Read A Hero Grows in Brooklyn Page 15


  “I thought you guys were gonna get Steve to join this committee,” says Mysterious Jane as she looks sternly at Cliff and George, a great deal of agitation in her voice.

  “We tried,” says Cliff putting his magazine back on the wall and walking over to the table, the wood floor squeaking. “I guess right after school Steve goes home and plays stickball with Jerry Miller and their younger brothers.”

  “Did you tell him how it can really help him to get into college if he gets this kind of committee work listed on his record?” asks Jane.

  “We explained all that,” George responds without looking up from the cards he’s flipping through. “Hey, we wanted him to join as much as you do.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” says Jane. She puts her elbows on the oak table, rests her head in her hands, and lets out a long sigh.

  “I know how Jane feels,” says another girl fiddling with her ponytail. “Steve flirts with me and some of my friends but he never asks any of us out. It’s not fair.”

  “Most guys don’t start to date until they’re sixteen or seventeen,” says Mr. Atkins, the yearbook faculty advisor, a short, well dressed man with gold wire rimmed glasses. “You girls are just going to have to be patient.”

  “Cliff’s been dating that Myra from his science class,” says Jane.

  A huge smile sweeps across his face.

  “I have it on good authority,” says George, “that if a few girls get together and invite Steve’s friends over to listen to some records, well sometimes Steve can be persuaded to come along. It just so happens Steve owes me and Cliff a favor because we help him with his homework…”

  “Is that so?” asks Mr. Atkins raising his eyebrow.

  “We don’t do Steve’s homework for him,” Cliff quickly responds. “It’s a study group.”

  “Why would a couple of SP kids include someone like Steve in their study group?” asks Mr. Atkins, still very much suspicious. “Academically, you guys are significantly above him.”

  “You’d be surprised, Mr. Atkins,” answers Cliff. “In Social Studies, Steve makes some pretty astute observations. And, whereas in Math and Science, Steve can’t play in our league, the way he asks questions, he gets us to think about how best to answer him. Some kids, all they care about is getting a high grade by coming up with the answer the teacher thinks is correct. Steve, he really wants to understand something, and when we have to figure out how to explain things to him, we end up understanding the stuff better ourselves. And, well, Steve asked us to help him, and we kinda like him, so… well we made him part of our study group. And if the girls want to invite us over to listen to records sometime, I think we might be able to get Steve to come along.”

  “All right now,” says Mr. Atkins. “We’re here to work on the yearbook. Does anyone have any ideas to get us going?”

  Ron, back for his second term on the yearbook committee after his surprising appearance on the committee a year ago, replies, “First of all, I think we ought to dedicate the yearbook to Gary. He died trying to stand up to Harold and Anita’s gang. I know we should have done it last year when it happened, but we ended up dedicating it to Kennedy. Since then, quite a few kids said we should have dedicated it to both, and I think it’s not too late. He was a member of our class, a super athlete, and he was really respected.”

  “I like that idea!” cries Mr. Atkins who has begun to grade some papers at a nearby desk.

  “Should we mention anything about how Steve beat up Harold and how that led to Gary’s murderers being caught?” asks George.

  “Steve hates it when anyone mentions any of that,” says Jane.

  “I don’t know why,” says George, “that’s how Steve got his great reputation.”

  “It wasn’t like that at all,” says Cliff, “The kids were already starting to respect Steve before that and they wouldn’t have kept respecting him for over a year if he was really a jerk. In fact, a lot of people thought that the stupidest thing Steve ever did was to stand up to Harold. Just about all the other students at Cunningham cowered when Harold came at them with a knife. If Steve would have done that also, Harold would have laughed and then let him alone. Instead, Steve’s automatic reaction from his summer self defense classes put him at risk of getting killed. And, a lot of students who had cowered to Harold became angry with Steve because they felt Steve’s actions made them look like cowards. In fact, I was one of those students. I said to myself, ‘Why couldn’t I stand up to that Harold? What’s wrong with me? That Steve’s a jerk for making me look bad.’ But, by getting to know Steve, you really couldn’t stay mad at him for long.”

