Eli's Promise

by Ronald H. Balson

  * * *

  Toasts were offered while the dessert was being served. Mimi walked to the microphone. She was nervous. “I guess it’s my turn. Chrissie’s been my best friend since grammar school, and I am so happy for her and Preston. I want to add my thanks to Congressman and Mrs. Zielinski for this incredible wedding.” She blushed a little and said, “I have called him Uncle Vittie for the last fifteen years.

  “Like this magnificent hotel, Uncle Vittie is a Chicago institution. I know it must be the reporter or the history lover in me, but when I got out of that limousine and saw everyone dressed in their fancy tuxes and long dresses, I thought I must be going to the wedding of Potter Palmer and Cissie Honoré. You know, it was almost a hundred years ago that Potter Palmer built this hotel and gave it to Cissie as a wedding present.”

  Vittie interjected. “Hold on now, Mimi, nobody’s giving Christine any hotels.” Everyone laughed. “Besides, I hope you know that right after Potter gave it to her, it burned to the ground.”

  Mimi laughed. “Yes, it did, Uncle Vittie. The Palmer House opened in September 1871, the most luxurious hotel in America, and six days later Mrs. O’Leary’s cow kicked over the lantern, starting the Great Chicago Fire. But Potter rebuilt the hotel and opened the new Palmer House two years later. Cissie was the decorator: the classic interior, the Tiffany stained glass, the ceiling fresco—that was all Cissie’s work.

  “Look down at your dessert plate, the brownie with ice cream. Another Cissie creation. In 1891, Congress awarded the World’s Columbian Exposition to Chicago, and Cissie was president of the Board of Lady Managers. When the exposition opened, she instructed her chef to bake small cakes to put into her ladies’ box lunches. He prepared delicious little chocolate square cakes, and he named them brownies. You’re all eating Cissie’s dessert.” She raised a glass of champagne. “Here’s to my best friends, Preston and Chrissie Roberts. May your love always be as sweet as the brownies. I love you guys.” Amidst generous applause, Mimi took a bow and sat down.

  “Nice job, Meems,” Nathan said.

  The orchestra began to play, and couples wandered out to the dance floor.

  “Vittie sure went all-out for this wedding,” Nathan said, “and all on short notice. It must have cost him a fortune.”

  Mimi leaned over and whispered, “I heard it was fifty thousand dollars, but no one needs to take up any collections for Vittie.”

  “Fifty thousand! Holy shit! That’s enough to buy a nice house! He should have let them elope and bought them a house instead.”

  “Nathan, he already rented them a house.”

  “Where?”

  “Albany Park, of course.”

  * * *

  Five days later, on August 27, 1965, Mimi learned the real reason why Vittie wanted the wedding date moved up. The Tribune’s banner headline read, NEW HUSBANDS NOW ELIGIBLE FOR DRAFT. By an executive order, President Johnson eliminated the marital exemption for any man married after August 26, 1965. He did it without any prior public notice. His proclamation was planned in coordination with the congressional Armed Services Committees but not disclosed to the public until after it was signed. By virtue of the fact that Preston was married to Christine on August 22, he remained exempt from the military draft.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHICAGO

  ALBANY PARK NEIGHBORHOOD

  SEPTEMBER 1965

  Grandma loved to bake, and the Jewish holidays would find her home filled with sweet fragrances. She handed a box tied up in a blue ribbon to Mimi and said, “Would you please take this honey cake down to Mr. Rosen and wish him a sweet New Year? He’s a nice man. Isn’t he from Lublin or Lodz?”

  “Yes, he is, Grandma. I think maybe both. On occasions, he’s opened a small window into his life in Poland. A couple of times, when I mentioned Lodz, I noticed a change in his expression. Like he winced. There is pain associated with Lodz, I’d bet on it.”

  “I can understand that. That’s why so many families I knew fled to Lithuania.”

  “He said he was transferred from Lublin to Lodz. He mentioned his wife, his father and his brother, but very briefly. I think he said he had a son.”

  “What happened to them all?”

