by Frank Deford
III.
The national championships for ’37, which were scheduled for Jones Beach, were fast approaching. L. deB. was not only convinced that I’d win, but that I could very possibly break Eleanor’s record. He presented me w/ my black WSA silk suit w/ the big S in the middle of my chest, & let me tell you, the lst time I put that on, I was so proud I would’ve busted my buttons if I’d been wearing any. Back in my room at the Schooleys, I put it on again, even tho it was still damp, & I just stood there, admiring myself, turning this way & that in front of the mirror as if I were a lingerie model. The championships were only 2 wks away.
Then, a few days later, I came out of my bldg on the way to the bank. It was the middle of July, extremely hot, so I just had on a blouse & skirt (& the obligatory slip & stockings). I took about 2 steps toward #875, when all of a sudden this big, burly guy came out of nowhere & jumped me. At lst, I was so taken by surprise that I didn’t appreciate what was happening, but then I realized he was trying to steal the canvas bank bag from me. He’d obviously been watching my routine.
He also probably figured that I was a frail little vessel, so I’m sure he was shocked when he wasn’t able to yank the bag away from me right off the bat. I just instinctively hung on. But it all happened so fast, you see. I don’t think it even occurred to me to scream “help.” But then, there were lots of people all around me—within feet of me!—& they were just as stunned themselves. Everyone just stood there, gaping. I couldn’t blame them. You just don’t expect a thing like this to happen in front of you, much less to you.
All the while the big guy—we called such scoundrels “yeggs” in those days—tugged at the bag. I tried to hold on for dear life, but he gave one last big yank, & he was so strong that he not only pulled the bag out of my grasp, but he caused me to lose my balance. My momentum jerked me forward, & I tumbled hard, head-first, onto the sidewalk. I was able to stick out a hand to break my fall, but then it was almost like I skidded along on the pavement.
Finally, a couple of people did yell, reaching out to try to grab the mugger, but he eluded them & dashed away, heading south. I’d banged my head when I fell, but not enough to get knocked out, & as I lifted my head up to watch the robber run away, suddenly, who did I see materialize but Jimmy. He’d just come out of the bank next door, to where I was headed, & had actually seen the scuffle. When he realized that, yes, it really was me being attacked, he’d immediately run towards us.
The thief had planned to make his getaway in Jimmy’s direction. A subway station was up the other way, at the big intersection where Manhattan crossed Greenpoint, so obviously it made sense for him to run in the opposite direction, where there were fewer people & less likelihood of police. He might’ve gotten away, too, but here came Jimmy, absolutely unafraid, running right at him. So the thief ducked across Manhattan Ave., dodging the traffic. Jimmy went right after him, cutting in front of a trolley. They were maroon & cream. Isn’t that funny? I haven’t thought about that in yrs, but now, as I write this, I can see it all as plain as day, Jimmy running right in front of that maroon & cream trolley car.
By now—& you know, this has hardly taken only a few seconds—a couple of nice people came over to attend to me. I just wanted to watch the chase, tho, so I kind of raised up, trying to look across the street. It was no contest. Jimmy was like a jackrabbit. Before the thief had even reached the next corner, at Milton St., he could see that Jimmy was going to catch him, so he dropped the bag in hopes that his pursuer would be satisfied to stop & recover the loot.
But Jimmy didn’t go for that dodge. A couple steps further on, right where the guy turned down Milton, Jimmy leapt onto his back & brought him down. Then he started pummeling him. By now, of course, all sorts of people had joined the chase. One of them picked up the bank bag, while some others pulled Jimmy off the thief & held the culprit till a couple of cops ran down from Greenpoint Ave. About time!
Jimmy just turned away & ran back toward me. I saw him coming, & I was scared he was going to get killed crossing the street. It didn’t seem like he even looked side to side for the cars. He only had his eyes on me, screaming my name. “Sydney! Sydney!” I think back, & it doesn’t seem like I can remember any other sounds the whole time, just Jimmy screaming my name.
