Authors: Myles (Mickey) Golde
The following year, they built another twenty-four homes in Morton Grove, raised the prices by twenty-five hundred dollars per unit and by avoiding most of the previous year’s mistakes and delays, they cleared a profit of almost a hundred thousand. Wayne Supply also benefited from its role as Wayne Construction’s biggest supplier.
In 1958, the brothers decided that it was time to expand into larger construction and sold Wayne Supply to one of their competitors to raise the necessary cash.
Frank began selling concepts for residential developments and apartment buildings to several investment groups. As they took on larger projects, Vic devoted his time to buying vacant property and directing architects, engineers and tradesmen. As each job was completed, they poured a large amount of profit back into the company to buy better land and more equipment, in the hope that Wayne Construction would become one of Chicago’s better builders.
A big turnout was expected at Vic’s tenth year class reunion being held in the ballroom of the Sovereign Hotel on Granville near Sheridan.
The night of the party, Darlene and Vic arrived soon after the doors to the ballroom opened. Approaching the entrance, they searched for friends in the already crowded hall. Large decorations in the school colors of red and grey filled the room and the tables were set with centerpieces of low vases of red roses intertwined with grey ribbons. Above, crystal chandeliers sparkled in the famous ballroom that had been the scene of many open dances sponsored by Girl’s clubs from school, when they were students. A large banner over the bandstand welcomed the Von Steuben Class of 1948.
The eight piece band was playing Frankie Laine’s “That’s My Desire” as young people milled about shaking hands, hugging and kissing as they re-lived happy memories. All were laughing and crying out as old friends slapped backs and embraced.
Vic tried to take in the whole scene, recognizing many people he hadn’t seen in years. Spotting Didi Pollack and Jean Michaelson, he looked for Shirley, thinking she would be close by. Not seeing her, he turned back to Darlene, taking her arm and headed into the crowd.
The women looked elegant, showing off swept-up curls or long page-boy hair styles and slinky dark dresses. The men all wore suits, appearing prosperous and confident. Gone were the club jackets, blue jeans, heavy boots, long skirts and sweaters of the high school years; they had become a much more sophisticated, well-dressed group of bright-faced young adults.
Vic had on a black shadow-stripe suit with a red paisley tie that Darlene had picked out for him especially for the occasion. Wanting to look his best, especially when greeting many of the friends he had known since grade school, he had gone to the Palmer House barber shop the day before to have his hair cut and nails manicured. Darlene was in a new, tight-fitting black dress, its low-cut back showing off her curvaceous figure and shapely legs. Her hair was swept up in back into a cascade of curls, accentuating her high cheekbones and bright smile. As he watched her accept a glass of champagne from the waiter’s tray, Vic was sorry they weren’t alone.
Jim Vogel, in his role as the Reunion Committee Chair, was standing near the entrance to the room with a big grin. He greeted Vic with a slap on the shoulder and kissed Darlene’s cheek. “Goddammit, Wayne, your wife’s gotten even more beautiful since your wedding. How is that possible?”
Darlene blushed as Esther, Jim’s high school sweetheart and now wife, walked up, six months pregnant and smiling as usual. .They found chairs for the ladies and the men went for drinks. As they returned with vodkas on the rocks for themselves and Darlene and a Coke for Esther, Vic saw Shirley and Howie Rabin coming in. Shirley waved to someone across the room and started in that direction, stopping to kiss and hug several women and introducing her husband along the way.
She looked spectacular. She had on a short black sequined jacket over a low cut black dress. Her hair was a soft shade of blonde and Vic noticed that the small bump on her nose was no longer visible; probably surgically removed, making her resemble the movie actress Virginia Mayo.
Howie looked sharp but tense. Vic noticed that more than a few women appeared to be eyeing his good looks and how his tall, slim build complimented his grey sharkskin suit. Vic could tell that Howie noticed him too, but he was smooth about it; sticking close to Shirley and holding her arm as he moved alongside her but remaining aloof with her friends.
Sam Greenstein and his wife Fran had joined Darlene and Esther. Sam winked at Vic and tilted his head in Shirley’s direction. Vic returned the look with a little grimace. He turned to say something to Darlene, but she was already three steps ahead of him. She winked back at Sam, nudging Vic in the ribs, saying, “Your old girlfriend looks pretty good.”
Vic leaned in, pinching her thigh, and whispering. “You’ve got nothing to worry about Dearie.”
Slapping away his hand, she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Go easy on the vodka,” she said. “Didn’t you have one before we left the apartment?”
