The Black Fury

Born Wrong (1)

A LEGITIMATE ISSUE

Among my earliest memories were the women. Showgirls that Ma usedta work with, the Italian and Irish ladies in the market, at the beauty salon, just around the neighborhood. They wouldn't let me alone, always rufflin' my hair an making with the comments. Ma said I should be proud - weren't every kid had a mop as glorious as mine. It was something special - the color, the way she let it grow out a bit ta exaggerate its special qualities.

Ma usedta sometimes look at me with tears in her eyes. 'Jimmy,' she'd say. 'You're gonna be a heartbreaker, I swear ta Gawd. So handsome ... ya look just like him.'

Back then all the attention my hair got just bugged me. I wished it was black or brown or even a proper sandy blonde, like the other kids in the neighborhood. When I got older my feelings was more mixed on the subject - when yer 15 years old and some smoochie is runnin' her fingers through yer locks, its somewhat different from the older middle age broads ... course, within a few years I didn't mind em so much, neither. 

But was that all I was? Mebbe if  I didn't have a mind and ambitions. After a while Ma's fixation on our looks ta the exclusion of all else, did bug me. After all I was James Whitfield, an I was more than just the exterior - I learned pretty fast that if ya was seen as one thing, all else ya may be was ignored.

We lived in a tenament buildin' - Ma always said one day we'd have a house by the shore. She was just one break away from the big break. Either she'd be back on stage or somebody'd spot her for the potential starlet she was. Ma was still in her twenties an thirties in them days, an next ta the dowdy types on our block she was what they called a knockout. There was always some bum moochin' around, promisin' her the world - that they'd put her in their chorus line or if she was extra nice they had a part fer her in some production or other.

Most ways they was lyin' or stretchin' the truth, but Ma always fell fer their line a patter.

Still ... one stood above em all. The only one she kept tryin' ta put on the ritz fer. 

One day, round about 1906, I was six years old. Ma did her make up an put on this silky tight clingin' dress that had see better times. 'He'll recognize me in it. He bought it fer me, swear ta Gawd,' she told me, as I sat in my sunday suit while she pulled up a pair of silk stockings an then stood, puttin' this big floppy hat on. She was dressed all in cream white, her red hair shining an smellin' of strawberries.

We reached the rally an struggled through the crowd. 'He's there!' she breathed, pointin' ta the bigshots on the podium, her kitten heels clacking as we moved forward.

Young as I was, I dint have ta ask twice who he was ... only one guy with platinum blonde hair, standin' out like the god Apollo among his sycophantic worshippers. My old man. 

Back in 06' I just knew he was important ... just not, how n why. Assembleyman Anthony Marley, he was at that time ... later on New Jersey Congressman Marley.

Ma was wavin like crazy now and he finally sees her - looks all strange like at this dark haired woman by his side, but she was preoccupied with a dark haired baby in her arms.

He exits the platform and Ma drags me off ta the side.

The Assembleyman looks pissed. 'Jesus, Marla! What the hell you doin' here?'

Ma stands her ground. 'You got responsibilities, Tony. Jimmy ... meet yer dad.'

He looks down at me - even if he wanted ta deny it, one look at my face n hair sends that thought away.

Instead he blusters. 'Marla, baby ... it ain't like that.' He ruffles my hair.

'How's it like, Tony? Three years!It's been three years!' Ma ain't backin' down. Now she's got him here near our neighborhood, she's takin' advantage. We got rights!

Tony coughs. 'He's a fine lookin' boy ... but lissen up, honey. I toldya, since Mary gave birth I ... I ... things have been different.'

'You got TWO sons, Tony!'

He nods. 'Yeah ... I'm sorry. I could come around from time ta time an ... that the dress I boughtcha? You're still a good lookin' woman, Marla.'

'Yeah, its the same dress. I had ta wear it on accounta how I ain't got nothin new an no money ta spare fer your son ta have a few luxuries. Swear ta Gawd, Tony ...'

He puts his hands on Ma's slender shoulders. 'Look ... I can fix all that, baby, but ya gotta swear ya don't come nowhere near Mary. Don't come inta the city, ya don't call.'

'Mebbe I will call, Tony,' she places her hands on her hips, then her look softens. 'I miss ya, is all. Dint I treat ya good, Tony? Dint I? Ya still love me, don'tcha?'

Then he was kissin' Ma. Plantin' a big one on her red lips. He draws back. 'I'll make an excuse, send Mary and my staff back an come round. You still at the same place?'

Ma puts on her sarcastic voice, but with a hint of a loving smile. 'Seein as ya dint set us up like ya promised, Tony, yeah ... still the same old dump.'

Tony nods. 'We can fix that ... look, I gotta guy. He can be trusted. I'll give you his number later when I come round. If ya need ta get me a message, call him and only him. Fridays only unless there's an emergency. Say, ya still got that red underwear I bought ya?'

Ma nods.

Tony smiles. 'Wear it fer me later, baby.'

An that was the day I met my father an the start of his somewhat intermittant presence in my life.

Years later I realised there was a word fer dames like Ma, who fell in love with guys like Tony.

She was his Goomah.

TBC