SECTION 8: Appendix A-1 - Appendix A-2 - Appendix A-3 -
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Appendix A-1 - top Mothers Ward p1 Now I moved from the pregnant
dorm to the mother's dorm. We were woken in the wee hours to feed and
care for our babies who were in the nursery. I began having pains and
it was discovered that my right ovarian tube had ruptured during delivery
but ice packs helped and it was soon forgotten. After 6 weeks, I had to
leave. Next thing I remember I was
one block from Madison Ave on skid row in a Salvation Army shelter, breakfast
and supper and bed in exchange for more hymns and clapping. Very little
money and my baby out at the edge of town in a boarding home which took
only babies. I was supposed to find a job and it was still Depression
time, jobs were scarce. Montgomery Wards was not hiring. Plus my own personal
depression and lack of experience which was noticeable when I applied
for a waitress job and lied "yes, I;m experienced". The truth came out,
of course, with the first order I called in. No job. I walked down the street with saloons offering 5 cent shots of whiskey and men eyeing me curiously. I had never been in such a place before. I happened to look in a small restaurant as I went past and stopped, disbelieving. There was Patsy, my foster sister. We had shared a room for two years in the home I had been in before I went to Mrs. Sanger's. She gave me her address, almost across the street from the shelter, and I was to meet her there after work. She was a waitress. I knew she had run off and married the Irish boy she had been dating but I didn't ever expect to see her again. p2 Later, in her room, bed dresser, chair, little else, I asked her whatever happened with Tim. "What are you doing down here living in a shelter?" "I had a baby, I mean, I have a baby." "Where is he, she" etc. "I, too, left my husband or, rather, I left him and his mother. I don't really want to talk about it right now. He's not the baby's father and I'm glad he's not." p3 "He had an awful temper and
beat me up once so I left him." She answered matter of factly. She was
Lithuanian, redheaded with the fair skin that goes with it. Barely 5'
tall, petite and cute. When we roomed together, my size 5 !/2 shoes lined
one side of the closet and her size 5 1/2s the other. She was a year older
than I and much more worldly wise, having served clients in her father's
speakeasy during prohibition which was why the Illinois Children's Home
and Aid Society, of which I had been a ward, removed her from his care.
We'd been like sisters and I'd missed her. She sat on the edge of the
bed and lit a strange smelling butt of a cigarette. "What are you smoking?",
I asked. p4 Her new love was in Joliet
prison for something; I never found out what. I suspected robbery. She
was waiting for him to get out, she said. I began to meet the people
in the building. Poor people seem to be more friendly than the rich. They
have nothing to lose. I was poor and I had something to love, my baby
whom I hadn't seen for nearly two weeks. I knew the Evanston Cradle, an
adoption agency, was only too eager to have another fine, healthy baby,
so when Butch, a cabdriver who roomed next door, asked me, "Why so sad
looking all the time, kid?", I told him. p5 "All they want to know is whether
I have a place to bring him. Then a nurse will come and look at it and
say OK. Then I need the money to pay up his board bill and some way to
go get him!" I was becoming more hopeful every minute. p6 I had heard that cabbies knew
all about where to take men who wanted a girl. I also knew I could not
work and care for Freddie properly. I asked Butch if he knew of a place
I could work. If I was going to screw around, I might as well do it right.
I didn't want to be called a "chippie". I had my pride. And I needed the
money. I didn't know how to do very much but I did, as they say, have
something to fall back on. p7 She was so right. I suppose I had been taking business away from her. That morning when I got home I did as she advised and shortly thereafter woke with excruciating pain. Whatever it was she gave me sure put me out of business. I couldn't even keep food or water down. I was in a bad way. The couple in the back apartment who had been watching Fred for me called a friend of theirs, Gil, who also roomed in the building. He knew a good doctor and that was obviously what I needed. He took me the same afternoon to Dr. Kent who very gently packed my vagina with something very soothing and healing. After two or three treatments, I was OK. Gil took charge of me. We moved to his room and he fed me. I looked after Fred whom he adored. Gil was a big man, a bouncer in on of the Madison Ave. clubs. To see him, you'd never think of him as gentle but he was to both of us. When I got well I still stayed with him, partly from gratitude or because it was that good old path of least resistance. He began to be jealous of me so much that I was afraid to talk to anyone. Just when I had almost made up my mind to leave him, Patsy came by. She had met two guys, would be pimps, who had an in at one of the downtown hotels. And we could go to work there if we wanted to. I met them when Gil was at work, and, while I didn't like their looks, I accepted the offer. p8 Next night I left Gil, took
Fred to Aunt Margie's house, and moved into the Arthur Hotel. Patsy and
I had adjoining rooms with bath in between. George, the elevator man,
was in charge. He'd knock gently and give a room number and we would visit
the occupant there. The only unusual thing was that occupants were Orientals.
