by Sam Lollar
Table of Contents
Synopsis
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
About the Author
Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
It’s Aaron’s big coming of age/coming out party! Date: 1967. Place: El Paso’s Rancho Sonora Motel, near Juarez, Mexico. Come early and Dollie or Scott (mother/son owners of the Rancho) will check you in; come late and Larinda (the night clerk) will show you around. Check your room for spy holes, though, unless you like to be watched! Tallulah and Jayne Mansfield are there. Meet Aaron’s favorite prostitutes and strippers. Rick (Aaron’s first infatuation) is there. In Hollywood, Aaron hangs out with TV star Mark and his brother Isaac. Mark can be playful, Isaac can be deadly with his 11-inch … knife. Meanwhile, back at the Rancho, what's with all the cars? Is Scott trying to buy the affections of our boy, Aaron? Come to the party where all will be revealed!
Tallulah Bankhead Slept Here
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Tallulah Bankhead Slept Here
© 2016 By Sam Lollar. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-711-8
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: October 2016
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Jerry L. Wheeler
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design By Melody Pond
This is dedicated to Richard Luna, who lived the life I only imagined.
Prologue
Driving east out of the L.A. Basin found me standing on the brakes of the SUV as I tried desperately to avoid hitting a slow-moving Winnebago on the I-10. As I slammed the pedal to the floor, Number Three jumped to attention.
“Watch it, Granddad! Are you trying to kill us?”
Since we’re all named Aaron, I called my son Junior, and when his son came along, we just called him Number Three.
“No, sweets. But…look in that Winnebago.”
My grandson glanced ahead and did a double take as he saw what was happening through the large plate glass window of the RV ahead of us. “Wow. Are they having…uh…sex?”
“Who’s having sex?” That was from Junior. “What are you guys doing up there?” Junior was sitting in the second row of the SUV as we drove cross-country to take my grandson to college.
“Dad,” Number Three chided.
“Not us. It’s those guys in the Winnebago up ahead.”
“Hey, Pop,” Junior began, “maybe Number Three should sit back here and I’ll sit up front. But, man. Look at them go. Not you, Three. Close your eyes.”
“Yeah, right, Dad. I need to learn how these things are done now that I’m going to be a college man.”
“I don’t like where this conversation is going, guys,” Junior said.
Just then, the couple in front apparently realized they had an audience, because a decidedly feminine hand reached up to pull down the shades on the show.
“Damn. Just when things were getting interesting,” said Number Three.
In the following silence, I made an innocent comment. “That reminds me of one of the crazy things that happened at the motel I used to work at,” I began. “Those legs wrapped around a man’s caboose reminds me of the time I saw Tallulah Bankhead screwing the captain of the university football team.”
As I anticipated, both Junior and Number Three spluttered, “What?”
Junior began with, “You saw Tallulah Bankhead screwing a football player? Is this some warped fantasy that you really don’t need to tell me about, at least not in the presence of you-know-who.” He pointed at Number Three.
That’s when Number Three piped up. “Who’s Tallulah Bankhead?”
I sighed heavily. “How can this younger generation be so uninformed?”
Junior paused a moment. “Um, I don’t know who that is either, Pop.”
“Guys. She was a movie star. A big cheese in Hollywood. She was in all the gossip columns.”
“What movies?” Three said.
“Well, uh, she was actually before my time. But I saw some of hers on TV over the years. I think she had quit making movies when I came along. She still did stage productions, as I remember. This was the summer of 1967, when I was just out of high school. She was already pretty old. She died the following year, as a matter of fact. In truth, I didn’t know who she was until sometime later. She was pretty much an unknown to me when I was eighteen. But I am serious. She actually stayed at the motel I worked at for a few months. I’ll tell you about it, if you like.”
“Well, Granddad, I want to hear all about it. An old movie star and sex at a motel—what could be better?”
So I related the saga of the Rancho Sonora Motel as we drove from the Los Angeles area, where we live, to El Paso, my old hometown, and near my grandson’s college.
Chapter One
The SUV or the Mercedes?
I was delighted when my grandson told me he wanted to follow in my footsteps and study desert ecology in college. I was a desert ecology major, finishing my doctorate at a New Mexico university in the mid-1970s. I began teaching and ended up at a Southern California university. I was getting ready to retire about the time Three graduated from high school and informed everybody of his “major” decision. As a lark, I suggested he do his undergraduate work at “my” alma mater. The program was good, and I knew a few of the faculty in the department. To my joy and surprise, he decided to study there. “Besides, I can brush up on my Spanish while I’m there,” he said. I called some of the faculty I knew from our mutual projects and conferences we had attended over the years. In no time at all, Three was registered and ready to start the summer semester.
