Judy or
June, and their last names were either the melodious names of flowers and months or the sterner
ones of the great American capitalists whose cousins, if pressed, they would confess themselves to
be.
In addition to all these I can remember that Faustina O’brien came there at least once and the
Baedeker girls and young Brewer, who had his nose shot off in the war, and Mr. Albrucksburger and
Miss Haag, his fiancee, and Ardita Fitz-Peters and Mr. P. Jewett, once head of the American
Legion, and Miss Claudia Hip, with a man reputed to be her chauffeur, and a prince of something,
whom we called Duke, and whose name, if I ever knew it, I have forgotten.
All these people came to Gatsby’s house in the summer.