“Don’t worry; I’ll be all right to drive by the end of the night,” Vic said.
A Violinist accompanied by a piano played softly as the room filled and the re-union crowd continued greeting one another as they continued searching for long lost friends. Promptly at eight the music stopped and the bar stopped serving so people could find their tables.
Jim Vogel went to the microphone at the front of the bandstand. He waited, waving and shouting out greetings and then held up his hands trying to get the crowd’s attention. Smiling, he waited until the room was quiet and everyone was seated. Tapping the microphone and making a face when it rumbled, he started.
“It’s my pleasure, as the Reunion Committee Chairman, to welcome you to the ten year reunion of the Von Steuben High School Class of 1948. I see that with a little help from Estee Lauter, Coco Chanel, some plastic surgeons, a lot of dieting, hours at the beauty shop, some comb-overs and loads of exercise, everyone looks wonderful.” He waited for and got a few laughs, then continued. “I promise to keep my remarks short so we can all have plenty of time to visit and catch up.”
He took a few minutes to recite statistics pertaining to the class members: the total of those married, divorced, the alum with the largest number of offspring, the one with the oldest child, and several other details. Next, he read letters from classmates that were unable to be at the celebration, but wanted to be remembered by those in attendance. Lastly, he read the names of the three class members who had died since graduation and asked for a moment of silence in their honor.
A minute later, raising his glass, he offered a toast to the Class of ’48, followed with a signal to the band for a downbeat and started singing in a loud voice, “Let’s Wave on High the Banner of Our School,” which brought the class members to their feet, joining in to sing at the top of their lungs, whether they remembered the words to the school song or not; coming to an end with loud shouts and thunderous applause.
Dinner was served and conversation at the tables was animated. “Hey,” someone called from nearby, “everyone from Mr. Mitchell’s home room stand up,” followed by cries around the room for the other home rooms. Club names were shouted and got loud responses. Dinah Blonskey got a laugh when she stood and loudly announced, “Remember me? Dinah Blonskey, Greenberg, Greenberg,” and kissed her husband, fellow class member Al, whom she married and divorced and remarried.
Reminisces of the high school years and quirks of the teachers and school characters erupted in howls at tables throughout the room. Before desert was served, people started roaming about and table-hopping to renew old friendships.
Back from a short break, the band resumed playing Chattanooga Choo Choo, followed by other tunes from the high school days. Vic danced with Darlene to a couple of numbers, stopping in mid-step a few times to socialize. Before long, most of the dancers just seemed to stop and sway or stand in place, talking and greeting old friends. Darlene watched, laughing, as the crowd around Vic got larger and larger and moved off the dance floor. Catching his eye, she wagged her finger pointing to the drink in his hand as she walked across the room to sit with Jim and Esther. He grimaced and turned away laughing as he talked with his former classmates, loving every minute of it. The noise settled as the evening wore on and most of the guests returned to their tables as the band continued to play.
Only a few couples were dancing as they struck up “Little Brown Jug.” As Vic scanned the room for Darlene, he saw Shirley sitting alone and looking beautiful, glancing his way; Howie nowhere in sight. He looked at her again and slurring his words slightly, said to no one in particular, “There’s something I have to do.” Walking onto the dance floor and tilting his head toward the band, he made a little dancing motion with his hand in Shirley’s direction, mouthing “Let’s dance.”
She jumped to her feet, took his hand and pulled him toward the center of the floor. As they picked up the jitterbug beat, a lot of heads turned to watch. Just about everyone recalled that they were high school sweethearts who’d had a bitter break-up that neither of them would ever discuss.
Now, as they danced and held each other, they somehow looked like they were alone in the ballroom. Shirley, a frown on her face, said softly, “You owe me an apology, Victor Wayne.”
“An apology?” he muttered, raising and eyebrow.
“Yeah, I waited an hour that night at Vinny’s.”
“Oh Jesus, I forgot, that was such a long time ago. But if it helps, I’m sorry; I just couldn’t do it.”
Not skipping a beat, she slowly smiled, “I won’t tell you to forget it because I won’t, but for now, let’s just dance. I forgot how good we danced on the stage at school.”
“Yeah we were good, weren’t we?” he said missing a beat.
Giggling as he spun her around, her eyes sparkled, “Victor, you bastard, you are the most beautiful man I have ever known. And you know what? I think I still love you.”