  “Ya know what was weird about the whole Harold and Anita thing?” says Ron.

  “No,” says George. “Why don’t you enlighten us?”

  There is something about the way George says this that leads Ron to contemplate taking a couple of large books and smashing them over the brainy idiot’s head. But somehow he restrains himself and simply responds, “I think it’s weird the way Mysterious Jane predicted Steve would somehow be the hero.”

  “It was an incredibly lucky guess,” says Cliff. “Anyone could have a lucky guess every now and then.”

  Mysterious Jane sits there with her green, cat-like eyes shining, looking amused. Her sexy curves have become even more pronounced over the past year. After a few moments she says, “I can’t believe you guys can’t see it. It’s so obvious that Steve’s got incredible powers. Remember the time Steve wanted Ron and George to stop fighting and he told us about the guys who made pudding and how they were wimps, the way they argued? Well after that, it became the thing at Cunningham that if two guys were desperately arguing over something and putting each other down, someone would go over to them and say, ‘You guys make any good pudding lately?’ And everyone would laugh—including the arguers. In fact, after Steve’s comments, only rarely would you see anyone arguing obnoxiously in Cunningham—so extraordinary was his power.

  “Don’t ya see,” Mysterious Jane continues, “Steve has cast a spell on the students. Steve became tired of hearing the kids arguing without knowing when to give it a rest and his words had nothing to do with why they stopped. It had to be a spell because I tested it out once when I visited my cousins in Canarsie. Some of the kids there go on and on when they argue ‘til you want to scream shut-up already. One day, as an experiment, I told many of the kids the same exact thing Steve said about the pudding makers and the way wimps act and all. Well, the kids were intrigued. They discussed it for a few minutes. But, a half hour later they were arguing in the same way. Steve’s words had no lasting impact when I used them. That’s because I don’t have the spiritual powers that Steve has.”

  “Well,” says George, “I know after Steve made those comments about pudding, I didn’t argue so much with Ron because as soon as we’d start to argue in the lunchroom, Steve would take me over to another part of the lunchroom and we’d have lunch together away from Ron. And Ron, he also started to put me down less often.”

  “And I started to put him down less often,” says Ron, “because Steve and I started to become friends and he asked me in a real respectful way to lay off the SP kids. I like Steve, and the way he asked, well, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

  “Steve is just more respected here at Cunningham than you were in Canarsie,” says George, “and at the same time he treats the other kids with more respect, and so the kids listen to him more. And he also does some stuff behind the scenes that you didn’t have a chance to do in Canarsie, and that’s why he comes off as spiritually powerful.”

  “You guys,” Jane responds, “you guys are saying some of what I’m saying in just different words, and some of it you’re missing altogether.”

  Please Please Me, another Beatles’ song, comes on the radio.

  “Boy,” says Cliff, “since last year every other song that’s played on the radio is a Beatles song.”

  “They’ll b
e popular for another year,” says Ron. “After that, you’ll see, you’ll never hear about them again.”

  “That’s some prediction,” says Brainy George. “Why, anyone can see that coming.”

  Mysterious Jane smiles. “Boys,” she says, “when the last star in the heavens blinks out the Beatles fame shall still be shining.”

  “Okay,” says Ron, rolling his eyes. Then he turns to Brainy George. “You’re probably gonna think I’m stupid but I’m still trying to figure out all this stuff about Harold, Anita and Gary. And there’s this thing with you and them.”

  “What thing?” George responds. “Pray tell.”

  “Well,” says Ron, “all through junior high, you were the guy, George, who wasn’t gonna let anyone boss you around, even if it meant you’d get killed. Remember how you and me’d fight? Well, what I don’t get is this. When this guy Gary stood up to the gang, he got knifed. Didn’t you ever run into them?”

  “Yeah!” answers George. “Four times!”

  “When you ran into them,” Ron continues, “and they demanded money from you, didn’t you stand up to them? And if ya did, why didn’t they knife you like they knifed Gary?”

