On the other hand, I cannot recall when I last encountered a boy quite as eager to meet the challenge of his Bar Mitzvah as Joseph appears to be. Most of the time we have to bribe them. For this reason alone, I recommend that we proceed as planned. I will do the best I can—and we’ll leave the necessary miracles to God.
Respectfully,
Rabbi Morris Lieberman
* * *
* * *
Jordy Stuker, 1st Base
c/o The New York Giants
Polo Grounds
New York, NY
Dear Stuke,
Betty Grable lives at 12217 Bentley Avenue in Los Angeles, California. After she got rid of Jackie Coogan she had dinner with Cary Grant a couple of times and once with Victor Mature. But right now she doesn’t have a boyfriend, even though she went to see the Harry James Orchestra three times by herself so there may be somebody in the band who she likes. Also, she’s four years older than you in case this is a problem.
Charlie told the Rabbi that he looks like the Smith Brothers and then he asked him for cough drops. I should have told him that Rabbis never think anything is funny. If they laugh they get fired.
Did you talk him into it yet?
Joey
* * *
* * *
Dear Sprout,
I’ve been putting the pressure on him for 3 weeks and he’s still not ripe. I thought I could get him to cave in before our Boston-Cincy-Chicago swing in the middle of the summer, but you know what a hard-head he is. Once he says no, forget it. I’ll keep trying, tho.
Thanks for the dope on Betty. I sent her $22.73 worth of roses (all I had in my pocket) & also a telegram to Victor Mature (collect) saying she never wants to see him again. Didn’t know she was old, tho. She doesn’t look 25.
I had a shoulder to shoulder talk with your buddy & set him square on the right way to handle a rabbi. Usually he doesn’t listen to me, but he went 1-for-4 and I have the first unassisted triple play in 21 years. (Did I mention that?) So you can stop worrying. I’ll make sure he fixes whatever he broke.
Stuke
* * *
* * *
Rabby Morris Lieberman
Temple Chizuk Amuno
1243 Parkside
Brooklyn NY
Dear Rabby,
Behold. I am sorry if I pissed thou off.
That better?
Chas. Banks
3d Base
P.S. Here is something else I just found. “And the Lord said unto Noah, of every beast thou shalt take to thee seven and seven, each with his mate, male and female, to keep seed alive on the face of the earth.” If this means what I think it does, you and me are going to have a little talk. He’s still a kid, for Christ’s sake.
* * *
* * *
Alexander Hamilton Junior High School
To: All Seventh Graders
From: Mrs. Hicks
Mr. Demarest
Re: Summer Assignment
We are proud to announce that Alexander Hamilton Junior High is one of 200 schools chosen to participate in Mrs. Roosevelt’s national essay contest. This year’s competition is entitled “If My Father Were President.” You are encouraged to be as creative as possible, but within certain limitations. The last time we did something like this, six fathers were spies, nine were gangsters, and one of them was Orville Wright. Mrs. Roosevelt has neither the time nor the patience for this kind of nonsense.
Papers should be neatly handwritten on ruled paper, and should not be longer than 500 words. They will be due on the first day of school in September.
Have a wonderful summer!
* * *
* * *
IF MY FATHER WERE PRESIDENT
BY JOSEPH MARGOLIS
If my father were president, I think he would be a very good
I think my father would make a really good president because
If my father shot Nana Bert then he might make a good president, but only if
How the Hell should I know what kind of a president my father would make? Most of the time I don’t even know where he is.
If my father were president, he would sit in the Oval Office and
* * *
* * *
Temple Chizuk Amuno
1243 Parkside Avenue • Brooklyn, New York
Charles Banks
227 West 94th Street, Apt. 14-A
New York, New York
Dear Charles:
Thank you for your generous invitation to attend Joseph’s birthday gathering. However, my wife and I keep a strictly Kosher home and I’m afraid a supper club is a little out of our league. But I’m sure it will mean a great deal to Joseph.
Of course I know you’re not going to convert. Thirteen-year-old boys have been attempting to hoodwink me since 1919, and there are few such scams I have not encountered before—though I must admit that this one earns high marks for originality. But let’s allow him to think he’s getting away with it.