It seems that our government didn't allow oriental women to enter the
country at that time; so what's a poor fella to do. Most of them owned
laundries or were cooks. They were clean, polite and quick. In their country,
prostitution was an accepted thing and we were treated with respect which
I found sadly lacking in my few weeks at the "house" among American men
who were often abusive and drunk. A couple we came to know, Louie and
Toy, were chefs at the best Chinese restaurant in downtown Chicago. They
often invited us to dinner there on, excuse the word, house. And many
a Sunday morning tea with dim sum in Chinatown. Another good thing was
that when you were away from the hotel, you were not likely to run into
one. p9 Patsy and I found a two bedroom
apartment in a rundown part of town where no one paid attention to who
came or went and there were Orientals living in the building as well.
p10 but I really wanted Fred with
me. Yet I knew if I got into any trouble with the law, he could still
be taken away and I couldn't take the chance. "See you next week?" "You betcha!" I made a call one day to the Chelsea Hotel, noted for the musicians and entertainers who stayed there. "Yes, Buckley is here. I'll connect you." He didn't remember me until I reminded him how amazed he had been at my absolutely spotless panties. He said, "We're having a sort of party tonight. Come on up." I said, "I've got something to show you." p11 Patsy went with me out of curiousity that evening and, when we entered the room, there were about 8 or 9 people already there, sitting on the bed and the floor. Lord Bucley, as he was better known, entertaining his guests with stories and skits. He absolutely held everyone's attention whenever he was on and he was really on. "I have been wondering," said he, "if a man, on seeing a nude lady whom he did not know, and if he too were naked, could have an erection in spite of the others in the room. You, Tom," he pointed to a slim fellow, "remove your clothes and sit in that chair. And you," pointing at me and fixing me with his piercing brown eyes, we'll enter the bathroom, disrobe and come out and walk about. NOW!" I, who was quite used to disrobing by then, complied. The experiment was a success. Tom, with a smile on his face, rose to the occasion. The spectators applauded and we dressed. When the party was over, Tommy drove me home and learned my secret. We became lovers without being in love. I asked Tommy to tell Buckley about the boy the next afternoon. 3 of his entourage tagged along and Buckley patted Fred's blonde curls, and with a proud smile, said, "well, well. How about that!" I said, "I just thought you should know." p12 I did not see him again for
14 years. Tom and I moved to a duplex apartment on La Salle St. for $50
per month. (1937-1938) It had a fireplace and a stained glass window.
Pretty swanky. I still kept my oriental connections, especially one with
Jackie. I would spend one night a week with him, sitting in bed eating
lychee nuts and looking at magazines while he played the Koto and sang
to me in Chinese. He paid very well and soon he was my only source of
income. Tommy was a good baby sitter, but, after a few weeks of my night
out with Jackie, he complained. "Well, if you don't like my seeing him,
why don't you get out and hustle up the money? I'll be happy to stay home
but somebody's got to pay the rent." From that day on, Tommy was a good
provider and daddy to Fred. (He had a little kit of lacquer paints and
brushes and, when he saw a sharp car, he would sell the owner on a bit
of work.) He had a steady hand with a striping brush and, with his kit
of lacquer paints, he always came home with money. Tommy had a friend, Carl, who was the "boss" of the juke boxes in Chicago. He would bring us records. We both loved the jazz if that time, Billie Holliday, Count Basie, Lionel Hampton and what was called "race { last line illegible on copy} p13 {first lines illegible} He'd take us riding in his
"roadie" around Lincoln Park, smoking reefers. I sat between him and Tommy
and each pass I took a drag. I would get twice as high as either of them,
and they were not in their right minds either. We got lost in the park
more than once. I finally realized I could pass the joint without a toke
every time. One learns. p15 I got the whole story from
Carl now. They had gone to lunch at a corner counter and a girl came in
with two policemen. "That's him. That's the man who held me up!" Adn she
indicated Tommy, who was protestingly arrested. There had been a series
of hold ups at a a chain of cleaners and she had been one of the clerks.
