One afternoon before I went to work, Billy and I were sitting on the sidewalk leaning back against the side wall of the Sugar Bowl smoking and talking. A car pulled up in front of us. I looked up and noticed the car looked a lot like my father’s.
Billy and I watched as a man began to climb out of the car and Billy said, “Who the hell is that? Is it someone you know, Van?”
I saw my father getting out of his car and coming towards us. “What the fuck! That’s my old man, Billy!”
My first instinct was to get up and run like hell. But, as I rose to high-tail it out of there, my father stopped where he was on the other side of his car and said, “Roland, wait! I just need to talk with you for a minute. Don’t run off, please.”
I had never heard my father use the word ‘please’ before. He stayed on the driver’s side of the car. “Just a few minutes, Roland,” he asked. “Come over here by the car so I don’t have to talk so loud.”
Even though I hadn’t been away from home for very long, I was surprised at how my father didn’t seem as big as I had thought. It might have been a mental reaction or perhaps I had grown a little. I looked over at Billy, who had also risen and was standing beside me, and saw him give an affirmative nod as he walked around to the front of the Sugar Bowl. He didn’t go inside but joined a couple of the other Dukes who were hanging around outside and stood where he could still see me and my father’s car.
I walked over to the rear of the car and stopped. My father stayed on the driver’s side where he was.
“Are you doing alright, Roland?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m good.” I was nervous so I reached in my shirt pocket for my pack of cigarettes. I noticed my father’s eyes narrow as I did so and almost changed my mind. As I watched his face tense my mind went to the fact he used to be a smoker. I even used to steal his cigarettes after I started smoking. I felt a certain amount of defiance creep over me so I continued to pull out the pack, shook out a cigarette and lit it.
I could see my father’s jaw clench in anger before he took a deep breath and with his teeth clamped together quickly asked, “Do you have any thoughts about coming home? Your mother is worried about you all the time and I know she would like you to come home. We haven’t told the police about you but we would rather you were home again.”
The first thought flying through my head was a vision of grabbing the front of his shirt and screaming into his face, “Don’t you ever pay attention to me? I said I would never come back!” The second thought was if Billy saw me do something like that he and the guys he was standing with might come roaring over ready to kick my father’s ass, and I knew I would be in even more trouble if that happened. The third thought was how those words coming out of this man’s mouth did not ring true at all. I felt certain he was saying those words because my mother insisted, or he had another motive for being here. Those thoughts did give me some courage, so even though I didn’t want to look at him, I kept my head down, took another drag off my smoke and quietly said, “I told you I would never come home again. I’m doing fine so you can tell her to stop worrying.”
I could see the anger building in my father and I wondered if he would try to hit me out here in the open with the guys watching. The fists of both his hands clenched and unclenched as he took in the words I said.
At first it seemed as though he would take a step towards me, but he seemed to sigh as he stood still, looked over the top of his car at the side wall of the Sugar Bowl building and asked, ”What are you going to do this fall when school starts? If you don’t go to school the truant officers will be out looking for you and they’ll make you come home again even if you don’t want to.”
I didn’t have an answer to his question, so I just took another drag off my smoke and shrugged my shoulders.
He put one hand in his pocket and leaned on the top of his car with his other arm. “Maybe there’s a way we can work something out,” he said. “You’re going to be twelve in January, right?”
I nodded as I thought my mother had probably just reminded him when my birthday was. I didn’t think it would be something he would remember on his own.
“We’ve been talking to our minister, Reverend Schutter, and asked him if he would be able to help us.”
Reverend Schutter was the first minister at their church I had ever liked. He used to be a Chaplain in the Army and served his time on the front lines. He had talked about his war experiences several times and related some of the horrors he’d seen as the Chaplain. He talked about having to try to comfort men who were about to die on the battlefield from horrible wounds. One day as he was caring for a wounded soldier, his unit came under fire and he was also badly wounded. His wounds caused him to lose part of his stomach and intestines so he was extremely thin and was unable to eat a normal diet.
When he came to the church it was immediately obvious he was completely different from most ministers in the Dutch Reformed church. His way of connecting with people in a kind, compassionate way was refreshing, and he was especially good with the younger kids. He didn’t try to hold himself up as someone special or above the people in the church as the other ministers I had met did. He treated everyone as equals and wasn’t afraid to have some fun. The sternness usually evident in Reformed Church ministers wasn’t in his style at all. He had a special understanding about life which I guessed was the result of his war experience and realized how a life based on rigid, inflexible religious rules wasn’t necessary.
My father looked over at the guys standing in front of the Sugar Bowl and I saw his jaw clench again before he turned back to me and said, “We asked him if there was some way we could work out an arrangement to keep your mother and I informed about how you were doing without forcing you to live at home with us.”
I didn’t know what was coming next, but I could feel my resistance begin to build. I had reached the point in my street upbringing where there were few people I would trust, and my father certainly wasn’t one of them.
He went on, “Rev. Schutter said there was no way he could be involved with such an arrangement unless you were at least twelve-years old. When we told him you’d be twelve in January, he said he’d give it some thought and get back to us.”
“So, did he?”, I asked.
“Yes. He suggested how, if you refused to live at home with us, there may be some way to work out an arrangement where you could stay safe, healthy, continue to go to school and keep up with your music. Of course, you’d have to be responsible for living up to whatever arrangement you two can figure out. If there was some way the two of you could come up with how to do this, he said he’d be willing to keep us informed about how you were doing. It would keep the police and truant officers away from you.”
He started to say something else, but stopped before any words came out. He looked away as I watched the hand on top of the car curl into a fist and his jaw clench once again.
I stared straight into his eyes as I thought about what I wanted to say to him, when he blurted out, “It would also keep you out of Reform School, which is where I’ll see to it you end up if you keep living like you do.”
That did it.
I turned away and started walking toward where Billy and the other guys were standing as I said over my shoulder, “I’ll let either you or Rev. Schutter know what I decide.”
After the incident with my father, I spent a great deal of time thinking about whether to make the contact with Rev. Schutter, or just continue to keep living like I had been. I was getting along alright, but I knew I would create more problems for myself if I didn’t go to school. Eventually, I realized talking with the Reverend didn’t commit me to anything. If we couldn’t come up with something which would keep me from living with my parents, I could keep moving on as I had been.
I did want to go back to school, even though it would be difficult to attend school and work at night. School did let out by around three o’clock in the afternoon, so I would be able to sleep for several hours and get homework done before I needed to head downtown for work. In the mornings I could head right to school after I got off work. Plus, since the market would be closing in October, it wouldn’t be too long before I could get on a normal schedule. The one thing I hadn’t solved was whether I could find a place to sleep at night. I did know a couple of the Duke’s mothers worked night shift at the defense factories. I didn’t know about their fathers though.
About a week before school would start, I went to the church to see if Rev. Schutter was there. His secretary was in the office and told me he had already gone home for the day.