“Careful, Shirley,” he replied with a laugh and a small stumble,” but don’t worry, I think you’re plenty gorgeous yourself.” He squeezed her waist a little more tightly. “When I saw you, I had to ask you to dance.”
With a blush, Shirley winked and then Vic heard her draw in her breath. She waved over his shoulder and Vic turned around to see Howie advancing towards them.
He raced up to them on the dance floor, abruptly grabbing Shirley’s arm and pulling her away, “Let’s get the fuck out of here, I don’t need this crap,” he snarled.
“Hey, take it easy,” Vic slurred. “I just wanted to catch up with my old dancing partner.”
“Go fuck yourself, asshole,” Howie yelled over his shoulder as he dragged Shirley away. “I still got a score to settle with you and your crazy brother.” The room, including the band got very quiet as Howie pulled Shirley back to the table.
Vic stumbled after them, but stopped short when he saw Darlene standing at the table, eyes glaring; her hand covering her mouth.
Jim Vogel got the attention of the band leader and motioned for him to start playing. They swung into “Give Me Five Minutes More,” and a few couples started dancing but half the room kept their eyes on Vic as he approached Darlene and the other half on Howie and Shirley.
“What’s going on Victor?” Darlene growled, as he held out his hand to pull her to the dance floor. She refused. Eyes riveted on him and jaw firmly set, she said, “Always the charmer, huh, Victor?”
Looking at the floor, he quietly said, “There was some old business between Shirley and me. I wanted to put an end to it and thought now was the appropriate time.”
Darlene paused and looked at Shirley, who had burst into tears and was arguing with Howie at the ballroom exit. Vic followed her gaze and watched Howie yank Shirley out into the hallway and then looked back at Darlene, noticing that her glamorous hairdo had wilted a little and that some of her lipstick had smudged onto her teeth.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Darlene; it’s you that I love and in some ways, it’s because of her that I know that. Shirley really taught me the right and wrong ways to love someone. Believe me you’re the real thing.” He put his arm around her shoulders and patted her hair.
Darlene pushed him away as he tried to kiss her. “You know what, Victor? I think you’ve had too much to drink.” Grabbing her bag, she headed for the door. He followed, not stopping to say any farewells.
The ride home was silent. Darlene insisted on driving and Vic slouched beside her, listening to her grind her teeth as she steered the car down Granville. When they hit the light at Western he tried to turn on the radio, but she slapped his hand away from the dial. He didn’t press her.
Once home, Vic sat alone in the living room thinking about Shirley and how she’d felt in his arms. He also thought about Darlene, alone in the bedroom and wondered what he could do to calm her down. She was right; he did have too much to drink and he’d acted like a fool dancing with Shirley. Sitting in the dark fully clothed, the TV flickering in front of him, he passed out.
Five miles away in Skokie Howie screamed and called Shirley a filthy bitch as he drove toward their house. Pulling up in the driveway, he slapped her and shoved her out of the car before throwing the gear in reverse and pulling away. She went in and put a cool washcloth on her slightly swollen cheek and stared at herself in the mirror, thinking about the state of her marriage and thanking God that David was spending the night at her mother’s. Walking into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of wine and thought about Victor Wayne. Still restless at two in the morning, she went to bed and fell into a troubled sleep, tossing and turning all night. Howie didn’t return until midnight, the next evening.
Following a frantic, early-evening call with detailed instructions from Howie, insisting she meet him immediately at the A.B. Dick offices on Touhy Avenue, Shirley grabbed a kitchen knife, shoved it in her purse and drove to meet him. She kept her radio tuned to a news channel in hopes of hearing something that might tip her off to the source of Howie’s panic. Pulling into the lot, she parked in the rear, away from the lighted area. Cutting the motor and slumping down in the seat below the dashboard, she waited, her hand tightly gripping the knife. Clenching her teeth, she heard car doors closing and motors coming to life. Peeking into the side-view mirror, she saw two men walking her way in the shadows. Ignoring Howie’s orders, she quickly locked all the doors and slid down in the seat. She heard the men talking as they passed in back of her and then listened as a car pulled out nearby. Pulling her arms around her middle, she drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, attempting to calm herself, but couldn’t stop glancing at her watch as the minutes ticked away. When a car pulled into the empty space beside her, she hunkered down and closed her eyes tightly, hoping it was Howie. The door slammed and she could make out the sound of someone walking away. In the background was the faint sound of traffic. Her watch showed twenty to nine. A moment later, she heard a light tapping sound at the back door on the driver’s side. She held her breath,