“Why shouldn’t I be? Me, Yitzik the Pitzik Moskowitz, a pisherke, a little pisser—a nobody from a poor shtetl, beaten by my father, by my older brothers, by the horse master, by the tavern keeper, you name it. Always beaten and left to rot in the mud. Now, here, every day, when I’m called upon by important people in government, in academia, in the police, I’m showing them all who I really am. ‘Here comes Yitzik Moskowitz,’ they say up and down the street, wherever I go.” His voice as he uttered his own name was deep with self-importance. “They even talk about me in Berlin and New York. And all of this because of what? Because of my entrepreneurial spirit, because of my vision, my clear-eyed ability to smell where the dog is buried. That means having a sixth sense about the market and being able to pick the choice merchandise to meet its demand.”

Señor Rosenberg let out a chuckle. “And I thought that pimping was easy money. So many people are entering into it.”

“Don’t call us that. ‘Pimp’ is a name for criminals, not for my kind of entrepreneurs. We help the economy, which in turn strengthens the government, which is the foundation of stability. We are gentlemen with a strong moral code of mutual aid. We support and help one another. The loans Zwi Migdal gives? We do that by a handshake only; no one signs a piece of paper the way a bank requires you to do. We want our members to succeed, because when the individual becomes stronger and gets respect for his honest dealings, our union becomes stronger and gets more respect.”

“By ‘respect’ you mean from the goyim?”

Moskowitz took a deep breath. “I see what you’re hinting at. You’re saying that we have a problem with the stuck-up Jews here? Not really. It’s just talk. They don’t utter a peep of protest when we give them business. The tailors, the jewelers, the importers of silk and brocade, the merchants of the fine china and crystal we buy for our wives—they all bow when we enter their shops. And what about artisans of cabinet and furniture making? The masons and the marble carvers? You name one Jewish business that doesn’t benefit from our largesse.”

Señor Rosenberg made a noncommittal “Hmm.”