I left the church and rode my bike over to Rev. Schutter’s house which was on Keating between State Fair and Seven Mile Road. His neighborhood was older than mine. He lived in a nice brick home and there were only a few few frame houses in the area. A covered porch ran all along the front of the house and the lawn was immaculate.
I put my bike alongside the house, walked up the front stairs and rang the bell.
Rev. Schutter came to the door. He opened the screen door and with a smile said, “Well, Roland, I was wondering if we would be seeing you. Come in. It’s good to see you.”
It was unusual to see him without his suit on and wearing a tie, but today he was in a flannel shirt and corduroy pants. He had a pipe in his mouth that was leaving a pleasant scent in the house. There was a small vestibule just inside the front door and he stepped into the room on the left and nodded for me to follow him. The room had a desk in front of a large window, a couch, several chairs and bookcases filled to the brim covering two of the walls on either side of the room.
“Have a seat, Roland,” he said, pointing to one of the chairs near his desk. ”Should I call you Roland, or do you have a nickname you would rather I use?”
I suddenly felt quite shy and awkward about speaking. I kept looking around the room and was wondering why anyone would have so many books. Other than my schoolbooks, my father’s Bible and some magazines, there were no books in my house. I was getting ready to say something about my name when a big red-haired dog came into the room and began sniffing at my hand.
“What kind of dog is it?” I asked as I began to pet the dog behind its ears.
“He’s an Irish Setter and we named him Scout. We adopted him from the dog pound a little over a year ago. He’s a gentle guy and loves to go to the country out by Eight Mile Road and have a good run.”
“He sure does have long hair,” I said.
“Yes, he does. It takes us doing a good brushing a couple of times a week, and after he’s been out for a good run, his coat is full of burrs, tangles and snarls which take a lot of time to get out.”
“So,” Rev. Schutter asked, “did you tell me what I should call you?”
“Roland is okay, but some of my friends call me Rollo or Rollie.”
“I kind of like Rollo, is it alright if I call you that?”
I was petting Scout with both hands as I nodded.
Rev. Schutter walked over and sat at another chair in front of his desk and said, “You know I’ve been talking with your parents about you, don’t you, Rollo? They’re very worried about you and would like you to go back home to live. What do you think about going back there?”
I was glad the dog was staying by me so I’d have something to do with my hands. I kept my head down so I wouldn’t have to look at the Reverend and said, “There is no way I will ever go back there.”
“Tell me why you feel that way?”
I spent the next couple of minutes telling him about the beatings, the discovery I was adopted, my job at the market and my friends giving me places to sleep.
“Well, it sounds like you’re doing remarkably well for a boy who is only eleven years old. You’re going to be twelve in January, is that right?”
I nodded.
Rev. Schutter picked up a pad of paper and wrote something on it.
“What are you going to do about school if you don’t live at home. If you don’t show up at school they’re going to come looking for you, and if you do, they’re going to expect you have a home to go to.”
Scout decided to lay down at my feet and fall asleep. I didn’t know what to do with my hands so I crossed my arms in front of me. There was something about the way Rev. Schutter was looking at me, and the way he talked with me as though I was his friend that made me trust him. I decided to tell him what my plans were.
“I do want to go to school, and I figured I would just go. They’ve never asked me for any information before, so they probably won’t even know I’m not living at home.”
“Well, I know for a fact the school will know because your parents will tell them. Unless they know you’re safe, they will report you. It’s their right. If you don’t show up at school, then they’ll take the steps to put you into reform school.”
As I looked up at him, he looked back at me with a softness I wasn’t expecting. His eyes were kind and gentle – almost sympathetic. I sensed, somehow, he was going to wait to see what I had to say.
“So, if they know I’m safe, then they won’t report me, right?”
“What are you thinking, Rollo?”
“Well, you said you thought it sounded like I was doing alright for a kid my age, so if I could check in with you once in a while, you could just tell them I’m okay, couldn’t you?”
“What do you mean by once in a while”? Rev. Schutter asked as he stood up and pulled a book off the shelf next to him.
“I don’t know – maybe stop by here or your office at the church once a week so you can make sure I’m doing okay.”
Scout got up and moved over to Rev. Schutter’s desk. I was wishing Scout would have stayed by me. I felt more secure when he was close. Rev. Schutter was leafing through some pages of the book he took off the bookshelf. He held up a finger to tell me to wait for a minute.
He got up, put the book back on the shelf, sat back down, looked over at me and shook his head.
“Rollo, I don’t know what to do about you. Normally, with a child your age I wouldn’t hesitate to tell you you have to go live at home until you’re at least sixteen. But, I’ve talked with your mother so I know what’s going on. I’ve also talked with your father, but I don’t see much chance of him changing his ways. Unfortunately, there are many men who believe the same way your father does – even many ministers. I just don’t happen to be one of them.”
He closed his eyes and sat back in his chair. He looked like he was praying, but I guessed he was just thinking about what to say. Scout got up and walked out of the room. I waited nervously for Rev. Schutter to continue. My stomach felt like it was alive there were so many butterflies flitting around inside.
“I decided it would be best if I tried to look at this through your eyes. Also, your mother suggested I speak with your piano teacher, Miss Thomas, which I did.”
I felt a certain panic set in as I blurted, “You talked to Miss Thomas?”
He took a couple of minutes to relight his pipe. He responded and spoke slowly and calmly, “Yes. She sure is a wonderful young woman and had some good things to say about you. I had no idea you were doing so well with your piano studies. Maybe you could give your mother some vacation time from her organist job at the church once in a while,” he said with a big grin on his face.
I still had this feeling inside that a special part of my life – a part I wanted to keep to myself – had been invaded. I didn’t want anyone sticking their nose into my relationship with Miss Thomas. I wanted to say something, but didn’t know what to say.
Rev. Schutter went on, “So, since I sort of figured you weren’t going to agree to move back home, and since I didn’t think having your parents call in the authorities to put you into reform school would be in your best interest, and since learning how important your piano studies are to you, and knowing you do need to go to school in a couple of weeks, I’ve been trying to come up with a plan.”
Rev. Schutter leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. He looked at me with such seriousness I forgot my thoughts about Miss Thomas as I realized I needed to hear what came next.
“Rollo, my plan isn’t finalized just yet, because I need to ask you about some things and I need you to tell me the truth about them. Please don’t lie to me. I’m a pretty smart guy and I’ll know if you do. Okay?”
I nodded as I wondered if he would really be able to know if I lied.
“First of all, where do you sleep, Rollo?”
Without even thinking I answered with the truth. “Since I work at night down at the wholesale market, I’m able to sleep over at a friend’s house during the day.”
“Do the friend’s parents know about you sleeping there?”
“There’s only one parent, but she knows about it sometimes.”
“Mmm-hmm, but not all the time, right? What about clothes, are they at your friend’s house, too?”
Although Sally’s mom knew about my clothes being there, I didn’t want to get Sally into trouble, so I just nodded, figuring he would assume my ‘friend’ would be a guy.
