Alice, slim-hipped and tall, with a barely discernable bust, flipped her long hair as she turned toward Howie to see if it was okay. He nodded. They had met two weeks before at a twenty-first birthday party for his friend Sherman Weiss. Alice had been invited by Sherman’s sister Sylvia, a friend and classmate of hers, also entering her senior year at Von Steuben. At the party, Howie had teased her into sharing some punch with a slug of bourbon he supplied from a bottle he found in the pantry. He also gave her a ride home and she hadn’t seemed to mind when he ran a hand over her breast as he kissed her good night. He called the following week and asked her to the movie.
He cupped her butt as they bumped in the line and she turned abruptly, rolling her eyes. He shrugged and smiled.
“All the way here, I’ve been talking about the movie and you didn’t say anything. You didn’t even tell me if you liked it.”
“Are you kidding,” she exclaimed, leaning back, eyes open wide, “I loved it. It’s not often you see something in the movies as serious as that. And Gregory Peck was really good. In fact, you look a little like him, tall and dark haired. Of course, he looks older.”
“Yeah sure; I wish I had his dough,” Howie chuckled.
Alice looked away, waving and smiling as Shirley Siegal with a short, dark- haired boy with glasses came toward them on their way out.
“Hi Alice,” the boy mumbled as they stopped and he stood with his hands in his pockets.
“Hi Manny,” Alice smiled, leaning in as Shirley stood on her tiptoes to kiss her cheek. “How are you?”
“Great, where’ve you been? I’ve hardly seen you this summer.”
“I’ve been around, but busy. Say hello to Howie Rabin; he went to Von Steuben.”
Howie smiled slightly, looking directly into Shirley’s eyes, and held his hand out to the boy without looking his way, but continuing to concentrate on the curvy, dark-haired Shirley. Manny offered a limp handshake, moving around Shirley toward the cashier.
“We just saw ‘Gentlemen’s Agreement’. Be sure you see it.” Alice said, clutching Shirley’s hand.
“Gotta run, Manny’s in a hurry,” Shirley begged off.
She waved to Howie. “Nice meeting you.”
He winked at her and licked his lips behind Alice’s back. Blushing, Shirley ran to catch up with her date. At the door, she turned to wave to Alice and caught Howie’s eye still focusing on her. Alice, her eyes on Shirley hadn’t seen him.
Two days later, Howie tracked down Shirley’s phone number and called. ,After claiming Alice wasn’t really a date, but a girlfriend of his friend’s kid sister, plus a lot of coaxing, got her to agree to go for ice cream with him the next night.
He arrived a few minutes after eight, looking thinner and taller than she recalled. His black hair was slicked back without a part while his light-colored eyes under very dark thick brows and smooth-shaven face caused her to smile. He was different than most boys.
At the top of the third floor steps, he tilted his head and ran his tongue along his top lip, making her grin as she held the door open. “Hi, c’mon in; I’ll introduce you to my mother.”
He towered over Mrs. Siegal and bent to shake her hand, greeting her warmly. “This is really a beautiful place you have here.”
Shirley, with her mother close behind, watched as he walked into the parlor. “Are you a, you know, a decorator or something?” he asked, turning to take in the whole room.
Shirley smiled at how he quickly made himself at home and looked at her mother, who had a wide smile on her face.
“No,” Mrs.Siegal replied shyly, “I just like pretty things. I’m glad you like it.”
“Gee, Shirley, your mom sure has good taste. I bet you take after her,” Howie answered nodding while being obvious about admiring her creamy beige linen skirt and sleeveless blue top.
Picking up a white shawl and her purse, Shirley turned to her mother, “I won’t be late; we’re only going for ice cream.”
Smiling at Mrs. Siegal, Howie followed Shirley out the door.
The top was down on his black ‘41 Chevy convertible parked across the street. As they walked to it, Shirley saw the first floor neighbor peeking at them from around the curtain and smiled when Howie saw what she was looking at.
He laughed, nodding back as he helped her into the car. “I see you can’t get away with anything around here.”
“What a beautiful car,” she said as he walked around and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Do you want me to put the top up?” he offered. “I like it down on warm nights, but if you think it’s too windy, I’ll put it up.”
“No, I’m okay,” she said, trying to hold back a grin. “Why did I know this had to be your car?” She laughed.
“Hey, it’s not the latest model, but when I saw it on the lot, I couldn’t resist.”
He turned up the radio, trying to find some music, but gave up when the best he got was “The Flight of the Bumble Bee,” leading into the “Green Hornet” show.
Reaching across, he rolled up the window on her side. “That’ll keep the wind from blowing too hard.”
Settling in and looking at him, she cocked her head. “Now tell me, how did you get my number?”
“Oh, I’m very enterprising,” he said, grinning. ” When I see someone as interesting as you, I can’t help myself. I couldn’t rest until I found out more about you.”
“You really come on strong,” she replied with a soft chuckle. “Seriously, how did you get my number?”
“The truth is, I have a friend, Lefty Schwartz, that took you out, and he gave it to me. He told me you gave him a hard time, but were really a classy girl and he wished me luck.”
