Breakwater

If it has seemed matter of fact up to now, it is because all of these old ghosts were laid to rest years ago with a story. So this time out begins with the beginning of that story and ends with the song that was written by Amanda McBroom about her father, the actor, and sung many years after my father died that finally made me cry for my daddy, the accountant.

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"The Juggler".

The pretty balls whirled above the child’s head. Daddy had bought a small circus for the day and it was only right to name the spinning circles after those she loved. Blue – Aunt Ruth, green – Uncle Don, red and yellow for mommy and daddy; the pink one was Aunt Helen, orange for Wanda, white for Duane and you run out of colors and balls for Butch and Sandy, Claudia Jo and Donna Ruth, Grandmother and Pampa. The girl cried because there weren’t enough colors to go around and she just knew one of the ever faster moving globes would drop and ruin the show.

Front row seats at the Ice Capades. Chubby fingers reach out to touch the back of a skater resting in the dark waiting for her cue to skate out into the lights. She’s warm daddy. The skaters flashed among the rainbow lights of a fairytale world. They’re warm; they’re real. But the show was over. The lights went out. The fairytale ended in a bar with daddy. Just one honey and we will go home. There are no real happy endings.

The princess wore gold satin and white majorette boots with tassels. The winning number is -------. Blinded by the flashing cameras she was lifted down by one of her many cheering adult attendants. The gold typewriter was gone and they all went to watch the stripper. How could you? The fight went on into the early hours as she buried her head in the pillow to muffle the sounds from the next room.

You have to put her in school. Mother argued with the man above the child’s head. She’s too young, barely five, she will never keep up. Test her, please. She can do it. The first in a series of tests started. They would continue for years at each new school. She has the mind of a ten year old. We will put her in the third grade to start. No, keep her as close to the right age group as possible. The child sat politely still among the rest of the furniture and listened. Give her the books. She will learn on her own. She was different – the teacher’s pet – the outsider – the smart one – alone.

She had become a juggler with colorless balls: Mother, father, aunts and uncles, teachers, schoolmates, a happy face for each role. There was no one like her. Hold them in the air. If allowed to fall, the world will end. California, Arizona, New Mexico, Washington, Oregon, Nevada, and California again: It was her own great circle tour. The dream started. She faced the long winding road, running always faster as the shadowy figures pursued. There was now a stepfather, a stepmother, two stepsisters, another stepfather and how many of mother’s friends; she forgot. Home was where she happened to be that night. "Here is your ticket honey. Get off the bus in Fresno; call a cab and give this note to Casey. She will keep you until I have a place again." Planes, trains, buses, all the dusty terminals of the Western U.S. became more than familiar. They were places without anyone she knew, which made them friends.

"You lousy, mother-fuckin’, son-of-a-bitchin’ bastard --- " The litany went on into the night. Dad made phone calls when he drank. Get up again. It’s only 4 a.m., and self-appointed guardians keep dawn watches. Daddy, I love you. Talk to me. Please talk to me. That’s the closet, not the bathroom. I’ll take care of you. Please! Talk to me. "Stinky, bring your friends home". Oh, daddy, I’m twelve, don’t call me that. "Here’s $20.00 buy yourself a record". Thank you. Go to bed now, please.

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So you daddies and daughters,
you sons and you mothers.
Remember life's over before it begins.
So love one another, and stand close together
As close as my dad did to old Errol Flynn

A Peaceful Pause

Well here we are. Dad is married to Mary and keeping the drinking under control. Mom is married to another Bob and resisting her need for constant romance. Ruth and Don are getting along and her "best friend" hasn't yet gotten predatory. All three regular homes are in working order, and all the other aunts are maintaining their pairs. There is a lot to be said for peace and quiet. I call it the Webster Webfoot Interlude.

Mother was waitressing at an upscale steak house and Daddy Bob (I slipped into that easily, he really was a nice man) liked to go fishing. He had never had a daughter so he figured girls could hike through rough country to go fishing and learn to shoot at targets with his police special. We always kept some of the trout alive to put in the wishing well where mom worked.

Webster and his friend Jimmy Weldon were on local TV. When Webster was around, Jimmy never broke character even if he was just stopping in for dinner. Webster was three years old (born on February 31), and that was the way everyone talked to him even though they logically knew it was Jimmy being a ventriloquist. One night Jimmy came into the restaurant with Webster just as the fish were being dropped off, but Bob was in uniform ready to go to work.

"Jimmy?"
"Yes, Webster"
"You see that man?"
"Yes, Webster"
"Is that a gun?"
"Yes, Webster. That is a gun"
"Jimmy?"
"Yes, Webster"
"Does he shoot ducks?"

