by Linda Ellen
Shaking his head again and sighing in frustration, he ran a hand back through his damp, disheveled hair. Unconsciously, he was striving to somehow dislodge the shrill voice of his sister-in-law, which was stubbornly replaying in his mind.
“We can’t keep on like this, Vic!” Liz had yelled at him the previous evening when he had dragged himself home after another day of his ongoing and unsuccessful hunt for a job. “Jack works. I work. And the fact is, we’re tired of carryin’ you! Sick and tired of it.”
On that score, he agreed with her. He was sick and tired of it, too, like a pain in his very bones. Tired of waiting for his life to really begin. Tired of looking for work and coming up empty. Tired of sleeping on the living room floor of his brother and sister-in-law’s small apartment. That certainly didn’t make the situation any more tolerable. Man, something’s gotta give soon, or I’m gonna go outta my mind…
Determinedly, he turned from the wet world outside the window and allowed his gaze to roam around the restaurant as he tried to push the feeling of utter hopelessness away. All he managed to do, however, was observe the gainfully employed enjoying ‘life’.
It ain’t like I’m lazy…I go after every opening or rumor of one. Yet, somehow I’m always passed over. Always ignored. Just like today…he fumed, thinking about how he had followed up a lead at the Belknap Warehouse, but fifty guys – the old and the young, the hungry and the desperate – had showed up hoping to fill one lousy opening.
And once again, he was passed over.
Between that and Liz’s constant insults and harping, his self-confidence had really been taking a beating lately.
The smug look on that Belknap foreman’s face as he had shown the ‘losers’ to the door resurfaced in Vic’s memory. For a moment, frustration got the better of him and he slammed his hand down on the table in exasperation.
Several patrons, including the two young women who had been sending longing glances his way startled a little at the sound and turned to stare at him again, wondering the reason for his outburst. He noticed their attention then and raised the hand he had just slammed in a vague apology. They smiled and went back to their conversation as he returned his gaze out the window and back to his musing.
When will I ever catch a break? He wondered with a heavy sigh. Somehow I’ve gotta show ‘em all that Vic Matthews has what it takes. If I could just get half a chance, I’d run with it, full-tilt, like…like Bold Venture… He sighed then, picturing the winner of the Kentucky Derby the year before. That horse fought his way through the pack and charged forward to win, leavin’ dislodged jockeys and a mess of startled horseflesh in his wake.
A tiny smile graced Vic’s handsome features as he remembered picking that mount to win because he had liked his name, Bold Venture, and a two-dollar bet meant he had walked away from the window with a cool forty bucks in his pocket. Closing his eyes for a moment and drawing in a deep breath, he relived the elation he had felt to actually be on the winning side that day. To be ‘in the money.’ That thought momentarily pushed away the fact that nothing about his life since then had resembled a ‘winner’s circle’.
Someday I’m gonna set out on a ‘bold venture’ of my own, he vowed silently, as his eyes warmed with oft imagined scenes of a successful future.
*
A few minutes later, two young men dashed inside the door of the establishment and out of the rain – twenty-one-year-old Earl Grant and twenty–two-year-old Alec Alder. Spotting their friend occupying their customary booth, they grinned and waved, making their way over to him while shaking the excess water off their clothes.
“Blasted rain!” Earl grumbled as he slid into the seat across from Vic and smoothed a lock of his straight, dark hair back from his face with one wet hand before wiping it on his jacket.
“Hey Pally, how goes it?” Alec asked as he flopped down onto the seat next to Vic and gave him a teasing punch in the arm. He took off his dark gray cap and, holding it by the bill, whacked it a few times against the table’s edge to dislodge the excess water as he swiped back a few strands of his thin brown hair with his other hand.
“It goes,” Vic mumbled with a shrug.
“Ahh, another negateevo, huh?” Alec offered with a sympathetic pout. He totally understood his friend’s mood, as he had also come up with a losing hand that day.