“Oh Lefty,” she laughed. “He’s a good guy but definitely not my type. Besides, he’s at least three or four years older than me and at the time I was only sixteen. He wanted to get serious and I wasn’t interested.
“I think you’re right about Lefty. He’s not your type. But me now, I’m your type.”
“Oh, really, what makes you say that?”
“Look Shirley, what can I tell you? I’m going to Wright College and have a part- time job helping a friend in the loan business. Other than that, I’m tall, good-looking and plan on being a millionaire.”
The drive down Western, weaving around the right side of the streetcars, had Shirley holding her hair in place until they reached Riverview Park, where the traffic slowed to a crawl.
“How about it, you wanta go here instead?” he said, nodding toward the amusement park.
“Don’t laugh; I love it there, especially the Bobs and Aladdin’s Castle. I haven’t been there in years but I remember going there when I was younger.”
“Yeah, me too; we used to go there to pick up girls,” he said, listening to strains of music from the merry-go-round fading away as they passed Belmont Avenue.
Howie offered her a cigarette, holding out a pack of Lucky Strikes, which she refused, lighting one of her long Pall Malls instead. They didn’t talk much because of the noise and wind, but he did promise her, speaking loudly over the street sounds, that Margie’s Ice Cream Parlor was a real Chicago find and she would love the ice cream.
He slowed as they got to Armitage and saw the bright yellow sign on the corner storefront with “Margie’s” emblazoned on it.
“Looks like an old fashioned shop lifted from an Andy Hardy movie, Shirley giggled.
They parked across the street and she helped him put the top up to keep the car secure in the unfamiliar neighborhood.
A rich fragrance of fresh chocolate hung in the air as they entered. He took her arm and pointed out the antique glass cases and counters filled with chocolate almonds, pecans, raspberries and orange peels. Mixed in were some colorful creams and hard candies, but the chocolates, with their lusci
ous dark brown coatings, were the ones that made her mouth water. Along the walls were shelves of boxed candies and above them were more shelves with little dolls and children’s toys that appeared to be antiques. To the left, booths were filled with customers devouring the huge sodas, sundaes and banana splits that had made the shop famous.
“I love this place,” she gushed, her head swirling in every direction to take in the sights.
“I told you it was terrific.” He smiled as they reached the front of the line at the counter.
Margie, a slim woman with salt and pepper hair tied in a tight bun, was behind the fountain dishing out the homemade ice cream and keeping up a steady stream of chatter with the customers. With a quick look over the glasses perched at the end of her nose, she sized up Shirley and teased Howie. “Where ya’ been, good lookin’? I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
Smiling, he shrugged.
“And aren’t you gonna introduce me to this beauty?” She winked, looking at Shirley. “She’s probably too good for you,” she said laughing.
He quickly complied, acknowledging the attention she showered on him.
Returning to scoop several large portions of ice cream for a banana split, Margie shook her head toward Howie, and addressed Shirley. “Keep an eye on that one.” The two women shared a laugh as she handed Howie the banana splits. He motioned to Shirley to grab a booth.
Waving his arms and hands as he talked, Howie smiled and then frowned as he boasted, “I got big plans for the future. My goal is to own my own business and be my own boss.”
Shirley smiled back and daubed at her ice cream as he rambled on. “My old man has worked for years as a clerk in a liquor store and my Ma works part time in a dress shop on Roosevelt Road. I sure don’t want to end up like that.”
Taking a large spoonful of ice cream, he stopped for a moment and she asked, “What about school? What are you studying?”
“I took some English and Algebra and Accounting, and a few other courses like Psychology, but to tell the truth, I think it’s a waste of time. I only took one Economics course and a U.S History course last semester and don’t think I’ll go back.
All the time he talked, Shirley noticed how excited he became when the subject was making money. Nervously, he looked around as he went on and on. She couldn’t figure out if he expected to see someone he knew, or if it was just a habit. She watched fascinated, smiling while holding her spoon above the melting ice cream.
When the conversation slowed, he would pause to spoon a bite and before she could say anything, he would launch another story or tell her more about himself. He was already doing well at the loan company and thought he might become a partner in the business in a year or two. If not, he would go out on his own.
When he finally slowed down, Shirley told him about her friends and her job after school at Maling’s shoe store downtown.
“I like being downtown,” she said. “The women wear such beautiful clothes and I get to see the latest fashions in all the stores.”
“I can see you like clothes,” he added, lighting her cigarette.
“It’s only part time, but I really think it’s good experience because I’d like to design clothes or do something else that’s creative.”
“What else do you like?”
“Really, you want to know? Well, I like to dance and I love to go out and have a good time.”
“I like to dance too. I don’t know why, but if I watch someone who is a good dancer and listen to the music, I can just sorta’ figure out how to do almost any dance. In fact, a lot of girls tell me I’m a good dancer.”
“I bet you are,” she said. “If you dance anywhere near as good as you talk, you’re probably great.”
“Well try me and judge for yourself. Let’s go dancing this weekend.”
“Slow down, big boy; give me a chance to think about it.”
As they got up to leave, Shirley smiled noticing Howie stuffing a dollar bill into the tip jar on the fountain top. On the way back to the car, he held her hand and later, she lightly kissed him good night before running upstairs.
