The Will to Die

by Joe Pulizzi

  I moved the mouse, and the computer screen lit up. I double-clicked on the Search function. A screen popped up that looked like Google but was customized for the library. I typed Pollitt into the search engine. It resulted in over a thousand hits, mostly obituaries. I retried the search with Abe Pollitt all in quotes to get an exact match.

  There was the obit from a few days ago. A nice summation of Dad’s life.

  A few more searches and I found what I was looking for, an article from seven years ago: “Sandusky Business Leaders Launch Downtown Development Group.”

  Apparently, there were four founders: my father, Dan McGinty, Mark Larraby, and John Traynor. Dad and Mr. Traynor were quoted the most, talking about how Sandusky’s government wasn’t proactive enough with the downtown area. In response, they formed the Sandusky Alliance. SA would be a privately funded group with the mission of transforming downtown Sandusky into “the most vibrant downtown area on the north coast.”

  The group would fund real estate projects, help market the downtown and downtown-area businesses, and help spur tourism. The article also noted that SA would be initially funded through capital from the four founders but would later take on grants from corporations and individual donations. The first one, a generous grant from Cedar Point, was noted in the article but no amount was given.

  I continued searching, mostly around variations of the Sandusky Alliance. Each year, there was a press release that added executive members. First, Mitch Dreason, then followed by the others.

  Two years ago, John Traynor stepped down and his son, Alex Traynor, not only took his spot on the board, but became president of the group.

  If my count was right, that was a circle of nine. Nine white men, no less. Apparently, there were no diversity quotas in the SA mission statement.

  Not sure if it was a coincidence or not, but once Alex Traynor took over, the articles and announcements exploded. New office complex, funded by SA. New restaurant, funded by SA. Construction on the walking pier on Water Street, funded by SA. New distillery project, funded by SA. Each project was a million dollars or more.

  In the past eighteen months, SA went from a small organization to one of the most successful city development and marketing groups in the country.

  The clock on the screen said 7:45. I went to the Tools section of the browser and deleted my history in case someone wanted to know what I was searching for. I gave the ladies behind the desk a smile as I left and walked down the library steps back to the van.

  Xena’s restaurant was five minutes away. I took the long way there and parked a block down the street. As I approached the restaurant I could hear the conversations inside. Business must be good. I had to walk past a dozen people to get to the hostess. She said there was a twenty-minute wait, so I headed to the end of the bar and ordered a Tito’s and tonic.

  I felt a hand on my right shoulder. “I like it when people show up early for a meeting.” I turned my head to see Xena smiling. She had a black polo shirt on with the Tony’s restaurant logo embroidered on the left side of her chest.

  “Looks like business is going really well,” I said. “There were no open tables.”

  “Let me get you one,” she said, about to head off to see the hostess.

  I grabbed her elbow to stop her. “Xena, this is perfect. And I’m in no hurry. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

  She smiled. “Tommy,” she called to the bartender who had served me my drink. “Anything he drinks is on me,” she said, and bolted through the back doors leading to the kitchen.

  Tommy came over. “She must really like you, because she never comps drinks.”

  “I’m an old friend of hers. And don’t worry, I’ll still tip you,” I said, smiling. “I’m Will Pollitt.” I reached out my hand to him.

  “Tommy Rose,” he said as we shook hands. “Pollitt? Are you related to Abe Pollitt who just passed away?”

  “My father,” I said, taking a drink.

  “Oh,” Tommy said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks.”

  “When I started working here, I used to see him downtown all the time, but lately not so much. Was he sick for a while?”

  “No. Heart attack,” I said, cringing a bit at the lie. “When did you start working here?”

  “About two years ago. Just after Xena opened the place. Came back home after graduating college. Bowling Green.”

  “Good school.”

  “Yeah. But this job was supposed to be temporary, and yet here I am. Money’s good though, and I get my days free.”

  “Xena seems like a good boss,” I said, taking another drink. “So when did you stop seeing my father around here?”

  “Hard to say. Maybe a year. Or a bit more. Before that he’d come in here or I’d see him walking the streets downtown. One time I saw him walk up and down this street going into every shop. Looked like he was checking in with everyone to see how they were doing.”

  “Sounds like my father.”

  Someone was calling Tommy for a drink down at the end of the bar. “Gotta go,” Tommy said. “Again, sorry for your loss.”

  More proof of my father’s changing behavior. But why? I felt like I was gathering a lot of information that was leading to nowhere in particular. Maybe the videos would provide some substance.

  There was a nice buzz inside the restaurant. Everyone was having a good time. Mostly an older crowd, fifty-plus. Maybe some in their forties.

  Xena came around the corner. “You ready?” she asked.

  I stood, pulled my last five-dollar bill out of my wallet, and set it on the bar. Whatever Xena and I did would have to add to my credit card debt.

  “Drinks are on me,” she said.

  “Yes. Thanks. The five is for Tommy.”

  I followed her out the front door, making a right toward the water.

  I said, “You sure you’re okay to leave when it’s that busy?”

  “We close at ten, so that’s as busy as we’ll be. There’ll be some who come in the next half hour but not many. Anyway, the team can live without me for an hour.”

