It all started in the interesting city of New York. The smogginess ridden lanes were filled with people. On a quiet little roadway corner, there was a small shop owned by Harvey Goldstein. Mr. Goldstein was a well-to-do merchant. He traded in all sorts of imports, and was principally a moral existence. He did not buy goods from sweatshops nor did he ever cheat a customer. At 1:31 P.M. on May 15, 1996, he stepped out of his shop on the Upper East Side of Manhattan to meet a homosexual who dealt in Asian silk screens downtown. He had been listening to traffic radiocommunication AM 530 and, deciding that traffic was too heavy, planned to call for the subway. Goldstein was a smart man, very smart, who had built his store and his business deal out of blood, toil, tears, and sweat. Goldstein was also an upstanding member of the Jewish federation whom everybody loved, but he never did anything extra, out of the ordinary, for anyone but himself .         On the other side of town there was a new arrival to the city. This mans name was Running Bear. He was an American Indian who had at rest(p) to New York to seek his fortune; however, he unforesightful fell upon hard times.
He had lived a life of monetary deprivation on the plains of Colorado, and had proceeded to New York by Amtrak with besides a dollar and a dream. Things did not go as planned, though; he could not find a job and had taken to panhandling and sleeping in the streets. His dreams, no doubt influenced by the tactile sensation coming up from the sewer, were of mo ney. A good man who besides privationed t! o work and make a decent living, he had gone to the welfare office a few blocks north...
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