The Thallus of Marchantia, Continued

by Richard A. Siggelkow

The police, initially mistaking the welcoming shouts of "Hail Thallus" for anger, offered to escort the distinguished visitor to the Lenox Hotel, where he had been thoughtfully pre-registered. The dignitary accepted, his first mistake. A second fatal error came during the ride downtown when The Thallus blurted out, "I'm only Artie Schein from Brooklyn," at which point he was booked for a court appearance that evening.

As the dean of students, I went down to the police station and found a tired, confused and repentant Arthur Schein. Fortunately, I obtained $200 to bail him out just before the midnight deadline and took him home with me. My wife suggested he call his parents ("Gee, Ma, I don't know why I did it").

Around 1:00 am I was awakened by the sound of several cars stopping in front of our house. Automobile doors opened and shut, followed by a muffled discussion. I concluded that a student delegation had arrived to hear The Thallus of Marchantia expound Arabic wisdom from our front porch.

I was wrong. The little group, now directly beneath our bedroom window, sang softly two Christmas carols; appropriately, one was "Silent Night." I learned later from one of the carolers that the choir boys were Arthur's roommates, expressing appreciation for my having rescued him from a jail cell.

Artie Schein was found guilty of disorderly conduct and fined $50. The case was later reversed on appeal when his attorney argued that Schein had personally done nothing to cause the crowd to gather. So, The Thallus evaded the life sentence undoubtedly wished upon him by airport authorities and the managing editor of The Buffalo News.