H
al sat
WITH JESSIE IN A CORNER BOOTH OF PONZIO'S, A Cherry Hill diner where everyone in the area, from mob bosses to politicians to members of the Hadassah Sisterhood, met for lunch. Ponzio's was located at the epicenter of Cherry Hill on the Ellisburg Circle. The Circle itself had long disappeared, redesigned to allow for less treacherous traversing, but the name remained out of sentimental affection for that deadly South Jersey traffic pattern.
Hal arranged the lunch without Carla's knowledge, calling at a time during midday when he figured Jessie would be alone. He knew that if Carla answered she would try to dissuade him from talking with her mother. Not that he didn't think that Jessie would tell her daughters about their appointment. He was in fact expecting an annoyed call from Carla or an angrier one from Margot complaining that it was a bad idea to encourage their mother in her delusions. He had already prepared a response to them: “Your mother is a grown person,” he heard himself saying. “Okay, she's not exactly of sound mind, but she's not helpless or incoherent either. I just want to get the full story.” Truth be told, he was hoping that Margot, in particular, would call; he would have liked to hear her voice.
But no call had come. This led Hal to believe that Jessie, aware of her daughters' views, had not mentioned anything about the meetingâa degree of foresight that led him to the conclusion that, as with Hamlet, “Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.”
It happened that on Tuesdays and Thursdays Carla helped Mark in the office, not only with the HMO paperwork but with the media calls that were now pouring in as a result of his
Courier Post
column and
Action News
appearance. (Yvette, the Drexel co-op student, had to go back to school, so Carla had taken over the outreach effort.)
This left Jessie on her own. Usually, when she wasn't engaged in household chores like cooking and cleaning, she liked to cruise the malls and do some serious bargain shoppingâand Cherry Hill is a mecca for the bargain hunter. Although most of the area's residents make a comfortable living, they see buying at full price as a kind of moral backsliding, like sleeping past noon or eating a whole container of Ben & Jerry's ice cream. It happens, but one feels bad about it afterward.
Jessie was no exception in this regard. She greatly appreciated the cornucopia of discount stores and factory outlets. She took pains to comparative shop, even among the various bargain stores themselves, and felt that to discover a pillow that was two dollars cheaper at Marshalls than at T. J. Maxx was an achievement to be proud of. Her skills as a bargain hunter were all part of the package that Milt Kaplan had found so captivating: a beautiful woman who cooked and cleaned like a dream, and who also shopped so as to save her husband money. Such a thing was unheard ofâ“as a rare as a snowstorm in July,” Milt liked to say, “but there's my Jessie, making snowballs in a sundress.”
In short, Jessie's shopping habits meant that if Carla called from Mark's office and found that no one was home, she would assume that her mother was traipsing through the malls, looking for markdowns. She would have no reason to suspect a more covert errand.
After Hal greeted Jessie in the reception area of Ponzio's, he asked the hostess to seat them in one of the smaller rooms in the back. They were led to the Barclay Room, where, though it was lunchtime and the place was buzzing, they could still find a relatively quiet spot in the corner. Ponzio's was spacious enough that privacy was possible, even though everyone went there.
The diner was also noteworthy for its staff of competent, mature waitressesâa far cry from the inept high-school girls who staffed Friendly's. Ponzio waitresses were always on hand, lounging near the coffee urns, prepared to saunter over at the slightest gesture and call you “sweetie” or “hon.” Hal had barely crooked a finger when one appeared at his elbow.
Jessie ordered the chopped Greek salad, a Ponzio's specialty, and Hal, a Reuben sandwich. After scratching a few marks on a pad, the waitress sashayed off, only to sashay back, a few minutes later, with their order. The rapidity of service at Ponzio's was another mystery. Given the size of the place and the extent of the menu, no one could fathom how the food could be prepared so quickly.
“Now,” said Hal, addressing Jessie with gentle seriousness, “you have certainly piqued my interest, and I'd like to hear more. I have an hour before I have to get back for my sixth-period class, and I wonder if you could answer some questions.”
Jessie said that this would be fine, but he should eat his Reuben before it got cold.
Hal took a bite from his sandwich, then extracted a pad and pencil from his pocket and prepared to take notes. “First, if you could tell me about the kind of life you led in Venice during that other time ⦠Where you lived in the city, for example, might be a good place to start.”
“We all lived in one area,” said Jessie. “Crowded in. It was a tight fit.”
“The Jews, you're talking about,” clarified Hal. He'd been
reading up on the subject and had learned that during the Renaissance, Jews in Venice had been segregated to one part of the cityâan island of its own, itself divided into two areas. “From what I read,” he explained to Jessie, “the Old Ghetto, also known as the Getto Vecchio, was settled later than the New Ghetto, but was called the Old Ghetto because it was located near an old foundryâ
getto,
its seems, means âfoundry' in Italian.”
“So what?” said Jessie impatiently.
“Okay, okay. My question is, were you in the Old Ghetto or the New?”
“The Old,” Jessie responded without hesitation. “The riffraff Ashkenazim were in the New. We were Sephardimâmore high-class. From Spain by way of the Levant.”
“I see,” said Hal, jotting this down. “Your family left Spain for the Ottoman Empire before settling in Venice?”
“Yes. In Spain, they made Father's family say they'd give up being Jewsâthat's why they left. The Church had gotten so they couldn't take a breath.”
“The Inquisition: forced conversion, torture, burning at the stake for heresy?”
“All thatâand more.”
“So your family were Marranos, secret Jews?”