Don’t be alarmed by Tuesday’s lesson, for I am confident that Joseph will do well. I suspect he is merely testing you—and winning. Of course, you could always find a way to turn the tables on him; however, I am willing to wager a Kiddush cup that he is even more stubborn than you are.
Good luck. This is shaping up to be quite a contest.
Respectfully,
Rabbi Morris Lieberman
* * *
INTERVIEWER: Donald M. Weston, Ph.D.
SUBJECT: Joseph Charles Margolis
A: It was the best birthday I ever had. Charlie and Hazel took us to Delmonico’s for dinner. The whole world was there. Aunt Carrie even got a kiss from Robert Montgomery.
Q: I’ll bet that changed her mind about Charlie, huh?
A: Not all the way. She doesn’t call him a shagitz any more, but every time she starts to call him Charlie her mouth gets stuck. This is gunna take a little work.
Q: Did you see Winchell’s column?
A: Yeah. He spelled my name wrong, though. And he said we live in Queens, not Brooklyn. He’s a troublemaker.
Q: How so?
A: Ethel Merman was at the next table and he kept trying to start a fistfight between her and Hazel. Then Charlie tripped him and he went away.
Q: Good for Charlie. Hazel’s too much of a trouper to fall for that anyway.
A: No she isn’t. She talked to the waiter for a long time and gave him some money, and somehow Ethel Merman wound up with a Diet Special instead of steak and a baked potato. You could hear her on Madison Avenue. Boy, she screams loud.
Q: Some people call that singing. I never understood it myself.
A: Then we went to Tuxedo Junction. Hazel sang “My Funny Valentine” right to me, and then I went on the stage with her and we did the “I Like New York In June” song just like Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland do it in Babes on Broadway. We practiced it for a whole week so we could surprise everybody. Smokes, me and my Mom signed more autographs than Charlie did.
Q: Did you get a lot of presents?
A: You bet. My mother bought me a watch with an aviator dial and Aunt Carrie got me a black zipper jacket that says GIANTS on the back and Craig got me The Shadow’s Secret Code Book and Hazel gave me a little Victrola with all of Glenn Miller’s records, especially “String of Pearls” and “In the Mood.”
Q: What about Charlie?
A: He asked me what I wanted and I told him Citizen Kane at the Radio City Music Hall, but he said he could do a lot better than that. Just between you and me I think he’s gunna buy me a saxophone because he hates it when I get spit all over his.
Q: I could be wrong, but I’d look out for a different kind of surprise if I were you.
* * *
Dear Joey,
Me and Stuke and Mel Ott and Burge Whitehead and Mickey Witek stayed up all night listening to the War News on the radio. Maybe your right after all. Adolf and His Singing Assholes are lining up on the Russian boarder, the Brits knocked 26 Messershmits out of the sky, th
e Two Little Pigs kicked us out of Berlin and Rome, and Ickes stopped selling our oil to Japan. Now Gehrig is gone. Go figure it. Hitler has already killed a million people but he’s still alive. All Iron Horse ever did was play in 2130 straight games but he isn’t. It makes your guts feel kind of funny on account of thinking that it’s all getting ready to hit us at once. You better make sure your pal in the White House is on the ball and not playing hooky at Hide Park or etc., and that Mrs. R gets her ass out of the strip mines or having tea with some little Suzy Glutz so she can go back home to Washington and make sure the 4-flusher she is married to is doing his job and not just walking the damn dog. For better or for worse we are stuck with him now, and for the long haul too. But come to think of it, maybe Willkie was not such a hot idea after all.
The radio keeps making me think about Noah. “And God said The end of all flesh is come before Me, for the earth is filled with violence.” I hope this does not mean you and me and Hazel and your Mom and Aunt Carrie and Craig and Stuke, on account of what did we do? And that reminds me Iron Fists. We only have 3½ more months and we are way behind where we are suppose to be. The Rabby even bet me that we would not be able to pull it off in time. If we win I get a kiddish cup, whatever that is. If we don’t, I will probably lose my shirt on account of Stuke and the boys found out about the bet and are buying pieces of the action like they were Brandy Bottle Bates or Scranton Slim or somebody. This could cost me alot of $$$$$$$. So you better come up swinging Bucko. Your suppose to know it better than me, and not the other way around.