She saw Tommy tossing up and catching a couple of welding torch tips and
mistook them for bullets so figured he was the man. p16 Tommy was from Cody, Wyoming.
His father rant the state fish hatchery which stocked the lakes and streams
in that area and Tommy had grown up in the old west, fishing and hunting.
He had a sixth grade schooling but his native intelligence sure made up
for the difference. He was 15 years older than I. We both liked the same
things, jazz, pot, entertaining friends and living well. While there was
no romantic nonsense, we were good companions and very good bedmates.
One can't have everything, no matter what the propaganda to the contrary
says. p17 I had never been west of Oak
Park and I was thrilled to be going west. We packed our record collection
in a long wooden box and shipped it slow freight. p18 We really became a working
restaurant and the fun and games were over. Tommy started work as a common
laborer and in no time he was a crew foreman. Of course, it didn't hurt
that he was a hometown boy and knew where the girls were at Tillie's just
outside of town or that he took the "big shots" fishing at places that
had just been stocked with fish. He was a go-getter and fast mover. His
hometown nickname, I discovered, was "Ripsaw". p19 At Xmas, the living room was
busy with grown men, engineers, etc., putting together a tinker toy elevator
which went up and down as the little train went around it on the track.
Kansas was a dry state but it didn't take Tommy long to find the number
of a man who made house calls. He'd open his coat like a flasher and it
was lined with pockets which were filled with bottles of liquor. p20 The next job was the Alcan
Highway. Alaska had recently become one of the states and it was imperative
that a good road be built to it. As we headed back to Cody, another car
followed us, Buffalo Bill's grandson and his wife. p21 Fred and I had been there about a week when I mentioned that the next day was my birthday. Sid said I really should celebrate it some way. He knew a nice man who would take me out for the evening. Charley was a nice man and he did take me out, not only for my birthday but very often. He was separated from his wife, he said, had been a boxer, and was good company. We never made it to bed; he never asked me. We were just good friends. By then, I had taken a room in town; the trailer was dreary and far from shops and I liked being on my own. I got money regularly from Tommy but no letters. One afternoon, he just showed up. He was halfway drunk, had half a bottle of Canadian Club Whiskey and little money, though the pay had been good. Gambling; nothing else to do nights. He looked like he'd been through an ordeal, which he had. He said men were dying of the "Yukon Giggles", a sickness and cough that comes on suddenly and he decided to get away while he was still able. When he found out that Sid was responsible for introducing me to Charley, he was furious but I told him if he wanted me, he'd better not go off and leave me alone so long again. He never did. I really liked Charley but Tommy was my husband. And I liked it that he put the blame on Sid and not on me. I still had my pride. p22 It was still wartime and Tommy
then went to work at the Sacramento Air Depot, painting planes which had
been shot up, seen service and been repaired. p23 By then, we were nearly broke
and we couldn't stand them any longer and I guess they felt the same.
We parted company with no regrets. p24 I kept house and did all the
things a good little wife was supposed to. Baked cakes and pies, had supper
ready on time. And cleaned house to the sounds of Billie Holliday, Jimmy
Rushing, Duke Ellington and Andy Kirk and his Clouds of Joy and early
bebop. p25 I showed a dog for a friend
on the circuit in Tucson and Phoenix shows. Their dog, Dollface, placed
third and Curley won again. My business was doing very well but something
seemed to be happening to the McAuliffe and Rousseau Construction Co.
I didn't know it at the time, but they had been paying off fellow in the
know who gave them the figures on the contracts they bid on. They were
called "10%'ers" and it was very illegal. Although they were rated
by Dunn & Bradstreet as the third largest contractors in Texas, it
all fell apart. The night before we left Texas, I swear I heard a bullet
whiz by as we were loading the car. Tommy took the blame and left Bob
in the clear. It was his home town. p26 The light was in a garage and
a Victrola playing "Buffalo Gal ain't cha comin' out tonight" was more
than audible. The man had a well equipped garage with a pit for working
under cars. Tommy said, "You wait in the car." After about half an hour,
he came back with wine on his breath and told us we were to in the house.