When he got to me, I was sort of up on my knees, & he kneeled down before me. That’s when all of a sudden the whole thing hit me, & I began to cry. “Oh, Sydney—you all right?” he asked. I tried to answer, but I was having a delayed reaction, & now—now that I had my wits about me—now I realized what’d happened. Now I was scared. My face was cut from where it had scraped on the sidewalk, so I knew I looked a sight, but Jimmy was just gazing upon me w/ the greatest concern.
I thought he might even start to cry for me, so I reached out to hug him, because I needed to, & also because, knowing him, I knew he didn’t dare try to hug me himself because it’d be just like him to think I’d feel that he was taking advantage of the situation. There was such a sweetness to Jimmy Branch.
It wasn’t until that second that I felt the pain in my wrist. It had been such a to-do I hadn’t even realized that when I’d put out my right hand to break my fall, it had done something to my wrist. I just stared at it. Now I hurt like hell, but now was when I stopped crying. That was because I was suddenly in disbelief. “My wrist, Jimmy, my wrist!” I didn’t know whether it was broken or strained or sprained or what, but I knew I wasn’t going to be doing any swimming for a while. Just like there wasn’t any Olympics for me in ’36, there wouldn’t be any national championships for me in ’37. I would’ve felt cursed, but the wrist hurt too much for me to feel anything but the pain.
Well, suddenly, it seemed like the whole world descended on us. There were policemen, & one man who said he knew lst aid gingerly looked at my wrist & said “oh my,” & then the guy who’d retrieved the canvas bag appeared, & then there was a police siren, & the people who weren’t being solicitous to me were congratulating Jimmy, patting him on his back, helping him dust himself off, etc. A trolley had stopped dead in the middle of the street & all the passengers were staring at me. Not only that, but the fuss had brought everybody running out of their offices & shops to see what all the commotion was. Remember, there was no air conditioning then except maybe in movie theaters (where it said: “IT’S COOOOL INSIDE” w/ icycles coming off the letters), & since it was one of the hottest days of the summer, all the windows were wide open.
In fact, suddenly, there was Mr. S himself & most of the girls from the office—all part of the crowd hovering around me. I told whoever it was who’d picked up the bag: “Give it to him”—meaning Mr. S.
Then a cop said, “What happened exactly, miss?” but even before I could answer, a woman said, “Officer, this young man is a hero.”
Jimmy kind of ducked his head, because he was quite modest by nature, but I was so proud of him, & even tho I was holding my wrist, I said, “The lady’s right, Mr. S. If it wasn’t for Jimmy that guy would’ve gotten away w/ all the day’s premiums.”
So right off the bat, w/o missing a beat, Mr. S said, “You wanna know something? You’re gonna get a reward!”
And all the people standing around began to clap & cheer in the most heartwarming fashion. Jimmy told me later that he’d never felt so good about himself in all his life—notwithstanding how worried he was about me. “But,” he told me later, “you’re tough for a girl, Sydney, so I knew you’d be all right.”
I put Mom’s pages down and just shook my head, absolutely flabbergasted. It was one thing for my father not to want to talk about Guadalcanal, but I found it simply incomprehensible that neither he nor Mom had ever told me this lovely little story before. I mean, this was an absolute “My hero!” moment. Surely, this must’ve been the very instant when Mom began to turn her affection away from the self-assured Horst to the sweet and humble Jimmy. My father was stepping up! Pleased, I went into the kitchen and got a ginger ale and a couple of cookies, and returned to turn the page:We
ll, the episode made Jimmy Branch an absolute celebrity, B’lyn division. Not only did Mr. S immediately give him a $l0 reward, but when he reported the incident to the home office, they doubled it. The irony was, too, that there really wasn’t that much $ in the bag, because, as I’ve explained, very few people were so naïve as to send cash thru the U.S. mail. Still, had the stupid robber gotten away, it would’ve been a real nuisance going back to all the folks who had sent in checks & $ orders. So the reward was richly deserved.
The Bank also gave Jimmy a dollar-a-week raise & a letter of commendation & the manager took him out to a very fancy lunch & told him he had a bright future at the bank. Not only that, but the B’lyn Eagle took Jimmy’s photo & put it in the paper, making him “Good Citizen Of The Week.”
