Authors: Myles (Mickey) Golde
Stan looked over his glasses at him, hoping to caution him about the money, but said nothing.
Ben launched into a story about a talking dog that had come in for a drink at a bar. The men, including Zonenblick, and Stan all laughed at the punch line and Ben told a few more gags.
Ordering a drink for himself and Stan, Ben turned his attention to Joe Zonenblick. Forty minutes later they walked out with an order for almost ninety dollars. It was the best order the company had that week.
“Thanks, Mr. Zonenblick,” Ben said, shaking hands all around.
“It’s Joe, Ben,” he responded gruffly.
“See ya in two weeks.” Ben smiled. “If you need anything before, just let me know and I’ll take care of it personally,” he added with a wave as he left.
From then on, Ben began to make regular commissions of thirty to fifty dollars a week, which increased as he added new accounts. Within three months, he began paying off the debts that he and Molly had accumulated over the past two years.
He loved calling on the bars and restaurants and spending the hours kibitzing with the customers. To him, it was the easiest money he had ever made and the work didn’t seem like a job. Stan continued to caution him about his high expenses, but spending money in the right places and buying drinks proved to be his best investment. Ben was always among the top producers in the company.
He also worked a lot of nights because that is when the customers were busy and he tried to keep them happy by spending money and entertaining people in their places of business. It also was an opportunity to spend some time with Phyllis, whom he slipped five dollars a month so she could move into a two room furnished apartment on Kenmore near Montrose.
His trademark greeting, “Ben is my name and liquor is my game,” became known throughout the city.
Ben’s territory included Rush Street, where there had been many illegal speakeasys serving liquor during Prohibition. Now, the clubs lining the brightly lighted street just north of the Loop thrived openly with drinks and regular appearances by Joe E. Lewis, Louie Armstrong, Sophie Tucker and a host of other well known entertainers. You could also find heavily made-up hookers wearing slinky dresses and the bartenders were quick to find them customers for five or ten dollars to spend an hour or two at one of the small hotels around the corner on North State Street. Two of Ben’s customers had large gambling rooms secluded behind locked doors in the rear. Admittance was granted only after screening by guards at the entrances that were hidden behind heavy drapes.
“You know, Molly,” he would say as he winked and pinched her cheek, “it’s good business; the customers like to buy from me.”
One evening, shortly before Shirley’s fifth birthday, he arrived home about midnight to find Molly wrapped in a heavy robe sitting on the couch, listening to the radio. She jumped up when she heard him come in.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Aw you know, business,” he said brushing past her.
“Yeah, sure,” she glowered, her eyes forming little slits. “And what whore did this?’ she hissed, spinning him around and grabbing his collar.
He shook her hand off and turned away. “You know how I do my business, all I did was play some cards with a few customers at the Belmont Hotel.”
”Yeah, and which one of your customers wears lipstick?”
“Aw lay off. I’m tired; it’s been a long day.”
“Goddammit, Ben, I’m tired too,” she shouted, hands on her hips, thrusting her chin out. “All you do is drink and stay out late.”
“You don’t seem to mind when you go shopping!” Knocking over a dining room chair, he pushed past her out the front door, slamming it as he left. She watched at the window as his car pulled away.
She heard him shuffle in at four a.m. and found him asleep, fully clothed, in his easy chair two hours later. By seven, she was making breakfast for the girls and he quietly slipped into the bedroom. After Doris left for school, Molly went shopping with Shirley and when she returned he was gone. A bouquet of two dozen roses arrived later in the day with a card saying, “I love you, signed B”.
Nothing more was said, but Ben was home early every night for the next two weeks.
By the summer of 1939, the Siegals were feeling quite prosperous. Doris was entering her second year at Von Steuben and Shirley was at Volta Elementary. Molly had redecorated the apartment and replaced their bedroom set. Not to be outdone, Ben surprised Molly and the girls by buying a sleek new Oldsmobile.
Sitting in his favorite easy chair after dinner, a week after he bought the car, Ben lit his third cigar of the day and settled in to read the newspaper. With his tie loosened and shirt sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows he still looked much like he did when they first moved to Albany Park. The small bald spot, surrounded by graying hair, was now larger and he had gained about fifteen pounds, but the quick smile and hearty laugh of a much younger and vigorous man, remained the same.
