|
TOPICS My blog e-mail me | FAMILY mea culpa EDWARD YANOWITZ (1918-2003) PART 7 |
|
My classwork was all right, though I think I upset my English teacher, who wanted to know if I had really read The Last Days of Pompeii or had seen the movie. It seems my descriptions of the lava's flow followed the movie more than the book. I swore I hadn't seen the movie, but she made me doubt myself. Today, I think she was right. My size made it imperative that I go out for the football team eventually, and meanwhile I was invited to join the track team in order to get into condition. I ran the mile, eight minutes? threw the discus, thirty feet? heaved the eight-pound shotput mightily, ten feet? I wasn't that much behind a lot of boys, but we were all outclassed by the varsity men. Despite Hollywood, athletes don't get on Broadway yesterday. I wasn't weak, just not adept. I doubt that I could ever have carried a full-grown bull around the arena though. My father and Jean owned a Pekingese, which they'd named "Duke." They had bought him when he was small enough to fit into my father's vest pocket. I would tease that dog unmercifully, poking his bone with my foot, or threatening to steal it from him as he spat like a cat trying to protect his property. I think we had a love-hate relationship. Out in the woods one day I spied a young raccoon in a thicket and directed Duke's attention to it. That cute little puppy dog became a ravenous monster. I have never witnessed such vicious, bloodthirsty slaughter since. If Duke had been the size of a lion, he would have out-lioned any lion alive. I couldn't start any conversations with anyone, and if anyone started one with me, it would usually die for want of fodder. My father arranged a date for me with a sweet-looking innocent. He and Jean had arranged to play bridge at her parents' house. I think we went to the movies. When we got back at her house, I kissed her dutifully and chastely on the lips and never saw her again. Most of my contacts with girls had given me the impression that I was dealing with more sophisticated people than myself. She was such a naif, I felt in the presence of a very young sister. The film snapped here and I'm not sure of the correct splice. I stopped going to school; probably because it was the end of the semester. I didn't graduate; probably because I didn't have enough credits. So I went to work on my father's crew. While my romantic notions about selling had been developed from my enjoyment of watching people like Lee Tracy act in the movies, I found the real thing was offensive. I told Hy what I planned to do and he said he'd like to come along. He didn't have much dough either but I told him to come anyway. So we gathered together those things we thought we might need outside of clothing bodily necessities. Benny couldn't come, but he loaned me his surf fishing rod and reel in case Florida was what it was cracked up to be. I took along my rod and reel, hooks, lures, and whatever junk I thought might be useful. Hy wasn't interested in fishing, but he came along for the ride and whatever. We took along about forty dollars and I gave two hundred and forty to my Uncle Irving to hold until I sent for it. It took a little begging to get him to agree, since he thought we were mishugah, but my nagging won out. Our first adventure took place about ninety miles from New York at a railroad crossing. There was no obstruction between the car and a moving freight train that seemed nine miles long. I was the only driver, and ninety miles took a long time then–before turnpikes and parkways crisscrossed the Eastern Seaboard–so I leaned back and stretched. The car was on a slight incline; and while my eyes were closed, it inched forward. Hy and Sammy both shouted and I slammed my foot on the brake. Too late. Part of my bumper accompanied the train. I realized that we weren't very far from Allentown and suggested that we visit some of our relatives. We got a pretty heavy come-uppance when we stopped at my Uncle Max and Aunt Sadie's house. I hadn't known about Hy's angry remarks to Uncle Max's Aunt Sadie, so I was completely nonplussed when Danny ordered us out of the house. However, we were warmly welcomed by Uncle Julius's Aunt Sadie, had dinner there, and were invited to stay over. They understood Daniel's anger, but they also understood the agony Hy felt. We slept comfortably and Aunt Sadie fed us a huge breakfast and sent us on our way with good luck wishes and kisses. We promised to stop on the way back. There were no questions, no recriminations, no "I told you so's. The weather was fine and Route 1 was a two-lane highway that was straight at least half the time. I had to contain my impatience when I found myself driving behind ten-ton monsters that lumbered up never ending hills at snail-speeds. Then, on reaching a navigable passing zone, I would step on the gas until the reached speeds of at least forty to fifty miles an hour. Hy and Sammy would caution me not to be reckless. I listened. It felt wonderful to be in control of this slave to my whims on the straightaways. However, driving through Maryland, I misjudged a curve and had to turn the wheel too rapidly in order to stay on the road. As though it had been waiting for just this opportunity, my careening slave taught me humility when it slapped the road on the outside turn, righted itself, then