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On the morning of the funeral I went to New York to see Meyer Wolfshiem . At first his secretary told me that he was in Chicago , but when I mentioned Gatsby , he appeared at the door with both hands held out . “ My memory goes back to when first I met him , ” he said . “ A young major just out of the army , so poor that he had to keep on wearing his uniform . He hadn’t eaten anything for a couple of days . I raised him up out of nothing , right out of the gutter . ” “ You were his closest friend , ” I said , “ so I know you’ll want to come to his funeral this afternoon . ” His eyes filled with tears , but he shook his head . “ I can’t do it . I can’t get mixed up in it . Let us learn to show our friendship for a man when he is alive and not after he is dead . ” When I got back to West Egg , Mr Gatz showed me an old , torn book that Jimmy had owned as a boy . On the last page , under the date of September 1906 , the boy had written a daily plan for himself : get up at six , exercise , study electricity , work , play sports , practise speaking well , and study needed inventions . Underneath were his rules : no wasting time , no more smoking , a bath every other day , one useful book a week , save three dollars a week , be better to parents . “ It just shows you , don’t it ? ” said the old man proudly . “ Jimmy was bound to get ahead . ” A little before three the minister arrived , and I began to look out of the windows for other cars . So did Gatsby’s father . The minister looked at his watch several times , so I asked him to wait for half an hour . But it was no use . Nobody came . About five o’clock our three cars reached the cemetery in a thick rain . As we started through the gate , I heard a car stop , and someone came splashing after us over the wet ground . It was the man with the owl - eyed glasses whom I had found in Gatsby’s library three months before . I don’t know how he knew about the funeral . I tried to think about Gatsby then , but he was already too far away , and I could only remember , without anger , that Daisy hadn’t sent a message or a flower . “ I couldn’t get to the house , ” the man with the glasses said to me by the gate . “ Neither could anybody else . ” “ Go on ! ” He was shocked . “ Why , my God ! They used to go there by the hundreds . ” He took off his glasses and wiped them , outside and in . “ The poor son of a bitch , ” he said . XV . Boats Against the Current After Gatsby’s death the East was haunted for me , so when the smoke of burning leaves was in the air , I decided to go back home . I see now that this has been a story of the West , after all . Tom and Gatsby , Daisy and Jordan and I were all from the West , and perhaps we had something in common which made us unable to fit into life in the East .
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