* * * * *
14: “All Alone in New York City”
Monday had arrived, and it was time for Ali and Reynolds to start school at P.S. 69. It was also their mother’s first day back at work. She had transferred to a new job, and amazingly the office building was right across the street from the Osgood Apartments where they would be living in another few days. Caroline had taken the kids to The Drug Store on the weekend to pick up a few school supplies (notebooks and pencils).
Caroline, Ali, and Reynolds got up very quietly and scurried around like mice so as not to disturb George who was sound asleep. He sang in the evenings in his Broadway show and then stayed out late “unwinding” with the other show people -----getting something to eat, usually at the delicatessen. By the time he got back to the hotel, it was almost time for everyone else in the room to get up. Ali’s parents has discussed the different hours they would all be keeping, and said it would be a little tricky at first, but they’d get the hang of it.
Caroline quietly closed the door to the hotel room with George snoring soundly in the background.
“Good going kids, we didn’t wake your father.” They hurried to the elevator. Caroline was running a little late as usual, and anxiously looking at her watch.
“This is going to be close, my getting you two to school and then back to the office on time.” Caroline bit her lip slightly.
“Mom, I know the way. I’ll take care of Ali. You don’t need to take us,” said Reynolds in a very grown-up way. Caroline looked at him and thought about what he just said.
“I don’t know----”
“We can do it. Can’t we Ali?” he said to his little sister. Reynolds was kind of a pain sometimes, but he did know how to find things. Ali remembered how she and Reynolds rode their bicycles all the way down Van Nuys
Boulevard in the Valley about five miles to go see Grandma Nettie a couple of years ago, much to the amazement of both Grandma Nettie and their mother.
Sure,” said Ali who was a little nervous, but who had always had an adventurous streak.
“OK, Reynolds, but straight to school and take care of your sister!” said Caroline with a few misgivings. Caroline hugged both her kids in front of the building where she was going to be working. Off went Ali and Reynolds, running down 57th Street.
“Here’s the prison,” said Reynolds as they arrived at school and went upstairs to the administration office. The lady in the office asked where their parents were.
“Dad’s at home sleeping and Mom dropped us off,” responded Reynolds. It was partly true anyway.
“Very unusual,” the lady muttered.
“Reynolds, you are in the 6th grade----Room 244. “Ali, you are in the 3th grade---Room 248. You’ve missed a week of school you know,” she said as she peered over her glasses at them.
“Well, we just got here from California,” said Reynolds nonchalantly.
“I have an uncle who lives in California,” the lady responded.
“We do, too,” responded Ali proudly. She was thinking of her Uncle Dan.
Two of the ladies in the office escorted Ali and Reynolds to their classes. “See ya squirt,” said Reynolds to his sister as they were led in two different directions.
“This is Alison Spain. She’s from California,” said the lady to Mrs. Goldie, her new 3th grade teacher in Room 248. The other students turned to look at Ali and laughed a little when they heard her name. Ali was a little embarrassed by their laughter.
“Where in California are you from?” asked Mrs. Goldie.
“The San Fernando Valley-----actually Sherman Oaks,” Ali said to be precise.
“You from Spain?” said one of the boys loudly with a smirk on his face.
“No, California,” answered Ali, not liking the smart aleck tone of the boy.
“And my name is Ali,” she quickly added, not wanting to be called Alison.
“Ali it is. Welcome to P.S. 69 and New York City, my dear,” said Mrs. Goldie who also thanked the lady who brought Ali to the classroom.
“Ali, please take a seat over there near the window,” instructed Mrs. Goldie. Mrs. Goldie was very nice. She had a bit of an accent (a Brooklyn accent, Ali later learned) and had long, gray hair and wore red-rimmed glasses. She spent some time with Ali during the graham cracker and milk break and told her about all the things they would be doing in 3th grade. Ali wasn’t worried about the reading assignments, but she was worried about mathematics. That had never been her best subject. Reading she liked. Art she liked. Kickball she liked. But not math.
Ali looked around the snug little class. There were individual wooden desks with a hole in the upper right hand corner. You could lift the top of the desk and put your pencils and notebook inside. There were pictures of a bald man with a big smile and George Washington on the front wall. A large globe was in the corner along with a stand with an enormous dictionary. Old-fashioned looking radiators lined the wall near the windows that looked down into a rather shadowy, small playground area surrounded by other buildings. There was a large closet in the back where kids put their jackets and caps during the colder months.
But most interesting to Ali as she looked around her, were the kids. At Hazeltine Elementary School in the Valley, everyone pretty much looked and dressed alike. At P.S.69, most of the kids looked like Reynolds and Ali, but some of the kids looked different. There was a little boy that she later learned was from Japan; he wore a white shirt and tie and was proud that his father worked as a musician. There was a little Negro girl, Annie, who had had many tight little braids in her hair and who looked just as uncomfortable as Ali was wearing a dress. Ali never wore a dress, except at school. They made you wear a dress if you were a girl. How unfair she thought. A little girl named Miranda whose parents came to New York City from Cuba wore a bright red, patterned dress that her grandmother made for her. In contrast to Miranda’s dress, Ali wore a plain gray jumper dress with a white blouse.