This conversation went on for some time, with Rev. Schutter covering all the concerns about food, clothing, shelter and safety. With the exception of telling him about Sally being the ‘friend’, I found I couldn’t lie to him. Something about the way he was treating me made me think that lying would not be a good thing to do. He didn’t make me feel as though I was just some little kid being manipulated into going back to living with this parents.
“Rollo, it sounds as though you’ve managed to work out your survival rather well. Pretty amazing for a kid your age. But, your age is my main problem in trying to come up with something for you. I know you don’t want to move back to your parents home, and I can understand why. Just finding out about your adoption, plus the way you’re being treated – well, I can see why you feel that way. I do understand, and I want to help you. At the same time, I need to come up with a plan where I know you’re being kept safe and sound and be able to honestly satisfy your parents so they don’t feel they have to bring in the authorities.”
He leaned back in his chair again, raised his arms and locked his fingers behind his head. His eyes were boring into mine. I wanted to look away but couldn’t. It was like a staring contest only it was something more, much more. I felt a connection to him which was similar to the connection I felt with the Dukes. I was believing I could depend on him not to betray me.
Suddenly he stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of me. He had one hand in his pocket and began making expressive movements with the other as he walked and talked.
“Your parents trust me right now. And I have to be sure I can trust you. If I come up with a plan and you mess it up some way, I can be in a whole lot of trouble, Rollo. I’m a minister, and I’m not supposed to be helping kids live away from their parents. But, there’s something about you – I can’t put my finger on it – I want to take a chance and find a way to make this work for everyone.”
I was wishing the dog would come back in the room so I’d have something to do with my hands. I was excited and nervous at the same time. I didn’t know what was coming, but I wasn’t afraid, either. The urgency in his voice and the way he was walking back and forth as he spoke was contagious and I began to feel a sense of urgency and impatience in myself.
“Rollo, in order for this idea of mine to work, I need to have your piano teacher agree to it. How do you feel about me contacting her and seeing what she’d be willing to do?”
Oh-oh! I wasn’t expecting him to go there. Suddenly, I added panic to my excitement, impatience and nervousness.
“She doesn’t know I’ve run away from home and I don’t want to do anything to lose her as my teacher. She is so good and I’m learning a lot. Do we have to tell her? If she knows I’m a runaway she may not want to keep teaching me.”
“Yes, I believe we have to take the chance. From what she’s told me, I don’t think she’ll turn you away. Here’s what I’m thinking. Once you see what I have in mind I think you’ll understand why she is vital to making this work. In order for me to tell your parents you’re doing good, I need to have contact with you regularly. I know you have a lesson with Miss Thomas once a week, right?”
I nodded.
“Okay. That leaves six more days where I need to know you’re alright. The best solution would be for you to live here, but we only have two bedrooms and you’re sitting in one of them right now. My wife and I sleep in the other one. So, I need to make sure you’re not living under a porch somewhere. For me to take this kind of risk, there have to be responsible adults who are willing to go along with this plan. Can you understand why it has to be this way?”
I truly didn’t understand. The only adult involved with my life had been Miss Thomas and I was getting along fine without any others. I wasn’t so sure I was going to like this plan. However, I just nodded my head.
He stopped pacing, stood looking out the window, and said, “School starts next week, and your job at the market will be ending soon. Your idea of coming by to see me once a week just isn’t good enough – I need to have contact with you in some way more often than that. Do you practice your piano every day – and, if you do, where do you practice?”
“I practice for a couple of hours every day, either at my friend’s house or at school.”
“Good. Then, here’s what I’m thinking. You can start doing your piano practice at the church every day except for the day of your lesson with Miss Thomas. As you know, we have a nice Steinway concert grand. You can do it either in the morning or right after school. I’m usually there by seven o’clock in the morning and close up about five in the afternoon. There may be some Saturdays when we might have to adjust the time you come in because of weddings or some other thing happening, like a funeral or something. The only other day this won’t work is Sunday, and Sundays you can practice here at my house. We don’t have a concert grand, but we do have a nice upright piano. Most Sundays you can also have a nice meal here with my wife and me. How does it sound so far, Rollo?”
I was in a state of shock. My mouth was hanging open and no words were coming out of it. This was turning out much better than I had hoped. I was about to leap with joy when I suddenly locked onto his last words – ‘so far’. I blurted out, “Fine!” as I wondered what else was coming.
“When you come in for your practice, I want to spend a few minutes talking with you each time so I can be sure you’re clean, fed and rested. I’m not going to interfere with how you keep yourself clean, fed and rested for now – unless I see you’re not. This is the part of this plan I’m most nervous about because it’s where the greatest risk to me comes in. If, for any reason, you don’t have a good place to sleep – or you aren’t getting enough to eat – or you have to go back to living on the streets, you need to tell me, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir!” I answered.
“I’m serious, Rollo. Don’t let me down. I’m depending on you because I can see you have something special about you and I want to help you. As time goes by and you’re doing good, there are lots of other things we need to talk about, so plan on some conversations with me, okay?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Alright, let’s shake on it,” he said as he extended his hand for me to shake.
As I took his hand he put his other hand on my shoulder, looked directly into my eyes and said, “I’m sorry you have to grow up so fast, Rollo. Maybe someday you’ll have some time to just be a kid for awhile. In the meantime, just don’t let me down. Now, go on, get out of here!”
After my conversation with Rev. Schutter, I began practicing at the church every day. Miss Thomas told me she had talked with Rev. Schutter and was letting him know how I was doing when I showed up for my lesson. She never asked me any questions about being a runaway, so I didn’t talk about it with her. In some ways, she seemed to treat me with more respect – or perhaps it was how she didn’t see me as a little kid any longer. Also, it felt like she was expecting me to do more than she did before. There was more focus on doing scales and other technique exercises.
My work at the market had ended for the year and I was focusing on the upcoming recital. As I walked up the street to Miss Thomas’ for my lesson, I had realized how important the lesson would be as it would be my last session with her before the recital. I was also thinking about what a great piano they had at the church and how much more I’d been able to accomplish by practicing there. It was almost identical to the piano at Miss Thomas’. Practicing was always enjoyable for me, but being able to have a piano readily available every day was making it seem more like fun and less like work.
I felt like I was ready for the recital, but knew I would soon find out for sure. My practices had been good and I no longer needed to rely on looking at the music.
Over the first half-hour of the lesson time, I played through the three recital pieces. To me they seemed to be nearly perfect, but when I’d finished, Miss Thomas said, “Those were played beautifully, Roland. In fact, I sort of forgot I’m the teacher here and was just enjoying your playing. I wasn’t paying close enough attention to everything. So, please play them again for me.”
