“Wait a minute, what class?” I asked. “Her classes are at Juilliard.”
“Her martial arts class.” When Jordan saw the blank expressions on our faces, he said, “I take it you didn’t know Gina was taking self-defense lessons?”
Uh, no.
When we got her home to her dorm room in Meredith Willson Residence Hall, Gina’s roommates greeted her supportively and then split, wisely leaving us alone for a while.
“He’s the one who did it,” Gina said. “I’m sure of it.”
“But honey, you didn’t pick him in the lineup,” I answered.
“That’s because I never saw his face that night!”
“Has he spoken to you?”
“Only when we had the fight.”
“Then why do you think it’s him?”
“I don’t know! It’s the way he moves or something. I can’t explain it.”
Carol spoke up. “Let’s try and forget about it now, all right? It’s over. He’s not going to press charges. Ross got his money back.”
“And that makes it all better?” I asked. “I’m seriously concerned here. Gina, this is unacceptable behavior, you know that, don’t you?”
“Dad, please.”
“Dad, please? That’s all you have to say?”
Carol interrupted, “Martin, leave her alone, she just got out of jail!”
“I’m just trying to understand what happened here, Carol. Our daughter committed a crime and, yeah, that’s right, she just got out of jail! Did you ever think our daughter would ever spend a night in jail? That’s not the Gina we know, is it?”
“No, of course not! But—”
“Stop it!” Gina screamed. “Just stop it!” And then she ran into her bedroom and shut the door. We could hear her bawling. Carol glared at me. “Way to go, Martin.” What? What did I do? Carol knocked on the door and asked to be let in, but Gina wouldn’t see her. Fine. So it’s my fault.
Well, I’m sorry, but it doesn’t take a numbskull to see that Gina needs some help. The assault damaged her psychologically and it’s altered her conduct. That’s why she should come back to Illinois and make a fresh start at school next year. But no one will listen to me. Gina won’t have it, and Carol backs her up. Carol seems to think Gina has the strength to carry on and is somehow justified in her actions. “Her anger is to be expected,” Carol says, “given what happened to her.” I agree with her, I’m angry about the assault, too, and I am fully aware that it’s far more personal for Gina. But a different Gina looks out at me through those beautiful eyes of hers. The anger is changing her; I can see it and I can feel it, but I don’t recognize it. I also understand human emotion plays a big role in what’s going on; with the anger comes the desire for revenge. And that’s where Gina has to draw the line, because it’s wrong.
And what the fuck is she doing taking martial arts classes?
I told Carol I was going across the street to one of the restaurants to have a drink. She didn’t stop me. She probably wanted one, too, but was damned if she was going to accompany me. I didn’t want her to anyway. I wanted to drown my sorrows in peace.
By the bottom of the second martini, I knew the reason I was freaking out was because my daughter reminded me of what my mother used to do when she was Gina’s age.
Hello panic attack.
Carol and I flew home the next day. What else could we do? Neither of us wanted to sit around Gina’s dorm room or our respective hotel rooms and argue with each other. Gina promised us she’d stay away from Trejano and that she’d learned her lesson. We didn’t discuss the martial arts class. The possibility of Gina coming home for a semester wasn’t brought up again either. She would continue to see her therapist. Hopefully the unfortunate incident would go away.
My anger had abated and now all I felt was love and concern for my daughter.
My ex-wife and I barely said a word during the flight. I could tell she was just as concerned about Gina as I was. The difference between us is Carol was always an optimist, whereas I’ll forever be a pessimist.
I did find the courage to say to Carol, “I don’t know what’s given you the impression that I’m upset about you getting married again, but I wish you happiness. I hope we can be friends. And I’ll make an effort with Ross, too.”
She appreciated that, took my hand, and squeezed it.
34
Judy’s Diary
1960
OCTOBER 19, 1960
Actually, it’s a couple hours before dawn on October 20. I’m shell-shocked by what happened last night at the Waldorf-Astoria. I’d better start at the beginning and write it all down before I try to get a few hours’ sleep.