“Yes, but they stopped being secret when they came to the Levant. The Turks didn't careâwhat did they know from the Church? You see, Jews and Arabs got along back then. They were both being pushed around, so they decided, why not get together and make like a partnership? The Christians would have to treat us right if they wanted to get their ships through. And that's how Poppa became such a big
macher
. The doge needed him to make the negotiations with the Turks and work out the trade routes to the East.”
“So he made his money from foreign trade negotiations, not by loaning at interest to individuals?”
“That's right. He lent money mostly as a favor. Three percent or less, he charged. It was the German and Italian Jews in the New Ghetto who charged more. Not that they had a choice. They didn't have connections like we did. It was their living.”
“But you were all confined to one areaâthe two ghettos surrounded by the canals?”
“Yes, there was only one entrance and it was guarded by Christians. They used to lock up the gates to our part of town at night. I don't know where they were afraid we would go. But it didn't really mean anything to us. We paid the guards and did what we pleased. It was crowded, I grant youâeverything on top of everything, six stories or more to the buildings. But we didn't mind so much; it was snug, that's all. There were plenty of synagogues and other things too: bookstores and
salonieri
, which were like our book clubs today; doctors and dentists to beat the band. A music school, very well thought of, even the gentiles came for lessons. And the shopsâyou name it, we had it. Jews weren't allowed to make things but we could sell them.
Strazzaria
-
shmatta
stores, it meantâbut high-quality merchandise. Also very popular with the gentiles. They came to shop or get a tooth pulled, maybe. For gambling too; that was very big.”
“They had gambling in the ghetto?”
“Sure. They used to come from all over, a regular Atlantic City. When they ran out of money, they came to Poppa for a loan. They knew he was generous and wouldn't take advantage.”
“It sounds like maybe your father shared more qualities with Antonio in
The Merchant of Venice
than with Shylock. Antonio was the character who lent the young man money in the play and from whom Shylock wanted to take his pound of flesh. He was supposed to be prosperous, generous, a good businessman, and a good friend.”
“I suppose,” said Jessie doubtfully. “But he was a gentile; Shylock was a Jew.”
“Yes, but authors sometimes spread qualities around among
different characters. It could be that Shakespeare put some of your father into Antonio, even though the character was a gentile, and some of himself into Shylock, even though Shylock was a Jew. Maybe he felt cheated out of his bondâhis right to youâand wanted to seek revenge on your father, the way Shylock wanted revenge on Antonio.”
Jessie ruminated on this for a moment. “It's a thought,” she said, “but I don't buy it.”
“All right,” continued Hal, taking another tack. “What about your mother? You haven't mentioned her. What was she like?”
“My mother died of typhoid when I was four. It was common to die young then, especially the womenâsome died of typhoid, some in childbirth, some from other things we didn't even have names for. I barely remember her. As far as I knew, it was always Poppa and me. I ruled the roost. Nothing like the way it was made out in the play.”
Hal nodded. “So you and your father lived alone. What was your relationship to the rest of the community?”
“We were looked up to. Poppa was rich and had connections. We mixed mostly with the wealthiest families and of course with the rebbe. The rebbe's son was a nice boyâthey were going to send him to Padua to train in medicine, but later he decided he'd follow in his father's footsteps and be a rebbe, too. His name was Leon Modenaâmaybe you heard of him? He became chief rabbi and had a big reputation for new ideas. He married my girlfriend Rivkah, though it was me he really liked. That's what set Will off the first time.”
“He was jealous of the rabbi's son?”
“Yes, he saw me walking with Leon in the Campiello and he assumed ⦠that's where the nasty sonnets came from. Later he wrote the others to make up for them.”
“The others?”
“I told you he wrote more to the lady than what you said.”
“More than the twenty-seven we have?”
“Way more than that. It was more like a hundred and twenty-seven.”
Hal scribbled in the pad. “You mean as many as to the young man?”
“At least as many. As I said, the young man was just a concoction.”
“A conceit?”
“Whatever. It was to make me jealous. And for spite.”
“I see,” said Hal. “But let's backtrack. You haven't explained how you andâWillâmet. I would have thought that as a woman and a Jew, you wouldn't have had much opportunity to meet new people, no less famous London playwrights.”
“You would think so, but you'd be wrong. Not having a mother was part of it. And of course Poppa being such a big
macher
and so fond of me, he let me do whatever I wanted and no one said anything. Let's face it; I was spoiled. Like Margot.” She gave Hal a knowing look. “What did you think of Margot? Have you asked her out on a date yet?”
“She seemed like a nice woman,” replied Hal, wincing slightly, “but no, I haven't asked her out.”
“She's not so nice,” said Jessie, “but you should. She's an interesting girl and very sharp. She'd liven things up for you, and you might help make her nicer.”
“That's very thoughtful of you to say,” said Hal brusquely, “but if you don't mind, let's get back to your story.”
“Okay, okay. So I met Will one day when he came to the house with Kit Marlowe and one of their friends who'd gambled away his money and wanted Poppa to give him a loan. Kit had been by before and we knew his story. He was a
feigeleh
, but talented, and had to leave England owing to some sort of political
mishegoss.
Poppa took him under his wing, lent him money, introduced him to people. Kit was educated but an outsider too, like us, so we could relate. Poppa liked to argue with him the way he did with the rebbe: âIs the Bible true or made up?' âWhy did God do this and not that?
âWho knows even if there is a God?'âthat kind of thing. Then Kit started bringing his friends. Some wanted to borrow money, some wanted to look at me.”
“So you were an attraction?”
“I was nice to look at, yes,” said Jessie frankly. “I looked like Margot, but not as sharp-tongued. So everyone liked me.”