  “If you’re sure,” I said. Uncle Dan’s office was on our left. We hit Water Street and made a right.

  “There’s this nice wine bar down the street that my friend opened up. You okay with that?”

  “Perfect,” I said. I could see the sign up on the right. Rosi’s Wine Bar. “I remember this area when I was growing up. It’s like living on a different planet. So many retail shops and people actually on the street at this time of night. As kids, we were never allowed in this area after dark. No matter what.”

  I pulled open the door for Rosi’s and let Xena lead in. As we entered, she shuffled toward another woman and they embraced, rocking back and forth a bit.

  Xena stepped to the right and introduced me. “Dana, this is Billy. I mean Will. He’s visiting from Cleveland.” We shook hands.

  “Nice to meet you, Dana.” She was just a bit taller than Xena but just as attractive. They could have been sisters.

  “Same here, Will. Glad you two came in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Can we sit outside, Dana? It’s amazing weather tonight,” Xena said.

  “Got the perfect spot for you,” she said, leading us into the back. The back doors opened into what looked like a butterfly garden. There were orchids and ferns and plants of all shapes and sizes surrounding six small tables with chairs. The light came from tiny strings of LED lights dangling over our heads. Dana sat us in the corner.

  Dana asked, “Can I get you started with something?”

  “Surprise us,” Xena said. “Are you okay with something in red?” she asked me.

  “A surprise sounds just fine to me,” I said, and without a word Dana was gone.

  I didn’t notice before we left Tony’s, but Xena had changed her outfit. A maroon blouse, short-sleeved, cut low and showing just enough cleavage. It hung to mid-hip. She had black tights on with the black boots. I figured they w
ere the same ones from the funeral.

  “Looks like you are in a better mood than before,” she said. “You holding up okay?”

  “Yes. Better. Thanks. It’s good to be out. I appreciate the invite.” It did feel good to be out.

  Dana came back with a bottle and two glasses and went through a few minutes on the history of the winery behind the wine.

  “Enjoy,” she said. “I’m headed back to the front. Mary Ann is covering the back if you need anything. Nice meeting you, Will.” Dana left us.

  “She seems very nice,” I said.

  “She’s amazing. Divorced mother of two. Her dream was to open a wine bar, and she made it a reality. She opened about the same time I did.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  Xena took a long sip of wine, leaving a hint of lipstick on the glass. “She went to Perkins High School the same time we were at St. Mary’s, but I met her the first time at an SA meeting. Being divorced mothers trying to succeed as entrepreneurs, you know, we just clicked and became instant friends.”

  I wanted to ask about SA but decided to continue with the small talk for now. “How many kids do you have?”

  “Two. They both live in Columbus now. My boy is an accountant, and my daughter is still trying to find her way. She graduated from Ohio State a few years back and works as a bartender on High Street.” I vaguely remembered Xena becoming pregnant right after graduation, so I figured her kids were a bit older than Jess. I couldn’t remember the guy and decided not to bring it up.

  “Nothing wrong with tending bar. You could say bartending is one of the more noble professions. Takes good listening and customer service skills.”

  “She likes Columbus and decided to hang down there with her brother. They live a few blocks away from each other, and as a mom that makes me feel a whole lot more secure. So, you have one kid, right?”

  “Correct,” I said, taking another sip of wine. “Jess goes to Penn State right now. She just started. Majoring in Journalism and Media Studies. She went back after the luncheon today.”

  “She’s pretty. She looks like her mother. It was strange that you introduced your ex-wife to me as your father’s employee when you came into the restaurant.”

  “You caught that? Of course, how could you miss it? It’s been two years since the divorce and that might be the first time I’ve introduced her to anyone since we parted. Sorry about that.”

  “No.” She chuckled. “You handled it just fine. If my ex was here, I’d introduce him as a piece of shit.”

  “My condolences.”

  She smiled. “No need. I’m glad he’s gone. That’s what happens when you fall in love at eighteen. But I wouldn’t take it back for anything. He gave me my kids, and they’re my world. Only two good things he ever did. Anyway, forget all that. You promised some feedback on the restaurant, and I’d love to hear what you have to say. I want the one-hundred-percent truth.” She said this with a grin, and her right eye squinted a bit. She seemed to be getting more attractive by the minute. Could be the wine.

  I spent the next few minutes asking her questions and talking about her business goals. Mary Ann came over and asked us if we needed anything. “We’re still working on this bottle, but we’ll let you know,” I said. Mary Ann looked related to the kid at BAM and the worker at Chipotle. Robby was right—Sandusky was like Pleasantville.

  “Can I ask you a nonbusiness question?” I said.

  “Of course.”

  “When I grew up in Sandusky, how do I put this? There were a lot more black people. Just seeing Mary Ann there and most of the people working downtown or at the mall. Everybody looks the same. Everyone’s white. Am I missing something?” I said the last part loudly, and the couple next to me gave me the eye. I become a loud talker when I drink.

  Xena gave a look like she just stepped on a tack. “You need to keep your voice down when you’re talking about things like that.”

  “I’m sorry?” I asked. “Talk about what things?”

  “About black people,” she whispered.

