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know how he found it--a player piano which he named “Rosie,” and the player piano was white with naked ladies painted all over it. And Carlotta, the great religious girl, thought this was terrible; so Gene had it down in the cellar of his house. He'd sneak down once in a while and drop nickels in the thing, and while it played these old ragtime tunes, he'd sit there with an ecstatic look on his face. He loved “Rosie,” this player piano.

The only happiness he had really.

Yes. Now, when I got out there, the first thing Carlotta told me was that his son and the bride of the son were due after I was there. This was Eugene, Jr., who later committed suicide, and Carlotta hated him, as she hated anybody who had anything to do with Gene. She said, “He married a girl who looks like a Minnesota fullback. They think they're going to stay two weeks. Ha, ha, ha! I'll have them out of this house in four days.” Those were her words. And she did, too.

But Gene, the afternoon after I got there, like a little boy, beckoned me with his finger, and we went down into the cellar and we sat there while he played me a couple of these rolls on the player piano. He was having a ball. In the middle of it, Carlotta found us and screamed, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, bringing Bennett down here. You're in pain, remember?" He had forgotten all about his pain. She reminded him of it, and ordered us upstairs. I was thinking