insolently slapped the road on the inside turn, jounced itself into equilibrium, stopped short, and snorted. It was impossible? But! I looked for confirmation to my brother and my friend, but they were both speechless and concentrating on recovering from the shock. Our first adventure took place about ninety miles from New York at a railroad crossing. There was no obstruction between the car and a moving freight train that seemed nine miles long. I was the only driver, and ninety miles took a long time then–before turnpikes and parkways crisscrossed the Eastern Seaboard–so I leaned back and stretched. The car was on a slight incline; and while my eyes were closed, it inched forward. Hy and Sammy both shouted and I slammed my foot on the brake. Too late. Part of my bumper accompanied the train. I realized that we weren't very far from Allentown and suggested that we visit some of our relatives. We got a pretty heavy come-uppance when we stopped at my Uncle Max and Aunt Sadie's house. I hadn't known about Hy's angry remarks to Uncle Max's Aunt Sadie, so I was completely nonplussed when Danny ordered us out of the house. However, we were warmly welcomed by Uncle Julius's Aunt Sadie, had dinner there, and were invited to stay over. They understood Daniel's anger, but they also understood the agony Hy felt. We slept comfortably and Aunt Sadie fed us a huge breakfast and sent us on our way with good luck wishes and kisses. We promised to stop on the way back. There were no questions, no recriminations, no "I told you so's. The weather was fine and Route 1 was a two-lane highway that was straight at least half the time. I had to contain my impatience when I found myself driving behind ten-ton monsters that lumbered up never ending hills at snail-speeds. Then, on reaching a navigable passing zone, I would step on the gas until the reached speeds of at least forty to fifty miles an hour. Hy and Sammy would caution me not to be reckless. I listened. It felt wonderful to be in control of this slave to my whims on the straightaways. However, driving through Maryland, I misjudged a curve and I had to turn the wheel too rapidly in order to stay on the road. As though it had been waiting for just this opportunity, my careening slave taught me humility when it slapped the road on the outside turn, righted itself, then insolently slapped the road on the inside turn, jounced itself into equilibrium, stopped short, and snorted. It was impossible? But! I looked for confirmation to my brother and my friend, but they were both speechless and concentrating on recovering from the shock. I was greedy to gobble up the miles. I drove long after the sun set, and decided to bed down only when my eyes started closing on their own. The darkness was scarcely less than pitch with the car's lights on high, but we found an ancient hotel with a room that had two beds. My ever-ready imagination conjured up visions of crushing walls and vampires, but my weariness overcame my fears and I slept. . . . And awoke to find that the window looked upon a view equal in beauty to any I have ever seen. There was a mountain rising higher and higher and a bluer than blue sky and fresher air than any I had experienced–even in Van Cortlandt Park. We were probably in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Gas was fifteen cents a gallon and the DeSoto loved to feed on it. My two riders cautioned me to take it easy and I tried. We were going to Florida, but I never liked to go straight to anywhere; I liked the diversions, the detours, the side trips, so I suggested we go through Vulcan's city, Birmingham. Responding affirmatively to Mrs. Brothers' Southern Hospitality, we enjoyed a good dinner, some enjoyable parlor conversation and a pleasant overnight rest. Mrs. Brothers wished us "Bon Voyage" when we left, but I wasn't sure her heart was in it. I think, in retrospect, I was naive about social relationships. She may have expected to be paid. I've found myself overstaying welcomes since then. I guess I haven't read between the lines of smiling faces that were suggesting hidden meanings. I would have done better if the meanings hadn't been so well hidden. We bought groceries, drove, picnicked, drove all day and decided to save money by sleeping in the car. Ah, Youth! We got some sleep and started driving at dawn. I guess we were on the Tamiami Trail by then, and we were driving through swampland. I had to crawl along through a heavy mist. Cars surrounded by yellow auras from their fog lights whooshed past me. Then the road grew narrower and we were alone. If I drove with my brights, I could see nothing because of the reflected light. My low beams picked up the white line in the middle of the road–when it was there. When it wasn't, I prayed, and that was pretty often. The sun rose, the fog lifted, and things were looking up. I think we must have been about fifty or sixty miles from Tampa, Florida, when the car started lumbering; and when I stopped, I discovered the front left tire was flat. Murphy's Law must have existed before Murphy. We had the tools, so we assisted each other in changing the flat for the spare. We missed one tiny, but important consideration. However we discovered our error shortly. At times the adventurous spirit of the young (sometimes called stupidity) overcame caution, though I didn't think an act was incautious or daring