The man took us in to a bedroom and asked us to be quiet and not wake
his wife. Sounds of a car revving woke me and then I heard loud laughter.
They had run out of wine and planned to go across the border to get more.
However, the car they tried to start was up on blocks. Next morning, Tom
and the man fixed the bearing and we thanked his wife gratefully for breakfast.
A most fortuitous happening. p27 Tommy had once worked in Florida
painting hearses and also grained some of the elevator doors in the Merchandise
Mart in Chicago. Graining is a process which makes a surface look like
wood. Cars were making the transition from real wood dashboards and window
rails to metal but still wanted the wood look. He had an uncanny artist's
ability to match colors and also to "grain" in many different woods. I
prepared the cars, cleaning and masking; he came after and did his magic.
We had as much work as we wanted as his reputation grew among the dealers
of used cars. p28 I remembered how well I had
been doing with my Dog Beauty Parlor and regretted having to give it up.
California had plenty of Doggie Salons but I had been the first and only
in El Paso. And I still had Taffy and $1000 Curley whose fancy name was
Brucie's High Time. p29 The house was at the foot of
a hill which had burned over many years before and it was studded with
manzanita roots. We'd rock them loose and send them rolling down the hill.
In the fireplace, they would shower sparks and burn beautifully all evening.
There was a huge flat topped rock in the backyard which got the sun every
afternoon and was an ideal place to bask and tan. When George von Physter,
separated from his wife, came to California, he moved in with us to the
bunk room and became our "ranch foreman". His first project was to build
a corral around the rock with the steep hill with rock for one side of
it. He and Tom went to a horse auction and bought a horse for Fred, a
gelding. It had one white foot so Fred named him "Sock". Fred became very
popular with the young girls in the area who wanted to ride. But first
they had to clean the corral or curry Sock. A friend who had a bar in
Hollywood bought a horse, a mare named Holly Miss, who boarded with Sock.
When she came in heat, she would harass Sock and they would kick the bars
down and escape into the night. {cf. Fred} p30 I got acquainted with a couple,
Liz and Stuart Kayser who lived in the canyon. Liz became very influential
in my life. She had a book called "Dianetics". After I read it, we decided
to practice it, becoming each others' "auditors". Twice a week in the
evening, we'd spend an hour or more apiece at her house "auditing" each
other. After the session, we'd break out the wine. Stuart worked late
nights at an aircraft company and I'd leave for home when he arrived. p31 When we lived in Canoga Park, I got involved with the Jehovah's Witnesses. Somehow their literal interpretation made sense to me and I began studying comparative religions and "argumentation". When you'd knock on a door, there might be a Catholic, a Jew, an atheist or God knows what behind it. To converse and convince them of the "truth", it was necessary to know what their beliefs were. I also stood on the streets of Van Nuys with the Watchtower and Awake. Slowly, I began to realize that something was wrong with my attitude. I felt superior, one of the chosen ones, and felt sorry for those who wouldn't listen to the "truth". I could no longer believe in a God who could be so unmerciful just because you didn't happen to be a "J.W." I gave it up and I guess I became an agnostic. Vedanta gave me something that didn't require blind belief. I was asked to test things for myself. Tommy was not in the least religiously inclined but didn't hinder my searching. He was really very patient with me. While living in Canoga Park,
I went to work in Hollywood at the TickTock
Tea Room, taking the Red Car to work. I had a split shift and spent
the time off at the War Library, reading about the origins of the Jehovah's
Witnesses. While I was at it, I read up on the popes, a very enlightening
experience. One night while serving, I stepped on my right foot; the ankle
felt like broken glass. I couldn't put weight on it without great pain.