The years had been good to Molly, too. Her face remained unlined, except for a few hints of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Her dark hair was a little longer but now was swept up to a pile of curls at the top. She was a trifle heavier, but not so that anyone would notice. And even after a long day, her eyes still sparkled.
Ben was absorbed in the sports section, continuously shifting the cigar around in his mouth. Molly was to the left of him on the maroon patterned couch across from the upright piano, listening to Fibber McGee and Molly on the radio. She turned to him during a commercial.
“Ben, I’ve been thinking. You know I always wanted to go to the University of IIlinois in Champaign,” she started.
Noticing that he was still absorbed in the paper, she continued a little louder, “My folks couldn’t afford it, but I wonder if maybe we could start saving to send the girls there?”
Ben looked up, raising his eyebrows, “Champaign? Isn’t that a little out of our reach?” The open newspaper dropped to his lap. “Besides, you know that Roosevelt is warning us there’s gonna be a war. Who knows what will happen by the time they’re ready for college?”
“Bennie, I know,” she said in the baby-talk voice that always got a rise out of him and reverting back to her normal voice, “But can’t we start saving a little? Just think, wouldn’t it be nice if Doris could get a degree in teaching and Shirley could learn to be an Interior Decorator or maybe design clothes? She’s like me and really likes pretty things. You know, she’s been picking out her own clothes since she was six years old and always dresses beautifully.”
Cocking his head to the side, he looked at her and then turned back to the newspaper.
Ignoring his attempt to read, she went on, “And maybe they’ll meet some bright young college boys they can marry. Wouldn’t that make you proud?”
Ben laughed, looking at her as he sucked on his cigar, blowing smoke away from her, toward the windows. “I gotta hand it to you; always thinking ahead. Before you know it, you’ll have them married with kids. For cryin’ out loud, I only finished two years at Marshall and then went to work. And come on, you only graduated high school and we’re doing alright.”
“Ben” she countered, “can’t you see them belonging to a nice sorority and going to all those college parties. Just think how much they’ll love it. I got lucky with you. But wouldn’t you want them to meet the boys with the best prospects?”
Ben thought about his girls dating guys like the O’Hara brothers and shuddered. “Yeah, I’ll think about it,” he muttered, turning back to the paper.
A week later he gave her five dollars saying, “For the college fund.” After that, he gave her five dollars a week, which she deposited in a savings account.
Everything in Ben Siegal’s life was good the September evening that Victor Wayne walked Shirley home after she had told Vic she was pregnant. By the time WWII ended, Ben had become a top liquor salesman in the best night clubs, bars and restaurants in the city and was making more money than he ever dreamed possible. His wife and daughters loved him and made him happy. Doris was doing well in Champaign. Shirley, the baby, who was pretty, with a lively personality, and a streak of mischief in her, was the apple of his eye.
He shrugged and walked into the kitchen being careful not to touch the pale yellow walls set off with white woodwork, chair rails and baseboards that had been painted recently.
“You like the new curtains?”
“White polka dots, yeah they look good pulled back like that.” He smiled and nodded, “looks more like a kitchen than it did with the venetian blinds.”
Using her short apron, Molly wiped the white dinner plates bordered with roses before setting them on the table.
“Do you think I should have stuck with the wood table instead of the yellow formica and chrome?” she asked.
“Nah, I like the new table, more modern. The new chairs are nicer, too. But what’s wrong with Shirley? Is she okay?”
“She’s okay, but upset. You know she and Victor broke up a few weeks ago.”
Lifting the cover of the large pot on the stove, he ladled out a taste of soup.
“I didn’t know about Victor,” he answered softly, “but she’ll have new guy in a few weeks. With her looks and personality, the boys will be breaking down the door to take her out.”
Molly stopped and thought for a moment before answering. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but whatever you say, don’t make light of it around her because it’s her first real boyfriend and to a young girl that’s very important.”