until I faced consequences. We had a pocket Ingersoll with a second hand and we noticed that the road was bordered by mileposts. We had not yet discovered how speedy our old buddy was, and here we were handed a way. Sammy timed the car as I floored the accelerator from one post to the next. "Did we make it?" I asked. "Naaahhhh, too slow." "Here I go again." Down went the accelerator. "You're gonna make it!" yelled Sammy. "Pow!" said a tire and shake, shake, shimmy, shimmy, grind, bump, squeal, whooooof! went the DeSoto. At various times in my sinful life God has tried to make me a believer. Like other ingrates I've refused to kowtow. This was one time when he staggered me. We were on a well-traveled state highway. Cars had been shooting past us going the other way at regular intervals; the road was bordered by trees with substantial trunks, any of which would have totaled us and the car at a sixty mph impact! But the waters of the Red Sea parted for the Israelites. And our DeSoto, surely touched by the Hand of God, found its way between two thick-trunked trees and squatted unharmed in soft brush. Hy and Sammy praised me for my landmanship, and I murmured modestly that I hadn't been in control; the car had found its way. I patted the wheel and we got out to assess the damage. There weren't any new dents but I was kind of put out to discover that it was the same wheel that had gone flat before that had blown out. We hadn't fixed the flat before, but we had the wherewithal and, though unfamiliar with the process, we had a pumped-up tire ready to exchange for the damaged one in about half and hour. It was when we removed the wheel that we discovered the tiny, but important error we–well, actually I–had made. I hadn't known that DeSoto wheels could be put on backwards. Both sides of the wheels looked alike, but there were cogs which met channels when they were put on correctly. If not, the wheel spun and Pow! I learned. I have a hazy recollection of the car breaking down that evening outside of a trailer camp. It required a major repair. We rented a cabin for six dollars a week for the three of us. It had a two-burner kerosene range, a large double bed, and a single hanging electric bulb. Our first meal in our suite was a combination of charred onions and canned spam, along with a loaf of sliced white bread. During the meal we discovered that those giant southern roaches when crushed smelled like almonds. It was their subtle protection. I have never stepped on another one. The mechanic I called said it would cost at least fifty dollars to repair the DeSoto. He'd have to send for parts and he couldn't promise it for at least three weeks. Sammy backed out then; he wrote home for train fare. He said he'd had some fun, but what could we do for three weeks? Hy said he'd stick around (I think he was being a big brother), and I was grateful. I wrote to Uncle Irving for a hundred and fifty dollars, but he sent a money order for the whole two-fifty with a one word unsigned note: Meshugeneh! The trailer camp had some permanent occupants. There was a young fellow who looked perfectly healthy but had some incapacitating disease. He beat me in horseshoes by outrageous scores every time we played. One of the transients, who was my partner in a bridge game one night, predicted that orange juice would be shipped from Florida to the rest of the country. All they had to do was discover a way to prevent spoilage. It had been tried. They'd canned it, frozen it, frozen the whole orange, but nothing worked. It would though, he swore. There was an orange grove about a mile down the highway and a cypress swamp a little further on. The giant trees had moss hanging like feathery spider webs from their hairy arms. I remember being in a rowboat and moving through the stillness. I never saw an alligator or a frog though. Somehow I got a ride into Tampa, but I can't remember anything except Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was playing. I think I saw people rolling leaf tobacco into cigars. That's all I remember about that city. The weeks passed, the car was repaired, we said our goodbyes, took along two orange crates full of oranges and were on our way. We had very little money left and that went with the miles. We couldn't afford sleeping quarters and slept in the car. A State Patrolman woke us one morning in Georgia and we had visions of chain gangs, but he checked my driver's license and sent us on our way. My hydraulic brakes started to feel spongy a few miles past Roanoke and I was soon reduced to down-shifting and using the emergency brake to slow and finally stop the car. I started trading off our valuables for necessities: gas, oil and food, in that order. I ran into a stony-faced breed of gas station owners; they offered, and were immovable. They outfaced us and we crumbled. I was finally forced to trade Benny's surf rod and reel for five dollars and ten gallons of gas. I figured I'd repay him some way. To avoid using the emergency brake, we sought roads through small towns and succeeded to a degree, but there was no bypassing Washington. The highway led us through the busiest street in the Nation's Capital: Fourteenth Street. Dame Fortune chose a particularly crowded time of day for me to arrive there, and I had to stop not only at corners but several times between them. I was encouraged as the blocks