I nearly dropped the armload of dishes but managed to put them down safely
and quit. They were furious with me but obviously I was of no further
use to them as a waitress. I hobble all the way to Highland Ave trying
to find a cab and took the Red Car home for the last time. In Topanga, Tommy came home
from work one day with the news that Lord Richard Buckley was appearing
at Charley Foy's club on Ventura Blvd. "Do you think we should go see
him?", he asked very seriously. p33 We dressed up in our best and
joined the crowd at the club. Buckley, during his performance, recognized
us and his eyes widened with surprise. We went home with him after the
show and met his lovely wife, Lady Lisbeth, and the two children, Louie
and Richie age 3 and 1½. p34 Agoura We moved to a rambling old house in Agoura, rent $50 a month. Agoura was unincorporated then and there was no city water. A truck came around delivering water at 1¢ per gallon. In the back yard, we found a deep cement lined cistern which we cleaned then put new tarpaper on the roof and cleaned the eaves. When the rains came, it filled up with soft water which we used for everything but drinking and cooking. The back yard stretched through to the next street and there was the remains of a chicken coop about halfway back, secluded enough to grow three or four very fine plants. It was a good feeling to grow our own but when they matured we felt uneasy about leaving the house. Some of our good friends knew about them and they were not above ripping off a branch or two. p35 Joe I had a girlfriend in Culver City, Laurie, who had two little girls. She got very bored being a model housewife. She ran off to Las Vegas with her lover, knowing her husband Joe would take good care of the kids. However, she was concerned enough about them to write me and ask me to go see them and wash their hair. That was the start of Joe and me. I'd known him as long as I'd known Laurie but had no idea he was such a lover. He was complimentary and thoughtful and I was bored, too. I suppose I fell in love with him and he with me. I thought about him constantly and could feel his strong arms around me when we were apart, which was too often. It was not easy to meet but I'd tell Tommy I was going to visit a girl friend who lived in Riverside, which I did, but, once there, Joe and I would meet and get a room and be together for a whole night. p36 I could never figure out why
Laurie would want to leave him. I wanted to be with him all the time.
He was good looking in a rugged way. When he smiled, his blue eyes, etc.,
rather large nose, a kind patient man. p37 Tommy believed me because he
wanted to. He held me and said "I didn't know you felt that way. What
do you want to do? I'll do anything you want." p38 Agoura When the well digger came,
he said, "Lady, where do you want the well?" p39 I would have left him then
but I'd heard Laurie was back with Joe. I was glad she was for the children's
sake, but my heart still ached for him. He was the kind who would always
do the right thing. Tommy followed me and, as we walked, he took my hand.
"I've been thinking. I'd like to try Las Vegas, see if we could work there.
What do you think?" Fred joins Marines p40 "The matter is he's got my
daughter with him." He glared at me. p41 A week later, he came to me
and said, "I want to join the Marines." p42 We hitched up the old trailer and went east to Vegas. It was cold and windy, and the lacquer wouldn't dry. Trying to work with cold fingers was impossible. We went to a campground at Lake Mead to decide what to do. We got out a map and looked over the territory. There weren't many towns to choose from but one looked promising, Bullhead City, Arizona. It was a small town below Lake Havasu and the Colorado River, a couple of bars, a gas station, a little grocery store and a few blocks of nondescript houses. However, we drove along the three or four streets and there on a corner on the last street in town, one block from the river was a For Sale sign. There were three structures, two shacks and one house on a double lot. The sign had a phone number and the price, $3500. At one of the bars, we called the owner, who lived in Las Vegas, and he met us about two hours later. $500 down and $50 per month and it was ours. We signed. Went back to Agoura, packed and moved. Furniture, piano and all possessions. p43 I named it "The Last Resort".
