by Vanda
Mr. Steinman, silent, pain creasing his face, watched the men.
“Honey,” Mrs. Steinman said to her son. “I'll take the subway and wait all night if I have to. I’ll make them let me see you.”
I’m not here.
“It’s Shabbos,” Mr. Steinman said, “we can’t ride in a—”
“This is my son. I shall be at his side.”
“We’ll take a cab,” Mr. Steinman said. “It’s faster.”
I’m not here.
Like watching a movie, I saw the men secure the last tie around Moshe’s waist and fold his arms over his body; he couldn’t move, and neither could I. The men in the white clothes lifted him onto the gurney. “Mommy, please,” he cried out. “I’ll be good.”
I’m not here.
“Sweetheart, it’s for the best. I’ll be there soon.” She gently rubbed his forehead, “Gay shluffen, my dear, gay shluffen.” She kissed him on the side of his face. “Sleep my child, sleep. Your mother loves you.”
His mother wipes his tears with her handkerchief. And Mary stood outside the tomb, weeping. My mother screams. I’m not here.
The men carried Moshe from the apartment. Mrs. Steinman waited at the door, watching them take her son. “Hurry Benjamin, we must go.”
“I’m coming. I wanted to get you a sweater, dear. There’s a nip in the air.”
He dashed from the hallway, the sweater over his arm, passing by Marty and me on his way to the door. He stopped, turned back, and took a few steps toward Marty. “Get out of my home. I never want to see you again. And if you ever, ever go near my son or try to contact him in any way, I shall kill you.”
Chapter 43
ON THE IND subway line, Marty and I said little to each other. Marty’s hair hung down in his eyes, the yarmulke and fedora gone.
I stared ahead at the Civil Defense poster on the wall before me. A man and a woman in helmets, badges on their sleeves; it read: “Alert Today. Alive Tomorrow. Enroll in Civil Defense.”
Defense. I tossed the word around in my mind, my body shaking with the rattling of the car. What does that mean? Defense. The word seemed foreign.
“Who will be Miss Subways?” the sign next to the Civil Defense poster asked. Five young women pictured in the poster, hoping for my vote, smiled at me.
“For length of service you can depend on: BRASSIERES by Maidenform.” The woman posed in her bra like it was normal to appear in public like that. She’d qualify. That girl would definitely qualify to be a Mt. Olympus Maxine, or maybe she’d rather work at The Haven as one of Harlington’s Honeys. I held out my cupped hand, one eye closed, measuring her breasts to be sure.
“What are you doing?” Marty asked.
“Measuring.”
“Measuring what?”
I started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
I laughed, pointing at the bra lady. “Look, she could be … Can’t you see it?”
“See what?”
I laughed more as tears rolled down my face. “They’re going to kill us, you know.” I continued to laugh.
“Aw no,” he put an arm around me. “Mr. Steinman was upset. He didn’t mean—”
“Yes, he did.” I was still laughing. “That’s what they all want. We’re freaks!” I made a funny face. “Everyone wants us dead.”
“It’s gonna be okay.” He drew me into his chest and caressed my head while I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. We got twisted up in each other and stayed that way till the train squealed into West Fourth Street. Marty had to keep going and change at 59th for the IRT. As the door opened, my hand tightened on his arm.
“You want me to walk you home?” he asked. “It’s not safe for a girl to be traveling alone at night.”
“I do it all the time. I don’t need … Yeah. Walk with me.”
He grabbed my wrist and we flew out past the door before it shut behind us. We ran all the way up the steps, out the exit, and across Sixth Avenue. We ran like something was chasing us, and perhaps something was. We sprinted through the Milligan Place gate, past the little tree, up the steps, into my apartment and my bedroom. I pulled the spread, blanket, and sheet down to the end of the bed.
“You get some good rest. It’s been a rough night. I’ll get going,” Marty said.
“No.”
“You want me to stay? I could sleep on the couch in the other room.”
I stepped out of my shoes and pulled off my dress.
