Next FBOW excerpt in sequence: “Wisconsin Villas”

Saturday January 10, 1959

Reaching between the seats, taking a box of ‘Nabisco Vanilla Wafers’ from the bag on the floor— glancing at the straining top and tensing as a gust of wind buffeted the Ford convertible rocking the U-Haul trailer.

“How much further, Mitchie?” Opening the box, Marsha gave her son a cookie.

Slowing even further, doing his best to show indifference to the snow and wind…

“We’re coming to ‘Metamora’. So, I’d say about another ten, twelve miles.”

The frightening, yawing sensation repeated as the car and trailer were buffeted once again.

“Think maybe we should have waited till tomorrow?”

“It might be worse tomorrow. Besides, I wanted to get in today to give us all day Sunday to kind of settle in. To give us a day to get used to the place, together, before I have to go back to work.”

His knuckles turning white, Mitchell squeezed the steering wheel as another gust rocked the U-Haul, which further rocked the Ford.

“Out in the west Texas town of El Paso,
I fell in love with a Mexican girl.

Night time would find me in Rosa’s cantina,
music would play and Gelina would whirl.”

The radio played on.

Holding his breath. The road becoming slick, pumping the break gently... letting his breath out…

Thank God!

Making a slow right turn onto the ‘McClugage Bridge’, the muddy convertible drove over the ‘Illinois River’ onto ‘East Memorial Drive’.

The anticipation of seeing their new home dulled by the last hour’s frightful windblown drive. Off the highway now and into the city

Loosening her tight hold on Michael, Marsha’s level of expectancy once again buoyed.

“How far now, Mitch?”

“Actually...” glancing at her, “...we’re pretty close.”

Snow was beginning to build on the streets when, within a few minute turning left the Ford steered off East Memorial Drive onto ‘Wisconsin Avenue’, then slowly went about a mile.

Stopping. Rolling his fog cast window down. “We’re here!”

Leaning forward, Marsha looked past her husband to the opposite side of the street.

Covering the entire block were a number of near identical, U-shaped clusters of two story, wood frame structures containing four doorways each.

The sign in front read: ‘WISCONSIN VILLAS’.

Rolling the window up, driving on a moment and stopping at the juncture of a driveway... “That’s ours,” pointing through Marsha’s window to the unit on the left side of the building at the far end of the court.

Turning into the driveway, the car went to the end, made a wide right turn and— not being too great at parking a trailer. Actually being lousy at parking a trailer, rather than parking in the singular space alongside the yard, parking horizontally at the end of the shallow yard.

Switching the motor off, turning to his wife and child...

“We’re home!”.

Carrying Michael so he didn’t get his stockinged feet wet, entering through the back door into the kitchen... “Mitchie,” immediately noticing the built-in oven and range, “there’s no refrigerator.”

“Sorry, honey. But I only saw it the one time and liked it so much I guess I forgot to tell you.”

Mentally measuring the small— although larger than any they’d previously had—but workable kitchen. Visually placing their table and chairs.

“So we’ll buy a refrigerator. It’ll be nice having our own for a change.”

Walking into the L-shaped living room, Marsha visually placed that furniture too.

“Carpeting nice,” she said, looking into the half toilet.

“Yeah, the agent said carpet’s only about a year old and they’d painted the entire place after the last tenant left.”

“We’ll have to put a gate down here...” Starting up the carpeted steps, “...and one up here, too.”

“Yeah...” Mitchell said, “...the agent said it’ll be okay to do that.”

Though in the three years of their marriage they had lived in four different apartments, outside of Lakeside—which they’d never thought of as ‘home’—this was the first time they would have…

“ Our ‘own’ bedroom!” Marsha said, looking into one then the other like sized bedroom that, separated by the bathroom, were on opposite ends of the hallway.

He’d been holding his breath as his wife appraised each room. “So, you like it?”

“Yes...” she answered, kissing him on the cheek. “...I do like it, ‘very much’!”

Extremely pleased at her reaction. “Honey...” he said, “...we can figure where to put it all later, when the van comes. But it’s still early enough so, if you’ll give me a hand shlepping the stuff into the house, we’ll have time to find someplace to buy a refrigerator and get it back here before we get rid of the trailer.”

“How’ll we get it out of the trailer and into the kitchen?”

“I’ll ask them to loan us a dolly, and that we’ll get it back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure, Mitch, and we’d better find a phone to let your mom know we got here okay.”

“Hey, ‘hello’!”

Looking at each other, then starting down the stairs, “Yeah, hi!”

A tall, moderately good looking man with long sideburns wearing jeans, a flannel shirt and what appeared to be a vest made of deerskin, holding the hand of a little girl in a red snowsuit...

