All My Love, Detrick (19 page)

“Yeah…hurry up, though.”

Dorothy and Carol walked down the stairs together and out into the street.

“I am sorry to bother you, but do you know where I can catch a bus back to the west Side?”

“Sure, why don’t you come and eat with me and then I’ll show you?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“You ain’t got no money, right?”

“Yes…right.” Dorothy looked down ashamed.

“Aww, kid, don’t worry about it. It’s on me.” Carol put her arm around Dorothy.

After
dinner, Carol walked Dorothy to a bench. “This here is where the street car stops,” Carol told her. “Now, listen. Take the 29 to the end of the line, cross the street, and get on number 57. You got that?”

“Yes, I think
so and thank you so much for dinner and…well, and for everything.”

“Aww, kid, don’t worry about it. You’re
gonna like it here at the club. It ain’t heaven, but, hell, it’s a living.”

48

“Ten cents a dance…” Dorothy sang slowly in the deep, throaty, bluesy style that had become her signature.

In less than a week, Dorothy’s popularity began to climb. The clients asked if she would be performing when they purchased their tickets for dances, while Carol proudly reminded everyone that she had discovered the new singer.

Dorothy sang for forty minutes on, twenty minutes off-stage, until the wee hours of the morning. Carol helped her to find suitable costumes. She wore evening gowns of sequins, in bright, eye-catching colors, her rich, auburn hair hanging in tight curls at her waist. The womanly body Dorothy had developed, with ample breasts and wide hips, sent the male customers into a frenzy. Then, Carol helped Dorothy to use lipstick and mascara.

On stage, Dorothy felt like a starlet. But late at night, as she snuck back home and entered the apartment like a criminal trying not to make a sound, she worried about her father’s reaction, should he awaken and confront her.

Oscar Silver knew his daughter; at least he thought he did. In his mind, he felt sure something had gone wrong. Every night Dorothy left the house and did not return until he had fallen asleep. His daughter, his pride, and joy, where did she go? What did she do?

One night when the questions in his mind became more than he could tolerate, Oscar fought the overwhelming exhaustion he felt and decided to stay awake and wait for Dorothy.

Oscar sat in an old, but large, overstuffed chair, gazing out the window, as the morning light began slipping into the room. Dorothy had not yet returned. His heavy heart hammered with worry. He stretched his arms, trying to open his tightened lungs in an effort to breathe deeply.

It was only an hour before he would rise to leave for work that he heard the key move in the lock. Dorothy entered, carrying her high-heel shoes in her hand. She locked the door. Then, turning, she saw the shadow in the shape of her father in the semi-darkness. He sat quietly watching her, and although he had not spoken a word, his anger filled the air like a presence. A shudder crept up her spine as he rose and deliberately walked to the light switch. The silence was so thick that she could hear every step he took as the floor creaked beneath his feet. Once he’d illuminated the room, the misery she saw in his face shook her.

“Look at you…a
curva
…a whore….my baby, my Dorothy! Is this what we came to America for?” He looked her up and down, as if he had never seen her before. The mascara she wore had smeared under her eyes, and although it had worn off, the red of her lipstick stained her mouth.

“I am sick from you…sick I tell you! Where are you going all night? What are you doing?”

His voice echoed through the night.

“Papa, I am a singer in a nightclub. I am sorry, but
it was the only job I could find. You have to understand, Papa. You could not find work either…not for a long time.” She’d fallen to her knees as she took his hands into her own.

“Oy…what about school?
A singer in a nightclub…is this a place for a decent girl? A nice Jewish girl? Dorothy. I am ashamed. I am so ashamed.” He pulled away from her, and then he sat down in defeat.

After falling back into the chair, Oscar Silver put his face in his hands. Then he sobbed, deep, heart-rending sobs. Dorothy stood unable to move. She longed to go to him. No matter what the family had faced, he had never cried before. Her heart beat in terror as she watched him, helpless. The sound of footsteps in the hallway caused her to turn and look. There stood her mother and her uncle, her aunt and her cousin.

Trembling in terror, Dorothy walked slowly toward him, with her arms extended the way she had done as a child. She remembered when he had come home from work how she ran to him, reaching for him.

“Papa,” her voice cracked, barely a whisper. “Papa, please,” she begged him with all of her heart. “Please forgive me, try to understand.”

He stood and walked towards her. Dorothy held her breath. Then he turned away. “Go away from here and never come back! You shame us all! Go!”

“Papa!” she cried, as the tears poured down her face.
“Papa! Please!”

“Go.” The anger had gone from his voice, but he did not look at her as he walked through the grouping of his family and back into the room in the rear of the apartment. The door slammed and the house was silent.

No one spoke; they all dispersed, leaving Dorothy standing alone, her arms still extended in the empty air.

49

The sun had begun to rise as Dorothy boarded the L train. She would ride until the club opened, then she planned to talk to Carol about sharing her apartment. From the end of the line at the north side of the city, to the other end at the south, she rode. Occasionally she slept for a few minutes, then awoke, frightened by the reality of what had taken place the night before.

The club opened in the late afternoon. Although a few clients came in early, most of the first hours
were spent preparing for the evening.

Dorothy arrived, disheveled, still wearing the dress she’d worn the night before. Her makeup
was smeared across her face, and her tangled hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and secured with a rubber band.

“Holy cow, kid!
You look a mess! What happened?” Carol put her arm around Dorothy’s shoulder.

