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 July 30, 1956

Bensonhurst, New York

Leaning across the seat, “Hi, baby,” he opened the door.

Sitting, “Hi!” kissing briefly. “So,” Marsha asked, “how was your day?”

“Well, it started out kind’a shitty.” Glancing in the rearview mirror, he pulled away from the curb. “Because I’m not such a hot typist, I got shipped from the office to a place way back called the ‘Addressograph room’.”

“Oh! And does this bother you?”

“Yeah, it did; at first a lot. But there’s this other, uh, really interesting guy there about my age by the name of ‘Ruby Meyers’…”

“ ‘Meyers’? He Jewish?”

“He’s, uh…”—deciding to omit the fact that Ruby was an albino—“Jewish? Yeah, he is. We hit it off pretty good and it looks like him’n’me could really be pals.”

Marsha knew that, although her husband spoke jokingly about the men in the office not shooting paper clips or rubber bands at him, he was upset over the lack of friendship, so did not question the unlikely first name, at least for a man, of ‘Ruby’.

“He’s from Baltimore and lives in Brooklyn because his girlfriend lives there. I’m going to be giving him a lift to the office and home every day, and thought that maybe him and Sherry—that’s his girlfriend—maybe they can come over for dinner Saturday evening, then we can stay home and talk, or go to a movie.”

“Mitchell!”

“I know!” Punching her thigh softly, “I told him I’d check with you first.”

“You’re learning.”

“So, is it okay?”

Figuring she could use a friend, too, “Saturday? Sure. What should I make?”

“Let’s keep it simple.” Remembering Ruby had said he was kosher… That he was ‘kind of kosher’.  “How’s about baked chicken, potatoes, peas and salad.”

Bk 2#15: Ruby 3; Little Rock, Arkansas

Saturday, August 31, 1957: Labor Day Weekend

Chicago, Illinois

Midway through the 11 p.m. news, “Hello!”

“Mister Lipensky?”

“Yes!” irritated at being called this late, “who’s calling?”

The perfectly modulated male voice changing to a southern, Negroid accent, “Lordy! Den y’all mus be dat dumb white boy, uh, Mitch Lapaskowitz or sompin?”

Standing stupidly a moment, then, “Ruby,” he shouted into the phone. “My God, Ruby!” Stretching the phone line from the doorway of the kitchen to the doorway of their living room/bedroom, “Marcie, it’s Ruby!” Looking at his wife, who was in bed watching the news. “Hi, Pal! Where the hell are you?”

“Mitchie! Christ, but it’s good to hear your voice again… Downtown.”

“Downtown? Where, downtown’?”

“ ‘Downtown Chicago’, schmuck!”

“ ‘Chicago’? You’re here?”

Out of bed, standing alongside, “Say hello for me.”

“Marcie says hello.”

“Ask if Sherry’s with him.”

“What the hell you doing in Chicago? If you’d have let us know you were coming, you could have stayed here, with us.”—Really, though, unless sleeping on the floor there was no place for another person to stay— “Marcie wants to know if Sherry’s with you… What the hell you doing in Chicago,” he repeated.

“Mitch, slow down! First of all, it was a spur of the moment decision this morning. And I’m by myself… Well, if you can call being with a couple’a hundred other people by yourself, then I’m by myself. We’re on our way to ‘Little Rock’.”

“ ‘Little Rock’? Like in 'Arkansas'? Why?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning when I see you… Uh, if you’ve nothing else to do.”

“You kidding? No!… When’d you get here? Where you staying?”

“The train pulled in about an hour ago. Most of our group went ahead and I could have transferred on to Memphis, too. But that train’s going to get into Little Rock sometime late tomorrow afternoon and I don’t think the ‘good ol’ boys’ of  ‘Little Rock’ are going to be too receptive to having a bunch’a northern shvartzers running around their city all weekend waiting for school to start on Tuesday. And besides, I wanted to see you guys, and your addition.”

Thinking, ‘A bunch’a northern shvartzers running around their city all weekend’? “Where are you, Ruby? I’ll jump in the car and…”

“Mitchie, no! I’m really beat. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, sure! Where you staying?”

“A bunch of us are at the Morrison.”

“Just outside the Loop?”

“Beats the shit out’a me; it’s your city.”

“I think I know where it’s at… What time’s your train leave tomorrow?”

“Twelve-twenty. I’ll be meeting my group at the depot at eleven-forty-five.”

“Eleven-forty-five, eh,” repeating so Marsha could hear. “Okay, Marsha’n’me’ll pick you up at…?” Looking at her.

“ ‘Eight’. Tell him we’ll be there at eight.”

“Be downstairs at eight, and we’ll take you to breakfast at…?”

“ ‘The club’. Let’s go to your dad’s club.”

“Yeah!” Mitchell smiled. “Hey, Rubidoux, how’d you like to have breakfast in a real live yacht club?”