After that evening, Howie called nightly. If Mr. or Mrs. Siegal answered, he was quick to engage them in conversation, always inquiring about their health and well-being before asking to speak with Shirley. She liked when her folks commented on how friendly and respectful he was. Two or three times a week, they went on dates to dances, the movies or out to eat. Twice, they went to a movie and had a bite to eat with Didi Pollack and her boyfriend and once they went to dinner with his friend Sid Freidman and his wife. Within a month, they were going steady. Two weeks later, he bought her a Bulova watch for her birthday and that night they made love for the first time in her folks’ apartment.
Shirley’s friends kept telling her how envious they were and how they wished they could find someone like him. She wondered, though; something was missing. Every once in awhile, Howie would get moody and she wouldn’t hear from him for a few days. She also found out he gambled, playing cards in some big games.
Shortly before Christmas, she became alarmed when he didn’t call for two days. She decided to call him and his mother answered, saying she didn’t know where he was, but only knew he came home very late the night before and left about noon that day.
Around eight that night, he rang the Siegals’ bell and started up the stairs. Opening the door, Shirley heard him coming. Glad her folks were out; she met him at the top of the stairs in a long silky robe with her hands on her hips.
“Where you been?”
“Hi, sorry, I been busy,” he answered.
“My God, I’ve been worried. You usually call about seven every night.”
“Hey, I guess I forgot,” he sighed. “Can I come in?”
She didn’t move and he stopped two steps below the landing.
“No,” she said, “my folks are gonna be home soon and I don’t feel like company.”
“C’mon, Shirley, just for a little while.”
“Howie, what’s goin’ on? I don’t like the way you sound and you look terrible. Your clothes are a mess and when was the last time you shaved?”
“Look, Babe, I’m okay, just tired.”
“Are you playing in one of those big games again?”
“I said I’m okay, so let it rest and yeah, I’m playin’ a little cards.”
“Howie, you promised you wouldn’t get into those kinda games anymore.”
“Look, Shirley, lay off. Don’t worry about me; I can take care of myself. Besides, you know I win a lot more than I lose.”
“Please, Howie, I know you want to make money, but I see what it does to you sometimes and I worry.”
“Alright, alright, I hear you! Just forget about it!”
“Keep your voice down, goddammit,” she hissed. “The neighbors don’t need to know our business.” She walked closer to where he was on the stairs. “You’re drunk too, aren’t you?”
“Look I gotta go now. I’ll call you when you’re in a better mood,” he said gruffly as he turned, bumping the wall and lumbering down the stairs. She sighed, making a face as she heard one of the neighbors’ doors closing below.
Going to the window, she saw him slump into the Chevy convertible and sitting for several minutes before pulling away. In the quiet of the apartment, “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” coming from the Victrola in her bedroom, played dreamily in the background. She stood at the window watching until he was out of site. .
Retreating to the kitchen, she poured a Coke and lit a cigarette, sitting down at the table and wondering about Howie’s job in the loan business. His boss was a short, stocky older guy from the West Side who slurred his words as he talked. She also didn’t like that when she was introduced to him in a private box at Arlington Park Race Track, he turned to Howie, commenting, “nice lookin�
� broad.” And when Howie had walked away for a moment, he looked at her, shifting his head from side to side, in a way that made her uncomfortable, even though he didn’t say anything. The two other men in the box laughed and the fat one bursting the buttons on his wrinkled shirt mumbled something about a “fuckin’ hotshot” that she knew was directed at Howie.
Walking away afterward, she whispered to Howie, “Are these guys your friends?”
“No, they’re just a couple of jerks that hang out around here,” he replied, hustling her down the ramp..
“Well they should watch their language, especially the slob that looks like he needs a bath,” she sneered.
“Look, Babe, what do you expect? I’ve seen how you give guys the eye when they look you over. So don’t complain.”
Pulling her hand away, she quickened the pace to the exit and he followed. She didn’t talk all the way home and when he pulled up to her building, she jumped out and slammed the door without saying goodbye.
Howie called a week after their argument on the stairs and acted like nothing had happened. She started to say something, but he interrupted, telling her he had reservations for the dinner show starring Tony Martin at the Chez Paree and she had to be ready in forty minutes. “Really?” she squealed. “I love him,” and rushed to get dressed.
In the weeks that followed, he remained upbeat and attentive and let her know when he wouldn’t be around for a few days. Weekends, they went to night spots like Club Hollywood and the Silver Frolics and had frequent dinners at Gus and Barneys or downtown spots where a lot of well-known celebrities dined. When they went out with her friends, usually up north in the city, he was charming and everyone seemed to like him. Her mother didn’t warm up to him however; but she did like the way he always complimented her. Mr. Siegal didn’t have much to say, but when he heard him mention that his boss was Paschey Cohen, he shook his head. He had heard about the bookie, and knew that some of his own customers had borrowed money from Cohen at high rates to settle gambling debts. He himself still placed bets with Tim O’Hara, and had borrowed money from him too, but somehow, he had the feeling that it was not the same. There were too many other rumors about Paschey’s business and the people he associated with that could be troublesome.
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