  “What’s wrong with talking about black people?”

  “You don’t know?” she asked.

  “Know what?”

  She looked at me like I had three heads. “Okay, I’ll tell you. But let’s get out of here first, okay?”

  “Whatever you say. Sure.”

  We got up, and I walked over to Mary Ann and put the bill on credit. Thankfully, it cleared. Dana gave us half off the wine, so the bill came to less than twenty bucks.

  Xena walked out of Rosi’s and made a left, then we took a right on Jackson Street and headed for the waterfront. The wind had picked up a bit, but it was a beautiful May evening. Warm for this time of year. The whole situation should have felt fantastic—I was on my first date in forever, enjoying a walk on the harbor—but I could sense something bad was imminent.

  Jackson Street dead-ended into the Sandusky Bay, and we walked up to the edge of the dock, which was guarded by ropes that seemed to go for miles in each direction. Several couples walked by, taking in the evening.

  Since she didn’t say anything, I decided to chime in. “Does this have anything to do with SA?”

  Xena looked in both directions as if someone was watching her. “What I’m going to tell you did not come from me. I’ll deny ever telling you anything. If they find out, my restaurant is done for.” The playful Xena was gone. Everything about her demeanor had changed.

  “Got it. I won’t say anything, Xena. Now what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know the complete history of how SA started. You might know better than I because your father helped start it. That’s kind of why I thought you knew. Anyway, a couple years ago some new and some of the old businesspeople got together. They say they commissioned a study, but I’ve never seen it. It said that, economically, both from organic business and tourism, minorities were to blame for Sandusky’s problems.”

  “African-Americans?” I asked.

  “Yes. Black people, Hispanics, Asians, you name it. Even homosexuals. I was at the initial meeting where they talked about it. I had only been in business a few months at that time. It was like being at a KKK rally, but more sophisticated and no hoods. They used percentages and charts that said people who employed minority workers were not only hurting their own businesses but damaging the entire city. They showed stats from other cities the size of Sandusky that said when minorities are less ‘out in the open,’ tourism in those cities flourished. They said we had to get rid of the unclean masses of Sandusky.”

  “Unclean masses? What is this, Jonestown?” I said a bit too loudly. I regained my composure. “So what did they tell you to do? Not hire blacks or Hispanics?” I asked.

  “Not directly. They basically said if you have to hire them for menial tasks, keep them unseen by the public. I had a wonderful hostess. Her name was Tish. She was black. I had to move her to the kitchen, but she hated it there and quit.”

  “What if you didn’t move Tish? What would happen?”

  “There were a few businesses that didn’t fall into line. Matt Jacobs ran a fix-it repair shop off Washington. He had a young black girl working the register and a middle-aged Asian man who fixed everything and was always visible to the customers. His shop burned down about a month after the initial meeting. Fire department said it was an electrical problem, but the talk underground was arson.”

  “They can’t get away with that! What about calling in the police? How can SA keep the entire city in line?

  She paused. “I don’t know how to describe it. They just do. People that make a fuss seem to find a lot of bad luck happens to them and their families.”

  I thought about my dad and, for some reason, my mother’s car accident two years ago. Could it be related?

  “So you’re scared that if you don’t fall into line, something will happen to you or the restaurant?” I asked.

  “Yes. Yes,” Xena said, her eyes beginning to tear up.

  “I’m sor
ry. I didn’t mean to make you upset. I had no idea,” I said. “But I have to know. Was my father involved in this?"

  “I know your father was at the first meeting. Where the idea was first brought up. But that’s all I know.”

  “Who led the meeting? Who is enforcing all this?”

  “I don’t know who specifically, but the entire board was up there talking as one.”

  “Including Dan McGinty?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she hesitated. “Dan was there.”

  “Shit,” I said.

  “You know him well?” she asked.

  “Yes. He was my father’s best friend. I grew up calling him Uncle Dan. Still do.” The thoughts and the emotions were hard to control in front of Xena. I wanted—needed—to leave. I looked at my watch. It was just past twelve. “I’m sorry, Xena. I think I should call it a night, if you don’t mind.”

  “That’s fine, Will. I’m sure it’s been an incredibly long and stressful day. And you just had a hell of a cake topper, with this conversation.”

  “Not your fault at all. I appreciate you telling me. It just feels like a punch to the gut.”

  “Just promise, whatever you do with the information, you leave me out of it. Now that the kids are gone, the restaurant is my new baby.”

  “I promise,” I said.

  She started walking east down the dock and waved me toward her. “I live a couple blocks down this way. Can you walk me back?”

  “Of course. You don’t have to go back to the restaurant?”

  “Nope. Tommy closed up for me. He’s a good kid.”

  We crossed the street, away from the water, and hit the sidewalk on the south side of Water Street. Xena owned a two-story condo that couldn’t have been more than five years old. I walked her up to the door.

  “Thanks again for the wonderful conversation, Xena. Other than learning a few things I wish I hadn’t, I had a great time.”

  She unlocked her door and pushed it open, then turned around to face me. She placed her hands on my chest. Then she leaned her head in, put her lips against my earlobe and whispered, “Would you like to come in?”