Sweet Life

Soon as the bus stopped in San Diego, we hopped another and went to the postal box where Romy’s checks were held.

Romy showed his CCC ID’s to the bank teller; he was leery. Bank manager questioned him several times before he handed over six-hundred to a young man in work clothes. Pulled out my ID and certificates, began to tell him about our Alpine CCC camp after life on the road. Smiling, I pointed to the National Recovery Administration poster in the lobby, “Expect more like us.”

Money in hand, we were smarter, stronger, yet still faced a bad economy. How long would we have to make this cash last?

Never discussed finances with Romy; we never had enough cash to discuss. Romy held the envelope, looking at the bills. We stared at each other for a moment.

Mine had gone to my family, though I had a few bucks in my pocket. Romy could have gone off on his own. He didn't.

Looking me square in the eyes and told me we were going to be rich men, and this money would seem like chump change in a few years, "We're gonna make it, I know we will."

***

Stayed in a rooming house in San Diego till we got our bearings in civilian life again. The landlady was proud to have two CCC guys and man, oh, man could that Arkie cook. She doted on us like we were long-lost sons.

Took Toddy's advice, set my worries aside for a while. Romy liked going to the movies seeing all the fancy people dancing and singing. I enjoyed anything about the sea or murder mysteries.

One night we took the bus to Tijuana after a matinee. Romy wanted tacos and tamales—he liked Mexican food.

That trip put our situation into context for me.

The economic depression was world-wide; Mexican workers had it worse than us. They had to be ingenious. Found ways to park cars and wash windows for the tourists, any service they could provide. Pushed their thin bodies through those tasks quickly for a few centavos.

In them, I saw Romy and me, we'd held out till the government pipeline gave us a few drops of water. Mexican government was still dithering.

***

Romy and I had a stinker of a disagreement. I wanted another pickup truck to go to LA, working our way to San Francisco. Romy wanted a sedan. Said we needed to look like upstanding employees, not scrappers.

Bought a used Ford coupe, V-8 with a radio; top speed – sixty-five miles an hour. Not the fanciest or sleekest, but a reliable vehicle that would get us to Toddy's listening to Sister Amy's preaching and her sweet music. Easy to maintain, and classy lookin’, that Ford would take us to Frisco, and on to the orchards of Washington state if we had to.

We washed, waxed and cleaned that old Ford till it shone like a new penny. Had to wonder if it would become our next home. Strangely, that old Ford sprung us into high spirits as we lit out for LA.

***

August 12, 1934

Dear Mom, Leaving for LA today. Will write when I get an address. Tell all I send my love. David 

August 12, 1934

Dear Toddy, we'll be in Los Angles in a week. See you soon.  Romy and David.

Mailed those postcards before we left San Diego.

***

Sang to the radio as we drove toward the beach where we'd first seen the ocean. Remembering those uncertain days; days that began our friendship, our partnership in survival.

Bought two snow cones. “Love coconut raspas. Remember when we first saw the Pacific? Those were tough times." I looked at him, tall, slender with his hair shining and a big smile.

"Touch and go several times..."

"Need a place with some privacy." Winked at him.

"Luxury item, privacy. We'll find a place of our own. I won’t be your cousin forever." He leaned toward me, "I'll make enough to afford privacy and what I want."

"What would that be?"

"You."

"Can't be bought." I told him.

"I know. That's why I want you."

***

Most roads were bad back then, narrow and winding. Drove El Camino Real northward, old narrow road but smooth. Stopped at an isolated spot in a hilly area. Made love right on rocks, sun beating down on our bare skin, cool, shady boulder underneath me.

Holding him, kissing him, feeling him penetrate, touch me, fill me as the condors soared in a clear sky above us. Bliss. My heart pounded inside chest like it would burst. That feeling came again…. Greatness of nature filled me, everything was in its rightful place and always would be.

Sheer luck to find that boy in a dress tied to a chair. He'd leaned on me till he learned the road, then took his role as my partner easily. Romy leaning on me made me stronger as well as making my life much less lonely.

We had what few men had on the road – a trusted companion and in our hidden way, love.

***

Split the luxury of an orange with Romy while he drove us into Los Angeles, ready for a new adventure and seeing our trusted friend.