I was a Kennedy Girl again in the senator’s motorcade that went down lower Broadway yesterday. Now that was exciting! All of the Girls were present, and Jackie Kennedy was there with her husband as well. She’s very pregnant, but she looked radiant. She wore an oyster-white coat, a matching beret, and white gloves. She told me and some of the other Girls this was her last public appearance in the campaign. From here on out she was going to rest and take care of that bundle in the oven. Kennedy greeted us warmly. He looked at me and said, “Miss Cooper, right?” I can’t believe he remembered my name. He must meet hundreds of people every day.
The weather was threatening rain. The sky was dark and cloudy, but luckily it held off until later. We started at the Biltmore Hotel on E. 43rd Street and went down in our van to the Battery, where the motorcade was lined up. Thousands of people had already gathered along Broadway, where a ticker-tape parade was planned. It was going to be a busy day. Kennedy had several events scheduled, culminating in the Alfred E. Smith dinner that night at the Waldorf. The one I was worried about.
The parade started close to noon and it took nearly a half hour for us to move from Bowling Green to City Hall on Broadway, a trip that normally would take ten minutes. There was a marching band, the Girls walked beside the Kennedys’ convertible, and we all waved at the multitudes as we were showered by confetti, torn paper, and ticker tape. That was the rain! We sang “High Hopes” and “Marching Down to Washington” as the band played along. We stopped briefly at Trinity Church, where Kennedy made a short speech. It was amazing that people shut up long enough to listen. Mr. Dudley said a million people had turned out for the parade. Mayor Wagner was waiting for us on the steps of City Hall. Once we arrived and assumed our places on the steps, the mayor spoke first. He announced that this was the greatest reception anyone had ever received in lower Manhattan. Kennedy thanked the mayor for inviting him and his wife to receive the city’s official greeting.
He gave a wonderful speech. I can’t remember it all, of course, but a few things stuck out. I’m paraphrasing, but he said, “From Wall Street to the remotest part of the land, the American people will choose progress. They’re tired of standing still. In 1960, the people will say ‘yes’ to progress. I’m running against Mr. Nixon, who is campaigning in these most dangerous times in the country’s history on the slogan that ‘you never had it so good.’ I don’t believe it is good enough!”
The crowd roared with appreciation.
From there we were rushed to Rockefeller Plaza and Café Française, where we had lunch. The food was delicious, but the Girls were relegated to a table by ourselves and we couldn’t talk to the senator or his wife. Our duties were over for the day after that, because Kennedy was going to Yonkers after he ate, then back to Manhattan to speak at the Employees Union Hall, and then to HQ itself in the late afternoon. The dinner at the Waldorf was set for 8:00 that night. Betty told me she was working the ballroom as a waitress, so she’d get to see not only Jack and Jackie Kennedy again, but Richard Nixon and his wife, too. Some other bigwigs from the campaign HQ had tickets: Mr. Dudley and Mr. Patton, of course, and a few volunteers who got to work the event. I knew Alice and Mitch would be there, but because of my stint as a Kennedy Girl, I didn’t get picked.
The rain finally broke through after lunch. I heard that poor Sen
ator Kennedy had to stand bare-headed in the downpour in Yonkers while he addressed the people there. As for me, I went back to HQ to retrieve my backpack (my Stiletto outfit was stored inside). I considered going home, but I was simply too worried about the dinner. Michael and his Russian roommate would be there, I knew they would, and they had guns. There was no question in my mind that something bad was going to happen. What were they planning? I had to find out and, more importantly, I had to stop them.
It was around 4:00 when I got to the Waldorf. The front doors were naturally under heavy security, so I went to the employee entrance on 50th. Surprisingly, I walked right in. I told the security man I was looking for Betty O’Connor, and that we were both Kennedy Girls for the campaign. He believed me and figured I was part of the dinner festivities. I took the elevator up to the fifth floor and the employee locker rooms, and sure enough, I found Betty getting dressed in her uniform.
