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Once again an unfortunate fact of life occurred when a person or people whom we truly believed would never be gone from our life, when, due to time and/or distance, and/or when that thread of “something in common” breaks, we discover that that friend or friends are forever gone from our life.
Then…
With the exception of a television film clip showing a vaguely familiar white man that looked like a black man wearing a black suit and a white shirt with, of all things, a white bow tie, who was obviously standing guard alongside of Malcolm X in 1965; two days before the pioneer black militant was assassinated… along with his two bodyguards, and…
With the exception of that television film clip, Mitchell and Marsha Lipensky never saw nor heard from Rubidoux or Sherry Meyers again.
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Peoria, Illinois,
Bye-Bye, Jaybird
On the twenty-seventh of July, in an attempt to make a verbal point into a visual, or possibly more of a physical point, while on the air Jay Shapiro had made the analogy: “It’s like sliding down a banister and having it change into a razor blade.”
At the end of his show on that day he’d been summoned to Larry Russell’s office and called on the carpet for his, to say the least, rather caustic humor that was far too sophisticated for a bumpkin city such as Peoria.
On the scorching, extremely humid day of the fifteenth of August, immediately following a one minute spot for, coincidentally, one of Mitchell’s new clients: a concern selling above ground swimming pools; going beyond caustic, entering the realm of the macabre and most definitely categorized under the caption of “people sometimes do inexplicable things,” or in the Jaybird’s case, “say inexplicable and, as it turned out, an inexcusable thing”…
“What a day, huh?” the ol’ Jaybird had stated. “It’s 102 out there and wouldn’t you just love to rush home, change into your bathing suit and jump into your brand new, oh, so cool swimming pool… only to find your son there floating face down.”
At the end of that day, Jay Shapiro was calling his contacts in Chicago to see if they knew of any station that had an opening for an experienced disk jockey.
Finding the days that followed Jay’s firing and rapid departure from Radio WHIP to be rather depressing and the heat of this central Illinois city rather stifling, although, actually, at that time of year Peoria was no hotter than Chicago and far less humid.
Also, he’d been receiving…? If not outright hints then mental transmissions from Marsha telling him that although she didn’t mind living in Peoria—forgetting the closer they were to her mother and his parents the more she and Mitchell fought—she’d much rather be back in Chicago where Mikey and Ellie could be raised within their families. Also—forgetting that, enjoying his job, Mitchell was making a good living and they were, within their financial strata, living better than they had ever lived—Marsha said she missed her childhood friends.
August 3, 1961
“Mitchie, come here a minute, will you? There’s something I’d like you to hear.”
Coming from the living room, standing alongside his wife just within the back screen door he listened as his then four and a half year old “Jewish” son, while swinging on the swing set sang, over and over…
“Jesus loves me, this I know, ’cause the Bible tells me so.”
“Jesus!” Mitchell said.
“Yeah,” Marsha replied. “‘Jesus’ indeed.”
“Where’d he learn that?”
Cocking her head towards the Elliott’s, the side yard neighbor’s house. “From Kathy. Seems she’s has been holding Sunday School classes for your son.”
“No!”
“Yeah! And he’s asked me, ‘Why am I going to go to hell?’”
“Hell? What the hell’s Mikey know about hell?”
“Apparently Kathy’s told him that because he’s Jewish and hasn’t been ‘reborn’ and accepted Jesus Christ he’s going to go to hell, along, I might add, with his parents.”
Knowing he’d like his kids to spend more time with their uncles Mortie and Larry. Thinking as he now had experience as a “time salesman” it shouldn’t be too hard to get a job at a Chicago station, maybe even at the same station Jay Shapiro was at. Also, he had grown up in an ethnically diverse neighborhood and hadn’t faced anti-Semitism until he’d entered the service and definitely thought it would be better to raise his children in no less an ethnically diverse neighborhood. A neighborhood where neighbors would not condemn his children to hell because they were Jewish and hadn’t accepted Jesus Christ as their personal savoir.