Los Angeles is in a basin, surrounded by hills, open to the ocean on the west. Every town smells different, LA had a distinct mix of old, new and the smell of the ocean. Behind those smells, was the perfume of industry and opportunity.

Knew we were close when we saw more billboards, small towns clustered along the road. I was anxious to see Toddy again for this secretive information he alluded to. We weren’t far.

Deep in thought about that when a sign caught my eye. "Stop! Go around the block! Angelus! Look! Angelus!"

Romy screeched the tires and switched lanes to go around the block. "What?"

"That preacher-lady. Sister, sister... I forgot her name."

"Preacher-lady?" Romy went around the block and we saw a line of people going into the Angelus Temple. Big, wide three-story building, archways along the front.

"She makes the stories and music... Sister Amy." I said as we passed the crowd of folks outside the temple. "It's true, all the work she does. Look at the crowd!"

We went to a man who appeared to be in charge. He spoke softly, kind words about the love of the savior, welcoming us warmly. As he spoke, he sized us up, "Go to that last door and turn to the left...."

Didn't ask our names. That felt odd, but the crowds were quiet and people were smiling as we followed his instructions.

Met a man at a counter inside a big room filled with clothing on hangers and in boxes. "Size?"

Romy had told the man he wanted a suit; he was looking for work in business. We got fitted with suits, shoes, everything and left with a box of clean clothing. Boxers, socks, shoes, slacks and suits, everything. I hadn't worn underwear in years, wondered if I could tolerate it.

We were directed to the kitchen to eat along with several hundred people. Big bowls of hot stew, fresh bread and half an apple.

We didn't need any of this, and it was amazing the generosity thrust on us. So much, so freely given after so long with so little.

As we ate, I heard strains of music and asked the man next to me if Sister Amy was preaching.

"Rehearsing for the service tonight." He said between bites.

"Will they let me watch?"

"Sure. See those stairs over there? Up and to the right. Be quiet, or you'll have to leave."

***

Turned out Romy and I weren't the only ones sitting with bags and boxes watching the choir practice. A pianist played and they grouped in rows then began singing, stopping often for correction.

What control those singers had. They smoothed together into the harmonies I remembered from the radio. The music was so, well, I couldn't explain how different it felt. The vibrations of the sounds they made filled the cavernous auditorium wrapping me in the wonder.

Transfixed, I watched the music director lift his baton and all eyes immediately focused on him. Must have been a hundred people in that choir. The thin baton he held gingerly drew the honeyed tones forward perfectly from the bodies standing in front of him. Incredible, silent control with only a thin dowel. That was leadership like I'd never seen before.

Romy was quiet, watching the hubbub. He'd been to churches before, nothing new to him.

***

We sat there for a while on the same pews where thousands had sat before us. People walked back and forth preparing the altar, bringing in props for the play.

Interesting how they assembled the stage; watched them closely when a man caught my eye. Tall, slender, he looked familiar. His dark waves pushed into his hair, slick with grease.

Stood, getting a better look, then walked a few feet down the aisle... my heart stopped, stomach tensed. It was Jonathan, my troublesome cousin. What was that snake doing in Angelus?

Went back to Romy and explained about what happened when I left Guymon with my cousin, "He's nothing but trouble."

He thought for a moment, then Romy asked if Jonathan might be able to help find us work, "Could have had an epiphany, a conversion. He's family, go ask if he knows anyone hiring."

I stalled, knowing this would stir problems. Romy took me by the arm down to where the drama crew were placing papier mache palms.

Jonathan glanced at us, went back to his work, then glanced again, "If it ain't my dear cuz Dave. Looking good. Still fixing flats?" He looked at Romy, "Who's this? Another cousin? Hallelujah, bring in those pitiful souls. This one's from Gila Bend?" He sneered.

I rankled, he hadn't converted, still the tough waiting for a place to exercise his evil. "You working for Sister Amy now?"

"Best racket in town." He whispered, "Feel `em out for what they need, guarantee plenty in their afterlife and ya' got `em hooked. These suckers fall for anything and open their wallets on word alone."

He glanced around the room, "Have to chasten a few of the women, if you know what I mean, but they come around after a taste of my saving grace." He grabbed his belt buckle and bucked his hips.

Romy stepped back, watching Jonathan, not saying anything.

"Where you staying?" Changed the subject.