went by however slowly, but became horrified when I smelled burning rubber and Hy pointed to the floor. The constant use of the emergency brake had started it smoldering and sending smoke trails up through the floorboards. I stopped the car, holding up traffic. I could feel the gates of the penitentiary closing behind my sagging shoulders. Horns bleated, drivers cursed, but for five solid minutes no cop appeared. I started up, the smoke did not appear again, and I was freely driving on the open highway–slowly–but moving towards our goal. Then we came to our nemesis: Bel Aire, Maryland. I was moving along slowly on the highway when I noticed a sign which read "Avoid Business Traffic," with an arrow pointing to the left. I immediately turned my wheel toward the left and instinctively braked in the normal way–with my foot! The car whipped around at twenty miles an hour and slammed into a telephone pole. The windshield was smashed and my hands were bloodied. Hy had been kneeling on the front seat with his back to the windshield fishing for an orange and was unharmed. Hy took charge. There was a doctor across the street who charged a nominal fee for painting my cuts; there was a junkie (cars) a half block down, who paid Hy ten dollars for the car and threw in five more dollars for the two crates of oranges. There were no cops! The telephone pole was barely scratched. Hy and I went merrily on our way with our meagerly packed suitcase. When we reached Philly, Hy suggested that we owed Uncle Julius and Aunt Sadie a call. We protested mildly when Aunt Sadie said that we must come by. We took the trolley to Allentown, had a wonderful meal, a good rest, a fine breakfast, thanked them profusely and headed for home. The trouble was that there was no home. We dropped in at Aunt Mae's and she said hello rather distantly, but Ruthie invited us to stay at her place for a couple days until we got settled. I was "Gee whizzing" about it, protesting feebly, but Hy accepted with gusto. Minki was happy to see us and I went for a walk with her. She complained bitterly about Aunt Mae's keeping her busy all the time as if she were a servant. I told her I'd get in touch with our father and see if he'd do something about it. She said she'd told him and he'd said he had plans he was working on. I called Uncle Irving at Gotham, hoping he had work for me, and he told me (after a few smirky I told you so's) he had no work, but my father was in New York, living with Jean at her parents' home in Boro Park. He gave me the phone number and I spent a nickel on a call. My father was happy to hear from me and asked me to come to Jean's parents' house in Boro Park. I spent a nickel on the subway. When I got there, I was introduced to Jean's mother and father, her sister Lily, and Diana's husband Jack. I had already met Diana; she worked at Gotham also. Lily was a pleasant person, but she had a chronic skin condition that had to be treated with creams which gave her an unsavory appearance. She was remarkably cheerful for a thirty-year-old invalid. The parents were a little curious about their son-in-law's son, but my father cut into the interrogations, and led me into the privacy of a bedroom. The gist of what he had to say was that he had bought a gift shop in Memphis, Tennessee, and he wanted to make a home down there. He would use it as a base for selling pullbooks, I could take care of the shop those times when Jean and he were out on the road, and Mildred could go to school down there and have her own room in her own home. "How about Hy?" I asked. "Of course, if he wants." "When?" "Today's Monday. I have to be there Friday. We'll start early Wednesday, sleep in motels a couple of nights, and get there by noon Friday. We're renting half a house, so we have a place to stay." "I'm broke" "So?" he smiled. "Here's ten dollars. Make it last till we go." "Okay." "Will you speak to Mildred?" I nodded. "Where are you staying?" "Ruthie's." "Good. I'll pick you and Mildred up by eight Wednesday morning. Would you do me a favor? I'd like to buy you some clothes–a suit, shirts, shoes, whatever you need." "Okay." "I have to be in the fur market tomorrow, so meet me in front of 330 Seventh Avenue at ten o'clock. It's near Twenty-Eighth Street." I spoke to Hy and he said no and I spoke to Mink and she was happy to leave Aunt May. I met my father the next morning and he had to go to the Furrier's Union Hall on Twenty-Sixth Street. It was like walking on Second Avenue with Hy; every few steps he was greeted by someone. Naturally he introduced me and he friends made complimentary sounds. It didn't make me feel good. I got the idea that I was being shown off like a prized possession. He introduced me to Menscher, who was as tall as he'd said he was, though the man was stoop-shouldered and didn't look as powerful as I had pictured a goon to be. At the Union Hall he introduced me to all the business agents, the officers, the workers; it became a ritual: the proud smile, the compliments, the handshakes, the nods, the "I'll see you's." I wouldn't remember any of them and I was sure they wouldn't remember me, but my father–oy did he kvell–such a good looking son. He bought me a $22.50 two-pants suit at Crawford's, a $3.33 pair of shoes at Thom McCann's, socks and underwear, and a felt hat for $3.00! I was really going to be fahrpootzed in Memphis. * * * * * | |