  Mimi shook her head and shrugged. “He didn’t say, and I didn’t pry. Maybe they didn’t survive. He told me that the Nazis killed almost every Jew in Lublin. Forty thousand people.”

  “So sad, so horrible. Well, bring him the cake and tell him I wish him a happy and healthy New Year.”

  Mimi knocked on Eli’s door and waited. She was just about to leave when the door opened. Mimi held out the box. “Happy New Year, Eli. L’shana tovah. Grandma baked this just for you, and I know you love cake. It’s a honey cake for a sweet new year.”

  “That is so kind. Please thank her for me. And you know my weakness—I do love cake! Come in for a moment. Can I offer you a cup of coffee? A soda?”

  “If you have a Coke, I would take that, thank you, but I can only stay a minute.”

  As Mimi waited, she noticed a Samsonite suitcase bearing a Washington Dulles baggage tag sitting in the hallway. Her attention was also drawn to the small black-and-white photo in the silver frame. It depicted a young boy in short pants and a sport jacket. Standing next to him was a woman with dark curly hair. She had her arm around the boy and was smiling proudly. “May I?” Mimi said.

  Eli nodded, and Mimi gently picked up the picture. “Is this your wife?”

  “Esther.”

  “She’s beautiful, and she looks very kind and loving.”

  “More than you can imagine.”

  “Is that your son?”

  He nodded. “Izaak.”

  “He looks young in this picture.”

  “He was five. It was right before the war.”

  Mimi smiled. “My, what a handsome boy.”

  Eli looked away. An uncomfortable silence followed, as though neither one knew where to take the conversation. Finally, Mimi put down the picture. “I’m sorry, Eli, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s Rosh Hashanah and I brought you a cake. Do you have plans to go to synagogue tonight?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t connected with a synagogue in a long time, Mimi. In Lublin, synagogues were targets, places of persecution. People were killed in synagogues.” He looked at Mimi with sad eyes. “I prayed and I prayed, Mimi, sometimes as hard as a man could pray, and I came to believe that no one was listening, because if He was listening, and He let it all happen, then … what’s the point? It’s beyond my understanding.”

  “What you and the Polish people endured, no one will ever understand, certainly not me. I’m just a twenty-five-year-old journalism grad. I never took a theology course in my life and I didn’t really pay attention when my mother sent me to religious school. I was taught to believe that God is pure, good, all-knowing and all-powerful. But now I question the same paradoxes. Reason tells me that when He made the world, He could have made it any way He wanted. So why didn’t He make a world that couldn’t conceive of a Holocaust? Why didn’t He create a utopia instead of a world where people are free to be evil? I have no answers, and yet I still go to synagogue and pray and I hope my prayers are heard. I still seek answers to those questions. I guess that’s what faith is all about. Perhaps someday I will come to a better understanding. At least a workable compromise. And you, Eli Rosen, are welcome to come with my family tonight to seek the same answers if you like, but I can appreciate why you would decline.”

  “Are you sure you’re only twenty-five?”

  Mimi chuckled. “Just twenty-five.”

  “Maybe one day we will sit, and I will tell you of my family and my life in Poland. You are an easy and comfortable person to talk to, Mimi Gold.”

  “Thank you, Eli. I would be honored.”

  “I don’t know about honored. I’m not all that mysterious.”

  Mimi smiled. “My mom thinks you are. She thinks you’re with the CIA.”

  “Ha, ha. Please tell your mother th
at I am definitely not with the CIA.”

  Mimi bit her bottom lip and looked at him askance. “FBI?”

  Eli furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s enough talk for today. Happy New Year, Mimi.”

  * * *

  “I knew it,” Ruth said. “I knew he was a G-man. Baggage tag for Washington? Unexciting government desk job, my giddy aunt!” She leaned forward. “Who do you suppose he’s investigating?”

  Mimi twisted her lips. “I got an idea. He asks a lot of questions about Vittie.”

  “Vittie!! Oh, my goodness, he’d better have both barrels loaded taking on one of the most powerful men in the country. Why do you think it’s Vittie?”