"Several places. Heard about the CCC? It makes some poor souls into widows for a couple a years – widows with income. God bless `em." He winked.

"You stinkin' bastard." I said softly with a mean look.

"What does that make you, leaving me in that hell hole? Son of a bitch."

My face flushed; I stepped forward, seething.

Romy spoke up, "Sir, you don't know real hell yet." He grabbed my arm and pulled me away.

***

Left for Toddy's house quickly.

What a grand welcome. House was small, cozy, nice furniture, pictures and photos on the walls. Met Toddy’s wife, Ona.

At the kitchen table we sipped lemonade, regaling Ona with tales from camp.

Toddy's kids came in from school, red-faced from running when they saw our sedan in the drive.

Romy took them down the street for candies and came back smiling, "Torrence is delightful." He handed me the newspaper. "There's a park down the street without a squatter’s camp. Imagine that."

"Get cleaned up, we're having another guest for dinner tonight." Toddy said and turned to help Ona.

***

All domestic peace was broken when a long, white Oldsmobile F35 pulled in front; honked twice.

“Onkie!" The kids ran out to the car.

"That's what they call their Uncle Russel." He chuckled, “Not a real uncle, we’re related through old friends.” I watched a big, broad-shouldered man get out of the car and grab the kids against him, kissing them and mussing their hair.

Uncle Russel came in dungarees and a work shirt, flat hat over dark hair, grayed at the temples. Never seen a man like him before. Only word to describe him was exquisite. His body moved smoothly, like he had liquid joints and tall, over six feet. Smiled as he carried the youngest child into the house.

Booming voice; he introduced himself and shook our hands. Romy and I were five-eight and five-ten. We were dwarfed by this man's presence.

He went into the kitchen to check on dinner and kissed Ona's forehead, picked up his "favorite prima," he called her, and swung her around the kitchen.

She laughed and gave him the menu “Brisket, your favorite apples, latkes….“

As soon as Russel sat on the couch, the three children sat with him, one on his lap. He held them gently and kissed them.

Felt like centuries since I'd been so comfortable.

***

Ona called us to dinner; my mind went back to the men at camp. Some in the CCC camp accused the Jews of being stingy, cold-hearted, sneaky. Saw none of that.

Food was stacked high on platters, hot and rich, slices of meat with gravy. Latkes – potato pancakes, but these were filled with spices. Was that a bowl of stewed apples beside the sweet peas? A chocolate cake waited in the kitchen for dessert.

If this is how Jewish people were stingy and cold-hearted, I'd stand in line for more.

What amazed me were Toddy’s children, didn’t seem like living on the road, then without their father had touched their spirits. Chattering, teasing and playing with their uncle and each other without a care.

***

What a dinner, what a good time. When I thought it couldn't get better, Ona brought the cake. I had to pass, my belly was straining.

Later, Ona and I washed the dishes together, "Haven't had a better meal since I was a kid, thank you."

"Toddy talks about you every day. We're so glad you came.” She gave me a grin, “Russel needs help. Looking for workers."

"Plenty of good men out there." Did she just say 'looking for workers?'

"Russel wants men who’ll stay. Workers come and go like swallows at Capistrano. Too many grifters in LA; drunkards, thieves. Transient town. Government sent all the Latinos back across the border, he lost a lot of good employees last year." She said and paused, "You and Romy were Toddy's best friends at camp – meant a lot to me. Every letter home he wrote of you two. Being who he is, and you two, well, it would have been a lot harder if you hadn't met again."

Since Russel did it, I kissed her forehead, "He meant a lot to us, too."

***

After Toddy and Russel put the children to bed, I found Romy studying the newspaper, "Says the government's going to legislate a guaranteed minimum wage and fix workers’ hours. No more fifteen-hour days in the fields for a few nickels. Still trying to hog-tie the union."

"You gonna pay your workers minimum wage, Mr Businessman?" I asked.

"You get what you pay for. Low pay doesn't make a man do anything more than look for other work or take a second job. Either way the quality of his work is poor. Find a good man and pay him what he's worth to keep him. New employees need too much time to train."

Russel and Toddy joined us as Ona brought coffee. We talked the economy and the movie industry in LA, they were organizing. "Gonna be big money there for the stage crews, all the musicians, and all the businesses to keep it going." Russel told us.

I brought up visiting Angelus that afternoon, then I apologized for my cousin Jonathan's behavior years ago.