“What are you doing here, Judy?”
“Betty, don’t ask me how I know, but I think the senator is in danger. Maybe everyone is, I don’t really know.”
“What are you talking about?”
I tried to explain that some Russian spies had infiltrated the dinner and planned to cause some trouble. She laughed a little and said that was the craziest thing she’d heard in a long time. “It’s a little early for cocktails, Judy!” she teased. I told her I was serious, but she said, “Judy, the senator has Secret Service people and bodyguards. So does Nixon. The Grand Ballroom is probably the safest place in the world right now. Look, come with me.”
She led me downstairs to the third floor and the entrance to the ballroom. It was beautifully decorated. Gorgeous white cloths covered the dozens of tables that spread across the floor. The dinner and glassware sparkled from the light of the chandeliers. Betty explained how both Kennedy and Nixon would be at the head table and they’d be surrounded by security. I was starting to feel a little better about the situation, when none other than Billy entered the place! He carried programs to be distributed at every table.
“Judy! Betty!”
“Hi, Billy,” I said. “Are you working the dinner?”
He nodded. “Mr. Patton asked me specifically.”
“Where’s Lily?”
“She couldn’t do it. It’s just me and some of the others.” He named some folks I knew.
Betty excused herself. “Kids, I have to get to work. Talk to you later.”
“Have fun tonight!” I called after her. I turned back to Billy and asked, “Have you seen Alice or Mitch?”
“Yes, they’re around.” He pointed to a box high on the right wall. “I’ve seen him up there. I don’t know where Alice is. They’ll be at one of the tables down here. They have tickets.”
“Why would he be up there?” I asked. “They didn’t sell tickets to the balcony or box seats, it’s a dinner.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Thanks, Billy. I’m going to look for him.”
“See you later, Judy.”
Entrances to the boxes were on the fifth floor. The balcony level was the fourth floor. Either position would be an ideal place for a man with a sniper rifle to hide. I left the ballroom and took the elevator to the fifth, where bellhops and hotel staff were hustling about, but I didn’t see Mitch or Alice. Just as a precaution, I looked in each of the boxes on that side of the ballroom. There were red velvet curtains on each one, for privacy, and a lovely small chandelier hung over four cushioned chairs that looked out over the floor.
As I turned to leave, I saw Mitch coming up the hallway along the box entrances. He was dressed in an elegant tuxedo.
“Judy!” He was obviously surprised to see me.
“Oh, hi, Mitch, I was looking for you.”
“What for?”
I led him into the box where we could speak quietly. “Mitch,” I said, “don’t ask me how, but I have reason to believe that Michael— remember Michael?—and another man are Communist spies and they’re going to be here tonight to hurt the senator.”
Mitch wrinkled his brow. “Judy, that’s a pretty far-fetched story. Where did you hear this?”
“I can’t say, Mitch, you just have to trust me.”
“I don’t understand how you can know that.”
“It’s true, Mitch, really. Are you going to help me? Or should I go to the police by myself?”
He shook his head and said, “No, come on, let’s go talk to the Secret Service guys. I know them. You can tell them what you told me. They’re probably going to think you’re nuts, but I’ll vouch for you.”
“Thanks, Mitch.”
So I followed him out of the box, into the hallway, and up a little red ramp and through a door. We were next to a stairway that went down to the fourth floor, so we descended, turned left, and then stood behind the scenes in the employees-only area. I recognized it from when Betty took me on the tour. We walked down a short hall to the staff elevator. Mitch pressed the button to call the car.
“We have to go up to the room they made their headquarters,” he explained.
“You sure know your way around the hotel,” I said. “Did Betty help you out?”
“Betty? Oh, yeah, sure, she did give Alice and me a tour.”
The elevator came, we stepped in, and he pressed the button for floor 27. At that point my instincts started to go haywire. 27th floor?
“What were you doing on the fifth floor?” I asked Mitch.
“I was looking for Alice.”
I wondered, why would Alice be on the fifth floor?— and then the doors opened. Mitch stepped out. I remained.