“A yacht club, huh? Very fancy! You think they’ll let a white, Jewish shvartzer in?”

“Hey, Rube, a couple of their best members are Jews.”

“Yeah? Shit, if they let you in, ‘Lapaskowitz’, then they’ll probably let just about anyone in, including me. See you at eight… Say goodnight to Marcie for me.”

September 1, 1957

Chicago, Illinois

Waving through the window, Marsha called his name before the car came to a stop.

Spotting the Ford convertible, going to the curb, “Hi!” Stooping, looking through the open window, “Marcie! Mitchie!” Leaning through, he and Marsha kissed the kiss of renewed friendship.

“Hey!” Mitchell rushed from the car. “Hi’ya, Pal!”

Standing a moment, seeing the changes eleven months out of the service had made, the two embraced, then shook hands.

“Jesus,” patting his stomach, “civilian life sure seems to agree with you. Put on a little weight, did you?”

“Yeah, but it ain’t being a civilian that did it.” Jerking his thumb towards Marsha, “You ought’a taste her chopped liver.”

“ ‘Chopped liver’, huh?”

Ruby appeared to have lost at least ten pounds. Whereas Mitchell appeared to have found what his friend had lost.

“Yeah! But look at you! Don’t Sherry ever feed you?”

“Yeah, she does. Leastways she tries to feed me, but between med school and, uh, what else I’m involved in, sometimes there’s no time.”

“Come on, Pal,” opening the door, “we’ll fatten you up.”

Beginning to squeeze behind the seat, into the back seat but, moving closer to the driver’s side, making room, “Sit here!”

“Thanks, Marcie… God, you guys!” For the first time, Ruby seemed to notice six-month-old Michael asleep in his mother’s arms. “Look at your baby! He’s beautiful!”

“Yeah,” Mitchell quipped, spreading his thumb and forefinger about three inches apart. “But he’s got his mother’s nose.”

“Yeah, and his father’s pee-pee,” Marsha, holding her thumb and forefinger about a quarter inch apart, quipped.

                                                                             ****

He said it jokingly, without really thinking—which, according to his wife, was something Mitchell did all the time: speaking without thinking:  “ ‘We will wear you down with our capacity to suffer’? King really said that? Sorry, Rube, but that’s just about one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard anyone say! Those kinds of people will never wear down!”

In the dining room, watching the northern curve of the Chicago skyline minutely appear to rise and lower with the slight rolling motion of the ferryboat turned ‘Columbia Yacht Club’,  Rubidoux Meyers washed a mouthful of scrambled eggs down with black coffee before answering. “Mitch, don’t you ever read the paper?” he asked with a tinge of anger in his voice. “Don’t you ever watch the news? Don’t you know what the hell’s happening there?” Looking from Mitchell to Marsha—who was holding Michael in her lap with a nipple bottle of apple juice to his mouth—“It’s going to be another civil war there! And we can’t beat ’em with this,” holding his clenched fist forward, “yet! And…” reminding Mitchell, “his title is ‘Reverend King’!” Ruby said emphatically.

“Okay, sorry, ‘Reverend King’! Don’t get so upset; I was only kidding”—he wasn’t—“about what he said being dumb.”

“I’m sorry, too, Mitch.” Relaxing his balled fist, “But there’s nothing funny about it! And I’m telling you, this country will have another civil war over this!”

“Another ‘civil war’? Come on!”

“Jesus, you really are a white guy, huh! Think about it!”

‘You really are a white guy’! Somehow feeling as though he’d been insulted, Mitchell was taken back by the vehemence in Ruby’s words and voice. “Yeah, I’m a ‘white guy’!” Softening his tone, smiling, “And if you looked in a mirror lately, Pal, you’d see you are, too… sort’a.”

Smiling, barely, “Nah, that’s only the color of my skin,” Ruby said. “But here,” touching his heart, “I’m all shvartzer.”

“Okay, so a bunch’a shvartzer kids want to go to a white high school! Well then, the bastards got to let ’em go to a white school ’cause Eisenhower said they gotta!”

“Mitch, I ask again: Don’t you ever watch television or read a god-damned newspaper?” Animatedly speaking, again, Ruby’s complexion, again, became flushed with barely suppressed anger. But remembering where he was, bringing both his hands and voice under control, now speaking softly, “Don’t you know why me, and a couple thousand others—and we’re not all shvartzers either, Mitch! Don’t you know why we want to be there when those nine kids, who, by the way, do not want to be there any more than those white people want them there. But I… we are going to be there to protect those kids, just in case the war does start then!”

“How can you say that, Rube?” Proving he did, occasionally, read a newspaper. “ ‘Ike’s’ already called out the National Guard to protect those kids, if there’s trouble.”

