My Greatest Ambition

I didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with it. Actually, doing anything with it hadn’t ever entered my mind. Doing it was enough. Over the weekend I read it through sixty or seventy times, analysed it, studied it, stared at it, finally pronounced it ‘Not too bad,’ and then put it up on the top of my wardrobe where my father kept his hats.

Now let me properly introduce my father, a great scoffer. In those pre-television days, he had absolutely nothing better to do in the evening but to walk past my room and look in and say, ‘Nu? They sent you the money yet?’ Fifty times a night, at least. And when the letter came from Boy Magazine, did he change his tune? Not one bit.

It hadn’t occurred to me to mention to Miss Gordon that I was thirteen and at school and would have to take a day off to come and see the editor. I didn’t think these things were relevant to our business. But my mother did. A day missed from school could never be caught up, that was her attitude. My father’s attitude you know. A cheque or not a cheque. Was I a rich fool or was I a fool? (No, that’s wrong. Was I a poor fool or a rich fool? Yes, that’s better.)

Now, as the day of my appointment drew nearer and nearer, a great question had to be answered, a momentous decision made. For my father had been right. If all they wanted to do was to buy my comic, they would have sent a cheque. So there was something else. A full-time career as a comic-strip artist on the permanent staff of Boy Magazine! It had to be that. But that would mean giving up school and was I prepared to do that?

Yes, my comic-strip appeared and my friends read it and I was a hero for a day at school. My father held the cheque up to the light and said we’d know in a few days if it was any good. My mother didn’t say much to me but I heard her on the phone explaining to all her friends what a clever son she had. Clever? That’s one word I’ve never had any time for.

I didn’t tell a soul, not even Michael Lazarus, about that awful tour of the factory. I played it very coolly.

I didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with it. Actually, doing anything with it hadn’t ever entered my mind. Doing it was enough. Over the weekend I read it through sixty or seventy times, analysed it, studied it, stared at it, finally pronounced it ‘Not too bad,’ and then put it up on the top of my wardrobe where my father kept his hats.

Now let me properly introduce my father, a great scoffer. In those pre-television days, he had absolutely nothing better to do in the evening but to walk past my room and look in and say, ‘Nu? They sent you the money yet?’ Fifty times a night, at least. And when the letter came from Boy Magazine, did he change his tune? Not one bit.

It hadn’t occurred to me to mention to Miss Gordon that I was thirteen and at school and would have to take a day off to come and see the editor. I didn’t think these things were relevant to our business. But my mother did. A day missed from school could never be caught up, that was her attitude. My father’s attitude you know. A cheque or not a cheque. Was I a rich fool or was I a fool? (No, that’s wrong. Was I a poor fool or a rich fool? Yes, that’s better.)

Now, as the day of my appointment drew nearer and nearer, a great question had to be answered, a momentous decision made. For my father had been right. If all they wanted to do was to buy my comic, they would have sent a cheque. So there was something else. A full-time career as a comic-strip artist on the permanent staff of Boy Magazine! It had to be that. But that would mean giving up school and was I prepared to do that?

Yes, my comic-strip appeared and my friends read it and I was a hero for a day at school. My father held the cheque up to the light and said we’d know in a few days if it was any good. My mother didn’t say much to me but I heard her on the phone explaining to all her friends what a clever son she had. Clever? That’s one word I’ve never had any time for.

I didn’t tell a soul, not even Michael Lazarus, about that awful tour of the factory. I played it very coolly.