“Come on,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“I told you. Room 2730. That’s where my Secret Service contact is.”
It didn’t feel right. Being near Mitch produced those pesky danger signals I get sometimes. Nevertheless, I followed him down the hall to the room in question. When he took out a key to unlock the door, I really knew something was definitely out of whack. Why would Mitch have a key to the Secret Service’s room?
I backed away. Mitch asked, “Where are you going?”
“I, uh, think I left something downstairs,” I muttered and then I ran back to the elevator.
“Judy! Come back!”
The doors had closed and the car had already gone down. I had no idea where the stairs were. Mitch walked back toward me, calling my name. I pressed the call button a dozen times, as if that would speed it along.
“Judy, what’s wrong?”
Come on, I urged the elevator.
Mitch was nearly upon me when the doors finally opened and out stepped a bellboy. But no, he wasn’t a real bellboy, he was the Russian, Michael’s roommate! Wearing one of the uniforms I’d seen at the basement apartment! I reacted with a gasp, turned to run, but Mitch caught me in his arms.
“Ivan!” he spat.
The Russian moved in behind me and I felt the hard barrel of a gun in the small of my back.
“What’s she doing here?” the man asked in a thick Russian accent.
“Snooping,” Mitch answered.
“Has she talked to the police?”
Mitch looked at me. “Have you, Judy? Have you told anyone what you told me?”
Mitch? I couldn’t believe it. Mitch was one of them?
I left Betty out. “No,” I lied. “I swear.”
All sorts of scenarios went through my head. Should I use my Stiletto prowess and take on these two men in my street clothes? It would certainly give me away. On the other hand, I could play the helpless victim, Judy Cooper, and try to find out what the heck was going on.
“Let’s go to the room,” Mitch said. He wagged a finger at me. “Not a sound, Judy, or Ivan will blow a hole in your spine.”
The pair walked me down to Room 2730. Mitch once again removed his key and unlocked the door. They shoved me inside a large suite consisting of a sitting room and a separate bedroom. While Mitch locked up, the man called Iva
n gestured with the gun for me to stand still. At that moment, Michael entered from the bedroom. And he was dressed in the other bellhop uniform from their apartment.
“What the hell?” he said. Then he snapped questions in Russian at the other two. Both Ivan and Mitch answered in Russian as well, and then Mitch switched to English.
“Your old girlfriend was snooping. She knows something. We have to keep her here.”
“What does she know?”
“Enough. And it’s all your fault.”
Ivan took my backpack but thankfully didn’t look inside it, then he indicated with the gun and said, “Go in there.” Dear diary, I nervously walked in the bedroom, where they made me sit on the bed. Michael retrieved a roll of duct tape from an open suitcase. There was no way I could resort to a fight without Ivan shooting me at close range, so I had to submit to Michael taping first my wrists together in front of me, and then my ankles. Once that was done, Ivan threw my backpack in a corner, put away the handgun, and grabbed a brown liquid-filled medicine bottle and a washcloth from the bathroom. I took a moment to take in the surroundings.
Ivan opened the bottle, and I immediately smelled something sweet. He poured a little on the washcloth, screwed the cap back on the bottle, and then approached me with the rag. Michael held me down as I struggled. Ivan placed the cloth over my mouth and nose, forcing me to hold my breath. I didn’t want to inhale that stuff, for I realized what it was. Chloroform!
I kicked, I wrestled, I tried to scream—but it was no use. Eventually, my breath gave out. Those flowery fumes went into my lungs, and then everything faded like you were turning down the volume on the radio until it all went black.
35
Judy’s Diary
1960
OCTOBER 19, 1960
I woke up groggy and disoriented. At first I didn’t know where I was. My ears were ringing and sounds were muffled. I had blurry vision, but it slowly sharpened to reveal the elegantly furnished room. I was lying on a soft, large bed. Then I remembered—the hotel suite in the Waldorf. They had drugged me.
The Black Stiletto: Stars & Stripes Page 21