Monday, January 17, 2011
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Daddy Local Man..... The End

Jimmy had appeared at my window. That meant he had to have sneaked out of his house, sneaked into our yard, let down the fire escape ladder without making noise, climbed up and waited. I had no idea how long he had been there and I had no idea what he had planned to do.

When I saw him at my window, I was just falling off to sleep. I was so scared! I could never tell anyone what happened.

The next day was Sunday. We went to church on Sunday, not Daddy, but Mom and my sister. I had no choice otherwise, my father would kill me. By this time, I couldn’t figure out who I wanted to kill me. Who would do it the fastest and the most painlessly? I figured my father was a better choice because Jimmy would skin me alive.

But why?

I sang in the choir. I was the soloist. The problem was that one of Jimmy’s sisters also sang in the choir. We got through the mass and though I tried to leave with the other choir members the two amazons, Jimmy’s sisters, one fifteen and the other, sixteen, cornered me.

“Excuse me.” I said to Siobhan the eldest. “I have to go to meet my mother right now.” Her sister stood in front of me. “Don’t tell.” she said with her chin leaning into my face. I ran passed her and flew down the stairs.

The next day Jimmy's father was arrested.

This is what my father told me.

It started before I was born. It was 1942. War. Though we were essentially safe. Daddy said that each neighborhood nevertheless took precautions. My father, the electrician, became an Air Raid Warden. He served quite honorably until June 1945 by which time he was an established member of the local police precinct’s poker games. He was tight with the cops. This was the thing Mom was alluding to when she said,” Some things are best left unsaid.”

“But, you see I did not want to concern mother with such issues. It went beyond poker. You know how things are at home.” He lit up a ciggy, blew into the air, widened his mouth till I thought that it would break while the cigarette rocked precariously on his lips, rubbed his large nose with his left hand and put up his collar around his thin neck with his right hand all while puffing away.

We were sitting in the backyard. It was a windy day. The story had come out but not in the newspapers because the cops at the precinct would have gotten hell for it. If it had been in the paper, it would have read:

Local Man Felice Zucchero Undercover Narc Foils Drug Gang and Prevents Murder.

Daddy was a thin man of 5 foot 6 perhaps a little taller with a small potbelly. He had thick salt and pepper hair, a small ruddy face and a five o’clock shadow that came out before he got off the train in the evening. He had small brown eyes, a huge nose and ears to match.

Daddy didn’t look like a narc. Well, he wasn’t exactly a narc but he wasn’t a stoolie either, he was quick to point out, because he took no money. He was a rather simple man who had gone from helping his community during the war to now doing his civic duty in another way.

They called him ‘ears’.

I was not breathing: could not take the chance. Sure, it was an incredible story. However, what was more incredible was the fact that my father was talking to me: in full sentences.

“It started with small stuff. I would go to play checkers or play cards and one night the lights were out in the Captain’s quarters so the Captain naturally asked me to fix it: Me being an electrician and all. I figured I had the privilege of hanging around the precinct so it was like paying dues. I made my way to the basement where the electric fuse box was located and in a few minutes the Captain’s quarters were fine.”

Daddy looked at me. I didn’t know what to do. I froze and tried to smile and I remember that I had to blink but was too afraid. I wasn’t going to be the one to break the spell.

“Well,” he continued, looking rather concerned at me, “that’s how it really started. It was the usual checker game and I was hunched over the board. I had to win this game. Captain Walsh had won the last round and I didn’t want to lose face. The room was tense as I contemplated my next move. Walsh maintained his calm. His wide amiable smile taunted me. We had known each other back to the war days before you were born.”

Daddy turned to me and smiled gently. “He has deep green, understanding eyes you know and your Mom has told me that he sometimes takes his elderly mother to church.”

He took a puff. This was my father?

“The constant tingling of the hourly precinct reports came pouring in, but I won the game.” He straightened up in the chair and wiggled his shoulders to unkink the knot about which he often complained. “I was quite pleased with myself but I knew it was time to leave. It was apparently a busy night in the neighborhood. I stepped out into the rain under the big green light above the precinct signpost and quietly felt proud. I had beaten Walsh but I had been coming and going through that door with the men's respect for years. Then the Captain’s car stopped in front of the precinct door. ‘Hop in Phil.’ He said. ‘But keep your shirt on, understand?’

‘Sure!’ I said.”

“I am not quite sure what year it was, but it was the beginning. After that, I often rode with them. I was quite useful because as an electrician I was able to get into places: Official ID shirt and all. ” Daddy looked at me with an apologetic look. “I began to get what you would call assignments-you know, at Russo’s poker game and listening to things on the street. As far as anyone knew, I was just a leftover air raid warden who had made friends with the cops. No one took me too seriously.” Daddy inhaled deeply, smiled ironically and said. “Jimmy Flynn’s father was already in the picture: just doing punk things. Unfortunately for his family, he moved up last year.” Then Daddy’s face turned stern and he looked down, shaking his head as he stomped on the ciggy. “Bastard should have never gotten his kid involved.”

He quickly turned his face to me. “Do you know why I am telling you all this?” I said ‘no’ with my eyes and a shake of my head. But I did perk up a bit. I was not only supposed to be listening, I was supposed to be understanding! Dad stared ahead, thought for a second, lit up, and inhaled deeply. “There was a make on big Jim. It was me who talked him into going to the Captain." He looked into my eyes. "I took him in myself. It saved his life-he was as sure as dead: now his family can visit him instead of bury him.”



Though he enjoyed a new quiet respect in the neighborhood, Daddy was now ‘made’ and never again walked through the precinct door.

Captain Walsh’s son was stabbed in the schoolyard. Walsh left the force to protect his family.

James Flynn went to jail.

Jimmy Flynn went to reform school.

I was to meet another Jimmy Flynn in my youth.

But, that is another story.

The End

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Posted by m.m.sugar at 6:28 PM