Neither was I forgotten. I not only enjoyed a great deal of sympathy for suffering the broken wrist & the other cuts and bruises, etc., but I was also recognized for being such a brave girl & not just swooning when I was attacked. On my lst day back to work, brandishing my cast and bandages, etc., Mr. S presented me w/ a lovely bouquet, then led the entire staff in a round of applause for me. “You wanna know something?” he asked the assembled. “If Sydney hadn’t fought so courageously when the yegg attacked her, he would’ve gotten away before the courageous young man could give chase & save the day.”
I tried to be a good sport & not let on how disappointed I was that I couldn’t compete in the national championships, but, of course, I was absolutely crushed. I wanted a good race. I was never one of those athletes who thrived on practice. If there hadn’t been a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow (that’s the Tokyo Olympics in my case), I wouldn’t have swam and swam and swam all those damn laps. So I have to admit that, alone in my room, I brought out my new WSA bathing suit & held it up before me w/ my good hand. And I cried.
Another offshoot of the incident was that now all the single gals in the office, having discovered Jimmy, #l, fell for him themselves, &/or #2, could not believe how I could be resisting his advances. “What is your story, morning glory?” Iris asked me, uncomprehending of how I could be so cool to such a honey of a guy. Jimmy’s picture from the Eagle was posted on the office bulletin board, there for all to see & rave about (particularly) in my presence.
And, of course, it was impossible for me not to accept Jimmy’s invitation to go out on a dinner date w/ him, especially since he told me that besides getting a new suit, that was how he wanted to spend the $20 reward. On me. Under the circumstances, I knew this could in no way be construed as cheating on Horst. Mr. S—for he and Mrs. S were also both firmly now on the Jimmy Branch bandwagon—even suggested a restaurant that he felt sure would advance Jimmy’s cause in his pursuit of my heart.
It was a place on Montague Street called Mammy’s Pantry, which doesn’t sound like much, but for some reason, there in the bosom of B’lyn, of all things, it specialized in seafood from my own Chesapeake Bay. Jimmy had never even heard of crab cakes before, but he adored them. He walked me back to the Schooleys, & I told him that I’d had a lovely time, which was true.
“So when can I take you out again?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.”
“Don’t you like me?”
“Of course I do. Can’t you tell that, dopey? I think you’re aces. But I’m in love w/ another boy, & I’m going to marry him. Come on, you KNOW all that.”
“But, Sydney, he’s in Germany.”
I’d had to tell him that much about Horst by now. But I just replied: “Jimmy, it doesn’t matter whether he’s in Timbuctoo. So please, do yourself a favor & forget about me. Why, there’s at least a doz. girls in my office who’re crazy about you. And I mean some of the prettiest gals at Metropolitan.”
Jimmy just shook his head. “I don’t care, Sydney. I’ve just fallen for you like a ton of bricks, &—” I could tell that bashful as he was he’d really gotten his nerve up & was going to try to kiss me. I wanted to escape the embarrassment of rejecting him, so very quickly, I just stuck out my good hand, even if it was the left one. He sighed & took it in both of his & held me there. “Just tell me ONE thing, Sydney.”
“Okay.”
“Suppose—just suppose—you’d met me lst.”
“lst what?”
“You know, before the German fellow. Could you have fallen in love w/ me, then?”
“You can’t change things, Jimmy. You can’t change time.”
“Just suppose.”
Well, I had to put an end to this. “No, Jimmy, I can’t suppose. You’re the nicest person, but I love Horst.”
So very quickly, I reached up & pecked him on the cheek, & then I dashed inside. In B’lyn Heights at that time, as in most of the U.S., nobody felt it necessary to lock their doors, so I could make my escape w/o prolonging the agony.
IV.