However, as life in the City of Peoria was far more comfortable and far less chaotic than life in Chicago, not forced to make a immediate decision, though discussing it off and on, Marsha and Mitchell Lipensky did not decide until…
August 24, 1961
On the evening of Mitchell’s twenty-seventh birthday…
Answering the phone, after a few seconds of light conversation, “Mitchie, it’s Gene.”
“Gene?” His eyebrows knitting quizzically, “Tarnowski?”
“Yes.” Holding her hand over the mouthpiece, “He wants to talk to you.”
“Okay, you guys,” speaking to thirteen month old Ellie in her highchair and Michael, who now sat in a “big boy chair.” “I’ll be back in a minute to blow out my candles. Okay?”
Shrugging his shoulders as though to say, “What’s he want?” taking the phone from Marsha, “Gene, hi!”
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No. It’s okay, Gene. How are you?”
“Fine, just fine… Mitch, I’ve been wanting to talk to you and thought that so long as today’s your birthday…”
“My birthday?” Looking at Marsha, shrugging his shoulders again. “You remembered,” he asked incredulously, “that today’s my birthday?”
“Not exactly.” He laughed. “To tell the truth I’ve got your job application here and…
“My old job application?”
“Yes… Look, Mitch, I don’t want to keep you too long so I’ll get right to the point. We don’t like training a high potential man only to have him leave after two years.”
Still feeling slightly guilty for leaving Transco as he did, looking at Mercy sitting with her snout on Michael’s lap waiting for a handout, he said nothing.
“So,” Gene continued, “I thought we’d give you first crack at this.”
Holding his hand over the mouthpiece, “I think they’re offering me my job back,” he whispered to Marsha.
When Mitchell said nothing, “Bill Krupper’s actually retiring in October, and… Actually it was Elizabeth… You remember Elizabeth Herzon?”
“Yes,” the name bringing about three spontaneous, involuntary reactions: an increased heartbeat, a fluttering of his stomach and a spasm within his crotch, “of course.”
“Anyway, when Bill announced his retirement date, Elizabeth suggested, and I heartedly agreed, that we should offer you part of Bill’s territory.”
Bill Krupper, one of Transco’s “old timers,” had one of the company’s most lucrative territories.
“Mind you, we’re not offering all of Bill’s territory, because it’s being split into thirds. You know Elizabeth has a part, but I think you know what even a third of that territory could mean.”
Oh, yes! Having handled hundreds of Bill’s queries, Mitchell had a real good idea of what even a third of that territory could mean.
“I know you’re going to want to talk this over with Marsha…”
“His accounts? They’ll be turned over to… whoever takes this?”
“Yes. All but a couple that we’re taking on as house accounts.”
“How long do I have to think about this, Gene?”
“Today’s Thursday, so how’s about giving me a call before the end of work tomorrow… Oh yes, knowing the territory, we’ll give you a $700 a month draw and pay all moving expenses.”
****
Mitchell and Marsha discussed it in depth—naturally with no mention of Elizabeth.
August 25, 1961
“Okay, Gene,” calling Chicago the next day, “yes. How much time do I have? When do you want me there to start?”
“Bill’s retirement date isn’t set in stone, Mitch. He’s looking towards late October, but he’ll hang around a bit longer to introduce you to accounts, if he has to.”
“I’ll need some time to find a place to live, to move my family back and get settled.”
“If you think a couple of weeks will do it, we’ll get you back on your draw starting… What say we look for you to begin work on… Today’s Friday. If you hand in your resignation on Monday, think they’ll want you to hang around to break in a new guy?”
“Nah, they’ll probably just divide my accounts with the others.”
“Okay then, so you won’t lose anything, we’ll put you back on a draw starting Monday and give you two weeks to find a place to live and… How’s about us looking for you to start working with Bill on about, uh, Monday, September eleven?”
****
“Mom, hi! Guess what?” Not waiting for a response, “I’m going back with Transco and we’re coming home.”