  “I don’t know; I just have a feeling. He seems very interested. Unusually so. He’s asked me questions about Vittie, about who was at the party and the wedding, and he also asked Nathan questions about him. He even wanted to know about Preston and what he did in Vittie’s office.”

  Ruth smiled. “Imagine that. All this intrigue going on in my building in Albany Park.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHICAGO

  SEPTEMBER 1965

  The Chicago Bears, the Monsters of the Midway, played their home games at Wrigley Field, the home of the Chicago Cubs. It took imagination and creativity to convert a 1914 baseball park into an NFL football stadium for four months of every year. Temporary stands, like those at a high school athletic field, were erected in front of the right field bleachers to seat an additional four thousand fans. Goalposts were set close to the brick wall in left field and on the first base line in front of the baseball visitor’s dugout. Padding was installed all along the left field wall ever since 1932, when Bronko Nagurski ran headlong through the end zone and slammed into the brick wall. Though he was wearing his leather helmet, he wobbled back to the bench and told Coach Halas that the last guy gave him “quite a lick.”

  Preston, Christine, Nathan and Mimi shuffled down the aisle toward their tenth-row box seats on the forty-yard line for the home opener against the Los Angeles Rams. Preston proudly boasted that the seats were fringe benefits he received from being Vittie’s “number one administrative assistant.” So was the new metallic-blue Bonneville convertible that Preston drove to the game.

  “Are you kidding?” Nathan said to Preston. “Who gets fringe benefits like that?”

  Preston smiled. “I do.”

  They settled into their seats, and Christine commented, “I hope the Bears play better than they have so far this year.”

  “Home field magic,” Preston said. “And keep your eyes on number forty. He’s a rookie from Kansas named Gale Sayers.”

  Before the kickoff, when Preston and Nathan left to get hot dogs and drinks, Mimi turned to Christine and said, “So how is married life treating you?”

  “Pretty great. I mean, when you live with someone full-time, there’s bound to be arguments, but we’re doing okay.”

  “Arguments?”

  “Mostly about my job. I’ve been working crazy hours. I came home late again Friday night, and Preston was furious.”

  “I kind of understand it. You work a lot of nights, Chrissie. Doesn’t your boss have a family to go home to?”

  Christine shrugged. “He has three kids, but he and his wife are going through a nasty divorce. He’s been kicked out of the house, and he’s lonely. I get it. That’s probably why he wants me around, but he’s starting to get a little too friendly. He tells me what a cushy life he could give some lucky girl when his divorce is final. I laugh. I tell him his wife and kids will get all his money. Then he puts on a sly smile and tells me there’s a lot they don’t know about. I’m sure he means the cash he’s been stashing. Then he offers me a drink.”

  “Damn, Christine. You can’t let that go on.”

  Christine winced. “He wants me to be his confidant.”

  “No way!”

  “I know. I try to distance myself. I try to keep it all on a joking level. But I think sometimes he’s serious, especially when he’s had a few.”

  “He is serious. How many clues do you need?”

  “What am I supposed to do? He’s my boss, and he pays me pretty damn well. I make a lot more than Preston does. I get a lot of overtime pay—time and a half. Besides, he works closely with my dad. Practically every shipment is slated for the military. He and my dad talk almost every day.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You have to get out of there. You don’t want your marriage to suffer because of a stupid job or because your dad is doing business with Nicky. You need to find another job. Your dad will understand.”

  “Meems, don’t you say a word! If Preston knew what was going on, he’d go crazy. He’s already pissed that I work so many evenings. Meanwhile, where did you get that fabulous vest?”

  Mimi smiled and bit her bottom lip. “I don’t want to tell you.”

  “Come on.”

  She laughed. “I got it at E. J. Korvette for eight dollars. But, Chrissie, that bracelet, it’s gorgeous.”

  She held her wrist out, and her gold bracelet shimmered in the sunlight. “Pres gave me this last week. For no reason. Just ’cause he loves me.”

  “Wow.”

  * * *

  Midway through the third quarter, Preston told Nathan that the same four tickets were available for the Bears/Lions game in two weeks. “I’m supposed to give them away to a contributor,” Preston said, “but I’m going to keep them. Do you want to go?”

