Isabelle and Bud (Click most images for larger versions.)
Less than two weeks later, Bud attended that fateful Halloween party.
After his Jamboree disappointment and his forceful return from Texas, I'm sure going to the party was the last thing he wanted to do, and was only persuaded by much urging on someone's part. But, it proved to be an enchanted evening.
I first noticed him leaning against the fireplace mantle, aloof and alone, not in a party mood by any means. I saw a slim, good-looking, dark-haired stranger across the crowded room and liked what I saw.
"Who's that?" I asked my friend, Rita.
"Who? Him?" Rita asked, not sounding impressed. "That's Bud Simmons, a real smart guy." I thought she meant he was intelligent, but she should have said, "a real smart aleck."
At any rate, although another boy asked me to the party, one Charley Gaulton, and despite the fact another girl invited Bud, he walked home with me...and Charley. It wasn't love at first sight, for we dated others after our Halloween encounter, but gradually we saw more and more of each other until we were only seeing each other. Poor Charley was as much to blame as anyone.
Bud and Charlie were scouts together, best of friends. After the Halloween party, they both started wooing me. It was a friendly rivalry, but sooner or later, I knew someone would get hurt. Sorry, Charlie.
The three of us spent lots of time together, even to the point of going on dates together. I remember riding home from a party with Bud holding one of my hands and Charley the other. They also used to visit me when I was waiting tables nights at Woolworth's restaurant. They would order banana splits, then leave pennies under the dish for a tip. The restaurant was in the basement, so the two of them would wait on the steps to see my reaction when I found the pennies--usually thirteen, for some odd reason. They also took turns meeting me after work to walk me home.
Charlie knew me first and had a real crush on me, but he wouldn't stop telling Bud how fascinating I was to talk to, or how bright I seemed, or how fun I was to be with. He should have kept his mouth shut, because one night when Charlie wasn't able to take his turn meeting me at the restaurant, Bud showed up with a gleam in his eye. And that was that. He'd set his sights on me, and he was always a good shot.
Charlie, crestfallen, had to join the ranks of despondent boys crushed by my choice. To underline my point, I remember a letter from around that time wherein a friend wrote, "Do you realize that you mentioned the names of twenty boys in your last letter?" I didn't, but it didn't come as a surprise either. I always felt more comfortable with boys. Maybe it was due to the gang I used to run with. I don't know, but I liked boys.
Bud was already going to Brooklyn Technical High School when we met, so I knew he was smart, just as Rita had said. But, I quickly learned what she really meant: puns, pranks, and skullduggery. When he graduated, he enrolled in the Radio Corporation of America's (RCA) electronics school. They taught him radio repair, sound and public address systems setup and repair, along with the Morse code--I can still hear him intoning "dah's" and "dit's" in his singsong manner.
In 1930, upon completion of RCA's courses, he became a member of the Institute of Radio Engineers. His first job was assembling electrical parts for the Arma Engineering Company, Inc., in Brooklyn. He left there a year later to be an Assistant to Electrical Engineer at Blue Seal Sound Devices, Inc., in Manhattan. I still have some intricate schematic diagrams he drew of Blue Seal devices. Again, almost exactly a year later, he left Blue Seal to be a service man for Harding Park Radio Services in the Bronx. His final job in New York was for Ted Simons, who would make a disconcerting encore later in California, in his large radio service and repair business.
The business, on Lexington Avenue in Manhattan, was Simons Radio Service, Inc. But, when Bud left, the name had changed to Barclay-Warner, Inc., and Simons owned three shops, plus a retail business selling electronic parts. Bud began as a service man, but worked his way up to the factory supervisor, with a free reign, generally, over employees, work, and parts.
Radio and electronics, then television, were Bud's life calling. He loved the problem solving: discovering what was wrong, fixing it, and then whether there was a way to improve it. He had a tremendous aptitude for that kind of work, plus the intelligence to keep abreast of technology's stupendous progress. Years later, when he had his own repair business, his motto would be, "One Genius to Serve You," due to his public school IQ test.
Genius or not, I kept Bud on his toes. With all those boyfriends hanging around, there was always someone ready to step in, if he neglected me in any way. There was the time he asked me out too late for New Year's Eve.
It was 1931, the year the Empire State Building, the "World's Tallest," was completed. Beer cans appeared that year, as well as sized bras, radios in cars, Scotch tape, sliced bread, paperback books, instant coffee, ballpoint pens, and drive-in theaters. Even television made its debut, but I didn't have a date for New Year's!