Ona laughed, "I thought he was crazy with the heat. Glad you took him away. Toddy's a bear about his family." She smiled; I could see her love for her husband in her eyes. Mom had that look sometimes about Dad, then I thought about what she said.

Was Jonathan insane? The image of his head sticking out of a straitjacket came to mind, he was yelling, screaming and struggling, head bandaged.

***

Conversation shifted to employment. Russel asked if we were looking for work, and what we did.

Romy explained that I'd worked as a mechanic and tire man on the road to the coast and took agricultural courses at camp. Then he talked about his training in the CCC with construction and business, "Toddy'll tell you what we did—all good work we left up there."

The big, man leaned close, "Did Toddy tell you what I've been doing?"

Ona laughed, "You got your fingers in every pot in town. What are you up to now?"

"Ona, you love the greenhouse. Heard you say so." They laughed and joked for a while.

***

Romy was in his element asking about what Russel was going to do with the greenhouse, “Heard they graft fruit trees to increase production.”

Russel explained he'd gotten the greenhouse from a man in bankruptcy and planned to open a wholesale outlet to landscapers, hotels and high-end places. “Angelinos liked their greenery. Plenty of money in tropicals."

They spoke; my mind went back to what I'd read in the newspapers about LA. Los Angeles seemed to be have plenty of work but you had to know the right people. Heard a man had to buy a job in the LA county government. This man had a greenhouse ready to be stocked and managed? Close enough to agriculture, though most of my studies were about conserving topsoil, herbicides, things a farmer uses.

Russel pulled a small pad of paper out of his shirt pocket and a pen as the evening calmed. Wrote a quick note and handed it to me. "Come by tomorrow morning, we'll talk." Toddy winked at me.

What a day. It was hard for me to lay still and I didn't sleep; Romy snored on the folding bed. It was a cool night but my mind was jumping from all I'd done and all that could happen.

Could we really be this lucky to find a man wanting to hire?

***

Hearing the children readying for school woke me from a light sleep the next morning. Met them at the breakfast table, "Where's Toddy?"

"He manages a crew maintaining Russel's rentals. He'll be out all day." Ona told me, pouring juice for the children.

I looked at the kids' excited faces, "Ready to make a good grade today?"

They wanted to visit Onkie Russel with us.

"Russel called this morning; he's looking forward to you coming. Do you know how to get to his house?" Ona asked.

"We’ll find it. What does the house look like?"

"Row of olive trees along the front. White stucco, red tile roof. Sits on the side of a canyon with poinsettias and ice plant down the front, drive that curves to the left from the road. Only two or three other houses out there." She explained how to get to the area as Romy came in.

"Get the clothes from the boxes. We have to look our best."

***

Felt on top of the world that morning with my lover beside me. Romy wore a gray tie making his pale eyes bright.

Followed the directions Ona'd given me and looked around. Olive trees, ice plants... there were a few houses in the area. This had to be the wrong place. These were mansions.

"Pull into the drive. I'll ask if they know where this address is." Felt a little odd as I touched a doorbell and heard it ring softly inside the house.

An older man in a brilliant white shirt and a red apron tied around his middle answered the door and cocked his head, "Yes?"

"We're looking for Russel-- "

"He's expecting you." The door opened fully to a shadowy entry. Beyond the foyer was a sunlit room filled with plants, rattan furniture with fluffy cushions covered in bright colors. I motioned to Romy.

Amazing, after years on the road and poverty, basic necessities at camp, then Toddy's warm home. Now suddenly I'm in a mansion to see a man who wants to talk to me about a job? Had to set that to the side and slip on a mantle of confidence—this was not the time to stand around gawking.

Work. We needed an opportunity to work and couldn’t let this slip away.

***

We were escorted through the breezeway to the pool and seated in the shade of some plants I'd never seen before. Strange tall plants with white and purple blossoms, petals that splayed like the metal strips on a feeler gauge; looked like a banana plant. It stood ten or twelve feet, but it wasn't a tree or a bush. Didn't smell any sweetness from the huge bloom.

"Sterlitzia alba, South African Giant Bird of Paradise. Only one in town," the aproned man whispered when he saw me staring.

