275. WISH I HAD
Tommy and Lenora
Vicks were two people
I'd gotten to know
from down along
e12th Street - he was
a stage-construction
union guy for some
of the big uptown
theaters and she
passed her time
waitressing and
trying to put
together some
sort of dance
career - which
never went
anywhere that I
saw. The two of them
were pretty normal
in all other respects,
and by the time I
met them it was
surprising to me
to be able to find
two NYC people, in
a close age range
proximity to me,
who actually did
live fairly normal
lives from their own
nice apartment; flowers
and window-sill
planters and a decent
little garden spot out
back; nicely furnished
rooms and kitchen
and all the other
amenities I'd normally
have thought about
for some older uncle
or aunt somewhere.
They did all this
pretty well and I
guess really the only
thing they'd not
acquired was a car -
urban New Yorkers
took that in stride
and never thought
twice about it, even
though it did stand
out a bit to me, and
even though I too,
of course, didn't
have one. At the
same time though I
wasn't 'seeing them'
as an uncle or an
aunt living comfortably
in a nice space. So, I
just let it go. However,
Lenora's paradise
was 14th Street and
all the stuff it offered,
so that I suppose
from that spot most
of these things in
this homey little
space came. Back
in those days it
was still the sort
of environment
where 14th Street
yet held some
dignity - fairly
decent dress and
gown and linen
shops and dishes
and stuff - whereas
now it too has
degenerated into
the usual Chinese
junk and imported
trinkets sold by
immigrants along
the way - acres of
cheap paper products
and detergents indoors
and ten dollar shoes
and watches outdoors.
At this time - not so
much now - there'd
be carts and rows of
cheap people selling
cheap stuff., but even
though it as cheap, that
was mostly because of
no overhead. It wasn't
because the stuff itself
was cheap. I don't know
how the stores even
tolerated this - all
those street merchants
undercutting store
prices for certain
goods by large margins
- because they had no
overhead, no light-bills,
no wages and taxes - no
what's now called 'brick
and mortar' concerns to
worry about. The stores,
on the other hand, were
drowning in expenses. I
always figured that if I
was a store owner I'd
most certainly send some
goons out there, to the
sidewalk, to bash some
heads and convince
these morons to move
on. On top of all else,
they didn't even pay
rent for their little
sidewalk space, while
the store owners got
saddled with everything.
-
But, to my point, the
rows and rows of
carts and booths
which now distract
the eye and ear
(and nose) with
all that cheap,
plastic, and
marginal stuff,
were not there.
Another funny
thing about that
older New York is
the fact of the now
'glorified' charm
of the old pushcart
vendors who sold
along every street
their wares, and
fruits, and vegetables
and most anything
else in the early
days before the
establishment of
sales taxes, department
stores, and inspectors
and compartments
and sections for
selling this and
that under roof
and ceiling - now
that same, unique
'once-so-charming'
outdoor sales effect
has degenerated
into trash-merchants
redundant up and
down some streets
and certainly any
historic 'charm'
has long ago been
cancelled out.but
Lenora partook
of all this stuff
and from it made
a nice place and
Tommy - always
busy - just came
and went as he
needed and it was
a pleasure to visit
them - 28 e12th
if I recall - the few
times I did, but
before that Tommy
Vicks had gotten
into some sort of
scrap with the law
and had a few
precarious months,
as he put it, in jail
or Rikers or
somewhere
sweating it out.
But he was always
the same - direct
and strong-willed,
with a foul-enough
mouth used mostly
on the job but it was
all something he'd say
you get used to real
fast if you're 'gonna'
survive here,' and
because of his skills
he'd built a few really
nice shelf-cases and
tables in the apartment
which added a nice
touch. But there really
never were any books
about - something I
always looked for -
they'd load this space
all up instead with
decorative stuff, I
guess called 'furnishings'
or something, things
that she'd get out
shopping along the
streets. It was nice
visually (so was she,
but I never got involved
in any of that angle;
just so you know),
but never meant too
much to me to see
and I did always
rue the lack of
books there, as I
said. That might
not seem like much
of anything but I
mention it twice
because, for me,
the way I was, it
was a touchstone
signature of how
people really lived.
Just as a person's
actual 'signature'
sort of betrays
their essential
self no matter
what, so also does
the presence or
lack of, books,
to me. I admit,
it's some 50 years
later now, which
is weird, but the
prevalence and
significance of
'books', even
though prevailing
society has now
discounted that
factor and found a
hundred others
ways for people
to submit to
information,
and the getting
of it - as well
as games, crap,
junk, porno,
bargains, deals
and steals, even
obituaries! - I
still factor in and
value the essential
idea of a 'book'
when I draw the
bounds for a person's
interior-identity sketch.
I often wondered where
theirs were - Tommy
and Lenora. Bookless?
-
One day he came
home with a small
sculpture, as I
remember, from
some production
or other - a form
made of sticks and
wire - some sort of
human pose supposed
to be evocative of
something, and he
plunked it in the
corner on a small
pedestal he'd brought
- it stayed there a
while but the next
time I went in it
was gone so I
never knew what
happened : I was
never much a theater
guy but they always
had those little
Playbill books
lying about too, for
any of the current
productions, and
they were sometimes
fun to see - especially
the ads - and Tommy
would say he needed
them for work and
from them he
referenced names
and titles and
locations where
he could at any
time be sent on
a job - made sense
to me - and then
I learned later also
that 'opening night'
Playbills or, better,
opening night
Playbills signed
by a cast member
or two were very
collectible and
considered sometimes
quite valuable - the
'opening night' specials
were often sealed and
stamped in a corner
especially to denote
their provenance or
uniqueness or whatever
- anyway, I learned
later that the root
of Tommy's problem
had been in forging
signatures and falsely
sealing and stamping
playbills which he
and another person
had amassed, and
they'd been selling
them as original
'opening nighters'
through some form
of mail-order or
something for the
theater crowd -
they'd gotten
caught and had
been charged with
forgery and
theft-of-services,
mail fraud, and a
few other things,
and for a while it
had looked bad,
(serious enough
charges), but after
a month or so in
jail and after a
few hearings they'd
been able to buy a
good enough lawyer
to calm everything
down - Tommy's
biggest fear was in
losing his job and
his union card and
all that - so that
nothing much
came of it all
after a while -
funny and totally
unique story to
me at the time.
-
This little bit of
malfeasance on Tommy's
part has always stayed
with me. Not for what
he did, but - actually -
for the way he, I guess,
'lied' to me, or found
that he could or would,
about this. I didn't know
much of any of this
theater stuff, and he
could most probably
have said anything he
wanted, but by
mis-representing it
all to say he 'needed
them to stay on top
of job possibilities,'
or job openings, or
however he phrased
it, in retrospect to me
it turned out to be
pretty rotten. And I
was sorely disappointed
he'd done that. I was
'vexed' as my British
friend Morris used to
say. All he had to do
was own up to it. I
really wouldn't
have cared. But,
anyway now so
long past, it little
matters. Sorry to
say, I've never had
any further trace of
them. Wish I had.
No comments:
Post a Comment