I expected to, but I hadn't heard anything from Bud. It bothered me to think he might just assume I'd be his date, like I had nothing better to do than wait on him. And that's why, when a boy at work asked me out, I said, "Yes!"
When Bud found out, he couldn't believe it: "You're going out with him?"
The guy--I can't even remember his name--was a jerk, but I stuck to my guns, explaining to Bud that because I hadn't heard from him I felt it was okay to go out with someone else. I could tell it upset him, but I wanted to teach him a lesson. So, I went out with the jerk from the office.
He took me to dinner, and dancing at the recently restored Waldorf Astoria. It was quite a splurge, although it gained him nothing except the good time. I remember, when we got back to Flatbush, I didn't want him to see where I lived, so I said goodbye on the street. It hurt him, but my family's tiny, ill-appointed "Irish" home embarrassed me too much to invite him up. It was a good thing, too.
When I reached the top of the first flight of stairs, Bud was waiting. It was 12:30 a.m. yet there he was, worried stiff and freezing. He tried to play it calm and cool, but his teeth were chattering. We talked in what I thought were muted voices, because sound traveled so easily up the stairwell, but suddenly my mother threw open the door above us.
"Get up here," she hissed at me.
Obviously, we hadn't been quiet enough.
When I turned to go up the stairs, Bud grabbed my hand. His were like ice, and it made me feel sorry that he'd waited so long in the cold.
"I want you to know that I've made plans for next New Year's," he said.
He'd learned his lesson, but I felt bad for teaching it that way. Regardless, it was the last time I went out with anyone else on New Year's; and I still have the Waldorf Astoria's New Year's wine list from the following year. We went there with my friend, Rita, and a boy I can't remember called Maynard. Bud was trying to make a point by taking me to the same place. He really didn't need to, but I let him anyway.
During the time I was working for Metropolitan Insurance, and Bud was working for Ted Simons, we both commuted into the City. So, every morning Bud would wait for me at the Bergen Street subway station, and we would ride the train together. When he got to use his Dad's car, Bud would pick me up at the station and we would drive over the Brooklyn Bridge. Car or train, we always met at the station because my parents would've killed me, if they found out I was seeing him.
Dad and Mother were strict about whom and when and how I saw boys--they didn't want me getting serious with anyone. Even second dates were frowned on. Of course, it must have driven them crazy, all the boys I did see.
Another reason for my long list of boyfriends came to me as I wrote that last sentence. Children always want to get back at the parents...somehow.
Anyway, that's why I was scared to death the morning Mother decided to go to town with me on the subway. I didn't have a way to contact Bud, so instead, as Mother and I reached the station, I rushed ahead on the platform to warn him. In a panic, I frantically searched, finally seeing him at the last minute, just in time to wave him off.
He caught on immediately--thank God he was sharp--and quickly went up the platform to another car. What a relief. Mother was probably curious about my actions, but if she had seen Bud, she would have told Ike, and there would have been hell to pay.
Because my parents were so stern, I couldn't date during the week, only on weekends. Bud didn't like it, so he made an effort to show up at my work place whenever he could. Unfortunately, I wasn't always happy when he did. Like the time I worked for Metropolitan, sitting at a desk in an office with glass walls, and he came up to the my floor unannounced. The brat! He stood outside the glass staring at me, making little faces, trying to make me laugh, trying to get me into trouble.
His mean streak gave me doubts sometimes, but we slowly became a couple despite that, and despite my parents attempts to keep us apart. Every weekend Bud and I went to a movie. Of course, Mother wasn't aware I went with the same boy, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. When my family stayed at Roxbury, Bud would come out for Sunday visits. Often, we would meet at other beaches so my parents wouldn't know I was seeing him. During other times of the year, we might walk in Prospect Park, if the sun shined, or try to ice skate in cold weather. And I also remember taking classes while we were courting. They were another way for us to be together without my parents knowing.
One class was a writing course by Horace Eleascheff. He was the first husband of Stella Adler, a famous actress at the time, who became even more famous for her acting school in Hollywood: Stella Adler Academy of Acting & Theatres. Mr. Eleascheff was very good and taught me to love writing. My efforts were okay, but when Bud collaborated on my assignments, Mr. Eleascheff always seemed to choose them to read in front of the class. It made me feel great.
Among other classes, Bud and I also took language courses and tennis lessons; anything to be together. But, it was after one of those tennis lessons that I suffered my most embarrassing moment...up till then that is.