“Al, what are you doing?”
I stood in front of him in my slip. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Yeah, but we can’t …”
I put my arms around his neck and kissed him lightly on his lips.
He pulled me into his body. “You know, this isn’t going to make us straight.”
“I know.” I kissed him again.
Chapter 44
July 1951
“AL! AL!” VIRGINIA called through my screen door.
I popped up from my couch, shaking myself awake from a rare nap. “Virginia, come in.” I looked at my watch. “I’ll get us some iced tea.” I headed toward the kitchen, then stopped. “Would you rather a Tom Collins?”
“Maybe for this a Tom Collins is best.”
“Coming up.” I hurried to make them.
The afternoon sun shone through my window, and a warm breeze ruffled the curtain. “When I found out he was going to have to testify,” Virginia called into the kitchen. “I, well … All I can say is, thank you for letting me come over and watch it on your TV. I never expected anything this important to come out of that box. Oh, how lovely. Grandma’s lamp.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t it look good on top of the TV?”
“Yes, it does. I’m so glad I gave it to you. You know, they could lock him up,” she continued. “But he’s not a hoodlum. You know that, don’t you? Certainly, he’s a little rough around the edges, but that’s sort of sweet, don’t you think?”
“Well …” I’d never thought of Moose as sweet.
“You know, they’re saying Frank secretly owns the Copa Cabana and that Jules Podell is only a … what did they call him?”
“A front.”
“You don’t think those kinds of men own the Mt. Olympus or The Haven, do you? I put money into both.”
“We all did.” I came back into the living room with our drinks. “Max wouldn’t let those types invest in our clubs.” I put our highballs on the coffee table.
“Everyone thought it was Jules who owned the Copa Cabana until these hearings.”
“They’re so organized,” I said. “They’ve got people across the whole country. All connected. Even in the government. Mayor O’Dwyer, who everybody loved! They said he was connected with this organized crime while he was mayor, and that’s why he resigned. O’Dwyer! I voted for him. I knew these guys had something to do with our coin-ops, but …”
“I know Moose has never done anything truly bad. He’s too good.”
“Virginia,” I began cautiously, “are you still planning to marry Moose? Haven’t you been engaged for a year?”
“I’m patient. Look how long I waited, pointlessly, for Mr. Harlington. Come see the lovely ring Moose gave me.” She held her hand out.
It was a large gold ring with a garishly large diamond. “It’s not the kind you usually wear. Your tastes seem to be quietly elegant and this … well …”
“It’s a bit gaudy, isn’t it?” She hid her hand in the folds of her skirt. “You must consider me a perfect fool, going out with him; I know Mr. Harlington does. Who cares what he thinks? Moose is funny. I wish you’d get to know him better. He says such nice things to me. Not always pronounced correctly, but sincere. Of course, I don’t let him take me to local clubs. We go mostly to Long Island.”
“None of your friends …?”
“They’re society snobs. Not real friends, not like you. They think they’re too good for a nightclub anyway, while my true friends are all at the Mt. Olympus and The Haven.”
“How’s the divorce coming? Is he really getting one?”
“Well … certainly. We don’t discuss it much, but I can’t continue dating a married man. He knows that. I think.”
“You think?”
“I’m lonely. I rarely see Moose, if you want to know. I’m going to spend my life alone, aren’t I?” She glanced at her watch. “It’s time. Turn it on.”
I snapped on the TV and went back to the couch. We heard a gavel knocking against a desk and men talking. The picture rolled and we couldn’t see a thing.
“Do something,” Virginia pleaded. “He might be on soon. I can’t miss it.”
I kneeled on the floor in front of the TV, turning one knob, then the other. The rolling slowed.
“All right. That’s almost it,” Virginia said. “I can see Frank, but …” It started to roll again. “Do something. Hurry!”
“I’m trying, dammit!”
As soon as it was out of my mouth, I wanted to swallow it back down and slap my face. “Virginia, I’m sorry.”
“Obviously you don’t want me here. I’ll go.” She picked up her purse and headed for the door.