When I finished Miss Thomas said, “Roland, I am amazed at how you are expressing your emotions through the music when you play these pieces. It’s hard for me to realize you’re not yet an adult. I know your life experiences have something to do with it – and in a way – it makes me sad. However, from a musician’s point of view, you are quite advanced from my other students your age and even some of the older ones. One thing I learned many years ago is that in an orchestra, the conductor can dictate the emotions for the way a piece will be played by the other musicians, but with a solo performer, only the performer can know what they themselves are feeling. Always remember, play the way you feel the music and everything will be good.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Sometimes when I’m practicing I try to feel like I’m Frederick Chopin playing just for George Sand. I like the Moonlight Sonata, but I still feel like Chopin when I’m playing it, not Beethoven.”
“Well, the Moonlight piece has some of the same feelings as a Chopin romantic piece, doesn’t it?” she asked. “But, it’s true, there’s not a lot of similarity between Chopin and Beethoven the composers”.” Miss Thomas smiled, and went on, “Rev. Schutter told me how he and his secretary sometimes find themselves stopping their work while you’re practicing just to listen to you play. So, see, you’re already playing for an audience.”
“Yeah,” I said as I smiled, “but I didn’t know they were listening.”
Miss Thomas nodded her head and said, “Right, so let’s spend the rest of our time today talking about performance. I remember you telling me about your performance experience at your school with the Polonaise, but doing a recital might be different in some ways. I can tell you right now, you have conquered the most important thing about being ready to perform for people – and that is you are extremely well prepared. You know the music completely – you haven’t looked at the printed music for several weeks and you’ve done your best to get into the minds of the composers. You’re using your emotions to guide you through the phrasing for each piece. I have no doubt you’ll be able to communicate your feelings about the pieces to the audience.”
Miss Thomas got up from the piano stool where she had been sitting and walked over to the window at the front of her studio.
“Technically, you seem to have the pieces where you want them — completely under the control of your mind and your fingers. I would have thought some of the reaches were too much for the size of your hands, but with the fingerings we’ve developed, and the fact both you and your hands have grown considerably since we started these pieces, there’s no problem there at all. Add to all this,” she chuckled, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a student who loved to practice more than you. It’s the practice that makes it perfect, you know.”
I nodded and said, “I do love to practice, I always have. Now, since I’m able to practice on the piano at the church, it’s even more fun. Their piano is just like yours.”
“Yes, I’m sure it does help, Roland,” she said. “Also, I have invited several of my friends to be at the recital, and you certainly are welcome to invite any of your friends if you’d like. There isn’t a charge, so everyone is welcome. The parents of the other two children in this recital will probably be there also. Do you think your parents will be there?”
Her question came as a surprise. I wasn’t ready for it and hadn’t given it any thought.
She seemed to look as embarrassed as I was surprised as she said, “Oh, Roland. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Really, I’m sorry!”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I suppose Rev. Schutter will say something to them, but whether or not they show up – I just don’t know.”
Miss Thomas stood with her hands on her hips looking out the studio window into the back yard area. “Alright, Roland, since the recital is one week from today, I’d like you to think about not practicing as much next week. You should still practice, but instead of a couple of hours like you’ve been doing, it would be better if you could cut that to no more than a half-hour or forty-five minutes each day. Could you do that for me?”
“Sure,” I said, “but why do you feel I should practice for less time?”
“I like the way you’re playing the pieces now. When you practice hard just before a performance, there’s always the chance for something new to either creep into how you play them or how you interpret them. We’re too close to recital time to have to make those kind of adjustments.”
“If I still feel like practicing longer, could I just do more scales and exercises and not spend all my time on the pieces? Or, maybe I could start on something new – or play some of the pieces I’ve already learned?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to start on anything new right now, but as far as the other things, sure, those are alright. But it’s more important for you to get plenty of rest next week. I also would like you to plan to have lunch with me here on the day of the recital. I’m inviting the other performers as well.”
Miss Thomas turned away from the window, smiled at me and went on, “I like to know my students won’t have upset stomachs before a recital, so will you be able to be here by noon and plan to spend the afternoon until recital time?”
I nodded as I gathered up my music.
“Don’t worry about getting to the recital, Roland. I’ll drive all three of you over there,” Miss Thomas said as I went out the door.
===========================================
A few days before the recital I decided I wanted to let both Sally and Billy know about the recital and ask them if they wanted to come. I was lucky and caught both of them at the Sugar Bowl at the same time. I had just ordered a chocolate coke and was heading over to one of the booths where Billy was sitting by himself, when Sally walked in the door.“Hey, Sally, come sit with us for a minute. I have something I want to talk with you and Billy about,” I said.
Sally nodded and said, “I’ll be there in a minute. I need to get something to drink.”
I went over and sat across from Billy. “So, what’s on your mind, Van?” he asked. Sally slid into the booth next to me and started sipping on her drink. I said, “I’m going to be playing in a recital on Saturday. Did you guys know about me taking piano lessons?”
“I knew you could play piano. Some of the girls around school were talking about it,” Sally said.
“Yeah, I knew it too,” said Billy. “I was talking to one of the janitors at the school and he told me about how you’d be in there some nights practicing. He said you were pretty good at it. How come you never talk about it?”
I shrugged and said, “I figured the guys would think it was a sissy thing to do, so I decided not to talk about it.”
“None of the guys around here are going to call you a sissy,” Billy said. “They remember the way you battled with Jimmy and Bobby and how you are in a rumble. They don’t wanna get their asses kicked!”
“Yeah, okay. Anyway, my teacher is doing this recital with some of her students this Saturday and I’d like it if you two could be there.”
“What time is it and where is it?” Sally asked.
“It’s at four o’clock and it will be at a church over on the corner of Plymouth and Greenfield. Do you think you guys can come?”
“I’ll ask my cousin, Diane, if she can drive us. I don’t think she works on Saturdays. If she says she can, is it okay for her to come too?” asked Sally.
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “My teacher said we can invite as many people as we’d like. It doesn’t cost anything and there might be some food after it’s over.”
“Shit man, if there’s food, I’ll be there,” said Billy as he winked at Sally. “Can your cousin pick me up here?”
She nodded.
I nudged Sally to let her know I needed to get out of the booth.
As I got up to leave, I said, “I’ll see you guys on Saturday. Now I gotta go buy a fucking suit. My teacher said I needed to be dressed up and I don’t have a suit.”
“Hey, go to Hot Sam’s downtown,” said Billy. “He’s got great suits and they don’t cost much. Bargain with him. He likes that.”
I nodded and left.
============================================
The Saturday of the recital was one of the rainiest days I’d ever seen. In addition to being cold and windy, it was pouring hard. I didn’t own an umbrella or a raincoat and I had to wear my new suit for the recital. I was sleeping at Sally’s but when I woke up neither she nor her mother were around. I took a bath around ten o’clock and went back downstairs to see if I could find a bag or something to carry my suit and other recital clothes. I thought I’d wear some old clothes while I ran for the bus, and change into good clothes at Miss Thomas’.
Just as I was about to run out of ideas of how to get to Miss Thomas’ without ruining my clothes, Sally and her mother came home.
Sally came running down the stairs and said, “Rollo, I told my Mom about your recital today and she wants to know if she can come too. Is it okay?”
“Sure. My teacher said to invite anyone I’d like.”