I was alone, riding the subway home, disheveled and sweaty, when who should I run into? Bud's mother, Olive, Mrs. Simmons! She was prim and proper, even aloof, and not at all enamored of the Irish lass her son was seeing. My tennis outfit was stained, wrinkled, short and improper in her eyes. Not only did I look a mess, I was also guilty of one of the worst faux pas: carrying a tennis racket on the subway: "Good God!" I have no idea why that was frowned upon, plus there's no way for me to tell you how red I became, but I'm sure that my already flushed appearance only increased due to the encounter. I don't think I've ever felt quite as awkward as I did on that subway car wilting under Ollie's disapproving gaze, while trying to make the racket disappear, but at least I wasn't with someone else!
I was on an errand for Mother one evening, waiting to cross a street, when Bud drove past in his father's car with another woman. They didn't see me, but I grew furious with jealousy. I wouldn't speak with him or go out with him. He told me he was just giving her a ride home from work, but I didn't think it was right. Besides, he didn't even notice me, doting on her so much. I think that hurt as much as seeing them together. At any rate, whether he deserved it or not, I was very hard on poor Bud, and that wasn't the only time.
Due to my jealousy there were several times when we didn't see each other, one time for several months. I realize now that my jealousy was due to a lack of self confidence, a sense of insecurity about myself and my station in life. I felt threatened when I saw him with someone else, someone who I would see as more beautiful, more intelligent, or more acceptable. I guess it's all part of growing up, but I'm very thankful that he kept coming back. Of course, it didn't hurt that he did wonderful things to get back in my good graces.
Bud liked to do little things for me, but when he was in the dog house he pulled out all the stops. He would send cards and letters and inscribe the envelope "Extra Special Delivery!" Candy and flowers would unexpectedly show up at my desk. He would even send telegrams just to say how he couldn't wait for our next date, or something equally inane. I loved it! No matter how upset I might get; he always came up with another way back into my heart.
Because of my jealousy, it probably took a little longer than it should have, but I finally admitted that Bud was the one for me. The problem was: was I the one for his family?
Despite his father's accident, Bud still came from a middle-class WASP environment. The Mills had lived in Brooklyn since way back before the Civil War. They were definitely not Johnnies-come-lately with accents, no education, and cold water flats. Although the Simmons side were immigrants--probably why I got along better with Bud's father--they were from English stock and, therefore, more acceptable. Besides, Ollie and her mother seemed to run things, so their values stood. At any rate, they made me very uncomfortable, and I resented them for it.
Of course, they weren't that thrilled with me either.
The last thing Bud's family wanted was for their only son, their brilliant, golden child to marry an awkward Irish Catholic girl, who's parents were straight off the boat and of little or no means. Bud deserved better in their book. So, to put it mildly, they were rather cool toward me and, at least in my mind, especially after the tennis racket incident.
No doubt, due to some strange form of self-defense, I judged them harshly, too, applying my "gray" terms and critical eye. I didn't try to be more than polite or develop any kind of bond with either Ollie or Mother Mills, until later.
I wonder whether my ease with males had a concomitant dis-ease with females?
Only Robert Alan, perhaps seeing an immigrant's child like his own, treated me with kindness. He would always show me things he'd discovered in the discard bins at Goodwill, offering them to me, if I showed any interest. I still have the small copper chafing dish and stand that he purloined from his job. But, the rest of his family was quite indifferent toward me; as was mine with Bud.
Bud was the first person I met that questioned authority, and it made me uncomfortable. I didn't realize it was how his intelligence and curiosity worked. I didn't even know what an intelligence quotient was. At times, it felt as if he were being dismissive, the way he would quickly dispose of topics I found puzzling, if not intimidating. It was hard for me to admit that not only his intellect, but his life experience to that point allowed him to see beyond my limited perspective. As difficult as it was for me to adjust to him, however, it was much harder for my parents.
Mother and Dad didn't know what to make of this seemingly disrespectful upstart from a Protestant family no less. They resented his briskness, his ease with problem solving, his open examination of values they blindly accepted, and his casual attitude toward what they considered the fundamentals of life. They didn't like him, and they tried to stop me from seeing him, throwing up barriers to our relationship. I was torn between their criticism and my admiration for his uniqueness, but when it came right down to it, I couldn't stop myself from seeing Bud.
Like hearing live classical music for the first time, Bud allowed me to see another way to not only hear, but look, think, and feel. I wanted to learn what he knew, see the world through his eyes, and I think my growing love revealed to me his genius. He was swell.