My big moments came when Mike drove us home from the square dances and gave me a quick kiss goodnight, while my sister or Dolores turned away to offer us a second of privacy. Occasionally as time went on, dissatisfied with one quick peck on the mouth, I would say, "Mike, could I have another kiss?' and he would hesitate, but comply A few times I asked for a third. He seemed exasperated, but complied again, with apparent disapproval. I never knew if it was my father's unseen but disapproving presence that restrained his ardor, or simply his own wimpy moral code that dictated restraint with a minor, age 15 and later 16. Whatever it was, I really didn't suffer from romantic hunger or disillusion. At that time in my life, the whole scene was just a lot of fun, and if there were few romantic dividends, it didn't bother me in the least.
Despite the restraints imposed by my father's threats, I was not rebellious, merely sneaky, meeting Henry behind the lilac bushes. Henry was Hollywood handsome, with black hair and dark eyes, deep dimples, and a terrific physique. He said he graduated NYU engineering school, and he drove a black Lincoln Zepher convertible, but he made his living as a gambler. He bet the horses, and probably did other types of gambling as well. I never asked much about it. He had a charming personality and a good sense of humor. He referred to my father as ,"The Gestapo," which I found very amusing.
Mike, on the other hand, was not so good-looking as Henry. He was a big man, barrel-chested, with an extra big head. I used to see him driving around in his old green Chevvy with only his head visible...his very large head. At times I would joke with my sister and refer to him as a "macro -cephallic" or even a "hydrocephallic...a water head, but he had a certain attractiveness. He wore rimless glasses which made him look more intelligent than his local-yokel friends, and he had nice, even features and a great sense of humor. So I liked him anyway, despite his huge head and ratty-looking car. Both he and Henry were very nice to me, considerate, flattering, and always fun to be with.
My mother liked them and had no fear that I was going to run off and elope. She liked Henry a lot because he was so handsome and charming. She liked Mike also, but she had reservations about his background. He never went to college, and after returning from the European front of World War 11, he went to a local community college, studied refrigeration and air-conditioning, and that's how he made his living, fixing broken refrigerators and air-conditioners. He was strictly blue-collar, and my mother, intending to send her three children to college, determined that I would marry a professional, not the refrigerator man.
Mike had the distinction of being somewhat of a war hero. When his army platoon was captured by the Germans, he was able to pass himself off as a Polish Catholic instead of a Jew, or he would have been tortured or killed. He spent several months in a horrible German prisoners camp where the food was so sparse and revolting that his weight dropped from 220 pounds to 130 by the time the Russian Army arrived and released the American prisoners. As he spoke Polish and could understand Russian, he was a valued prisoner, and his return home was celebrated. I didn't know him then. I met him at the local summer Saturday night square dances a few y ears later. By the time I met him, he had returned to his full weight and showed no signs of his once near-starvation. I thought he was a great catch because he was admired by other girls and young women in town. Pickings were pretty slim in a small town like Nassau, and most of the eligible young swains weren't particularly appealing.
Mike, who didn't drink or smoke, used to come into my father's barroom to order our famous huge western sandwiches...ham and eggs and onions, practically a meal for thirty-five cents. Henry would come in with his local cousins and drink an occasional beer. They both knew about my dating the other. They weren't close friends, but they were civil to each other.
Henry lived in Manhattan, but came to Nassau often to visit his cousins, who were also friends of my family, and to bet the horses at Saratoga. I was only a high school sophomore when I met him, but in my high school senior y ear, I was still dating Mike and saw Henry only occasionally, as he was back in Manhattan most of the time. My sister
Lela had started college at NYU when I was in my last year of high school. She ran into Henry who lived near the NYU campus and fixed him up with her best friend, a beautiful blonde Italian girl named Chauncey. Chauncey fell in love with him, but he wasn't that interested in her, and still considered me his girlfriend, but I blasted my sister for "giving away my boyfriend." She just laughed about it, and so did I. After graduation, I followed her to NYU and dated Henry a few times, as he had broken up with Chauncey, but I started meeting other NYU college boys and soon Henry and I were just friends. Not long afterward, he met a Polish girl and married her. We remained friends even though he moved to California with his wife and kids, and he kept in touch with my sister, who also moved to California with her husband and family. Henry died this year. He was 82.
Mike is still around, married to his wife of over 50 years. After I left Nassau for college, my interest in Mike was over, except as a friend. He did drive to New York to visit me a couple of times in my sophomore college year, but he knew it was over. On a subsequent trip to Montreal, he met a husband-hunting woman named Bertha. who set her hooks for him, married him, and had two sons. They're still married and living in nearby Pittsfield. They used to visit me over the years, and at times I visited them, but I haven't seen them now in over 15 years. Mike would be 84 now.