“So guys, do we go in the Mercedes or the SUV?” I had asked as Junior and Number Three were discussing the upcoming trip. “Since your mom’s n
ot going, Three, we can go in the car. It would probably be more comfortable.”
“No, Granddad, I want to go in the SUV,” he said.
I knew full well the reason why. He assumed I would give him the keys to the vehicle so he’d have transportation. And he was probably right. My son and I could fly back to L.A. and leave the car with Three so he could get around. It was a bright and surprisingly smog-free late May morning when we left Pomona to begin our drive eastward.
“Okay, guys,” I began. “Let me try to give you some background on this whole motel thing. Remember that I was an innocent. I had not been out of El Paso for more than a few days in my whole life at that time, so when things happened, I was often confused and a bit horrified at the behavior of other, more worldly wise, people.”
Chapter Two
The 1962 Falcon
In 1967, I finally graduated from high school, and I had to find a summer job to earn some money for college. I had no idea on earth how to get a job. So I went to an employment agency downtown and told them I needed work. The woman at the desk was very kind and had me fill out some forms listing my experience and abilities. Since I had no experience, it didn’t take long. She was about to send me on my way, but stopped and rummaged through her files, pulling out a brand-new index card.
“This just came in this morning. That motel up on Mesa Street needs a bellboy. I bet you could do that.”
She wrote out the information and handed me the slip of paper. “Ask for Mr. or Mrs.…uh…Schitter or Schyter, something like that.”
I was ecstatic. What was everyone complaining about? Getting a job was the easiest thing in the world. I hopped in my little Falcon and drove up to the Rancho Sonora Motel, dressed in my nicest clothes. When I entered the cool lobby of the motel, my eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. Propped behind the desk was the largest woman I had ever seen. “I…uh, I’m here to see Mr. or Mrs. Shyster,” I stammered.
“I’m Mrs. Schuster,” the gargantuan woman said. “What can I do for you?” Her voice was almost melodic, like a young woman’s. It was sweet and very gentle. Over the course of my time there, I used to love to listen to her talk. Occasionally she would be tickled at something I would say and giggle with glee. We hit it off quickly.
“I’m interested in the job of bellboy you advertised with the employment agency downtown.”
“Bellboy? I don’t remember advertising for a bellboy. Scott,” she yelled. “My son must have contacted the agency without telling me. Scott. Get in here.” Moments later, Scott entered. He was in his mid-thirties and extremely tan.
“Yeah, Dollie?”
“Did you advertise for a bellboy with the employment agency?”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. I called them this morning.”
“Well, this young man is interested in the position. What’s your name, sonny?”
“I’m Aaron.”
“Hi, Aaron.” Scott reached for my hand. “I’m Scott. My mom and I own this place. Why do you want to work here? I would think you would rather do something more…interesting.”
“Well, I just graduated from high school, and I need a job for the summer to put money away for college that I’m going to start at in September…” I rambled on, for some reason feeling the need to explain my entire life’s plan in the space of five minutes.
“Whoa,” Scott said. “We need someone to work until eleven at night. If you don’t mind lifting luggage and generally helping people when they need you, we’d be glad to hire you. Can you do that?”
“Sure. I’m not taking classes now, so I can work any hours you need. And I can manage the luggage.”
“Great. Why don’t you come back, say, about nine tomorrow morning, and we’ll introduce you to Bob, our manager. He’ll take care of the paperwork for you.” And with that, he turned and walked out through a back door.
The huge woman, who had been watching her little TV while Scott “interviewed” me, looked back at me again. She lowered her glasses and, with a most winsome smile, said, “I think you’ll enjoy working here. We have a lot of fun. Come back tomorrow morning.” Without waiting for a reply, she resumed watching her soap opera.
I felt really pleased with myself. Rancho Sonora. The name was strangely out of place on the El Paso map. El Paso is in the Chihuahuan desert, not the Sonoran. But I suppose the owners of the motel felt that Rancho Sonora sounded better than Rancho Chihuahua, and I guess they were right.
Chapter Three
Detroit’s Finest
Next morning I met Bob and signed the new employee forms.
