On Manhattan's clangorous Sixth Avenue, a block away from verdant Central Park, stands the garlic-scented Chambers Restaurant and Delicatessen. On one side of the establishment is a bar, on the other a counter piled high with salami, liverwurst and jars of borsch. There, greying
Sam Schulman, a friendly fellow who is never stingy with a pickle, each day serves up sandwiches to hundreds of satisfied customers, gauges their opinions on what passes in the great world by the chance-remarks they make between bites. Sam has no doubt where most of them stand....
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