Read Last Days of Summer Online
Authors: Steve Kluger
Tags: #Humour, #Adult, #Historical, #Young Adult
Last Days of Summer (28 page)
Dear Joey-San,
I just heard it on the radio and I thought it was that rock-head Orson Welles making suckers out of us again like he did with the Martians. But then Pop said it was true, and I
had
to believe it. Are you okay?
Joey-San, remember when my grandma died and I cried for three days until you got me the Hornet ring? Well, Uncle Mits said something to me that I'll never forget. He said, “Craig, if you think about all the happy times, you won't be sad
anymore.” And the reason I'll never forget it is because I tried it myself and found out that my uncle was full of baloney. I guess what I mean is that only Charlie could have stopped Bierman from ganging up on us, and only Charlie could have taken you on a road trip, and only Charlie could have made the Gophers think I was some kind of prize at 3d base even though I secretly stink, and only Charlie could have gotten Rachel to love you back. And he did all these things because he wanted to. So think about the happy times and when you start to cry anyway it's because you should. Charlie earned it.
As soon as they let us out of here I'm coming to Brooklyn to visit you, even if I have to walk. And you know I mean that.
Friends forever,
Craig
P.S. I'll give you back the Hornet ring too, if you think it'll help you feel better.
P.S.2. I didn't really like Mel Ott better than him. He knew that, didn't he?
Temple Chizuk Amuno
1243 Parkside Avenue ⢠Brooklyn, New York
Dear Joseph:
Please allow me to express my sadness over Charlie's passing, and to assure you that our entire congregation shares your sorrow as well. He was a compassionate man who cared a great deal for you, and who never seemed to give less than he had. You can always be proud of him.
Kaddish will be said in his memory on Friday night, and yahrtzeit candles will be delivered to your home. Naturally, this is somewhat unusual given the fact that he was a Protestant; however, since we've already broken all of our remaining rules for Charlie Banks, we felt that this should be no exception.
Should you find your grief too difficult to bear alone, remember that I am always available.
Warmest regards,
Rabbi Morris Lieberman
Dear Sprout,
I guess this is what it must feel like to lose a leg or something, when you know you're never going to be in one piece again no matter how well they teach you how to walk. Charlie wasn't only my friend, he was the part of me that always knew the right things to do (like asking Veronica Lake for a date) & the wrong ones (like picking a fight with Phil Masi & starting a brawl that cost us the game with the Braves). But even when I gummed up the works, he never got sore. All he said was “See? Don't let it happen again.” And I watched him do the same thing for you. That was our buddy. Sprout.
I wanted you to know how it happened because you were the one he was thinking about at the end. It was d-day plus 2 when me & a patrol of eight other guys got ambushed on the beachâthey had us pinned behind a log on our bellies & there was no way for us to get out. So Marantz. radioed back to the
Farragut
but they couldn't send in any reinforcements because the shell fire was too thick. Then Charlie found out about it. And when he did, he clipped a corporal on the chin, snitched a Higgins boat, and buffaloed his way through 70 tons of heavy artillery like he was dodging raindrops or something. When he finally rolled up onto the beach I asked him “What took you so long?” and he said “I couldn't find a place to park, move your ass.” Just like when he used to bat me home from third so I wouldn't jinx the dirt. And all I remember about crawling back to the boat was thinking “I sure hope Dorothy Lamour appreciates this”
when from behind me Charlie whispered “Say Stuke? Whatever you do, don't tell Joey about this. Otherwise he'll want to try it himself.” Then there were two shots and the ball game was over. But the rest of us made it back alive.
You had it figured right when you called him a hero. But you only knew the half of it. When you're old enough so that you & me can go out and get crocko together, I'll tell you the other half myself. That's a promise.
Your pal,
Stuke
Dear Joey,
I called your house twice, but your aunt said you couldn't talk to anybody. I guess I can understand why. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.
Yankee Doodle Dandy
is playing at the Kings, but I won't go unless you take me. Even if I have to miss it. So call me when you come home from Wisconsin. Please, please.
Love,
Rachel
Charlie Banks Laid to Rest
R
ACINE
, W
ISC
., Saturday. Charles Linden Banks, intrepid slugger for the New York Giants whom many felt was destined to become one of the greatest baseball players of all time, was buried with honors next to his brother Harlan in a simple graveside service here today. A private in the U.S. Marine Corps since Pearl Harbor, Banks was killed at Guadalcanal on August 9âtwo days after his 25th birthdayâas he was attempting to rescue a squad of Marines who had been pinned to the beachhead by enemy fire.