“I’ll show you the place. Dollie, do you think you’ll be okay for a half hour or so while I show Aaron around?” he asked Mrs. Schuster.
“Sure, Bob. You two go along.”
Bob showed me the place. It consisted of three separate two-story units in the shape of a U. In the middle of the U was the swimming pool and lounging area. The lobby and restaurant closed up the front of the U. Two three-bedroom apartments were upstairs, one occupied by Mrs. Schuster and the other by Bob and his family.
“Where does Scott stay?” I asked. “Does he live with Mrs. Schuster?”
“No, he has a room around back.”
Because it had been built in an old rock quarry, the entire three sides of the U were surrounded by fifty-foot-high rock cliffs. It made quite a dramatic setting.
We walked around the place, and Bob showed me the parking spaces, the rooms, the suites, the pool area, the maintenance area, and he introduced me to the maintenance man and the two-woman housekeeping staff.
I was impressed with all the cars parked around the pool. Lots of fancy Lincolns, Cadillacs, Imperials, and other choice vehicles.
The motel was a small operation, owned by Mrs. Schuster and Scott, who had purchased it the year before.
“Where did they come from?” I asked.
“Chicago. They bought this place sight unseen and moved down here last year. I was a little concerned because I was afraid I was going to be out of a job, but she kept me on. She’s a really nice lady. But you’ll want to stay away from Scott.”
“Yeah, I noticed he was a bit unfriendly.”
He chuckled. “I think you’ll find him to be a bit too friendly before long.”
I was puzzled at that. “Bob, my mom said this is a strange place. Is it?”
“You’ll find out. Don’t be surprised by anything you see going on. Nothing illegal, you know. Just ‘different.’”
We went back into the storeroom behind the lobby, Bob handed me the bellboy’s jacket, and I was all set to start working.
“That’s one of the reasons Scott hired you, Aaron. He figured the jacket would fit,” he said, laughing heartily. “Of course, that’s not the only reason.”
I put the jacket on, and he took me out the back door and over to the restaurant. “You may as well meet the chef, Li. He also manages the Oriental Blossoms, the restaurant attached to the motel. He’s none too pleasant, but he’s a great cook.”
We entered the loud, disorganized kitchen, and I met Li, who promptly chased us out.
“I told you he’s a bit testy.”
I stayed on to continue my work schedule for the day, and found the job to be interesting. I helped the people find their rooms, generally by running in front of their cars to a parking space. I learned that the faster I ran, the bigger my tips were, so I did a lot of running. I also ran errands for everybody, getting ice or more towels. Anything the guests could think of, I eventually ran to get it for them.
When I got back home, I was exhausted. All that running around really made me tired. I just stripped and went to bed that night, not even waiting to talk with my roommate, which I usually did before bedtime.
The next day when I arrived at the Rancho, as I began to think of it, the day was already getting hot, but I was eager to get to work. I had the three-to-eleven shift, so I was well rested from the previous day’s efforts. Scott was behind the front desk when I entered th
e lobby. I remember distinctly him saying, “Wow,” when I walked in. I glanced down to see if I had walked in dog shit or something. “Come on over here, Aaron. I was in such a rush the other day that we didn’t get properly introduced. I’m Scott.”
“Yes, I remember. How are you?”
“I’m doing great, and it looks like you are, too. How old are you, Aaron?”
“I’m eighteen. I just graduated from high school last week.”
“High school. Wow. Did you do well there?”
“I guess. Mostly an A and B student.”
“You must have been on the gymnastics team.”
“No. What do you mean?”
“It’s just that you have a good body. Do you lift weights or anything?”
“Yeah, a little. Mostly, I run track at school. I have a partial track scholarship at the university starting this fall.”
“I was right. I thought you looked like an athlete.”
*
I know now that he was flirting with me, but I was just too naïve to realize it at the time.
“Granddad. Um, were you interested?” Number Three asked.
“No. I hadn’t ever considered my sexuality. Gay or straight, I had never thought about it. I guess you could say I was a late bloomer.”
*
“You really fill out your clothes beautifully.”
“Uh, thank you. I think I’ll go in back and get my jacket,” I said, beginning to feel uncomfortable.
As I walked behind the desk through the exit to the utility / storage room, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “It’s going to be great having you here this summer, Aaron,” and then he patted my fanny.
I jumped a bit in surprise. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to working here.” I went in back and picked up the bellboy’s jacket and returned to the lobby.