“Home?” Confused, “Tonight?”
“Yes, this evening, but soon for good. We’re coming in now so that tomorrow Marcie and me can begin looking for a place to rent. I may have to stay with you for a little while in September, okay, Mom?”
“Sure, okay! How long’s a little while?”
“I’m supposed to start with Transco on the eleventh. So, at the most two weeks… We’d like to rent a house. Any idea where we can look?”
Personalities
Marsha…
Marsha had truly enjoyed living in Peoria.
Small town living was quieter and easier, and for Marsha and Mitchell, closer… Mentally and physically closer.
Financially, too, because in comparison to Chicago the cost of living in Peoria was far less. Also, happier in his work, Mitchell’s earnings had improved substantially.
Amazingly, Doctor Dickson’s total bill for pre and postnatal care came to a whopping $75. And the hospital! The statement from Methodist Hospital, including her five day stay, came to $250, all of which had paid through Transco’s medical insurance.
Mitchell, Marsha thought, had finally learned the meaning of her definition of being a good husband as he did take on night feedings if she didn’t feel well or was too tired, and he would watch the kids and even clean the house if she didn’t feel up to it.
The postnatal depression she had felt following the birth of Michael did not repeat after the birth of Ellie. Also, Marsha was actually surprised—as natural childbirth was no longer an issue—at the ease of the birth of her second child. However…
Easily fatigued, Marsha did, very often, feel irritable and, though eating more than she had ever eaten, did find herself losing weight and occasionally—vowing to have her eyes checked—her vision would become fuzzy. But being young and outwardly healthy, these symptoms were passed off as something she was “going through” that would eventually pass.
Her flesh, apparently extremely resilient, especially for one as slim as Marsha Lipensky, had minimal natal stretch marks. Her breasts, although drooping a bit more, had returned to their pre-pregnancy size. But when looking at herself nude—unlike her husband who truly thought of her as beautiful—Marsha still imagined her body as ugly.
Still ambivalent regarding sex, Marsha would give in to her husband’s hints once every other week or so when, inadvertently showing her ambivalence, returning his kisses, she would lay quietly patiently awaiting the conclusion of his orgasm.
Basically, though, life away from the interference of her mother and his mother had been extremely pleasant.
Personalities
Mitchell…
Mitchell had truly enjoyed living in Peoria.
He liked the closeness and friendliness of this—in comparison to New York City and Chicago—small town.
He enjoyed the occasional lazy afternoons spent with Mikey in their shady spot alongside the Illinois River and, though still throwing the catches back, watching for the bobbing of his fishing pole.
He enjoyed occasionally coming up with the creative idea for a “spot” for one of his accounts, or being a vocal part of a commercial. In short, Mitchell truly enjoyed the people and his work at Radio WHIP.
Mitchell Lipensky definitely enjoyed the—close enough and yet far enough—distance from both his mother and mother-in-law.
Although most arguments were still bitterly fought with long running silences afterwards, he slowly began to realize that if, on the rare occasion, he did win an argument, one way or another he would end up losing anyway—usually sexually. So in many instances Mitchell had learned to just give in.
Marsha’s “laziness” and, for a woman her age, so he thought, feigned illnesses annoyed him immensely. However, remembering what he thought were the reasons for their two separations, and loving his children and truly enjoying the time spent with them, Mitchell became more the husband his wife thought he should be by—in times of Marsha’s laziness and “illness”—taking over many of the obligations he still strongly felt were her responsibilities.
On those once every two weeks or so occasions when he and Marsha did make love, try as he might, do what he might, her continued lack of enthusiasm greatly detracted from his enjoyment, usually leaving him with—other than the sense of relief orgasm may leave a man—a sense of depression.
Returning to Chicago was something he did not want to do, but the offer proposed by Gene Tarnowski and—as titillating and frightening as it was—the offer suggested by Elizabeth Herzon was an offer he could not refuse.