“I’ll go tell her,” Sally said as she started to run back up the stairs.
“Hey, wait,” I called, “Would you ask her if she has a bag or something I can put my good clothes in? I have to be at my teacher’s at noon, so I have to go catch a bus. I’ll get soaked in this rain so I want to wear some old clothes and change when I get there.”
A few minutes later Sally came back down and said, “My Mom said she’d drive you to your teacher’s house so you won’t get wet. Just let us know when you’re ready.”
“Tell her thanks! I’ll be up in a few minutes. It’s almost time for me to go.”
I quickly began to get dressed in my new clothes. It was the first time I had tried on the suit with my new shirt and tie. I looked like some kid I didn’t know.
I went upstairs and Sally’s Mom gave a little whistle and said, “Well, don’t you look nice! I’ve never seen you all dressed up. Very handsome, young man!”
The three of us got into the car and drove off.
When I got to Miss Thomas’ house, Sally’s Mom drove me right up to the studio door so I wouldn’t get wet.
“Good luck, Roland,” she said. “I’m looking forward to hearing you play this afternoon.”
“Thanks for the ride, Ms. Russell. I’ll see you later.”
I could see Miss Thomas through the window on the front of her studio and she waved me to come right in.
“Roland! You look fantastic!” she said as I rushed in the door out of the rain. “Very professional. Is that a new suit?”
“Yes. I bought it a couple of days ago.”
“You look very nice. The others aren’t here yet, so why don’t you sit and relax while we wait for them.”
I looked out the studio window just as Charlie’s father drove up. Charlie jumped out of the car and I opened the studio door for him.
“Hey, Charlie”, I said.
“Hey, Roland. Boy, don’t we look like something. I feel like I’m supposed to be going to church dressed like this,” he said.
“Hello, Charles,” Miss Thomas said. “You certainly do look good. You’ve both turned into young men. Come on in and relax. As soon as Barbara gets here we can have some lunch.”
‘Barbara’ was Barbara Hewlett, a girl I knew from school. She also lived in the same general neighborhood as Charlie and me. I never got to know her around school, except after I did my “surprise concert” in Auditorium class, she came up to me and told me she was taking piano lessons too. She would also walk in the halls with me once in a while and talk about taking lessons from Miss Thomas.
A car pulled up out front and Barbara’s mother jumped out of the driver’s seat, went around the front of the car with an umbrella, opened the passenger door and held it over both of their heads as they ran to the door of the studio.
Mrs. Hewlett came to the door, opened it for Barbara, and called into the studio, “Hi, Miss Thomas. And another ‘Hi’ to you two young men. I’m going to run, and we’ll see you at the recital.” She scurried back to her car and drove off.
“Hi Barbara,” Miss Thomas called out. “Come on in and sit for a couple of minutes while I get the lunch ready.”
Charlie and I both said hello to Barbara and then sat shyly as we watched Miss Thomas begin putting some food on the table at the back of the studio.
“Okay, come and eat!”, Miss Thomas said.
There was a bowl of vegetable soup by each place as we sat down. The was a plate of crackers and some sandwiches in the middle of the table.
Miss Thomas said, “Help yourself to the crackers and sandwiches. I hope you all like vegetable soup. I don’t do much cooking, but my mother came over this morning to help me get this together. So, how are you all feeling about our big day?”
Charlie and I both said, “Fine”, at about the same time and Barbara said, “I was pretty nervous this morning while I was getting dressed, but I feel okay now.”
“That’s wonderful”, said Miss Thomas. “Now, I’d like to talk for a moment about performance and some of the things I do when I need to perform. Shall I do this now, or would you rather I wait until you’ve finished eating?”
The three of us each murmured our okays between bites of food. The soup was delicious and there were two different kinds of sandwiches — one with beef and lettuce and one with ham and cheese.
Miss Thomas nodded and continued, “None of us will always be absolutely perfect every time we perform no matter how much we hope to be. I know I have made mistakes in some of my performances. There will be those times when these things just happen whether we like it or not. Just remember – a missed note or a slight memory slip is not worth messing up an entire phrase. It’s not worth forgetting all the wonderful musical ideas you ever had. It’s certainly not worth getting so mad at yourself that you panic or freeze up instead of continuing on. Many of the greatest pianists have dropped a note or two in their major performances. Yet, they went on to give amazingly outstanding concerts. The people who hear you play won’t remember the slip-up if there is one – but they will remember how beautifully you played.
“When you get on stage today, remember to take your time. It seems to be human nature when we’re under stress to want to rush whatever it is we’re doing. We want to rush to get to the piano and we want to rush as we play the piece. I remember one time, when I was about your age, I was about half-way through the piece I was performing when I realized I had been playing faster and faster until I got to the point where my fingers couldn’t keep up any more. I’m sure everyone noticed how I suddenly slowed down in the middle of the piece. Even though I know my teacher definitely noticed, not one person said anything about it to me after the recital.
“Remember as you sit down to play, you are the performer. You’re the one in charge. The audience will wait for you to begin. You do not have to rush or feel pressured to hurry. If you feel some nerves as you cross the stage to the piano, relax your hands in your laps when you sit down, then take three big breaths and bring your focus back to your music. Close your eyes if you want. Get the piece of music you’re about to perform mentally right in front of you. Block everything else out for now. There’s only you, your music, and your piano. Don’t begin to play until you are absolutely ready to play.
“I know when I’m performing, my goal before I lift my hands to the keys is to be completely quiet inside myself. If I still hear talking or squirming in the audience, they’re not ready, so I don’t begin to play. You’ll be surprised how quickly the audience will understand why you’re waiting and become quiet. You need to have everyone, including yourself, completely settled down and ready for music to happen. Sometimes, I even close my eyes while I’m seated at the piano before I start. I’ve had people come up to me afterwords and ask me if I pray before I play.”
Barbara looked up from her food and asked, “Do you, Miss Thomas?”
We all looked over to hear her answer.
Miss Thomas smiled, “I’m not a very religious person, but I guess you could say closing my eyes before I play does help me to bring the music to the front of my brain. But mostly, it seems to send the message to the audience to please calm down so I can get started here!”
She looked at us with a big smile on her face.
Everyone broke out in giggles.
Charlie said, “It’s sort of like telling them to shut up, please, I’ve got something I want you to hear, isn’t it, Miss Thomas?”
Miss Thomas chuckled, “Well, not exactly what I’m thinking at the time, but it is sort of like that. The main object is to settle myself down and to have my mind focused on the music I’m going to play. The most important part of any performance is how well the performer has prepared themselves. I can tell each of you, honestly, you have all made me very proud of how well you’ve prepared your pieces. Preparation is the most important part of any performance. So I thank you for all your hard work to get ready for today. I know you’re going to make me very proud of each of you.”
“When was the last time you did a recital, Miss Thomas?” I asked.
“It was just about two months ago in Jamaica. I did a one hour recital in my home town of Portmore, which is sort of like a suburb of Kingston, the capital of Jamaica. I played pieces by Brahms, Mozart, Chopin and Beethoven.”