“Mitchie,” sighing, “that’s what I mean by ‘don’t you ever read a god-damned newspaper?’ No! Governor Faubus, that son-of-a-bitch, he called out the Arkansas National Guard to keep our kids out of his f…” glancing at Marsha, “god-damned school, and Ike’s threatened to send federal troops there to make sure the kids do get into ‘his’ school!” Trying to hold his temper down, Ruby swallowed more coffee. “Can’t you see it, Mitch? Don’t you get it? There’ll be two separate armies there! It’s the north and south, the ‘Rebs’ and ‘Yankees’ all over again, and those poor kids’ll be caught in the middle. And if that don’t sound like the god-damned civil war all over again, then I don’t know what the…” Looking at Marsha, Ruby hesitated again, then, whispering, said, “fuck does!”

Hearing the harsh, barely whispered words, a number of the other diners looked in the direction of their table.

Embarrassed, taking a drink of coffee, Mitchell somewhat hid a portion of his face.

“There’s got to be trouble there! You could get hurt!” Marsha put her hand onto Ruby’s. “What’s Sherry think about you doing this? And if the kids do get in, what about the next day, and the next? What about your classes? How long are you going to stay in Little Rock, and what happens if there is trouble?”

“Yeah, Rube,” Mitchell added, “you could really get hurt!”

“Thanks for caring, you two. But this is important to me; med school isn’t—at least for now. Besides, I’m only staying till Wednesday or Thursday, and I’ll be able to make up whatever I miss. And I’ll tell you something else: if the two of us could have afforded this trip, if she could, believe me, Sherry would be here, too.”

Hesitating, looking intently at Mitchell. “Come with me!” Ruby said.

“Huh?” Surprise showing on his face. “Me?”

“Yeah, Mitch, you’re my pal. The fact that I’m ‘shvartz’ never mattered to you! You always told me how much you hated all this prejudice bullshit! So help us!” Speaking quickly, forcefully. “Do something you’ll be really proud of! Do something more than just talk! Come on, pal! Come with us!”

“I… Uh…” Looking at Marsha, hoping… wanting her to say, ‘No! It’s too dangerous! No! He’s got a family to support! No! He can’t because I won’t let him!’ But…

Her blank expression hid the fact that, Yes! Marsha thought. Make up your mind and show me! Prove you’re a man! Make up your mind and do something brave!

“I know what you’re thinking, Mitch, and I promise you won’t be the only white guy there! Hell, we have twenty-five, thirty white people, men and women, in our bunch alone, and there’s going to be groups of people coming from all over the country! Come on, pal! Do something you’ll be proud to tell Mikey.” Patting the baby’s head. “Come on, come with us!”

September 3, 1957

Little Rock, Arkansas  

“As you know by now, yesterday— the day before the ‘Little Rock Nine’ were to enter Central High School— in a televised speech, Governor Orval Faubus explained that he had called out the Arkansas National Guard because he’d heard that white supremacists from all over the country were descending on Little Rock. The governor declared Central High off limits and ordered the Guard to surround the school in order to keep the nine students from entering.”

Standing within a group of jostling, unruly people, the well-known newscaster, motioning to the brick structure behind him, continued: “Amidst threats and taunts, earlier today nine Negro children, braving the anger of the white citizenry of Little Rock, Arkansas, attended class at Little Rock’s all white ‘Central High School’.”

The picture cut to earlier that day outside of Central High School, to the scene of a mob of screaming, fist-shaking people.

“As you know by now,” a different well known newscaster said, “Governor Faubus said he activated the Arkansas National Guard in order to keep the nine Negro children from attending school here.

“President Eisenhower, in a move to protect the ‘Little Rock Nine’, sent the ‘101st Airborne Division’ into Little Rock to evoke the Constitution, and for a tense time the bayoneted rifles of the Arkansas National Guard faced the bayoneted rifles of a thousand federal paratroopers. But within minutes the Arkansas contingent was ordered to stand-down and boarded the trucks that would return them to their armories, leaving the Army of the United States of America to safeguard the constitutional right of every American citizen to an equal, ‘desegregated education’.”

Watching for Ruby, switching from channel to channel, Marsha...

and Mitchell Lipensky anxiously watched the early evening and late night news. With the exception of the fleeting sight of what appeared to be a white man being attacked by a snarling guard dog held loosely at leash by a Little Rock police officer, nobody else on the black-and white television looked as though it might have been their friend.

May 8. 1961

Peoria, Illinois

Once again an unfortunate circumstance 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 our friend or friends are forever gone from our life.

 Until:

Prospective: 1965

Des Plains, Illinois

With the exception of a television film clip showing a vaguely familiar white man that looked like a vaguely familiar 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 four years in the future, Mitchell and Marsha Lipensky never saw nor heard from Rubidoux or Sherry Meyers again.

Ending the “Ruby” series.