Among those in attendance were his widow, singer Hazel MacKay, and representatives from each of the teams that both feared and respected him: Stan Musial of the Cardinals, Lou Boudreau of the Indians, Tommy Henrich of the Yankees, Phil Cavaretta of the Cubs, Early Wynn of the Senators, Mickey Owen of the Dodgers, Johnny Pesky of the Red Sox, Johnny Vander Meer of the Reds, Ernie
Dear Joey,
When I got home from Penn Station I found a condolence telegram from Ethel Merman, but I didn't think it could possibly be realâI was convinced that Charlie was putting one over on me from Up There. “Hey, Toots. How's this for a ringer? Just in case you thought I wouldn't be around any more.” So I figured I'd call his bluff by inviting her up for tea. She said yes. Now I've got to go through with it. My husband is laughing his head off.
I don't know about you, but I can remember one or two occasions in the past when you and Charlie and I had a slightly better time than we did on Saturday. I thought I was doing pretty well in the tears department until Aunt Carrie read from Philippians. “So now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life or by death.” Until that moment, I had no idea how much she cherished him. And of course your eulogy did me in completelyâbut that was no surprise. What on earth would have happened to him if he hadn't met you? The Charlie I fought with was the one who'd turn up every fifteen minutes with a black eye or a bloody nose. The Charlie I married was the one who learned the Torah and won Father of the Year. You made all the difference, Joey.
I told you once before that it was our job to take care of himâand we did it to the end. I'm so glad he's got his brother to look out for him now. He and Harlan haven't played ball together in nine years, and now they've got all the time in the world.
Thank you for being there for him. And for me, too.
Love always,
Hazel
P.S. Just before you left California, Charlie sent me something that he wanted you to have in case this ever happened. So I'm enclosing it here. When you open it, pretend he's writing to you from a road trip. And in a way, he is.
Dear Joey,
I hope that you never get to read this because if you do it will mean that I lied to you when I said I would always be here. But nobody ever told me about such things as Pearl Harbor and etc., or else I would of put “maybe” at the end.
You do not have to worry about growing up anymore because the hardest part is over. There are only a couple more things you need to know before your ready to do the rest without me.
1. Your head and your heart are two different things. One of them can get you into trouble and the other one can't. It's okay to be scared when you can't tell them apart. That happened to me every day of my life. But nobody ever saw it except you.
2. Everyone has something worth it inside of them even if it doesn't show. Sometimes you have to look a little harder than other times but don't give up. Otherwise all your going to see is a sorehead who plays 3d base.
3. When you get famous or rich and maybe you think that you wish I was there to see it, remember that one way or the other I am.
The last thing you will always remember is the most important one. A long time ago I told you I did not know for a fact yet that you were somebody special. Now I do.
I love you Bucko.
Charlie
Racine Chamber of Commerce
presents
CHARLIE BANKS DAY 1977
SUNDAY, AUGUST 7, 1977
S
CHEDULE OF
E
VENTS
10:00 a.m.
Flag-raising at the
Banks Gravesite
Park Cemetery, Racine
Guest Speakers
Jimmy Carter,
President of the United States
Julian McKenna,
Governor of Wisconsin
Joseph Margolis,
Author; Sportswriter
12:00 noon
Buffet Lunch
Veterans Hall
2:00 p.m.
Waterford vs. Racine
(1977 County League Champions)
Racine Baseball Field
T
ICKETS
: $100
Proceeds to benefit the
Charles L. Banks Scholarship Trust,
University of Wisconsin
August 7, 1977. What would have been Charlie's 60th birthday. The Racine Chamber of Commerce collected almost $50,000 this time. That means that two kids are going to the University of Wisconsin who wouldn't have had a prayer otherwise. Go, Badgersâcourtesy of Charlie Banks. Not bad for a guy who didn't know how to spell “Illinois.”
Actually, I hadn't intended to participate; I've been turning them down for fifteen years, much like that Navy guy who was one of the Iwo Jima flag-raisers but hasn't given an interview since 1946. Some things hurt a little too much to bring up again. But then my nine-year-old sat me down for a heart-to-heart.
Chucky:
Was his glove in the Hall of Fame when you wrote him the letters?
Me:
Not yet.
Chucky:
Was his picture on shirts?
Me:
Not yet.
Chucky:
Did he take you to places?
Me:
All the time.
Chucky:
Did he show you how to do things?
Me:
Yes.
Chucky:
Did you love him?
Me:
Very much.
Chucky:
Then I think you should go.