It was on the last street, a barbed wire fence separated Bullhead "City"
from government property where a few squatters had built shacks along
the river. The name had other connotations for me, personal ones. p44 And that's how Albert came
into my life. It was a hot afternoon when he and Beverly came into the
cool of the kitchen where the usual party was going on, drinks etc. Tommy
always brought three or four people with him from L.A. and it was party
time every weekend. His cool blue eyes met mine and, as we shook hands,
I felt a shock which I can't describe. He declined a drink Tommy offered
with a polite "No, thanks. I don't drink." How refreshing! I was getting
fed up with all the boozing and looked forward to the quiet when everyone
went back to L.A. p45 On that lush shag rug, we made
love, unpremeditated. It just had to happen and it was wonderful. Albert
held me in his arms. " I shouldn't have done that.", he said. "You're
a married woman." p46 I went into the house where the fateful rug had been laid. It was an adjoining room where we had put a four seat bar and the rock machine. I sat behind the bar for hours with tears streaming from my eyes but no sobs or sounds came out. I don't know who or what I was crying for but it just wouldn't stop. I guess I was crying for all of us. For Tommy, who wanted so desperately to believe. For Albert, who had said, "I can't stay here now. I'll be leaving in a day or two. Are you coming with me?" For myself, who had to make a decision and already knew what I had to do. Albert I looked around at the furnishings, the piano, a nude painting of me, all the household things and remembered El Paso when I'd had to leave so many things behind me once before. But they were only things. Albert was real. He was sincere. I loved him. I began to pack the moment Tommy left. The next day Albert and I left Bullhead City. I didn't tell Fred where we were going because, if he didn't know, Tommy couldn't find out from him. The same old Hudson coupe that I had loaned Fred took us to Santa Monica where we rented a motel room. I had gone out to get a pizza and was unexpectedly surprised to find Lisbeth Buckley there, too. "Paula, Tommy's at our place
on the beach. You must come see him. He's all broken up because you left!"
She tried to convince me but I refused. p48 Our tenants were young Navy wives whose husbands were forever going on maneuvers after maneuvering to impregnate their teenage brides. We kept full occupancy by promising to see that the girls got to the hospital when they were in labor and many an hour I sat in the waiting room to see if it was real labor or false. When I finally got in touch with Fred, he forgave me for not letting him know I was leaving. He was preparing to go to New York to study voice and acting. We saw him off on the plane. He could see how happy we were together and told me what Tommy had said about me. He had invited a gang of people to The Last Resort for Thanksgiving dinner and he was up to his elbows at the sink washing dishes when heard to remark, "Damn that Paula, she sure fucked up the holidays!" I felt no sympathy for the man. The days went by, became months, became years. Leaky pipes got mended, rooms were painted and refurnished, new curtains were made and then the building was sold to a man who had his own managers. We were asked to leave. p49 We were not unhappy about moving. It had been a sort of challenge to keep the old place together and we were glad to go. We found a cozy apartment overlooking the bay and Point Loma from a high vantage point. Instead of collecting unemployment payments, I asked if the money could be applied to schooling. It was agreed and I went to a business school for a course in hotel/motel management. While at the Tyler, I had taken a real estate course. Albert went to work at the Del Coronado Hotel. When I saw an ad for apartment managers in Coronado, I promptly applied and, with my training and experience, I knew I had the job. Now there would be no long bus and ferry ride for Albert every day. We moved to the island. We moved to the island and found the Rivera Apartments a welcome change from the previous ones. Everything worked. It was the '60's and the Sunset Strip was awash in hippies and LSD. Albert had a reel to reel tape recorder which he had put together from the public radio in L.A. It was a most interesting time. Love-ins and sit-ins. One of the tenants introduced me to a friend of hers whose house was a refuge {no further pages} |
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Appendix A-2 - top headings After D - 6 mo at Rancho Bluebell A-2 The hatchery - Mom & Dad.
Tommy gambles. A-3 A-4 Back to the Valley - redo
Canoga house. Quake - bird A-5 A-11 A-12 In writing an autobiography
it is inevitable that one research one's feelings as they were and reassess
them in the present. Sometimes it is pleasant and words flow easily but
there are experiences which have been laid to rest and which must be nudged
back to life. The way I have found to deal with the latter is to regard
them as experience, neither good nor bad. A-14
A-6/7 1975 Sept - 1976 Feb husband's
job 1974 Sept - 1975 March husband's
job 6 months 1974 May - Sept chef $3.00
hr 1974 Jan.- Sept. 8 mo. 1974 Nov. 17 - 1976 March
unemployment insurance $55 week Dr. Lansdale 297.3737 1973 Aug. 30 - 1974 April
30 1971 Sept - 1975 Aug own shops 65-69 Riv. |
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Appendix A-3 - top Resume of Paula C Banks 874-8852 3 years cook, purchaser +
housekeeper, I yr chef - Kalisa's International
Restaurant,
2 yrs own resort, fishing
camp Many years of own household. Refs. John Gibbon - Featherbow
Ranch, Carmel Ranch employer elderly, quiet A-10 |
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