Barbara said, “I’ll bet it was wonderful. I wish I could have been there.”
“Well, when you get to be an adult, and you’re still working as hard as you do on your practices, I’ll arrange for you to come to one of my performances, and even give you a chance to perform with me. I make this promise to each of you. How does that sound?”
Charlie said, “It sounds great! I can’t wait!”
“Alright, now it’s time for you three to relax and enjoy the next few hours getting to know each other. Charlie, you and Roland already do know each other, and I know about boys having trouble talking with girls, but since you’re all great pianists, you have your own private society now. So spend some time relaxing and having fun. We’ll be leaving here about three-fifteen. I’m going to head upstairs and get changed.”
We arrived at the church about three-thirty and followed Miss Thomas into the main chapel. It was a huge sanctuary with a balcony along the back of the church as well as along each side. The piano was situated at the center of the raised platform at the front of the church.
Miss Thomas said, “We have a few minutes before people will begin to arrive. Why don’t you three take turns and run a few scales or a short Czerny exercise so you get the feel of this piano. We’re going to go boy-girl-boy for the playing order today. So, Charles, since you’ll be going first in the recital, why don’t you start. Barbara, you go next and then Roland. Don’t take too long – just enough so you feel how the action compares to the piano you use for practice.”
After we each played for a couple of minutes, we all gathered in a room behind the stage.
“How did you like the piano?” Miss Thomas asked.
“It didn’t feel much different than yours,” Charlie said.
Both Barbara and I nodded in agreement.
“How are you all feeling? Are you feeling relaxed and confident?” Miss Thomas asked.
Barbara said, “I feel a little bit nervous – not so much about the performance, but more about possibly forgetting something while I’m playing.”
“Well, the way you three have prepared for this, I don’t think forgetting anything will be a problem. But, just remember, you’re human beings and you’re doing something you’ve never done before. If you should happen to drop a note or two, just keep going. I would guess most of the people who come to hear you play today won’t notice a mistake. Just keep going. By the time you get to the end of the piece, if anyone did notice, they will have forgotten about it long before you get to the last note.”
At a few minutes after four o’clock, Miss Thomas went onto the stage and said, “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you so much for coming today. I am very proud to offer you a recital performance by three of my best students, Mr. Charles Saunders, Miss Barbara Hewlett, and Mr. Roland Van Buren. These three young people have been working very hard for several months on the pieces they’re going to perform for you today. I can vouch for the high degree of excellence with which they have prepared. I feel certain you’ll see the same degree of excellence as they perform for you. You should all have received a printed program when you arrived today, so you can see which pieces each of the students have selected to play for you. Also, after the recital, we would be happy if you would all stay for some light refreshments and conversation in the basement. So, without further ado, may I present our first performer for today — Mr. Charles Saunders.”
Barbara and I sat quietly and listened to Charlie’s playing. The applause after each piece was loud and exciting.
“Did you get a chance to look out to see how many people are out there?” I asked Barbara.
Barbara shook her head.
“I’m going to take a peek”, I said as I got up and walked over to the door leading to the stage.
When I tried to sneak the door open, it started to make a noise, so I gave up on the idea.
There was another loud applause and after a couple of minutes, Charlie came through the door with a huge grin on his face. I heard Miss Thomas introduce Barbara as the next performer and I gave Barbara a pat on her shoulder as she got up and went out the door.
“How was it?” I whispered to Charlie.
“It was fun. When I was taking my bows at the end of each of my pieces, I looked out. The place is more than half full of people.”
“Did you mess up anywhere?”
“Nope. My hands were a little shaky when I first started, but once I got into it, I was fine. It was fun.”
Charlie and I sat quietly and listened to Barbara play. She sounded great.
After her third piece and another round of huge applause, Barbara came back into the room as Miss Thomas told the audience I was next to play.
When I walked out I started to look at the audience who were clapping for me, but at the last second decided to just look out to the back of the sanctuary and not look to see who was there. Then I sat down at the piano and closed my eyes while I waited for everyone to be quiet.
(Since one of the pieces I played was the Chopin Polonaise – and you’ve already heard it in a previous chapter, I’ll just include the other two pieces I played here.
The first one is the Chopin Nocturne in E-flat Major Op. 9 No.2.)
(I played the Polonaise as my second piece, and I finished with the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. This video shows Wilhelm Kempff as the pianist.)
When I lifted my fingers from the keyboard, it was completely silent for a second or two, and then the applause began. The feeling going though my body as I stood next to the piano to take my bows was breathtaking. I did decide to now look and see who was there I might know. I spotted Sally, her mother and her cousin right away. Billy was there and so were about seven of the other gang members. I saw Crazy Jimmy, Bobby and his girl, Freddy and two or three others. I didn’t see my parents, but I did see Rev. Schutter and his wife. The secretary from the church was also there.
When I went back onto the room behind the stage, I saw Miss Thomas giving a hug to Barbara and then she turned to give me a hug as well.
“You three are amazing!” she said. “I can’t find the right words to tell you how proud and pleased I am with all of you. You performed like professionals and I don’t know when I’ve hosted a better recital than the one you gave today. Thank you so much!”
Miss Thomas had tears in her eyes as she spoke and went over and gave Barbara and Charlie another hug.
“Now, get out there! Go downstairs so you can meet your friends and family so they can congratulate you too!”
When I went out to the main part of the auditorium, Sally came walking rapidly toward me and threw her arms around me.
“Rollo, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and hearing,” she said into my ear as she held me. “The music you played was so beautiful. I’ve seen you fight, I’ve seen you in rumbles, and then I see you here playing a piano like this. I don’t know what to say. It was a lot more exciting then the fighting ever was. Maybe I have to start calling you Chopin!”
I felt Sally’s lips touch my cheek with a soft kiss. Then she whispered in my ear, “You also look so handsome in that suit!”
Sally’s mother came up behind her as we were hugging and she had a big smile on her face. As Sally and I stopped holding each other her mom said, “I used to listen to classical music a few years ago. Now you make me want to listen to it again. I actually cried it was so beautiful. May I hug you too?”
It felt strange to hug Sally’s mother, but it also felt good at the same time. I didn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you, Mrs. Russell. And thank you for bringing Sally. Did you end up with a few extra people in your car?”
“Yes, I did. Freddy and a couple of the guys came with me, and Billy, Bobby and his girl came with Diane.”
Rev. Schutter, his wife and the church secretary were standing behind Sally’s mother.
Rev. Schutter grabbed my hand and began to shake it vigorously as he said, “Roland, you know I’ve heard you practice these pieces at the church many times, but today it seemed like you played them with something special added. Congratulations. You gave a beautiful performance. You all did. What amazing young people you are. Now we have to get you to give a performance for the congregation at church.”
Rev. Schutter’s wife and the secretary both came up, gave me big hugs and murmured words of congratulations. Mrs. Schutter also said, “Roland, we won’t be able to stay for the refreshments but we’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.. Thank you again for your playing.”