Vic merely rolled his head toward his friend and gave him The Eye, Alec’s customary fun-loving personality grating on his nerves.
“Well guys, guess what I heard,” Earl began, his green eyes sparkling with suppressed news. “Ford’s hirin’ for a special project. They’re payin’ five bucks a day, and the first ten guys that show up, they’ll let work. Sweepin’ the floor and haulin’ junk around. Maybe hammerin’ a nail or two. I’m goin’ over first thing in the mornin’. Ya’ll want in?”
“Better than nothin’, I guess,” Vic shrugged again, although his mood brightened some at the prospect of making a little money. Liz had hinted during her tirade that morning that he might have to find another place to flop if his ‘luck’ didn’t change soon. His brother Jack, as usual, had just sat there mute. Maybe this will please the old so-and-so…
He checked that thought as soon as it occurred. Liz wasn’t an old so-and-so. She was right; he did need to hold up his end. It was just how she went about it – the constant harping – that stuck in his craw…and the fact that she couldn’t seem to see how hard he was trying.
Glancing across the table at Earl, Alec raised his eyebrows in question, before shifting his eyes back to Vic. He studied for a moment the side of his friend’s face as he stared out the window at the wet gloom. What he needs is a pick-me-up, as in a woman, Alec thought with a smirk.
Gently elbowing Vic in the side, Alec offered with a chuckle. “Hey ol’ man, guess who I ran into today?”
Vic glanced at him and shook his head before reaching for and downing the rest of his soda.
“Remember that girl I took around for awhile last summer?”
Vic narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember. “Mary somethin’ or other?”
“Yep. Well, her and another girl were strollin’ down Fourth, see, and I met up with ‘em. One thing led to another and…” he paused with a snicker and glanced around as if he were divulging state secrets. “Anyway, they’re up for a good time on Friday. That is, if you’re interested,” he added, nudging his friend with a shoulder.
Mildly intrigued, Vic eyed his jokester pal closely, having been the victim of Alec’s ‘blind’ date set-ups before. “This one’s a looker?”
“She’s a real babe,” Alec acknowledged with uplifted hands as he pictured the girl. “Dark hair… cute figure…great gams… real perky. Name’s Edna Hoskins. Says she’s nineteen.”
“She got good teeth?” Vic asked with a doubting smirk, picturing the worst.
“Yep, sure does. I made sure ‘a that for ya,” Alec grinned, knowing his friend’s pet peeve regarding girls with less than pleasing hygiene. He reached into his pocket to retrieve a small scrap of paper. “Here’s her address. I told her you’d pick her up at seven and we’d meet at the Cozy,” he added, indicating one of the neighborhood theaters.
Vic took the slip and read the address. “I guess,” he somewhat reluctantly agreed. “That is… providin’ I make some dough between now and then, ‘cause I’m tapped out.”
“Aw man, no sweat – it sounds like Henry Ford to the rescue,” Alec joked, and then wiggled his eyebrows, a risqué sparkle in his eyes. “Nothin’ better than a hot date ta make ya forget yer troubles. Right, Chief?” he added with a twinkle, the nickname referring to a private joke from their shared childhood.
Relaxing for the first time all day, Vic actually chuckled and cast a lopsided grin at his friend. As always, Alec’s antics were working their charm to lighten his mood. Privately, however, he hoped this girl truly would be hot, and not a cold fish like Alec had fixed him up with the last time.
“I feel like celebratin’,” Alec continued
with an infectious snicker, rubbing his hands together before digging in his pocket and coming up with his last two quarters. “You fellas hungry?”
Earl and Vic exchanged glances and grinned, thinking they were always hungry.
“Sliders and Cokes comin’ right up,” Alec grinned as he bounded out of his seat and up to the establishment’s food counter.
The guys watched him go, Earl’s eyes alive with amusement.
“Ten to one she gives him free fries.” Vic snickered as he watched their gregarious pal turning on the charm for Judy at the counter.