“Hi!” The man—about the same age as Mitchell—said in what Marsha and Mitchell would later learn was an ‘Appalachian’ accent.

“Sorry to jus’ be walkin’in, but the door was open… I’m ‘Hugh Ivy’.” Holding his hand forward, “An’ this here’s Rebecca.” Nudging the girl with his hip. “Becky, say hello to the people.”

Her eyes cast downward, “Hello,” Rebecca said shyly.

“Hi,” shaking hands, “I’m Mitch Lipensky and this is my wife, Marsha, and the little guy’s Michael.”

“How old’s he?”

“Twenty-two months,” Marsha replied. “Come on, Mikey,” pulling him forward, “say hello to Becky… How old’s your daughter?”

“Nearin’ three… At’s okay, Mike,” ruffling the little boy’s hair. “The two a’you’ll be great pals.”

“My wife, Val—‘Valerie’—sent us over… She’d’a come, too, ‘cept’in we got us a new baby an’ she’s ‘tendin’ to it, but she sent Becky’n me over to say hello an’ to see if I can give you a hand...” jerking his thumb over his shoulder, “...unlodin’ that thing.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Mitchell said. “Matter of fact, Marcie’n’me were just talking about that… Also we need a refrigerator.”

“Tell you what…”

Patting her on the behind, Hugh propelled his daughter towards Michael. “You go an’ play with that little boy now!”

... “You’n’me’ll unload that thing,” again motioning over his shoulder, “an’ the three’a’us’ll… Val’ll keep an eye on the kid, if you want, an’ I’ll take the two’a’ya to a place on ‘Jefferson’ I know that’s got all kinds’a ’pliances, an’ they’ll load it onto the U-Haul an’ you’n’me’ll haul it back here so leastways you’ll have the fridge today.”

Abruptly turning his attention to Marsha, “Guess you’ll need to get to a A’n’P’ too, eh?”

Not knowing many…hell, not knowing any ‘hillbillies’. not quite sure what to make of Hugh Ivy. Thinking that somehow his accent had to be a ‘put on’…

“Thanks, Hugh,” Marsha said. “We can certainly use the help, and I do have to get to a store and I’d love to have the refrigerator today.”

Snowing harder and beginning t form on the streets, Mitchell driving with Hugh Ivy giving turn by turn directions.

Unwilling to leave her son with a woman she hadn't even met, sitting in the back with Michael on her lap.“What do you do, Hugh?”

Turning, Hugh Ivy looked at Marsha. Accustomed to fuller bodied, lighter complexioned women...

Harbouring minimal, if any prejudice—not knowing many, hell, not knowing ‘any’—thinking they might be Jews and not quite sure he cared for this woman’s particular type of beauty…

“I work over at ‘Cat’…”

“ ‘Caterpillar Tracto’r?”

“Yeah, I’m a foreman in one’a the machine shops.”

Impressed! “Really!” Mitchell said. “You’re kind’a young to be a foreman, ain’t’ch’ya?”

“Nah. I been workin’ ‘round ‘quipment all my life… What’a you do, Mitch?”

“I’m a salesman. I sell envelopes.”

Not impressed, Hugh simply said, “Oh.”

Finances: A week before the move to Peoria, with his weekly paycheck from Transco in the amount of eighty-nine dollars plus another check for fifty dollars for moving expenses within his wallet…

Along with the prospect of his monthly commission check that will be sent on the thirtieth of each month.

The hundred-fifty dollar cost of the moving van would be paid directly by Transco.

… Removing the balance of three hundred and fifty seven dollars from their account at ‘Skokie Savings and Loan’ and walking three doors down to ‘Skokie Federal Bank’, Mitchell and Marsha Lipensky opened a checking account in the amount of Four hundred and fifty dollars — suggesting Marsha hold onto the forty-six for incidental expenses.

At ‘Central Appliance’ Marsha and Mitchell Lipensky purchased a Harvest Gold ‘Philco’ refrigerator, which they hadn’t expected to buy, along with something they ‘were’ looking forward to buying: a double bed.

Because they still had a four hundred and fifty dollar balance in their ‘Skokie Federal Bank’ account and they were making more money and had far better prospects to earn even more and their rent was far less than they’d been paying…

All bills and rent for this month paid... Feeling confident enough for the immediate future, passing on ‘E-z Credit’, paying for a double mattress, box spring and bed frame and a ‘Harvest Gold’ Philco refrigerator, Marsha Lipensky wrote a check for one hundred and eighty dollars, leaving a balance of two hundred-seventy dollars in the checking account of Marsha and Mitchell Lipensky plus enough cash in her purse to re-stock the kitchen.

Next FBOW Excerpt in sequence: “Night Crawlers”