Free The Sacrificial Circumcision of the Bronx by Arthur Nersesian Page A

brownstone, slamming the door behind him.
    On his way home, Paul angrily assessed the full magnitude of his fight with Robert. For the first time, Paul had actually seemed to be in a superior position, and his brother must have decided that this calculated act would turn their mother’s opinion around. Robert wasn’t a failure, just a victim of his brother’s cavalier behavior. And Paul—who was finally doing well—was the clear cause of Robert’s recent bad luck.
    Further proof that this was a premeditated act, Paul noted, was the fact that he had repeatedly tried to meet with Robert in recent weeks to offer his support. Now it was clear that Robert had just been biding his time—all for this ambush. Some peon had probably revealed his meeting with that snot-nosed Hoover kid in Washington. Instead of approaching Paul and conveying his anger and frustration, Robert was using it as capital, exploiting this embarrassing development for all to see.
    By the next morning, though, Paul decided he was being unfair, even paranoid. There’s no way his younger brother could be this strategic or diabolical. He simply lacked the guile. Paul began to feel guilty for even thinking such a thing.
    Over the ensuing days, the more he thought about it, the worse he felt about what had happened with Robert. His brother was a young father of two, and just when he thought he had reached some station of security—a plum assignment from Mayor Mitchel—it was pulled away in the most humiliating fashion. All the rage and frustration of being dismissed by the boy mayor and then being snubbed by Hylan and Tammany Hall and so many others—Paul could hardly blame Robert for losing his temper.
    About a month later, Paul received a call from Bella with exciting news. Due to the blessed intervention of some politico’s wife, Robert had just had an encouraging meeting with the newly elected governor, Al Smith. Great things were on the horizon. A week later, she called Paul again to announce that Robert had been appointed Smith’s chief of staff. He was placed on a commission addressing the reorganization of the state government, something very much akin to what he had been feverishly trying to do for the City of New York.
    Paul decided to call Robert at home, hoping to congratulate him on the news. Mary picked up to say that Robert was still at the office. Paul told her that he was truly sorry for their spat, and that he wanted to apologize for his behavior.
    That weekend, when Robert still hadn’t called, Paul tried again. This time, Mary said that Robert had gotten his message but was too busy to call back. “He told me to say thanks. When things calm down, he’ll call you.”
    Paul asked for his brother’s work number, but Mary just giggled nervously and said that even she didn’t know it yet. It was clear that despite Robert’s reversal of fortune, he was not yet ready to forgive Paul.
    In mid-September, just as Paul was getting up the nerve to pay another unannounced visit to Robert at his New York City office, the unthinkable occurred: A horse-drawn wagon approached a lunchtime crowd at 23 Wall Street and detonated a hundred pounds of explosives along with five hundred pounds of cast-iron slugs, leaving scores maimed and dying. Thirty-eight people were killed and over four hundred were wounded. A note found nearby said, Free the political prisoners or it will be sure death for all of you!
    Once again, a pair of officers from the Department of Justice paid Paul a visit, this time at his Con Ed office on 14th Street. They deliberately embarrassed him by pulling him out of an important committee meeting.
    “We find it mighty strange that Hoover tossed you out of Washington and the bombings stop there,” said one of the investigators. “Then you come down here and they follow you.”
    “I swear, I don’t know a thing about it,” Paul replied nervously. Things were going well at Con Ed and he feared that they were now going to ask him