“My father threw me out. I have nowhere to go. I rode the L all night.”

“Tough break.”

“Yes. I don’t know how to ask you this, but….would you consider a roommate? Of course, I will pay half the rent, and I am very clean…and…” Tears rolled from her eyes.

“Dorothy, come on, kid, don’t cry. Yeah, sure, you can stay with me. At least till you get on your feet, all right?” Carol squeezed her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. You can’t go on stage like this.”

Dorothy agreed and they went backstage. Carol, a wizard with cosmetics and hair, pulled Dorothy together in no time.

That night they took the streetcar back to Carol’s small, but clean and comfortable apartment. With only one bedroom, Carol made the couch into a bed. As soon as Dorothy lay her head down, she fell into a deep slumber.

50

At first Dorothy felt out of place, she missed her family. But, as the weeks turned to months and the Chicago winter crept in, she found herself adjusting. Each day she and Carol took the streetcar to work together. She learned that Carol and Fred McGleason kept company. When Fred came to the apartment, and he and Carol disappeared into the bedroom, Dorothy took long walks in order to give them some privacy.

One morning in the dead of winter, Carol awoke with a terrible cold. She sneezed, coughed and sniffled. With red eyes and a running nose, she told Dorothy that she would not be going to work, and asked that she explain the situation to Fred. Dorothy agreed.

Snow and ice covered the ground as Dorothy waited for the streetcar. Watery gray slush splashed under the tires of automobiles and buses as they sped by. Before Dorothy could back away, a large black car turned the corner covering her with dirty water and ice.

“Damn!” she spat the word.

The vehicle came to a halt as the window at the back seat opened. “I am so sorry.” A gentleman with blue-black hair slicked back from his face appeared. “May I give you a ride?”

“No
.” Still brushing the wet snow from her new white coat, she looked at him angrily.

“At least allow me to pay the cleaning bill.”

“No, thank you.”

He wore a black
pinstriped suit and shiny gold jewelry. The driver wore a chauffeur’s cap.

“My name is Anthony Saltiano.”

“Good for you, Anthony Saltiano. You’re holding up traffic.”

The streetcar had come down the street and stood behind Saltiano’s car, waiting for him to move. Dorothy walked around the vehicle and hopped
on board.

When she arrived at work, she informed Fred of Carol’s condition, and he told her to tell Carol to take a few days off and rest.

The following day as she waited for her transportation, Anthony Salitano appeared again. This time he had a bouquet of flowers.

“Hello
again. I brought these to say that I am sorry for yesterday. And please, won’t you allow me to pay the bill for the cleaners?”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” His confidence came off like arrogance to her, and she found him repugnant. Since she had begun working at the ten-cents-a-dance hall, her views on men had changed. She learned from watching them that they had only one thing in mind, and Dorothy decided that she would never be anyone’s sexual toy.

Once again, the streetcar appeared and she walked away from him.

Tony Salitano took pleasure in a challenge.
Women came to him easily, and why not? He had money, good looks, and connections. What else could a man need? But, this little redhead would not give him a second glance…and that only meant that he had to have her.

“Frank…
Follow that streetcar until the dame gets off,” Tony told his chauffeur.

“You got it boss.”

51

A wily grin crept over Tony’s face as he took a seat at the back of the dance club and waited for the cocky little redhead. For a dime, he could hold her in his arms. A sardonic laugh escaped his lips while the girls entered the ballroom. He looked around but did not see her. Well, maybe this one took a long time to get dressed. He didn’t mind. He’d wait all night, if need be.

The piano player’s nimble fingers moved briskly across the keys as the dancers took their places on the floor. Tony had an entire roll of tickets on the table in front of him. He decided he would be that little redhead’s partner for the entire night, if she would just come out of that damn dressing room.

“Ladies and gentlemen…the Diamond Room is proud to present the songstress, Miss Dorothy Silver,” Jeb announced, in a voice that sounded like a bass guitar, projecting through the dance hall from the microphone on the piano.

Dorothy sauntered to the center of the stage, taking the microphone with her. She shook her long curls back from her shoulders and smiled at the audience. Then she sang.

Tony sat, spellbound, as the haunting, melodious voice tapped into his innermost being. “So,” he realized. “She is the singer. I shoulda known. She has too much class to be a ten-cents-a-dance broad.”

Before Dorothy finished her set, Tony had disposed of the tickets. He did not want her to think ill of him.
Instead, he would offer to buy her a drink. Then he would carefully explain his connections and how they might be helpful to a girl starting out in a singing career.

“Hey, who owns this joint?” Tony asked one of the dancers as she walked by his table.

“Fred McGleason. Why?” She flashed her most attractive smile.

“I wanna see him. Tell him I wanna buy the joint.”

“Ya do?” Her eyes lit up.

“Go on and tell him.”

In a few moments, Fred stepped over to the table dragging a chair. He straddled the chair moving it close to the table.

“Yeah…one o’ my girls said you wanna see me about buying the place. Well, it ain’t fer sale.”

Anyone and anything can be bought…for the right price. Even this clown, Tony thought as he studied Fred. But, why? Just to meet the redhead. That’s all he really needed. His charm would take it from there. Tony pulled a bill off the top of a role of hundreds, and laid it on the table. “I don’t need to buy your joint, but I do have a little favor to ask…and I make a habit of rewarding those who do me favors.”