Â
That was when I opened the box that I sealed forever thirty-five years ago. The first thing I found was the Purple Heart, then the Oak Leaf Cluster. Both of them were stuck in the envelope with one of his allotment checks. I thought I'd be afraid to look in his wallet, because I still remembered what was insideâbut then I surprised myself by suddenly wanting very much to see it. Yeah, it was there all right. Stuke snapped it at Crosley Field in
Cincinnati when we were both wearing Giants uniforms. (God, I was a shrimp! Where I came off having that loud a mouth on that small a body is a conceit I'd rather not pursue.) Charlie's hand is squashing down my cap, and I'm giving him a dirty look. He's just said to me, “If you were any shorter I could sign autographs on your head.” And if it hadn't been quite so true, I'd have kicked him.
Then I found the letters. And you know something? I was right. Some things hurt a little too much to bring up again. Especially when your nine-year-old has just hit the nail on the headâwhen it turns out that the thing that's been haunting you for most of your life is wondering if he ever knew how much you'd loved him in return. But the first envelope proved to me that looking back had not been a mistake after all. “
I almost gave up on you. Guess I should of known better. Happy 1941. From your buddy
.” He knew.
A couple of loose endsâ¦
Hazel MacKay lives in a Manhattan townhouse designed by her husband, who's spent most of their twenty-six years together giving Frank Lloyd Wright a real run for his money. Upon turning fifty, she reluctantly conceded that her ingenue days were probably over and has since settled for a series of concert tours around the country, proving to her sold-out audiences that “for a middle-aged broad” she's still got what it takes to bring them to their feet. Oh, yeah. She finally buried the hatchet with Ethel Merman. In 1975 they were both asked to perform on a CBS anniversary jubileeâand for twenty minutes it was just the two of them side-by-side on a pair of stools, harmonizing their greatest hits together. No one who was watching will ever forget it.
Jordy Stuker became the only left-handed first base
man in National League history to land a date with Ava Gardner. Though the press made the most of it, nothing much ever came of the relationship. She thought he was Mickey Mantle, and he was under the impression she was Lana Turner. (“They don't make 'em like they used to.”) In 1955 he hit the road with Jack Kerouac and never quite recovered from the experience. For the past twenty years he has taught Philosophy at a small college in New Hampshire, where his students are only permitted to call him Stuke. He made Hall of Fame in 1962.
My mother is still keeping a Kosher home at eighty-eight. I got her a housekeeper, of course, but there really didn't seem to be much point.
Me:
Mom, what are you doing?
Mom:
Waxing the floorâwhat does it look like I'm doing? The girl's coming tomorrow. Do you want her to think I live like a pig?
Â
She never listened to another Giants game after Charlie died. When the team moved west, she shed no tears. These days she's into college football.
Aunt Carrie lived to see my first book published. She read the galleys, then asked me if my editor was a
shikse
. Of course. I remember Passover that yearâthe last Seder we shared with her before she gave in to the cancer that nobody but Aunt Carrie knew she had. Generally, I was in charge of the prayers, but on this particular Pesach my aunt requested one of them for herself. “Next year in Jerusalem,” she said with a quiet dignity that we weren't able to appreciate until it was too late. A month later she passed away, and I still believe, with all my heart, that she completed her journey to the Promised Land.
Craig Nakamura is a civil liberties attorney in San Francisco, specializing in internment redress. One of these days he's going to convince the government to cough up what it still owes to 120,313 American citizens. The last time I visited him we drove down to Manzanar, figuring that time had erased all traces of what had gone on there and restored the land to the apple orchard it once was. We weren't quite so luckyâthe guardhouses, the barbed wire, and the foundations were still all too visible. After a little rooting around, we found the spot where his barracks had been and the field where I'd watched him smack a pair of doubles to deep center. Then we both cried and we hugged each other. Sometimes that's all it takes.
My father passed away on March 12. There were only three people at the funeral, and Nana Bert wasn't one of them. A former business associate was overheard to say, “I just wanted to make sure that the son-of-a-bitch is really gone. I never did trust him.” The rabbi couldn't find anyone to deliver the eulogy, so he volunteered to do it himself. After struggling with the text for three days, he finally threw in the towel, mumbled a couple of prayers from Ecclesiastes, and called it a ball game. It didn't much matter to me one way or the other. I lost my Dad in 1936. But I got a much better deal all the way around.
I started my own family in 1961. January 20th, as a matter of factâthe day Jack Kennedy was inaugurated. (God, how Banks would have hated him. “He did to the country what he did to Marilyn Monroeâonly at least she got dinner out of it.” And etc.) By the way, I married Rachel after all. Charlie always told me to stick with my instincts, and Rachel was a very early one. Chucky's got two older sistersâSarah, who's eleven, and Jenny, who's fourteen. We live in a three-story brownstone in
the Borough of Brooklyn, four subway stops from my old neighborhood. And if you paid me a million dollars, I wouldn't move anywhere else in the world. Know why? Because the way things turned out, Brooklyn was never about my Dad after all.
Brooklyn wasâand still isâabout Charlie.