  George turns pale as he recalls those horrible days. “Actually… I… I… I did… kind of… stand up to them. But… I was no threat to them. When Harold first demanded money from me, I told him to drop dead. He laughed, grabbed my arm, twisted it, stuck his hand in my pocket, took my money, threw me down and kicked me in my ribs. I was his perfect foil. He could so easily take me that he enjoyed it when I would curse at him. It gave him an excuse to beat me up, and he felt like he was showing everyone else what would happen if they didn’t kowtow to him. Gary, on the other hand, was a real threat to the gang because he was strong and a leader. The gang had to face the fact that if it wanted to continue its reign in our neighborhood, it had to get rid of him fast.

  “After I first ran into the gang, I began to plot different ways to kill Harold and Anita. I might have done it too—I so passionately hated them—but I was having trouble coming up with a foolproof plan. I swear if I could have gotten hold of a gun I would have… those…”

  “Careful, young man!” says Mr. Atkins looking up from the papers he’s grading. “This is an interesting discussion, but let’s keep it clean!”

  “Why didn’t you just sneak up on Anita or Harold and stab one of them?” Ron asks.

  “Maybe I was afraid I’d get stabbed back. I’m not really sure. The whole thing is so complicated. I haven’t thought about this in a long time. First of all, until they killed Gary, I really didn’t think they were real murderers, just jerks robbing kids. And that Anita, you know, I remember when I first ran into the gang and Harold threw me down and kicked me. All the other gang members laughed at me… but… but not Anita. And as the gang began to hurry away after taking my money, Anita stayed, helped me up, looked me in the eyes and said, ‘You’re okay in my book, George,’ like she somehow respected me for having at least tried to stand up to the gang. I hated her for being part of the gang, but… she sure was cute… and… well… that was part of Anita’s talent, you know. She could do hateful things but it was hard to hate her. There was something beautiful about her, so people turned all their hate toward Harold. I remember Mysterious Jane saying all of the power of the gang came from Anita and not Harold. And I remember knowing Jane was right, in a sense, and yet I continued hating Harold and… well… I wouldn’t say I liked Anita but… anyway, Jane once said to me Anita had spiritual powers to ward off hate. I don’t believe that, but Anita did have a gift so that she could look someone in the eyes with her cute face and make you feel she was genuinely sorry for treating you like a piece of crap.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Steve’s Cunningham Junior High School's graduation ceremony takes place late in June 1965 at the grand old Loews Theater on Flatbush Avenue. Steve’s mom has come with Pete. Steve was hoping to see his dad there, but it was not to be.

  Everyone is in their fanciest clothes—girls in bright color dresses and the boys—slacks, sports jackets, white shirts and ties.

  “When we get out of here,” says Tom Giordano, “we got the whole freakin’ summer.”

  “Da beach, girls, no freakin’ school,” says Ron waving his hands all around, “Jesus, I can’t wait.” Then his voice goes up two octaves as he repeats, “Jesus, I can’t wait!”

  As the graduates file into the seats that have been reserved for them in the front of the theater, Steve takes one more look in the audience to see if his dad has shown up late. He’s nowhere to be seen. Steve does notice in the back of the auditorium his Uncle Ricky searching for a place to sit. It’s nice to see him there.

  There are some speeches, a couple of songs, a band performance, and then the procession of students begins to march onto the stage.

  “Shelly Abels!” Mr. Imperiale calls out.

  The first to be called to receive her diploma, Shelly turns pink.

  “Samuel Achman!” Mr. Imperiale calls out…

  * * * *

  “Ron DeFelipo!” calls out Mr. Imperiale.

  As Ron walks across the stage, Steve notices Ron’s dad leaping up, swinging his arms, and cheering for him. Ron doesn’t know how lucky he is, Steve thinks to himself.

  “Marguerite DeLucci!” calls out Mr. Imperiale.

  Look at her dad jumping up and down. He’s even more excited than Ron’s.

  “Angela DePalo!”

  “Carol Ann Dessi!”

  “Barry Diamond!”