“Yeah, just like last time,” Earl agreed, turning to place an arm on the back of the seat and crane his head around as the two sat observing their friend in action. Each one admired him for his prowess and truthfully wished they possessed a little of his chutzpah. When the girl smiled shyly, smoothed her white paper hat, straightened her crisp white uniform’s apron, and glanced surreptitiously side-to-side before slipping a box of fries onto Alec’s tray, the two at the table laughed and shook their heads in amazement.
Alec returned to the table the conquering hero, his white grin flashing a mile wide as he placed the mouthwatering, food-laden tray in the middle.
“What?” he asked innocently in response to his friends’ expressions of amazement. “Can I help it if I’m irresistible?” he shrugged with a grin.
All three chuckled as he picked himself up off the floor after Vic’s playful shove.
Immediately, the longtime friends began gulping down their food, laughing at each other’s jokes, and just enjoying the pleasure of one another’s company.
For a little while at least, they had something else to think about, other than their lack of viable employment and the incessant rain.
Soon, however, one of those would prove to be impossible to ignore.
‡
CHAPTER 2
Louise, the Girls, and The Family
Two days later, the rain still had not let up. The sky above the tall buildings of downtown Louisville continued to drench the area as three young women made their way down First Street late that afternoon, huddled together under a large umbrella.
“You guys want to catch a movie tonight?” asked Fleetwood McDougal, affectionately known as ‘Fleet.’ Her chestnut brown eyes sparkled with merry anticipation as she eyed her friends, Eleanor Mabley and Louise Hoskins.
Removing one hand from the handle of the umbrella, Fleet tucked a strand of her wavy, honey hued hair inside the edge of her red scarf. She clamped her thin lips in a grimace against the brisk wind, accentuating her somewhat angular face.
“What’s playin’?” Eleanor wondered aloud, her hair blowing across her face in the wet breeze. She reached up to brush it away. Her mother being part Cherokee, Eleanor had inherited her black hair and eyes, but she had received her complexion from her Irish father. Normally, this would have been a pleasing combination, but on Eleanor, it somehow seemed incongruous. Most of the time, she just looked pale and sickly.
“San Francisco. It’s got Jeanette MacDonald and Clark Gable in it,” Fleet added with a grin, knowing both girls couldn’t help but swoon at the dashing matinee idol.
“I thought you had a date with Frank?” Louise replied, puzzled. As the wind blew gusts of rain aggravatingly under their umbrella, she drew the wool lapels of her dark gray hand-me-down coat tighter around her chest. Reaching up with one hand, she adjusted the light blue scarf covering her smooth, sable hair. The gentle arch of her brows over her rounded almond eyes as well as her creamy complexion conveyed the innocence of youth, yet her solemn and watchful countenance projected wisdom beyond her years. Her eyes, mostly brown with a trace of mossy green, seemed to shine like a glittering star through a forest of trees on a dark night, as if they were hiding a mystery that was waiting to be solved.
“I did.” Fleet sighed, huddling closer and hunching her tall, slim frame down a bit to equal her shorter companions. “But he got a chance at snaggin’ a little cash, helping their neighbor do something or other, so he jumped on it.”
Louise and Eleanor nodded in absolute understanding. Times were lean, and nobody in his right mind would turn down a chance to make a little dough.
“Well, I can’t anyway. Daddy told me and Billy this morning he wants us to stay in tonight,” Louise replied to the original question as she carefully negotiated around a puddle and cast an apologetic look toward her friends.
“Well, that stinks,” Fleet griped, as always itching to have some fun. Then she glanced at her friend again. “Wait…your Dad’s back from Bowling Green?”
“Yep, he got in last night,” Louise answered, her hazel eyes warming as she thought of her beloved father, Willis. Oh how she missed him when he was away.
“He’s still working, though…right?” queried Eleanor the worrier, as she watched Louise’s face closely.