Her mother said it was practical, since Ali could change blouses daily and wear the same jumper all week long.
When it was 3 O’clock, the bell rang and the kids rushed out of the class, everyone in a hurry to go somewhere. Ali met Reynolds on the staircase and they exchanged a few comments about their first day.
“Kind of boring,” said Reynolds, adding, “I already know all the stuff they’re teaching.”
“I liked my teacher, Mrs. Goldie, and I met a girl named Annie and a girl named Miranda. They’re nice.”
“Hey, Ali, there’s a place called ‘Playland’ a couple blocks down the street. You want to go with me? Dad and I went there the other day. They sell magic tricks. There are pinball machines and shooting games. Do you have any money?”
“Mother wanted us to go straight home, remember Reynolds?”
“You’re never any fun.” Reynolds looked at Ali with distain.
They walked back to Broadway with Ali doing her best to keep up with her brother who was walking rapidly a few paces ahead of her. She kept her eyes glued to him. She didn’t want to get lost on her first day! Reynolds whirled around suddenly at Broadway and gave Ali directions.
“Walk straight back on this street to 61st Street and you’ll be back at the Hotel Preston. I’m going to check out a few of the magic tricks at Playland. I’ll be back in just a little while.” Ali looked at him and then looked the other way in the direction of their hotel. Right at that moment she felt very much like Alice in her reading book. There she was in New York City, and all alone. She looked up at the street signs that said 54th and
Broadway. She turned on her heels looking across the street and saw a theater that had the letters CBS TELEVISION. Reynolds had disappeared almost instantly in the crowd of pedestrians.
“Who needs him? I can walk home,” Ali muttered with a mixture of anger at Reynolds and fear at the idea of walking home alone. She walked near the buildings and looked up at all the people hurrying this way and that. They didn’t even notice her. Every now and then someone wo
uld hurry around her and say, “Look out kid!” She felt almost invisible. When she got to the sign that said 57th Street, she looked up at the building where she knew her mother was working. Just another block and she’d be at The Drug Store which she recognized by now. She peered in the window and saw the lady at the cash register who helped them the other night. Better keep going and get back to the hotel she told herself. She crossed the big intersection near the park, across from the statue of Christopher Columbus.
Two more blocks, and the Hotel Preston loomed up before her. When she got upstairs to their hotel room, she discovered that her father was not there; he must have left already for the theater. Ali went downstairs and sat in one of the big chairs in the lobby, but the man at the registration counter kept looking at her as if she shouldn’t be there, so she went out and sat on the steps in front of the hotel.
There was a man sitting on the steps of the Hotel Preston, not far from Ali.
“Hi, little girl. What are you doing out here on this fine day. Why aren’t you with your parents?”
“I’m waiting for my brother. My parents are working,” said Ali.
“Well, where is this brother of yours?” the man asked.
“He’s looking at some things. We just got here from California,” Ali said innocently.
“California, huh?” he replied.
“Why don’t you wait with me for awhile. My name is Uncle Bill. What’s your name?” he asked.
“Ali,” she responded. Ali thought he was nice. He talked to her and she didn’t feel so alone. She walked over and sat next to him.
“You remind me of my little niece,” said Uncle Bill. “She’s pretty like you and has a little pony tail just like yours.” Uncle Bill touched her head and tugged on her pony tail when he said that.
“So you have a book with you I see. Hmmmmmmmm. “Alice in Wonderland”. Shall we read a little bit?” he asked Ali.
That sounded like a good thing thought Ali, since she loved to read.
“Here, sit on my knee and I’ll read to you,” said Uncle Bill tapping his shabby trousers on his right knee. Ali thought he smelled bad, but was embarrassed to get up once she sat on his knee and offered him her prized book to read out loud.
Uncle Bill started reading. He squeezed Ali around the waist and hugged her a little. He put his hand on her knee. Ali suddenly felt uncomfortable. She really didn’t know “Uncle Bill” after all. She started to squirm a bit.
“Hey, who are you? Why are you touching my sister?” yelled Reynolds from the bottom of the hotel steps. Instantly, Uncle Bill put Ali and the book down and hurried down the steps and toward the park without saying a word to Reynolds.
“Who was that man?” Reynolds asked Ali.
“He said his name was Uncle Bill,” responded Ali.
“Sounds like a phony name to me,” said Reynolds. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t talk to strangers?”
“Don’t you remember the Buddy System?” Ali retorted. “I wouldn’t have talked to him, if you-------”
“Aw, forget it, Ali,” interrupted Reynolds, knowing she was right. “Come on, let’s go up to the room and look out the window to see where that old guy is going.”
By the time they got upstairs and looked out their hotel room window, they could see that Uncle Bill was already walking into the park. He was headed down the leafy pathway, toward the playground.