Remember ‘Little Issie’, the ‘heater’ allegedly involved with the fire near Solly’s Soda Store? Occasionally, he also made pick-ups and deliveries for big Barney, and one afternoon the police decided to search him while he was having lunch at the Honeydew Restaurant on Saint Catherine St. They found a slew of slips with numbers on them along with a large amount of cash. A ‘kindly’ judge dismissed the case, ruling that carrying of bits of paper with numbers was no proof that any crime had been committed. You may recall this judge as the one whose mistress Nathan had relocated to the Laurentians. Another coincidence.
There was also the time a well-known insurance company refused to approve a claim by the family of the late Frank McGinty, who died after being hit by a truck while mowing his front lawn in Point Saint Charles. The company maintained it was a suspicious death and as such the policy was null and void. The Claims Department Supervisor changed his mind after receiving a call at home one evening. His caller suggested that the truck parked outside the supervisor‘s home may have been the same one which had ‘accidentally’ killed Mr. McGinty. The claim was paid in full. Promptly.
In these cases, Nathan‘s role was never revealed. Nor did he receive payment. The satisfaction of knowing that justice had been served was enough of a reward.
There was a personal side to Nathan Mayer Eisenberg‘s life. He was married to Pearl for over 40 years and they had two sons, David and Sam. Along with their seven grandchildren, these were the most precious things in his life.
Nathan had always expressed his desire to live his last days at home, surrounded by family and able to hear the chimes of the grandfather clock. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Over the years, he had become increasingly forgetful and confused. His family made the difficult decision to have him spend his last year in a long-term chronic care facility. It was not a decision taken lightly, but one they felt was best. Nathan tried to maintain an upbeat attitude, even though his eyes slowly lost their luster.
At his insistence, a suitcase always remained beside the bed. Packed and ready to go, though without his ‘Kleiner Zach’. During his lucid moments, one could see the joy in his face as he pointed it out to visitors. You knew what he was thinking, even when words failed. Nathan Mayerwell Eisenberg – ‘Suitcase Nat’, was always ready to go.