****************************************
Although Mike and Henry were my boyfriends before college, in the summer of 1950, just before I started college, I met someone who immediately eclipsed my interest in Mike or Henry. He was a 35 year old salesman who stopped in my father's barroom for a drink one summer day. My mother and I were there when he came in...a tall, strikingly handsome man, 6'3" tall with eyes as blue as a robin's eggs. His name was Bill, he was of Irish-American descent. My mom and I thought he looked exactly like a famous comic-strip hero of the time, detective Rip Kirby, who, like Bill, or "Mac," as we called him, was also tall, dark and handsome, with beautifully carved masculine features. Mac told us he was selling a new product on the market, frozen food meals. In 1950, there was canned and fresh food, but no real market in frozen food dinners, if they even existed. But as Mac sat around and talked to us, we became quite fascinated. He seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. He was charismatic, with a beautiful speaking voice, a great sense of humor, and riveting charm.
He told us he lived in Albany with his wife and young daughter. As he drank boiler-makers, shots of liquor with beer chasers...without seeming to get drunk...he confided that his marriage was troubled, but he didn't dwell on it. Soon he took an interest in me. I had turned 17 that summer, but I could easily pass for 21. He knew my real age, but began flirting with me, and I responded. My mother saw what was happening, but she was so taken with him, she didn't blame me. My father, who usually was super-over-protective of me and my sister, didn't seem to notice or to mind. Mac had him hypnotized, too.
My girlfriend Dolores, who lived next door, was there listening to all of this, and so was my sister Lela, home from college for the summer. I don't recall my brother being there at the time, as he was only 11, and probably out with his little friends. Soon Mac suggested that he would like to take my sister Lela, Dolores, and me swimming at nearby Cleveland's Pond, about two miles from my home, but he had no bathing trunks with him. My father lent him his trunks, we changed into our bathing suits, and off the four us went in Mac's car. Once we got to the pond and laid out blankets, none of us went in the water. We just talked to Mac. Soon he was paying attention only to me, and within a short time, he and I were "making out." We were just kissing, as Lela and Dolores watched with great interest. I knew he was 18 years older than l, married and a father, and Irish to boot, and I knew my father would have a fit if he knew. Lela and Dolores knew the score, but they never ratted on me, for fear of my father's terrible temper.
When we got back, Mac returned my father's trunks and got dressed. We were planning to go to the Saturday night square dance. Mac said he was going home, but would meet us there later. I rushed into the house to tell my mother. Lela and Dolores told their side of the story as well. My mom was shocked, but she promised not to tell my father. I could see that she was happy for me. She admitted later that even though she considered my father the handsomest and most desirable man in the world, she also had a crush on Mac. He was irresistible.
Later at the square dance, my former boyfriends and other guys I knew watched as I did only slow dances with Mac. Later we went to his car to continue our restrained but delightful necking session. I saw him a few times after that when he came back to the barroom to resume drinking his boiler-makers and entrance my mother and all our barroom regulars who also seemed mesmerized by his charm and style. He began calling me "Cleo,"short for Cleopatra, whom he said I looked like. He took my bracelet from Saipan, that my aunt Toni had sent me during World War 11, when she was a nurse there during the war, and said he would etch my name "Cleo" onto the bracelet and return it to me when he visited my sister and me at NYU. That sent up a warning flag for my mother, who despite her admiration for him, saw the possibility of the ruination of my life by this smooth-talker. She warned him in front of me, but out of my father's earshot: "I know what's going on here, " she said, "but he (my father) doesn't." It was a weak warning, and it didn't scare him off. He just smiled and kept turning on the charm.
I started college in Manhattan in September, and in spite of all the fun and excitement of meeting interesting girls in the college dormitory, and looking over the boyfriend prospects in all my classes, Mac was never far from my mind. I expected him to visit me soon. At the time, boys outnumbered girls 3 to 1 in college, and we girls used to kid around about getting our three boyfriends. By the first few months, I had only one date with a boy from one of my classes. David came from a fantastically wealthy New York City family who owned a prestigious fur factory. On our one date, I noticed his coat was fully lined with fur. I can't recall where we went, but he was very shy; we didn't really connect, and we never dated again. He never asked me out again, but that didn't bother me, as there were other boys who were interested and interesting, but I was waiting for Mac to come visit me. One day as Lela and I were walking back to the dorm from classes, I saw a car that looked like his driving toward the dorm. I got excited and raced toward it, but it was a stranger. We were supposed to come home soon for Thanksgiving, and so I was patient.
When we got home for the holiday, after our joyous reunion with my parents, my mother turned somber and said, "I have sad news, Sylvia." She told me that Mac was dead. I was stunned. She said he had probably been inebriated, went home, and forgot to turn off the motor in his car and fell asleep with the garage doors closed.. He was found still alive, but died later in the hospital of carbon monoxide poisoning. My mother thought it might have been a suicide, as he had a troubled marriage and drank heavily, but it was pronounced accidental. My mother believed that it was divine intervention to save me from a bad marriage with an older man who had a serious drinking problems, but she ,too, was sad at the loss.