I jumped up, blocking her exit. “No, please. I do want you here. It’s the stress. It’s making me … I’m trying to make you happy, and my TV’s going crazy.”
“It’s working,” Virginia hurried back to the couch, her eyes glued to the screen that now had a clear picture. Senator Kefauver sat on a high dais, surrounded by his committee of senators. The camera slid over to a desk with a microphone where a man in a business suit sat. Frank Costello’s lawyer. Next to the lawyer, Frank Costello’s hands were nervously twisting a handkerchief. That’s all we could see of him. I learned from the papers later that Frank’s lawyer had arranged for Frank’s face not to appear on TV, because his lawyer said, “My client doesn’t want to submit himself as a spectacle.”
One of the senators asked Frank, “Have you always upheld the constitution and laws of your state and nation?”
We heard Frank say, “I refuse to answer on de groun’s dat it might incriminate me.”
The senator asked, “Have you ever offered your service to any war effort of this country?”
A long pause, then, “No.”
Unless he had a good reason, like my ex-fiancé Henry, who had had polio as a child, there was no excuse for not serving in the war. Frank looked pretty healthy to me.
“Where’s Moose?” Virginia wondered out loud.
The senator asked, “Bearing in mind all that you’ve gained in wealth, what have you done for this country?”
After a pause, he said, “I paid my taxes.” The audience laughed. “I ain’t answerin’ one more question.”
The senator yelled, “Get back here, or I’ll find you in contempt of court.”
“Look, there’s Moose!” Virginia squealed, pointing at the screen. “Over on the right. Do you think they’re going to call him next?”
“Virginia, don’t you understand what happened? Frank walked out. They could send him to jail for that. Our Frank.” I had no idea Frank was so sensitive, especially given the kind of work he did.
“The Bench calls to the stand Alberto “Moose” Mantelli.”
“His real name is Albert,” Virginia said. “Isn’t that sweet?”
“You didn’t know that?”
“No, did you?”
“I’m not engaged to him.” Virginia sat on the edge of my couch. As Moose stood to approach the bench, my TV screen rolled again.
“Make it stop!”
I hurried to the TV, turned knobs, pushed and pulled the antenna.
It came in clear. One of the senators asked Moose, “How long have you been in the Mafia?”
“Whatcha mean?” Moose said, grinning. “Like do I carries a mem’ership card dat says Mafia on it?”
The audience laughed.
Another senator asked, “Do you operate politically, Mr. Mantelli?
Moose said, “Nah. If I done dat, I’d be de mayor.”
The audience laughed again. Moose smiled at them, enjoying the attention.
“He’s very entertaining, isn’t he?” Virginia said. “He can’t be guilty of anything.”
“Virginia, he’s making fun of our government. That’s not funny.”
“He doesn’t mean any harm; he’s teasing. That’s the way he is. A big tease. Oh, no, it’s rolling again. Do something. We’re missing it.”
“I’m trying. I can’t get—”
“I have to see this. What am I going to do?” She lit her L&M.
I hopped up, snapping my fingers. “The Cedar Bar. On University. It’s closer than the Whitehorse. We’ll go there.”
“To a bar? We could be arrested.”
“It’s not gay. We won’t sit at the bar; we’ll sit at a table. Lots of women are going into the bars today because the bars are tuning their TVs to the hearings, and not everyone has a TV. The Cedar is closer than the 8th Street Playhouse so … what’d ya think?”
“It’s scandalous.”
“I know,” I grabbed her arm, “let’s go.”
“Yes, let’s.”
Chapter 45
August 1951
“RICHARD. SIT. TELL me what she said.” I sat at my desk while Richard flew around the room. He had come bursting into my office, tie undone.
“Didn’t you read it?”
“I haven’t gotten to my papers today. We’ve got a full house tonight. Mel Torme. I’ve been going non-stop.”
“Then look now! You must have it somewhere in that mess on your desk. How do you stand that?”