  Fifteen minutes go by. Then Steve chokes back some tears as he reaches for the diploma that Mr. Imperiale is holding out to him.

  * * * *

  On the first Saturday morning of 1965’s summer vacation, Pete is in the living room folding his bed into the couch. Steve is in the kitchen finishing his breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and a cool glass of milk. Just in front of him, his mom is washing the breakfast dishes.

  The AM radio is tuned to WABC. After a Palisades Amusement Park commercial, disc jockey Cousin Brucie announces the next song, “Catch the Wind” by Donovan. It’s a pretty, melancholy song that captures rather well Marie’s current mood. A pretty decent guy from work has asked her out for a date this week. She turned him down at first, for even though it’s been more than a year since her husband, Mike, has left her, somehow she still feels married. And, in fact, officially, she is. But this gentleman from work is so nice, and when he asked her to go see the new movie, “Marriage Italian Style” with Marcello Mastroianni and Sophia Loren, it sure felt like an attractive offer. “Call me around eleven Saturday morning and I’ll decide then,” she had told him.

  Eleven o’clock is almost at hand and Marie’s heart is doing flip-flops. An image of her husband flashes before her eyes. What if he finds out that I… I… me and another man?

  Marie pauses with the dishes. Oh mother of Mary, she says to herself, I’ve been in a dungeon long enough! She hears some ghastly sounds… groans… clanking of chains… all dimly audible. She throws cool water on her face. Steve is right behind me eating his breakfast. What will he think? She throws some more water on her face feeling its coolness.

  Grabbing the dishtowel, she wipes her face and hands, bunches the towel up, and holds it against her heart.

  “Steve, could you watch Pete for me tonight?” she asks.

  “Why? Where you going, Mom?”

  “I… I thought I’d go to see a friend from work.”

  Steve looks outside his kitchen window. On the Avenue U Theater’s marquee, in large black letters, are the words:

  GOLDFINGER

  with

  Sean Connery as 007

  Steve had seen the other two James Bond movies, “Dr. No” and “From Russia with Love.” The word out on the street claims “Goldfinger” is the best in the series. Steve had loved the first two. “Can I take Pete to see the movie across the street, Mom?”
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  Marie looks out the window and checks the marquee. “Sure,” she says, “and I’ll even give you some money to go to the ice cream parlor afterwards.”

  “Hey, Pete, ya wanna go see ‘Goldfinger’ tonight?” asks Steve leaning into the living room.

  Pete’s eyes light up. “Sure! I don’t mind!”

  “Okay, Mom. It’s all set,” says Steve.

  Marie turns back to the dishes now squeezing the towel to her heart even more tightly. Mother of Mary, what am I getting myself into?

  When she finishes the dishes, she takes her white apron off and looks at Steve and Pete. “I can’t believe I’m letting you boys stay home all summer,” she says. “When you start getting bored, you’ll start getting into trouble.”

  “Come on, Mom,” says Steve, “give us a chance.”

  “What are you going to do all summer?”

  “Well, today we’re gonna go to Uncle Ricky’s,” says Pete as he comes into the kitchen, sits on a chair, and prepares for their plans by putting on his socks and sneakers.

  “Yeah, but it’s the weekend,” responds Marie. “How about the weekdays when your uncle and I have to work. It’s not too late for me to sign you up for a day camp.”

  “If we get bored, then you can sign us up,” says Steve.

  “I’m worried,” says Marie. “Monday I’ll go to work and I’ll worry all day.”

  Steve goes over to his mom and puts his arms around her. Every time he does this she finds herself amazed to see how he is now more than three inches taller than her. “We’ll be fine Mom,” he says. Then he leans down and kisses her on her cheek.

  * * * *

  “Ben venuto!” cries Ricky as the boys enter his house through the kitchen.

  Steve studies the beautiful oak table and chairs. “The way you built these all by yourself, Uncle Ricky, they’re works of art.”

  “Grazie Steve. I’m making a new kitchen set now for Cousin Gina. She’s getting married in September and it’s my wedding gift.”