  “Sure I do, but won’t it be a problem if you don’t give them away?”

  Preston smirked. “Absolutely no problem. Fringe benefits.”

  “Then everything is copacetic at the office?”

  “Today it is, but they’re all coming in next month for the Columbus Day parade. Vittie, Stanley, the accountant. I’m glad that they’re only staying for a few days. Just long enough to give me shit.”

  “I thought Vittie couldn’t come into Chicago this fall because of his demanding legislative agenda,” Nathan said. “And that’s why he moved up the wedding date.”

  “Don’t play dumb, Nate. You know the answer to that one. I got married five days before LBJ did away with the marital deferment. I told you Vittie doesn’t want his son-in-law going off to Vietnam.”

  At that moment, Rudy Bukich dropped back, threw a screen pass to Gale Sayers, who sidestepped his defender, broke into the open field and ran eighty yards for touchdown. “I told you,” Preston yelled above the roar. “I told you to keep your eyes on that guy. He’s going to be rookie of the year. Outta sight!”

  * * *

  Eli was standing on the front stoop, leaning his back against the iron banister and reading the newspaper, when Preston pulled up in his convertible. Eli watched as Nathan and Mimi got out of the car, waved goodbye to Preston and Christine, and walked toward the building. “We just saw the Bears beat the Los Angeles Rams,” Mimi said. “It was so much fun.”

  “Beautiful Sunday for a game,” Eli responded with a smile, folding his paper. “I see you’re traveling in style. Pretty spiffy car.”

  “It’s a brand-new Pontiac Bonneville. Rides like a dream.”

  “Wasn’t that your friend Preston driving the car? The one who was recently married?”

  “Yes, it was. He had tickets to the game. On the forty-yard line.”

  “Doesn’t he work for Congressman Zielinski?”

  “That’s how he got the tickets. Pretty sweet.”

  “How fortunate. VIP tickets, a beautiful new car—the congressman must be very generous to his staff.”

  That was more than just a casual observation, thought Mimi. What is your fascination with Congressman Zielinski, Mr. Newly Arrived Tenant? Or should I say FBI agent? Perhaps my mother’s supposition wasn’t so off-base.

  “I think Preston and Christine did pretty well at their wedding,” Mimi said. “There were several wealthy guests, and I saw a lot of envelopes. We’re going upstairs now. Good evening, Eli.”

  When Nathan and Mimi entered the apartment, N
athan said, “Nosy fellow, isn’t he?”

  “That money didn’t come from the wedding gifts, Nathan.”

  “I don’t know, Meems. That’s what Preston says. Earlier today, when we were standing in the hot dog line, I brought it up. I’m sure you saw the gold bracelet on Christine’s wrist. He’s driving an expensive car. He insisted on buying the refreshments with a pocketful of cash. He’s got primo tickets. I asked him what the hell was going on, and he told me it was the wedding money.”

  Mimi shook her head. “Chrissie told me they spent most of their wedding money furnishing the house.”

  “Then the money must be coming from his job.”

  “He’s not making that kind of salary as an administrative assistant. Chrissie said she makes a lot more than Preston. She said that they couldn’t survive on Preston’s salary alone.”

  “I didn’t mean his salary, Meems.”

  Mimi raised a brow. “Then what?”

  Nathan twisted his lips. “Preston told me to forget it, it never happened. But it did, Meems. How do you unring a bell? How do I forget what I believe is a straight line to a disaster?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s the books and records in the secret room; it’s got to be. Remember Preston’s words? ‘Major shit, the stuff that could send people to jail?’ Two weeks ago, Pres and I were at a softball game. I could tell he was upset again. Something happened at work and all he would say was he had a decision to make. ‘There’s two ways I can play this,’ he said. ‘Two ways, Nate. That’s it.’ I asked him what the hell he was talking about, and he told me to forget about it. Now he’s spending money like he’s Howard Hughes. So, Mimi, what is the obvious conclusion?”

  Mimi shrugged. “To me, ‘two ways’ means he could either walk away or somehow participate in the major shit.”