I didn’t even go to Jones Beach, to the nationals. I simply couldn’t bear to be there, sidelined, watching the other girls swim. But when my cast was removed, dutifully I started practicing again. At work, Mr. S had initially been reluctant to let me start carrying the checks & $ back over to the bank, but I assured him that “lightning doesn’t strike twice,” & that I retained no fears of being assaulted again. I did, however, continue to make a point not to go to Jimmy’s window, even tho I could see him eyeing me. And so, soon, I was back to my routine, & I even swam in a small meet in Sept., winning my race easily.
L. deB. said, “If you hadn’t lost all that time w/ your wrist, Sydney, you would’ve set the record today. There’s no question in my mind that right now you’re the best backstroker in the world.”
There was, however, one little black cloud that now unexpectedly appeared on the horizon. Horst’s monthly letter didn’t arrive, as it always did, like clockwork. I knew he’d begun his training as a naval cadet, so I decided it was a difficult time for him. But another week went by, then another. I began to worry, so I wrote him again, saying that I understood how arduous military life must be, but if he could just drop me a line, I’d feel so much better.
And, sure enough, a couple wks later, my heart skipped a beat when I came back from practice & there was a letter from Horst. Clutching it to my heart, I moved to my bed & tore it open. I could see right away that it wasn’t very long. In fact, it was very short—& it certainly was to the point. Read it and weep:Dear Sydney,
I hope this won’t come as too much of a surprise, but I’ve decided that it would be best for us to go our separate ways. It is just too difficult for us to continue this way, with me here, you a whole ocean away. Good luck, Sydney. I’ll never forget you.
Love,
Horst.
I held the letter in my lap, studying it. I think you could say I was in shock. Then, of course, that passed & I began to cry—lst only ordinary, run-of-the-mill tears, then great gulping sobs. It made no sense to me at all. “I’ll never forget you”!!! Well, then, why couldn’t we at least talk about it, Horst? It was terrible. Finally, I ran a bath & sat there till the water turned lukewarm, then even cool. I got out & took the letter & tore it up & got into bed &, yes, literally cried myself to sleep.
I think it’s fair to say: my heart was broken.
The next morning, when I came up for breakfast, Mr. S had already left. Mrs. S was walking on eggshells, I could tell. My eyes were red because I’d already cried some more, & I had a pretty good idea that Mrs. S had put 2 + 2 together, because she’d seen the envelope & knew how happy I was when Horst’s letters came. Yet, instead, here I was, a complete mess.
“I’m sorry if you got bad news, Sydney,” Mrs. S said, which was just enough to trigger another deluge of tears from me. I fell into Mrs. S’s arms & sobbed some more. When I was relatively composed, she said, “I didn’t mean to pry, but I heard you crying last nite.”
“Yes,” I said.
“So Mr. S said he didn’t want you to come to work today.”
“No, really, I—”
“No, Sydney, that’s the dr.’s orders.
Go out & try to do something to keep your mind off things—even tho I know that’s probably impossible.”
Well, it was, but I did try. The whole time I’d been in N.Y., I’d never been on the Staten I. ferry or up the new Empire State Bldg, so I did both of those. But I saw nothing, enjoyed nothing. (Didn’t I tell you you saw everything when you were in love? Well, this was the reverse. In spades.) All I could see was Horst, & all I could think of was him & his letter.
This may sound goofy, tho, but after a while, I convinced myself that I wanted to believe his letter. You see, altho I was altogether new at this, I decided that there was a saving grace having the man you love tell you that he’s ditching you, but you’re still wondering exactly why.
It would be far worse to have him write & say, well, Sydney, the reason I don’t want anything to do with you anymore is because I am sleeping w/ Miss Germany, l937, who I am desperately in love w/—& she’s better than you in every which way.
But if it really was only that there was a stupid ocean between us, well, that’s just a hurdle & it only made me mad that Horst could be so easily defeated by something as simple as distance. I thought, well, I can be a linear Rapunzel & let my locks grow, then spread them out across the sea so he could catch ahold & pull himself across to me. I mean, if it’s just a case of so-&-so many miles: come on, Horst!
So that’s why I decided that I wanted to believe the letter, because then he would obviously come to his senses & we would only look back upon this as “a bump in the road.”
