ONWARD

It was but yesterday-June 1940- and I was free, free from high school. My average marks pleased my dad who had been self-taught since he was ten. To him I was a genius. Many times he looked at me with wonderment, slapped himself on his right cheek, ‘So smart, so smart. From me you didn’t get it!’ Why down myself for the sake of honesty? My motto became, Shut up. Let him enjoy!

I never failed a subject, usually earned Bs, an occasional C, yet knew I had goofed off too much, had made poor course selections. If there had been a course in Girls, I would have excelled. They liked me. I liked them. It was normal for a young guy to have roaming eyes, and hands too if he could. But I was only 5'8", not a good dancer and, in my opinion, not a good kisser either. In spite of that, I didn’t get the dregs. The May Queen asked me to be her date for the Senior Prom. Charlotte, a beaut, broke up with her steady and asked me to ‘host’ her sixteenth birthday party.

My past was gone. The future was ahead. I realized I was unprepared.
Shop classes, typing, a smattering of French were useless. To this point I had delivered newspapers, been a soda jerk, and a real one too. Each morning I read the sports section first and then scanned the help wanted ads rife with painters, gardeners, bookkeepers and salesmen. I decided to go after a salesman’s job, but would have to sell myself first. Door to door selling household brushes, shoes, kitchen knives that never need sharpening, magazines, offered, refused. My spirits were going lower and lower. My streetcar nickels were just about gone.

And then it happened. Mr. Grife of Grife’s Men’s Wear Emporium, let my non- experience selling anything besides sundaes and milkshakes, not concern him. He was going to teach me everything there was to know about ‘hooking’ a customer. I was offered $6 for a six day week, plus one per cent commission. I grabbed it. It can’t be tough. A man needs a new shirt, I’d sell him one. Nothing to it. Ha Ha. He must have seen something in me that I didn’t know I had. Within one month I could sell a customer who came in for one pair of long men’s socks, a pair of shoes, go further. ‘With those good looking brown wing tips, I suggest a new pair of trousers. Want to take a look?’ I never pushed, used no pressure. A ‘no’ was a ‘no’. Silence meant try again.

Jealousy was rising amongst the other five salesmen, including Solly who had already become a buddy of mine. After my second month, I was top man making commission. Grife raised my base pay to $20 a week. I guess some of my pride showed as I wore my King of the World crown on my shoulders.

After busy Saturdays, Solly and I needed a change, a diversion, and took the street car to the Algonquin where he would jitterbug his legs off while I stayed on the sidelines waiting for ‘Deep Purple’, ‘Marie Elena’, nice slow numbers. Girls were plentiful, standing in groups for support, looking at the more quiet guys, hoping to be asked out on the floor. 10 minute music break meant the first group of songs would be slow. With the aplomb Solly told me I had, I walked over to a girl who was adorable. She wore a pale blue dress, just right to show off her Titian red hair, hanging over her eye like Veronica Lake’s. ‘Would you like to dance?’ She nodded yes. I liked her nice smile, very white teeth and the fact that she was not too tall for me. We lasted two songs until the music blared, the jumpers, kickers, tossers took over. Betty wrote her name and phone number on a slip of paper for me. ‘I’ll call you,’ I said and I did. We dated for a few weeks but she was too young, just turned sixteen, and I was already nineteen, a man, going places, maybe I’d have my own men’s wear store some day.

Grife put me in charge of the docks. He kept track of which ships were due into the harbor. As the sailors debarked, Solly and I approached them, worked them, told them about the finest men’s wear store in all of Norfolk, lead the way. Money was no object. They bought sweaters, jackets, underwear to take back home as gifts, shoes for themselves and American felt hats. Sometimes sailors would tip me for helping. I was worth it, treated them with respect, never cheated, never hounded them.

Times were good. I was making more money than I thought I would. That car I wanted became a reality. A For Sale ad in the car column caught my eye. One look and I knew it was for me. I bought the used grey rumble seat Ford, in excellent condition, loved zipping to work but not the being alone on week-ends. A girl by my side, that’s what was missing. In my little black book that had just a few names, Betty’s number was still clear. So was the image of her in the blue dress, long red hair. ‘Sure I remember you, Roy’. etc. etc., idle talk.

‘I’m a better dancer now, Betty. Want to give me a try Saturday?’

When I drove up it was my car that got her attention, and then my new prowness on the dance floor. We danced. We both had grown up a lot. A few months later we drove away from our church with a big sign on the back that Solly made, ‘Just Married.’

Yes, I had a good job, a good friend, a wife and a rumble seat car, but I wanted a Cadillac and intended getting it, even if it took a long time.

It did.