Pots with vines that climbed along the fence sporting clusters of brilliant red and purple bougainvillea. The patio around the pool was lush with foliage straining toward the sun. Tucked here and there among the vegetation were paths that lead elsewhere, hidden walkways.

The aproned man brought small tumblers of orange juice, thin glass, etched with blossoms and sat them between Romy and me.

Above the house on the side of the canyon, past the deep green landscaping I saw cactus, the kind I'd eaten along the road, standing proud against a blue sky. The smell of piñon was strong.

Glancing at Romy, he lifted his little finger, sipping the orange juice carefully.

***

"...Without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own. Blue moon," Russel's voice in the hallway coming toward us.

"Thanks for coming, let's get started." Right behind him was the man who'd met us at the door, without his apron pushing a cart with a platter under a domed lid. Alongside the dome was a bowl of fruit sitting in crushed ice.

Russel lifted the dome and took a pastry, "Pan dulce?" He asked.

The butler-man pulled a chair close by and took a pad and pencil from the lower shelf of the cart and looked toward him. "My business assistant, Fredrick found out I'm grouchy without my breakfast. Fredrick, this is Romy and David McCann. They're cousins." He winked at Fredrick. "Toddy's friends from the CCC camp."

He took a bite of his pastry, "Help yourself boys."

We took pastries as we heard the front door open, "Here, Mr. Russel." I looked to see who it was.

"Maria and her husband, pool man and housekeeper." Fredrick said.

They appeared on the door to the patio, "Anything special today?" A short, heavy-set woman with her hair in a bun asked. "Party?"

"These men are staying for lunch -- " He looked at us, "Do you want anything special?" Russel asked.

"She's from Mexico?" Romy asked, "I like Mexican food." 

"May have Mexican blood, but she's an Angelino for generations." He said.

"Empenadas o huaraches, Mexicano hoy, por favor." Fredrick suggested.

"Si, si." She smiled and left.

"Toddy explained your work in the camp. Now, tell me what you boys did before camp." Russel leaned back sipping his juice.

Didn't mention our hard life, Romy only said we'd worked our way out, picking up what work we could. Me, taking mechanical work and him finding what he could to help business owners with inventory. Made our lives sound presentable.

"We jumped at the chance to go to camp, we were the first group..." From there Romy explained his work on the construction crew and his business classes, and my agricultural studies. "He's a hot shot mechanic, has a lot of experience with wheels, engines."

Russel leaned forward and nodded, "Worked your way out here?" He looked at us closely, "Now tell me about your families. You two are no more cousins than Fredrick and I are." Fredrick chuckled, I blushed as Russel leaned close, "You're native, which tribe?"

"Osage, half Irish."

"Looks like you got the best of both." He leaned back and nodded while Romy grabbed the steering wheel of the conversation:

“Telling people we're related kept us out of scrapes. I'm Romero Dolcevita from Chicago. Lost my dad, sent to an uncle organizing the farm workers outside the Imperial Valley. Uncle punished me..." He looked Russel right in the eyes, "Found me with a man."

Then he paused as a small smile lit Russel's face. "The night David found me, we left. Lucky he came looking for work that afternoon. The camp was raided that night. We hit the highway right before trouble started. After that, I depended on David. I never had to survive on the road." 

Russel looked at me, "Miracle that happened." He looked at me. "You took on a boy you didn't know? He could have killed you."

Had to chuckle, "Why would he bother? A man driving an old truck and begging for work doesn't have money. He came with only the clothes on his back and got us out of trouble that night. I wasn't afraid."

I leaned back and looked at Russel and Fredrick, "I knew he was enough like me, and I figured he needed a ride home. He was so young." I explained that Romy was tied to a chair in a dress. "I was ready to send him back to family but there wasn't one. Turned out it was easier on the streets when you have a buddy."

"How old were you?"

"Almost eighteen."

"I see." Russel studied us for a while, then chuckled, "Young love, true love. Wonderful feeling."

He looked to Fredrick, "Get their qualifications, I have to make some phone calls." He went into the house. After a few moments, Romy went to the car for our paperwork from camp.

"Do you think we'll get work?" I whispered to Romy.

"Seems so..."

Coming in Chapter 5:

Having paid their dues on the roads, Romy and David not only find work but a knowing employer with incredible benefits.  Fleshy benefits.

Life’s getting sweeter yet there’s always someone looking for a place to exercise their evil. Watch out boys!