Charlie
P.S. Our bat-boy got a 16 year old girl pregnant. Counting backwards we figured out that it happened in our locker room in Saint Louis. What a guy. We never thought he had it in him. But they got rid of him anyway due to not being good for our image, which shows you what a bunch of heads they are in the front office. Everybody knows that kids are suppose to make mistakes or else they would not be normal. Sometimes you can even be proud of it like when I was 15 and got in a contest where you were suppose to drink 4 beers and see who could piss the farthest. I was the only one who could hit the mayor’s Stutz on the other side of the road, except nobody told me that the mayor was in it with the window down. And even though he tried to run me over, the other guys looked at me like I was a king or something. (Come to think of it this is all a lie—so maybe you will just have to take my word for it.)
P.S.2. Oh, yeah. We have a backup kid in NY but his old man will not let him travel with us. That means until we find a new one, we will need another bat-boy for our next road trip. Know anybody?
* * *
* * *
Dear Charlie,
Please please please please please please please please
please please please please please please please please
please please please please please please please please
please please please please please please please please
please please please please please please please please
please please please please please please please please
please please please please please please please please
please please please please please please please please
please please please please please please please please
please please please please please please please please
please please please please please please please please.
Joey
* * *
* * *
Dear Joey,
That is the last time I ever let you pick the movie. Even at the Radio City. Or maybe I missed something. He starts a newspaper then grows a mustashe and screws everybody except his wife. That took 2 hours. And the only thing we find out is that he called his sled Rose Bush? Your taste is in your ear.
Some things to remember.
Mister Terry only has one rule but with 4 parts in it. No drinking, no gambling, no late hours and no women. This goes double for you. All of it.
You get ten per and cakes. This is player talk and it means two fins per game and barley. Come to think of it, this is player talk too and it means $10 and eats. I can not spell it out any better than that. You can have $2 of it but your mother gets the rest.
Your job is to hand us our bats and shut up. Last night at the Radio City you did not talk for almost 10 minutes so I know you can do it.
A couple of times a day I will ask you such questions as “What did God say to Noah?” and “How many floors were in the Ark?” and etc. If you know the answers in both languages you can go out with us after the game. If you don’t, your grounded at the hotel.
If you get homesick just tell me and we can call your Mom and Aunt Carrie. It does not mean your a baby or anything like it.
The sleeper to Boston leaves at 11:00 in the P.M. on Sunday night. Craig can come to the Pennsylvania Station with us but only if he does not sneak on the train. I will check your suitcases right after All Aboard just to make sure he is not in one of them.
For the next 2 weeks your a NY Giant. Don’t forget it.
Happy birthday again.
Charlie
P.S. They stopped writing about Stuke’s triple play on account of DiMaggio. So Stuke started a hitting streak of his own. Right now it is up to 2 games.
* * *
* * *
Dear Charlie,
The cat’s out of the bag. Rabbi Lieberman called our house today to find out if you had a talus and a yarmulke already or if you wanted to buy one from the Temple just in case. But my Mom was out shopping for pillowcases so Aunt Carrie answered the phone instead. And even though she sometimes does boneheaded things like make gefilte fish for Pistol Pete Reiser, she’s no dummy and it didn’t take her long to put two and two together. First she told my Mom she was going to open a vein, and then she said she was going to stick her head in the oven. But instead she called Edith Snyder and they went to Gimbel’s Tea Room for lunch. That always gets her back to normal. And Robert Montgomery kissing her probably helped you out too. The last thing she said to my mother before she closed the subject was, “All right, Ida. A man who’s willing to learn the Torah can’t be all bad even if he is a Gentile. But if my nephew marries a shikse, let it be on your head.” So I think you’re winning.
I’m bringing my crystal set with me on the road because Craig says that in Boston you can pick up signals from Berlin. I think he’s full of shit but what if he’s not?