“Yeah, this is just a visit for the weekend,” she assured her friends quickly, as each knew how hard it was for Louise’s father to secure and keep employment. It was the same story for everyone struggling to emerge from the aptly named, ‘Great Depression’ – no work. Fathers, brothers, and husbands all seemed to have the same thought – try another town, maybe there’s work there. However, most of the time they found conditions there the same as they were back home, and the men sooner or later came dragging back to their loved ones in defeat. Louise’s father was especially affected as, at sixty-four, he was way past his prime in the opinions of most employers. Unfortunately – bosses could afford to be choosy.
Reaching the welcome refuge of the “Neighborhood House” just then, the girls hurried up the three concrete steps and fumbled with the knob on the large door. Dashing inside, they giggled merrily as they shook water droplets from their hands.
The center, run by Laura Herndon, was housed in a large brick-veneered building on First, between Walnut and Liberty. It consisted of two separate structures, a large two-story house on the right, in which lived the stern Mrs. Klapheke, the director, and a larger gym/auditorium on the left. This building sported a stage at the far end, and basketball goals on the sides. A large open area fanned out behind the structures, which was perfect for baseball or football games, and also included slides, swing sets and horseshoes.
Neighborhood kids spent many evenings out there as a group, listening to boxing matches on the radio, as such greats as Joe Louis or Max Baer battled for the title. The girls in the group enjoyed the camaraderie of those times as much as the boys. Sitting on the edges of their chairs, everyone stared at the old Philco radio as they listened to the boxing announcer’s eager voice describing each blow. Good-natured arguments would sometimes ensue over who would win the match, although everyone knew Joe Louis was practically unbeatable.
“Come on in here out of that rain, girls!” Mrs. Herndon affectionately ordered as she ushered them inside and closed the door against a damp gust. Giving each of the girls a quick hug of welcome, she asked about their day at school, and exchanged other pleasantries. The girls smiled at the friendly woman as they answered her questions and hung up their damp outer wear on hooks next to the front door.
Although Mrs. Herndon had been assigned by the state to run the Neighborhood House, she truly loved her charges as if they were her own children, a bit like a second mother. Louise was especially fond of her, as the kind lady had taken the girl under her wing. Over the past several years, she had taught her how to file her nails properly and even wear a bit of makeup – things Louise’s mother never seemed to have time to share.
“You’re just in time for rehearsal,” Mrs. Herndon encouraged. Seeing several others already on the stage at the far end of the large open space rehearsing for the center’s upcoming play, the girls quickly joined them. Thoughts of money troubles and the incessant rain immediately took a back seat to their world of make believe.
Louise, with her smooth creamy skin, twinkling hazel eyes, petite figure, and beautiful soprano voice, was undeniably the center of attention. On top
of that, she was a natural on the stage. Many of her friends secretly thought she had star potential, and Laura Herndon had wasted no time in picking her for the lead role of Annabelle in the musical. It was an original work she had entitled ‘Song of the Old South’. The center’s director, Mrs. Klapheke, had even somehow procured costumes for the young actors, including hoop skirts and top hats. It was shaping up to be a large production, and they had been working on it for months.
Fifteen minutes later, the main door opened as another youngster entered. Louise paused in her song and turned her head in response to her name being called.
“Mama wants you to come home,” Billy Hoskins, Louise’s younger brother, bluntly informed her as he skidded to a stop at the edge of the stage. At eleven, Billy was small for his age, having been born prematurely. Yet, he was a clever, cheerful boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes – and he and Louise shared a close relationship.
“How come? I just got here,” Louise groused, crossing her arms on her chest as she wondered what chore her mother wanted her to do now. Silently, she wished her older sister, Edna, would help out more. She’s probably out gallivanting around somewhere in this rain. Then she’ll come down with a sore throat and Mama’ll make me take care of her, she silently fussed.
“I don’t know,” Billy shrugged. “She just said go get ya.”
“I don’t get a minute’s peace,” Louise muttered as she turned to Mrs. Herndon, apologizing for the interruption.