“I don’t need housekeeping tips from you. Can’t you tell me what it said?”
“No.” He sat down. “I couldn’t get those words passed my lips. What will Juliana think?”
I stood, pulling newspapers from the top of the pile and throwing them on my chair. “For Pete’s sakes. Richard, I’m too busy for this. It’s the last show, and all I can think of is sleep.”
There was a light knock on my door, barely audible. Virginia stuck her head in. “I know you’re busy, so I won’t keep you. I wanted to say hello. Moose reserved a ringside table for us.”
She always seemed to be trying to prove to me (or herself) that Moose really loved her, so I didn’t remind her that Moose, Frank, and Jimmy always sat ringside. “That’s nice,” I said.
“Stop by our table later?”
“Of course.”
She closed my door as I slid out my copy of the Journal American. I laid it on top and flipped through the pages, looking for Dorothy Kilgallen’s column. “Here it is. So what’s Dorothy got to say today?” I read aloud, “‘The $64 question: What well-known society figure employs a maid who was a German spy during the war?’” I looked at Richard.
“No! I would never do that. I’m a Veteran. Further down.”
“Trigger’s pregnant? Really?”
“Who?”
“Trigger. Roy Rogers’s horse. It says here he—Oh. He must be a she—I always thought Trigger was a boy. Guess not. Anyway, according to Dorothy, she’s been knitting tiny garments. That’s Dorothy’s code for pregnant.”
“Who cares if Roy Rogers’s horse is pregnant?”
“Roy Rogers, I imagine. And the horse.”
“Stop making jokes. This is serious. What does the next item say?”
“‘The $64 question: What well-known night club manager is seeing the husband of a well-known night club singer?” I took a breath. “Oh, wow.”
“Yes,” Richard said. “What are we going to do?”
I never expected to actually see it in print. I folded the newspaper and put it back with the others.
“Well? What do we do?” he repeated.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
He madly patted his pockets, looking for cigarettes, I suppose.
“What can we do? It’ll pass.”
“Defend ourselves. It’s a lie. What if Juliana believes—”
“She won’t.” I looked through my office door window. “Speak of the devil now.”
Richard jumped up, his body rigid. “It’s Kilgallen! I’m going out there to give her a piece of my mind.”
“You will not.” I grabbed his arm. “That’ll only make it worse. She hasn’t named names. You go out there and confront her, and you’ll be confessing, and you can bet that will be in tomorrow’s column. Calm down. You can’t lose your head over these things. Now, I’m going out to greet her and act like I don’t care one whit about this bit of gossip because it doesn’t apply to me. You go home. This is a game she plays.”
“With my life!”
“An unpleasant game, yes, but a game.”
For me, this was much easier than for Richard because I knew it could be much worse. I felt a little sorry for him, since he had no idea what a gift this was. I was being certified a genuine heterosexual.
I looked in the mirror that hung on the inside of my closet door and gave my hair a fluff. I straightened the scarf Max told me would do wonders for my little black dress and stepped out of the office. “Well, hello, there, Dottie.” She stopped her conversation with Bertha and turned to me. What could Dorothy Kilgallen possibly have to say to Bertha? Wow, what a snobby thought that was. Big smile. “Dottie, I’m so glad you could come.”
Richard tiptoed out from behind me and ran out the door, but not without Dorothy noticing him. “Entertaining, dear?” she asked.
“Business.”
“Oh. Business. Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Big smile.
I smiled back just as big to keep myself from punching her. “So glad you could make it to Mel’s show. I expect this next one to knock some socks off.”
She slipped her baby-blue gloves that matched her baby-blue dress into her baby-blue purse. “Well, he can have my socks and any other item of clothing he desires, the little dear. I’ve been watching him ever since he was kid with the Mel-Tones.” She turned to her husband, who stood behind her, waiting patiently. “Have you met my husband?”
“Of course. It’s always a treat to have you both in my club.”
“Really?” Dorothy said. “And yet, you and I haven’t had lunch in quite awhile. Are you avoiding me, dear?”