At age 17, I soon got over my grief, but I never forgot him. Lela had taken one picture of us at Cleveland's Pond where our romance began, and I still have that black-and-white photos of us taken with our old box Brownie camera...Mac in my father's bathing trucks, me in my two-piece bathing suit, both of us looking very smug and happy, right after our first thrilling kisses.
**************************************
MY FIRST KISS....Before Mike, Henry or Mac
Before Mike, Henry, and Mac, I really got my first kiss at age 14 in Florida. When I was in my sophomore year in high school, my father decided to pull us out of school and take us to Florida for a couple of months. I assume it was illegal, as we didn't attend school during that entire time, but he didn't worry about it, and neither did we. I was taking geometry at the time, and the teacher had told the class that if we missed even one class, it would take five classes to make up what we missed. I probably missed about 30 or 40 classes during our Florida vacation, and so I assumed I would have big trouble passing geometry. When we returned in the early spring, I seemed able to catch up quickly, except for one thing: something called"loci" had been taught, and I couldn't figure out what it was. But I gamely didn't bother mentioning it to the teacher, and when I finally took the regents exam at the end of the year, I came out with a 99 score and won the geometry regents award. There may have been one question on loci; if so, I apparently got it right.
Getting back to my first kiss, when we got to Florida, we found a brand new apartment on a newly-developed Miami Beach island called "Bay Harbor Island." We were the first tenants, and my mother was thrilled with this beautiful brand new apartment. Soon after we moved in, two Cuban men moved upstairs to the vacant apartment in our building. They were musicians from the Desi Arnaz Cuban band, which had come to Florida to play an engagement at the swanky Brook Club, close by our new apartment. Desi Arnaz was married to actress Lucille Ball, but they weren't as famous as they later became when they developed and starred in the "I Love Lucy" show, which made them world famous, beloved by everyone, and extremely rich.
The men were named Ralph and Mingo. I don't think we ever knew their last names. Ralph was 26, married and very handsome, with thick curly black hair, black "Spanish" eyes, and an alluring Spanish accent...a real charmer. Mingo looked slightly older and more fatherly. He looked typically Hispanic, darker-skinned than Ralph, and also very charming. I had an immediate crush on Ralph...who wouldn't? A few days after they moved in, they were on their way to the Brook Club while Lela and I were outside enjoying the great Florida weather. As they passed by, Ralph stopped and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was flabbergasted, but very pleased. My crush on him intensified. I knew Lela would never tell on me. Luckily my father wasn't outside at the time. A few days later, when we were outside again with my mother, Ralph and Mingo passed by, and again, Ralph stopped and gave me an affectionate kiss on the cheek.
Soon we went back in to help my mother prepare lunch. My father was reading the stock market report, as usual. My mother called me into the kitchen and said, "I saw what just happened." Lela saved me that day, because she noticed right away that when our mom called me into the kitchen, Daddy's ears had pricked up, and we knew he had very keen hearing and could even listen to more than one conversation at a time. Coupled with his strict moral code and ferocious temper, Lela knew disaster was looming. She immediately sauntered close to him and began whistling loudly. He looked irritated, she reported later, but then went back to reading the stock report. I thanked her for saving me. In the kitchen, my mother warned me never to let it happen again.
Ralph and Mingo remained in our building for at least another two weeks, as their engagement at the Brook Club was a huge success. I did get a couple more friendly kisses from Ralph before they moved on, but I made sure that neither one of my parents were watching. Self-preservation is the rule of life.
Years later, when we faithfully watched the great "I Love Lucy," show every week, we tried to spot Ralph and Mingo in Desi Arnaz's band, but we never saw them. However, once in awhile, Desi would playfully address band members, and more than once we heard him say hello to "Ravel." That's Spanish for Ralph. That warmed my heart, knowing handsome Ralph was still around, even though I never saw him again. But I remember my romantic interlude with him with pleasure.
We have a photograph of my then-ten-year-old brother Marvin with Mingo, out in the courtyard of our apartment complex. Unfortunately, we never took a picture of Ralph, but I can still picture him. I admit this "first kiss" was not the romantic kiss 14 year old girls dream of because it wasn't lip-to-lip, merely a kiss on the cheek, but to me, it was incredibly romantic. It was also a tribute to Ralph because he could have tried to be seductive. He was only 26, away from his home and wife, and I probably looked like an easy target, although in reality, I wasn't; I was just a dreamy 14 year old, delighted even to get the attention of such a handsome older man. As I'm now 74, I don't even know if Ralph is still alive. But the sweet memory of my first kiss lives on for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment