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 "Here I figured you fellows spend your time wandering around with your thoughts all far, far away, and Professor, why, you're just a damn horse trader without mercy's what it is. Guess I should summon the legal staff, before I find myself hanging in a poultry-shop window, two bits away from getting fricasseed. Foley, would you just crank us up long distance there on the telephone—get us Somble, Strool & Fleshway, if you'd be so kind? Could be they'd share some ideas on how best to 'spring' for a project of this scale."

* * * * * * * * * *

With the fish hooked, there's nothing left for Scarsdale to do but insult the Professor and get the lawyers on the horn.

"you fellows"
Probably said with derision, meaning "the people with the imagination to see how the universe works and the ability to find ways to use that to make it better." Probably seen as children by businessmen. If not children then as products, to be used and manipulated in any way that can increase profits.
    You might have noticed, if you've been reading much of this blog, I despise certain types of people. I'm not against business people entirely. We do need them in the same way we need janitors and fast food servers and surgeons. But there's that type of businessman whose entire life is business and how they can make money with their business. They're like pot smokers whose entire personality is smoking pot. Look, guy in the pot leaf hat with the 420 tattoo and the bong strapped to his belt like a six shooter, I get it! You love the weed!

"your thoughts all far, far away"
Again, he's belittling scientific thinking. "You exist in an unreal world so far away from reality that you deserve to be exploited by those of us down here on Earth in the mud and shit. We make the money and the only way to improve the world is if there's some kind of payoff."
    My dad once said to me, "Money is freedom." And I said, "Time is freedom." And he couldn't contemplate the ability to have time without money. He just didn't have the imagination to break himself out of the system.

"you're just a damn horse trader without mercy"
Most of us see in others what we are. The Professor is nervous and agitated and in way above his head. He's answering questions he was asked, not committing to a contract to sell his soul for a horse. Here, Scarsdale hears "however much Tesla needs to build his device is probably what I'll need, at least" as "Well, how much is the other guy getting? Because that's how much I want." But the Professor is just trying to get some variables to put into an equation, that's all.

"I should summon the legal staff, before I find myself hanging in a poultry-shop window, two bits away from getting fricasseed"
Here Scarsdale pretends that he might get swindled by this merciless horse trader, feigning weakness as an insult to the Professor, by pretending this scientist isn't being honest in his motivations. Is also a nice segue to get the lawyers on the phone, something he probably couldn't wait to do. He's desperate to lock the Professor into a contract that's one hundred percent going to be to the Professor's disadvantage.

"'spring'"
Knowing Pynchon's quirks by now, putting the term 'spring' in quotes must mean it's only recently come into fashion to use it as a means to pay for or fund something. Previously I've done research on each of the words he's used this way and it's panned out. So I'm just going to trust this one because I'm about 20 ounces into a Hamm's which isn't great for researching. It's also maybe not great for writing but what can you do?

"20 ounces into a Hamm's"
That might not sound like much but I really don't drink much. I can maybe finish a six pack in three months? I do enjoy this cheap beer though because it was the beer of my grandfather, the nicest person to ever exist on Earth (after his wife, my grandmother).

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 "Come now, Professor," boomed Foley Walker, holding a hotel whiskey decanter as if he meant to drink from it, "to the nearest million or so, just a rough guess?"

* * * * * * * * * *

I've never been in a penthouse suite doing a major business deal so I don't know if it's common to have one side's muscle intimidate the other side into throwing out a price. I was in a meeting once for my business with a client and we were negotiating new prices based on increasing the amount of store cleanings they'd get each month. The owner of the stores wanted to increase to twice monthly one store that I cleaned monthly for $125. So I said nervously, not really having thought about it, "One hundred per visit, I guess?" He looked at me and said, "How about $120?" And I was all, "Sure. Thanks for looking out for me and probably realizing I would resent doing it for so much less and begin not doing as good a job as I'd previously been doing!"

So now you know how terrible I am at business. I'm so terrible that the person I'm negotiating against pities me and helps me fight for better pay.

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 32: Line 149 (521)

 Foley got to his feet and strolled over to the window.

* * * * * * * * * *

There's the violence of punching a guy in the mouth because you don't like his opinions and there's the violence of aggressively ignoring him, even if it means looking out of a window when the person is obviously a big dumb brute who has never been curious about anything outside the room he currently occupies.

"strolled"
This is the most nonchalant way you can get to a destination, a clear signal that you're currently not threatened by anything near you. It's quite a simple and genius way to exert your power during a heated exchange.

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 Foley paused in his whittling and looked over as if in suddenly piqued interest.

* * * * * * * * * *

"piqued interest"
In other words, Foley Walker is hoping there's going to be violence.

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 They were gathered at a marble table in a sort of parlor, over cigars and whiskey.

* * * * * * * * * *

Once again, we see Pynchon, in the early parts of this book, resorting to easily digested tropes and stereotypical clichés. I'm sure it wasn't just me who instantly pictured on my mind easel a bunch of fat cats (actual cats) dressed in elegant suits with fob chains hanging out of their breast pockets, wearing monocles and dangling a cigar out of one corner of their mouth, a small tumbler of whiskey in one hand and sitting around a long table in a room decked out in grandfather clocks and taxidermied animals, maybe with an ornate globe off to one side (which probably opens to conceal more alcohol).

Pynchon is really playing up one-dimensional caricatures for his boys' adventure novel sections. He's practically doubling down on the cartoonish villain of Scarsdale Vibe facing off against the genius but naïve about the real world scientist and his gaggle of heroic adventuring lads.

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 31-32: Line 118-120 (490-492)

 "Bet you there's even guests known to catch insomnia from it, eh? but there's equally as many find it strangely soothing. No different here at the Palmer House, if you think about it. Racket level runs about the same."

* * * * * * * * * *

"guests known to catch insomnia from it"
I wouldn't define "some asshole playing guitar until 3 AM kept me up all night" as insomnia. I'd classify that as somebody needing an immediate ass kicking. I suppose the "inability to sleep" part of the definition doesn't really qualify the reasons for that inability. So I should probably give this one to Foley even though I don't want to. I remember as a fifteen year old boy (the worst kind of creature, really), I would die on every single hill. Now I can't even be bothered to climb a hill to join the fight. My only debate tactic left in the arsenal is an apathetic shrug.

"there's equally as many find it strangely soothing"
I want to argue against this but remember my single debate tactic left at my disposal that I mentioned in the previous sentence? I suppose one guy playing acoustic guitar one floor below you is an aggravating and terrible sound that I can't imagine even the worst extrovert appreciating while a combined noise of a large crowd singing and hollering and dancing and fingerbanging simply becomes white noise, like the waves of the ocean in a beachside resort, or the hum of an electric fan. So I guess I agree? *apathetic shrug*

"Racket level runs about the same."
The Palmer House is on State, Wabash, and Monroe. I've looked at enough maps of the location of the Chicago World's Fair to know that I never remember anything from having looked at them. I could look at one again to see exactly where the Palmer House was located (is located! It's still there but it's now a Hilton Hotel) but should I? Of course not! Foley just told me all I need to know! He can hear the Fair about the same as a person staying at a shitty hotel like Packer's Inn (which must be in the meatpacking district, right?!).

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 "Guess you can hear that whole hootenanny from where you are," Foley went on.

* * * * * * * * * *

"hootenanny"
An informal social gathering usually including folk singing and dancing. In other words, the Chicago World's Fair Columbian Exposition. Maybe not exactly the definition of a hootenanny but it's what Foley is referring to.

"from where you are"
Down on 47th at the Packer's Inn. Forty-seventh street is about twelve blocks north of the upper boundary of the World's Fair, so probably close enough to hear the massive crowds hooting and hollering over all the exotic dancers and topless "natives." I'm sure the people looking at the more scientific exhibits were more restrained in their awe. Maybe a few audible gasps and mumbled "Mercy be!"s. 

"Foley went on"
He continued to speak. He didn't actually leave the room or anything.

Chapter 1: Section 4: Page 31: Line 116 (488)

 "This is Foley Walker," said Scarsdale Vibe, "in whom his mother claims to find virtues not immediately apparent to others."

* * * * * * * * * *

In other words, a face only a mother could love. But in this case, the "face" is his entire attitude. But then we all know the type. A stand up polite young man with good grades and a great car with a respectable job who your mother remarks every time she sees him, "Why can't you and your friend be more like him?" And then he later gets arrested for constantly coming in his shorts whenever he wrestled with the young boys he taught soccer. And now you're wondering what the hell your mom wants you to do with the rest of your life if that's her role model for you!

No wait. Maybe it's different than that because this is Foley's own mother singing his praises. But that's just what mother's do, right? Which is the entire point Scarsdale is trying to get across. Foley is an awful person and the only one fooled is his mother because mothers are full of unconditional love for their progeny.

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 "Say," it occurred to a large and criminal-looking individual who had been whittling an image of a locomotive from a piece of firewood with one of those knives known throughout prisons of our land as an Arkansas toothpick, "you're not of the vegetarian persuasion, I hope."

* * * * * * * * * *

"whittling an image of a locomotive from a piece of firewood"
Now we know this criminal-looking individual is skilled with a knife. And artistic. Two great qualities that go great together if you're a psychopathic torturer. Not that I think this guy is that! My mother always said, "You can't judge a book by its cover unless the cover is of a Middle Eastern person and then maybe you can judge it a bit." My mother isn't perfect.
    Here's a quick look at some of my mother's thought processes. Every Middle Eastern person she's ever known personally, she absolutely adores. And yet she still admits to being prejudiced against Middle Eastern people. She's so close to understanding systemic and cultural bias propagated by the media and societal stereotypes! If only she had the self-esteem to trust her own personal experiences over propaganda and gossip!

"Arkansas toothpick"
I almost didn't research this term because I figured, "If it's known in prisons, it must be a shiv of some sort!" But then I looked it up and was surprised to find it's the term for a pretty hefty dagger, coined because people were known to pick their teeth with blades. Because when you've got some small bit of whatnot between two of your teeth, what better way to remove it than by shoving a long sharp blade inside of your face?

Imagine how many teeth were picked clean by this! And how many tongues lacerated!

"you're not of the vegetarian persuasion, I hope"
What an odd thing for a criminal-looking individual to say. My first thought is that he plans on feeding parts of Heino Vanderjuice to himself. And he wouldn't want to betray the man's ethics by doing so. My second thought is that he's probably the chef and he's prepared a nice roast for the meeting. My third thought is that he probably fucked the roast before preparing it.