Young and Dumb...

A large part of my writing, that isn't quite a year old yet, has to do with daily experiences, the Lovely Jules, the discovery of MJ and various things that enter the path of my life. Sometimes I write about stories of the past, as this one is about to unfold. It was right at 40 years ago today that I stood in front of a judge, who was wearing a robe upon an alter and a little girl stood next to me. We looked at each other, said "I do" and started what many thought to be a rebellious life together. We spawned 2 sons and lived together for 11 years, when I realized life was just to short to be as unhappy as we were and set out to change it. Sometimes the end of the story is important to be told before the beginning. This is one of those times...

It was the weekend of July 4th, 1968 and I walked into the Hidden Cove Lounge, a bar owned by a friend of mine. His girlfriend, Carol had a friend that my friend had been trying to fix me up with, but having been on a blind date in the past, I wasn't too enthused. That night, I was abruptly introduced to Barbara Ellen, the girlfriend mentioned. She was HOT! She was short, about 5' 2" and as lovely as a 23 year old girl could be. She was feminine in all of the right places and if she looked down, her chin would hit her bust line. She was pretty, perky and extremely pleasant to my racing hormones. I wanted this one! We sat and got to know one another, while I pumped scotch and soda into her, my secret weapon of 1968. I think she was on her 4th scotch when my roommate Dick Mills walked in, in uniform, he was a Chicago cop. He looked at her, she looked at him and an exchange by two old friends took place. I'd say it took about 15 seconds before they were embracing. As I mumbled under my breath, Dick asked me to shove over one, so he could sit between Barbara and I. About 20 minutes into their conversation, they realized that Barb's sister married Wayne, Dicks old buddy and lived upstairs from Barb, who lived with her parents, because that's who nice girls lived with back then. Last call was announced and my good old friend offered Barb a ride home, so he could say hello to Wayne, in spite of the hour. Don't forget, it was 1968 and we were in our early twenties, a lethal combination. As the couple walked out, excitedly on their quest to make the Wayne connection, the tab was placed in front of me and once again I was observed mumbling under my breath. The following day and I think it was about 3 PM, the phone rang at work and it was a private call for me. Surprised that someone was calling me at work, I timidly put the receiver up to my face and said hello. That's how we did it in 1968. At the other end of the phone was Barbara and she was apologizing for her behavior the night previous and wanted to know if I wanted to get together that night. Boy, did I? It turned out that she and another of my friends had danced together on Chicago Bandstand and my roommate was merely a friend. I picked up Barb where she worked and we went directly out from there. We went to Butch McGuires and had some drinks, it was scotch and soda, I think. Butch's was a pretty famous place, it was where the movie, "About Last Night" was filmed. From there we went to my apartment and talked for a long time. We were really enjoying each other's company and the time was getting away from us. I looked at my watch and was shocked to see that it was about 2:30 in the morning already. We climbed into my black 1967 Bonneville convertible with the red leather interior and the 8 track player and took the 20 minute ride to Barb's home. She lived on a busy street and as we pulled up, sitting on the front step, between two dogs, a Saint Bernard named Boozer and a boxer named Cha Cha was her father named Harvey. Harvey was short and fat with jowls hanging and looked like a bulldog. I recall having that mental image as I walked around the back of the car after barely hearing Barbara say a faint, "Oh shit"! Short fat Harvey was not accepting my friendly nod, but instead was lifting his broad ass off the stoop and mumbling something as he approached me. It sounded like he said, "You sideburned mother-fucker", but was wondering what he really said, because I'd never met the gentleman before. As I saw stars from the first sucker punch to the face, I realized he must think I'm someone else. Someone that he likes to punch! When my head cleared, Barbara was crying and pulling on her father's sleeve as he tried to inflict more punishment on my totally surprised greeting. He was coming at me like a tornado, with arms flailing and kicks doing their damage on my best pair of bright royal blue sharkskin slacks, because it was 1968. I didn't want to hit him back as he was the father of a girl that I was soon to marry and I thought that might just ruin our relationship, my future father-in-law and mine's. Next I got to meet Wayne, my roommates friend. He came running outside wearing a robe and waving a 38 Police Special saying that if I knew what was good for me, I'd get into my pimp-mobile and get the hell out out of there. I replied, while my future father-in law plummeted me with more punched to the face, "That's what I'm trying to do"!!! With my torn and tattered clothes, I climbed into my car and went to the nearest phone booth, because that's how you called people in 1968. I dialed her home number and a gentleman answered the phone a little out of breath, but otherwise relaxed. I explained that I was the guy that he just attacked and although I don't understand why, I wanted him to know that I liked his daughter and wanted to see her again. His reply almost knocked me off my feet........again! He said he thought I was a nice young man and I'd always be welcome there... I think it was about 8 hours later, that Barb told me of her father's drinking problem. Encounters like that were pretty common after a while, but at least I decided to defend myself, inflicting some pretty serious attacks of my own. On one occasion I'm proud to say, I broke the old bastards leg. I recall running down the street for my getaway after Harvey would scream, Mary, get my gun"! About a few weeks after the first beating, Barbara and I decided to get married and she suggested I ask her father for her hand in marriage. I thought better of doing something else. I suggested we just go downtown and do whatever people do when they elope. I recall it like it was yesterday. Barbara came to my house, together we drove to downtown Chicago and had trouble finding a place to park. We already had our license, had taken our blood test and it was a matter of getting the judge to do the quick ceremony. When it was our turn, we approached the bench where this old man sat wearing a black robe and he said, Marilyn Fisher, do you take Barbara Ellen to be your wife, then there was a short pause as the honorable judge had just recited two female names. Looking again, he said, make that Melvyn. After dignity resumed, he finished the 10 second ceremony and declared us husband and wife. I kissed the bride, looked down and saw that I was so nervous that I had forgotten to wipe the caked on polish off of my shoes. We went out to a Jewish Delicatessen for corned beef sandwiches and chocolate phosphates, then to my apartment to seal the deal... I took Barbara home that night, as she had a 12 midnight curfew and eventually, 4 months later, we had a big wedding at a downtown Chicago hotel with about 200 people attending. We never told her family that we had eloped back on 8/7/68, ..................Would you?

The Dating Guy
8/7/08