Needless to say, the whole place came unglued.

For two whole years I had an almost regular life with a best friend in Fresno and a best friend in Los Angeles and a best friend in El Monte (three families remember), and in 1957 at the age of 13 I fell in love for the first time with a handsome older man of 17 or it was probably just Fresno heat stroke. Even if it didn't work out like a hit song of that year, Jerry is remembered fondly more than a half century later, and he will always be 17.



All in all, it was a nice backwater to bob around in gently before tackling the rapids once more.

Manic Monday - Sale

I was almost thrown by this week's word from Mo until I remembered the opening scene from The Music Man where all the salesmen on the train talk about the change in the way businesses is done (Ya Gotta Know The Territory). Then the charlatan traveling Salesman Harold Hill Proceeds to sell River City a Boy's Band (Ya Got Trouble).



It is amazing how much things have changed from when I was a child and there were still door to door salesment such as the "Fuller Brush Man". Later "The Avon Lady" really did make the rounds of the neighborhood rather than just passing the catalogue around at work.

It you wanted an expensive item you either saved up and paid cash or put it on "lay away" and made payments until you could pay it off and pick it up. Admitedly credit makes purchases much more convenient, but the access to easy credit has caused more heartache than I think it may be worth.

For links to more Manic Monday participants, join Mo and the gang HERE

When I'm 65 Part II - Decade

Aunt Helen with Janet (left) and Wanda (right)

To put everything in perspective. There was never a moment in my childhood when I felt unloved, mistreated, or abused in any way. At absolute worst until 1961 (more later), I was inconvenient. There were times when I resented events (doesn't every child?). There were times when I wished that I fitted in better. which is hard to do when you are always the new kid in town. Mine was a world of adults, first because of being an only child. Second because I had three major homes. Third because I was a "brain" and spoiled rotten by teachers and trusted by adults ... this didn't help with the fitting in part.

When last we left our story, it was 1949. Now a mere five years later it is the summer of 1954 and I am living with my Aunt Helen and cousin Wanda. There have been some new stops added to the map: Phoenix, Albuquerque, and now Chowchilla with the usual side trips of Los Angeles and Fresno. By the decade point, I have already attended six schools in six cities and number seven would be after the summer ended when I moved to El Monte (another city).

Somewhere in there around about 1951 Albuquerque, the parents managed to get unhitched (check the earlier story about San Marino Hall School for Girls). None of this came about before there was almost an international incident when I almost got shipped off to Saudi Arabia (Kamel deserves his own blog post) or made the rounds of every officer's club in eight states or the night they left me asleep in a car and when I woke up, I naturally went to find them. When a child in bunny feet pajamas shows up in a Phoenix nightclub, she just might end up on Billy Eckstein's lap. For the life of me I have no idea why he was there and why in Arizona in that era a white child was on a black man's lap. For the rest of the world in that period, it would have been a scandal. For me it was just life with mom and dad and all the performers they knew. It was just more music. I picked this clip so that you could see him moving as well as hearing his magnificent voice, but do take the time to listen to some of the other you tube cuts.



Having got unhitched Dad immediately got rehitched and thus I acquired a stepmother, two stepsisters, and a step grandmother. This was an excellent move on dad's part and she was a good enough woman that it took ten years for him to screw it up, even though he really worked at it.

Mom waited until the summer of 1953. She managed to find a truly good, responsible, stable man. Unfortunately, stability wasn't on her list of desirable qualities so he only lasted six years. While he was around, the music was great. He not only looked like Frank Sinatra, he sounded like him. At one point he had had a recording contract, but at the time the world didn't want one Sinatra much less two of them, so he became a Fresno Deputy Sheriff instead. This pair are the source of my inferiority complex about singing. Imagine being in the back seat of a car with Frank driving and singing and Judy singing along. His big number:



But they sang everything. They also didn't think it was unusual when a ten year old child looked at a television and became an absolute, total undying fan of Sammy Davis, Jr. Over the years, because of all the musical and motion picture contacts, stars were just people who earned their living working that way with one exception. I adored Sammy as mentioned in this previous article. This one sided love affair continued until his death and he still remains the only performer whose death brought me to tears, but it all started with this performance on black and white TV.



Will Mastin Trio starring Sammy Davis, Jr. May, 1954

Hang on to your hats folks. Up till now thanks to the love, the music, the admiration etc., I knew my life was different, but it wasn't awful. I'm a brainy, responsible little bookworm treated as an adult by all the other adults around me. It is all about to go to hell in a handbasket.