Ben went to Shirley’s room and knocked on the door. “We’re sitting down Shirley, why don’t you join us?” Through the door, he could hear the muffled sound of the radio, playing, “Chatanooga choo-choo, won’t you choo choo me home.”
Behind the door Shirley, curled in her bed, was sniffling softly into a pillow and thinking of Vic. She knew he was upset and frightened that she might be pregnant, but maybe now that he had time to think about her they would be back together. She knew he loved her, even if he didn’t say it. They would be married and she would make him happy. Smiling, she thought about asking him to let her wear his Aztec jacket tomorrow, or maybe she would wait a few days.
”Give me a few minutes,” she murmured, just loud enough to be heard. Rolling out of bed, Shirley smoothed her skirt and straightened her sweater. Hearing her parents back in the kitchen, she quietly slipped into the hall bathroom next to her folks’ bedroom. Scrubbing her face, she removed all traces of the streaked eye makeup and ran a comb through her hair. Last, she pinched her checks trying to raise a little color before she joined them at dinner.
Entering the kitchen, she smiled and walked around the table to give Ben a hug and kiss.
“Sorry I’m late, but I feel better now that I rested. And, oh yeah, I made up with Victor and that makes me feel better too.” She smiled, taking the meat platter from her mother.
Shaking his head, Ben winked at Molly, thinking how beautiful his young daughter was in her soft angora sweater and tight fitting long skirt. When she kissed him, he had caught a whiff of her hair and he sensed that she wouldn’t be his little girl for much longer.
Walking home from Shirley’s house, Vic’s thoughts drifted back to when he was eight years old. It was a summer day and he had rolled up his pants cuffs and adjusted the thick strap of his roller skates. Pushing up from the curb, he moved toward a group of boys and girls that were skating close to where the street dead ended at the river. Getting near, he stopped, squatted on one knee and reached in his pocket for the metal key to tighten the skate clamps. Straightening, he joined the circle of boys skating around three girls who were bunched in the middle of the street.
The July afternoon was hot without a breeze. Shaded by the tall trees reaching up from both sides of the street, the boys sped up and then cruised slowly around the wide eyed giggling girls.
More kids were on the sidewalk. Two girls were playing roly poly, next to them was a younger one bouncing a rubber ball, reciting, “C, my name is Charlotte and I come from California, and my mother’s name is Clara,” while lifting her leg over the bouncing ball each time she said a word starting with the letter C. It was a game that could go on for hours through the entire alphabet as girls showed their skill with the rapidly bouncing ball and how clever they were with names and places. Further down, two other girls, faces flushed by the heat, amused themselves by facing one another and slapping hands while reciting a rhyming patter about Nello who lived on Monticello.
Across the street, a group of small boys lagged bottle corks, trying to get closest to the lines separating the boxes on the concrete sidewalk. Bigger boys, who had just finished playing line ball in the street, one with a bat and another with a softball, had drifted over to some guys around a lamp post near the curb. Talking and guffawing loudly this bunch yelled remarks to the girls.
Vic and the three other boys, all wearing bright striped cotton shirts, continued skating in the street, around the three girls. Gathering speed, they enlarged the circle; then streaked close to the frightened girls, reaching out to tag them. Giggles and high-pitched screams erupted and the girls started to chase after the boys. Shirley Siegal, her white shorts reaching to skinned knees, tried to catch Vic. A wiry competitor, she looked like a thin boy except for her long curly hair. Laughing, she chased him, but he dodged away until stopping abruptly and she crashed into him. The two fell with a loud shriek. Sprawled on the ground, they laughed. Pushing up on one arm, she punched his shoulder, saying, “Whyn’t ya look where you’re goin?”
Recognizing her from school, he eyed her wild, curly dark hair and the perspiration on her flushed face, thinking she looked like the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Something about the slight bump on her otherwise straight nose and coy smile made him like her. The aroma of their two sweaty bodies also excited him as they sprawled in the street, tangled with one another.
“Hi, I’m Victor. We just moved in a few weeks ago,” he said, cheeks turning crimson. He could tell, as they sat half-reclined in the street with their arms and legs touching, he wouldn’t forget her anytime soon.