Billy came walking up and gave me a poke on my arm. “Not bad, Van. Does this mean you won’t be able to fight anymore ‘cuz you might hurt your hands?”
“Nah,” I said. “I won’t quit fighting until I can take you.”
“Funny, Van. Hey where’s the eats?” Billy asked.
Bobby and his girl walked up to me and shook my hand. A couple of the other guys came up and clapped me on the back. I could see they were feeling awkward in this environment.
As they all started to move towards the door to go down the stairs for some food, Miss Thomas came up, put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Roland, can I talk to you for a minute before you go downstairs? There’s someone here I’d like you to meet.”
I stopped and we turned toward the stage area. There was an older man standing there. He was short and sort of heavy. He had thick silver hair and a white beard. He watched us as we walked toward him.
“Roland, I’d like you to meet Mr. Alfred Sobrowski. Mr. Sobrowski, this is the young man I mentioned to you, Roland Van Buren.”
Mr. Sobrowski held out his hand and with an accent I’d heard before in some of the Polish neighborhoods said, “Roland, I am happy to meet you. Congratulations on your fine recital today. You certainly play well for such a young man.”
Miss Thomas said, “Roland, Mr. Sobrowski is in charge of finding youthful performers to play with the Detroit Symphony in some of their summer concerts. He came here today, at my request, to listen to you play. We just spoke and he would like you to prepare a movement of a concerto, possibly one by Mozart, to see if we could get it ready for a performance this coming summer. What do you think? Would you like to work on it?”
“Sure,” I said. “I’m anxious to start some new pieces now that the recital is over. It does sound sort of scary, though.”
Miss Thomas smiled and took both my hands in hers and said, “You can do this, Roland. I know you can and I’d really look forward to working with you to get it ready. Shall we say yes?”
I nodded. There was no way I could ever say ‘no’ to Miss Thomas.
Mr. Sobrowski came over and shook my hand again, and said, “We’ll be in touch with Miss Thomas about which piece to learn and then we’ll go from there. Thank you again for your wonderful performance today. You’re an excellent pianist.”
He shook Miss Thomas’ hand and strode out of the room.
“Let’s go grab a bite to eat,” Miss Thomas said.
Sixteen years old – the time when an event in my life took me on a trip I would never have imagined. It was in the autumn of my sixteenth year when everything changed.
Up until then life was cruising along without much of anything changing as I continued to go through the teen years. I had quit my job downtown loading trucks when I was fourteen years old. I liked working at night and I liked having a lot of money stashed away. Not having to panhandle or steal for food or clothes made life much less hectic. There were plenty of good reasons for wanting to keep having a job, but the time had come to try something different.
The job change came about midway through the summer of 1948. The workers were lined up on a payday morning to get their pay. It had rained most of the night and most of us were cold and damp. The terminal was built in such a way where we usually didn’t feel the rain directly, but the wind currents whipping through caused the cold and dampness to penetrate right to the bone. If the wind was just right, we’d also get a cold mist coming across the river and flying through the terminal. Since most of us were in light shirts without jackets, it made the chill even worse.
As I was shivering while waiting my turn to get paid, I heard two of the men behind me talking.
“Man, it is fucking cold out here. I feel like I’m about to get frostbite standing in this line. Hey, did you get your raise?” the first guy asked the guy standing behind him.
“Yeah, got it in the last pay. Did you get yours?”
I was right in front of the first guy and could feel my ears start to burn. I sure didn’t get anything extra in my pay envelope last week.
The first guy said, “Yeah, I got it. It wasn’t bad but I thought it was going to be better. When we have to work in weather like this we deserve a boost in pay.”
I turned around and asked, “You guys got a raise last week in your pay envelopes?”
The second guy said, “Yeah. It wasn’t much of a raise, though. I also heard only a few of the guys who’ve been here for a few years got the raise.”
The man right behind me said, “I heard a lot of the guys are going to quit after they get paid today. Some of them are so pissed because they didn’t get a raise, and some of the ones who did, are just as pissed because it was so small.”
“What are you guys going to do?” I asked.
“I’m staying on,” said the guy next to me.
“Yeah, me too,” said the other man. “It’s a lot easier to stay on than trying to find something new. I found this after riding the trains for almost a year. I don’t want to have to do that again!”
I knew I was one of the younger ones working here, but I didn’t feel it was fair to give a raise only to the guys who had been there longer. I had been working at this job for over two years, so I figured I was way past due for a raise. I began to think about whether I would keep on working there, or do what many of the other men were going to do, and quit, especially since Billy had told me about something else I might be able to do.
About two months before this raise business came up, Billy talked to me about a new thing he and Bob Morton were doing.
“Morton and me have got into this new thing and it’s paying good money,” said Billy. “If you get tired of moving flower boxes, you might want to check it out.”
“What is it?”
“We steal cars, and drive them over to this guy and he pays us anywhere from two hundred to three hundred dollars for every car we bring him. It’s not hard to do and it’s fast money.”
“I don’t know. Sounds like a good way to find out what jail is like, to me. I know I don’t make much loading trucks and it sure is hard work, but it’s all legal and I don’t need much money, anyway.”
“It’s okay,” said Billy. ‘But, if you ever change your mind, let me know. You never know, things could change and you’ll need to make more than you’re making now. Oh, and don’t talk about this to the other guys or to anyone else, either. Morton said I could tell you about it, but he doesn’t want any of the other Dukes in on this. They don’t know how to keep their big mouths shut.”
As I thought about what the two guys waiting in line for their paychecks had said, I recalled the conversation with Billy. Maybe it was because I was so cold and tired, but I decided I would ask about the raise and if it looked like I got screwed, maybe I would just get my pay and not come back on Monday.
When my turn came, I got my pay envelope and quickly looked in to see if there was anything more than the usual in it. There wasn’t.
“Hey, a couple of the guys in line were talking about their pay last week and said they got a raise. How come I didn’t get one?” I asked the foreman.
“Not everyone got a raise this time. Only the guys who have been here for three years or more. So, you didn’t qualify, kid. Sorry,” he said.
I didn’t go back to work there on Monday.
One week later, I was learning how to steal cars and getting paid in hundred and fifty dollar bills instead of twenties and ones.
Earlier in that week, I decided I’d better talk with Billy to learn if getting into car theft was something I wanted to do.
At close to closing time, Billy and I were sitting in one of the booths at the Sugar Bowl sipping a couple of chocolate cokes and smoking. None of the other Dukes were around and there wasn’t anyone else in the store. The owner was behind the counter doing his last minute cleanup routine.
I looked around to be sure no one was in ear shot, leaned over towards Billy on the other side of the booth and quietly said, “I don’t know anything about how to steal a car. How do you know what to do? Isn’t it kind of scary?”
“There’s a guy who will let Morton know what make and model of car he wants and how much he’ll pay for it depending on the condition,” Billy explained. “So far, all he’s asked for are Cadillacs, Buicks and Pontiacs. The only one who talks to him, though, is Morton. And Morton will tell us what to find.”