Joey
* * *
* * *
DiMaggio Stopped at 56; Giants Hit the Road
NEW YORK, July 17. Indians hurlers Al Smith and Jim Bagby joined forces in a front-line assault on Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio at Cleveland tonight, and ended the Yankee Clipper’s unassailable hitting streak at 56 consecutive games—the longest in baseball’s history.
“At least we won the game,” DiMaggio told his teammates when it was over. “Now let’s get out there and win some more.”
Behind the formidable pitching of Lefty Gomez, New York held Cleveland to four hits and one run before threatening in the ninth, when fireman Johnny Murphy put out the blaze for good. The final score: Yanks 4, Redskins 3.
DiMaggio was retired three times and walked once.
Meanwhile, Bill Terry’s fourth-place New York Giants begin a two-week road trip that will take them to Boston, Cincinnati and Chicago. Whether they can gain any ground on the seemingly unstoppable Dodgers and Cards depends largely upon Carl Hubbell’s arm, Charlie Banks’ bat, and Jordy Stuker’s glove. Skipper Terry is hoping that the injury-plagued lineup will be able to repair itself in time for the next
* * *
* * *
Dear Hazel,
Right now I am stuck in a compartment all alone on The Patriot Limited looking out of the window at Connecticut trees in the dark, and I can’t get out because Charlie won’t let me. I’m very sad. I thought this was supposed to be a birthday present, but as soon as we got here he turned into General MacArthur or somebody. And the only thing I did was show my best
friend Craig what a peachy keen train this was and after he left I played a couple games of Old Maid with Stuke and Mel and Burge, even though I kept losing. But Charlie yells at me for everything. Even when I was hungry and went to get a hamburger.
Could you please tell him to lay off? Just a little bit? Smokes, I’m only a boy. And maybe I’m also sort of scared because this is my first time away from home. Thanks.
Love,
Joey
* * *
* * *
Dear Toots,
I think you better learn how to bake cakes with such things in them as files and saws and etc. because after I kill this kid I will be doing a long stretch in the Jug. Right now he is locked in our compartment on the train and the only one who has the key is the porter who is not allowed to open it up for anybody but me. But that does not stop him from trying to bribe whoever he hears walking outside. Mel Ott almost said yes for $20.
This road trip is only 2 hrs. old and I already feel like I just played 3 double headers. I should of seen it coming before we even left the Pennsylvania Station. Him and the Japanese kid were wearing the exact same shirts and pants and shoes and socks on purpose so that if you looked at them real fast and did not notice such things as eyes and etc. you would think they were the same brat and get mixed up in the head, especially if you were a conducter. The railroad had to throw Craig off the train 3 times while we were still in the station and the 3d time was because they caught the 2 of them in the diner eating burgers and shakes and charging it to the NY Giants. So I booted Craig out the door, put Joey in the compartment, and told him not to move until I got back. This was on account of his family on the platform who were not finished with me yet. The mother gave me a bag of more pointy coconut things which I should of never told her I liked due to there being enough of them to feed Massachusets and part of Road Island, and also a briskit with directions in writing about heating it up and gravy and etc., like I would know what to do with an oven even if they gave us one which they don’t. Then it was the Aunt’s turn to give a speech about Joey’s teeth. I always thought there was only one way to do it. You put the powder on the damn brush and then stick it in your mouth and call it a ball game. But she had enough instructions to build a B-17 bomber, and then finished by telling me that if I did not keep him away from the bad element, let it be on my head. What a laugh. He is the bad element. Then we left. But when I got back to the compartment the kid was gone. Where he was was at the other end of the smoker with Stuke’s dice and the whole team around him, rolling 7’s and saying such things as “Aunt Carrie needs a new girdle” and etc. By the time I got there he was in the middle of a joke that started with Superman flying over the beach and seeing Wonder Woman lying there on her back naked with her legs open and ended with Wonder Woman saying “What was that?” and the Invisible Man saying “I don’t know but my asshole sure hurts.” And when the little shit said asshole there was a space in the middle. After that I locked him up.