“What does this guy do with the cars?”
Billy shrugged his shoulders, took a deep drag off his cigarette and said, “I don’t know – and since Morton hasn’t decided to share more details with me, I don’t really care. I just like the pay and it sure does beat setting pins at the bowling alley. I’m betting you’re going to like it a lot more than unloading flower flats off trucks too.”
“So, do I go with you for a few times while you show me how to do it?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s really not hard. I’ll give you some of my money when we do this together. You’d be surprised at how many cars ain’t locked and some even still have the keys left in them. Even without the keys, it’s not hard to hot wire the ignitions.”
“Is Morton stealing cars too, or is it just us?”
“Yeah, Bob’s doing it too, but he’s the only one to deliver the cars. We just drive them to wherever Morton tells us. He picks them up and pays us later.”
Once Billy taught me how to hot wire the cars and I learned how to break into them without damaging them, I started getting cars by myself. I was stealing a car every couple of weeks and made a lot of money over the next two years – much more than I was making working on the loading docks for the flower vendors. In fact, stealing cars was exciting, not only because of the danger involved for getting caught in the act, but also because it was a thrill to be driving those expensive cars.
(I would guess in 1948 and 1949, this sort of thievery was a lot easier than it would be today as I’m writing this. I also am intentionally leaving out any details of how to hot wire a car, even though the method we used back then probably wouldn’t work on the vehicles of today. I just don’t want to be accused of teaching anyone how to break in and hot wire a car. Suffice it to say, neither the breaking in nor the hot wiring was difficult to do.)
It was still night work so staying at Sally’s continued to be a good arrangement, and as long as I continued to practice at the church every day – and keep up with the piano lessons, neither my parents nor the cops were interfering with my life.
For the past two years in the fall when the Michigan State Fair was in session, some of the guys, and even some of the girls, if they could manage to be away from home all night, took a part-time job at the State Fair grounds as part of the night cleanup crew. We would all show up about ten-thirty or eleven o’clock at night, just before the fair gates would close for the night, and report to the Maintenance Shed on the fair grounds to get our area assignments. The Dukes who didn’t show up for this were those whose parents wanted them home during the night. There were usually eight to ten of us working.
Most of the people who did this work were either kids in their late teens, young people in their early twenties, or some of the men who were on the streets or out of work. Also, some of the hobos who would ride the tracks and follow the fall fairs around the country would be on the cleaning crews. There would often be trouble with some of the guys who were in rival street gangs, but the fair officials usually had enough cops around to put out those fires before they went too far.
The Michigan State Fair ran for two weeks each fall. For us in the Dukes, we started out for the first several nights doing what we were told and avoiding trouble as much as possible. However, by the time the fair was winding down, most of us had figured out how to do less work and still get paid. The money wasn’t great, but the work wasn’t difficult either. Morton, Billy and I were doing it more for the fun than the money. Our “car business” was providing for us quite well.
Most of us were given a stick with a nail on the end of it and a large cloth bag. The job was to walk around an assigned area, jab our stick into the trash people had thrown away and put it into the big cloth bag. Some of us had brooms for sweeping off walkways and doorways. Others had rakes for picking up trash the stick-stabbers missed.
Quite often there would be some of the guys who would have some marijuana to share around. Other guys might have some beer, wine or liquor.
On the night I want to tell you about there was an abundance of all these items for us to partake in.
It was the final night of the fair and we would be doing our last cleanup for the year. The night foreman had just given out all the area assignments and everyone had left the maintenance shed to head for their work areas.
I was almost done working my area with my stab-stick when Crazy Jimmy came running up and said, “Hey, Van, feel like drinking some beer?”
“Yeah! Why? You got some?”
Jimmy was really excited. He could hardly hold himself still. He was hopping from one foot to the other like he had to pee real bad. “I got some alright. I got more than two cases of Schlitz hidden down by the tracks. We’re gonna party tonight! I’m gonna go tell the other guys.”
“I’ll be down there after I finish up here,” I said.
“Don’t wait too long. There’s nine of us here tonight and the beer won’t last long.”
“Okay. I’m almost done here.”
I finished up my area, went to the Maintenance shed, picked up my pay and headed over to where some train tracks came into the Fair Grounds. This was near the outermost perimeter of the grounds and not in an area where fair-goers would be allowed to go. There were several empty railroad box cars parked along the tracks where some of the equipment for the fair rides would be loaded up to head for the next fair or amusement park. Those cars would usually be loaded up the day after the fair ended.
When I got there, only Bob Morton, Billy and Jimmy were there.
“Came to get me a beer!” I called out.
“Hey, Van,” Billy yelled. “Here ya go!” He handed me a bottle and an opener.
I opened the bottle, gave the opener back to Billy and took a huge gulp of the beer. It was one of those warm and humid late fall days when the cold drink tasted extra special.
Bob Morton reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a pint of whiskey, took a sip himself, then offered it to Billy and told him, “Take a slug and pass it around. It goes good with beer,” he said and gave out a rare laugh. I could tell Morton was already feeling the effects of the beer and whiskey. He was weaving a little on his feet and acting goofier than I had ever seen him. Bob rarely ever smiled or kidded around unless it had to with fake fighting. Even then, he usually kept a straight, serious face.
As I was drinking my beer Bobby and Freddy showed up. They said the other guys they talked with weren’t going to hang around after they finished their work. So it looked like only six of us would be sharing a lot of beer and some whiskey.
I had originally planned to finish a couple of beers, hang around for a while with the guys, then go catch a bus and head back to Sally’s house.
After I finished my second beer, I told Jimmy I was going to take off and started to head back to the main fairgrounds to go to the bus stop, when Billy said, “Hey, Van, where you going?”
“Thought I’d head on back to Sally’s before I got too drunk.”
“C’mon, Van. Stick around. We don’t get many chances to have a bunch of free beer.” He stuck out his hand with a fresh beer towards me. “Here, have another one.”
I took the beer and all of us began to drink in earnest, chugging down one beer after another with several slugs of Morton’s whiskey included. It wasn’t long before there were six State Fair Dukes who were extremely drunk.
The alcohol finally began to take its toll. The first one to fall asleep was Bob Morton, who was sleeping half-way under one of the box cars. Only his feet were sticking out. He was followed closely by Bobby and Freddy. Billy, Jimmy and I tried to sing a song which was popular at the time called, “Smoke, Smoke, Smoke That Cigarette. It was on all the jukeboxes and was sung by Tex Williams. The chorus was,
“Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff until you smoke yourself to death.
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait,
But you just gotta have another cigarette.”
(It is interesting, Tex Williams did smoke himself to death. He died of lung cancer in 1985.)
The three of us made some terrible attempts at harmonizing until I started to feel sick and went off a little ways to throw up. When I got back both Billy and Jimmy were also asleep, so I crawled part way under the box car and let myself drift off too.