A Lifetime Ago: Chapter 1

Cheesecake

Etched in the Pastor’s face were all those who had watched and listened. Fifty-five years of Sunday morning cleansing. Endless streams of hope, trust, honesty, and sin reflecting off his weary countenance. A half century of transformation ushering in three new Popes and electric candles. Now in his seventy sixth year, he faced inevitable dozing when lines for weekly affirmations were slow or nonexistent. His small dark confessional was silent now and Father Pendle began to drift.

On the street a bright Friday afternoon found the neighborhood animated. Shoppers strolled, children played, car horns honked and the front doors of Saint Ann’s church saw limited use. A few patrons, perpetual inhabitants melded in their pews and would remain in place until five p.m. when God’s residence was cleared and locked for the night.

Contrast with the outside world was extreme at this hour of day. Behind it’s imposing facade stood a cool dark place; footsteps reverberated off imported marble columns and high arched ceilings. Maintenance on the aged house of worship had been neglected and chips of yellowed brittle paint awaited descent to the floor. Tiers of red electric bulbs flickered in rows at the altar rail while inside the confessional The Pastor could now be heard snoring; his cheek resting on a purple velvet cushion. Varying degrees of guilt are warranted when abandoning our posts; however, the occasional nap should not be scrutinized when its recipient has dutifully earned their minutes.

So it was for an hour on a warm summer day in June of nineteen-eighty-one. The minutes mentioned herein sent our old man of the cloth reeling backward. Further and further to a day before the collar: youthful days when religious thoughts were as distant as the Vatican. The year was nineteen-twenty-three and our place the city of Chicago.

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At fourteen years of age Duffy Pendle was aggressive, curious, and not particularly educated. His father Joseph was a cobbler, hardworking, up early and honest. There wasn’t much he’d been able to provide Duff but his son always wore nice shoes. Like countless numbers of dirty faced city boys, Duffy shined shoes on the North Side of the city. Long hot summers brought time away from school and adequate time for mischief. Each burrowed in staking claim to a street corner. Once attained, a boy’s corner was his and no competitor with common sense would attempt setting up shop. He was glad the support of his gang was only a shout across the avenue.

Duffy Pendle’s nickname was Cheesecake. The brutal facts concerning nicknames have never changed. One is verbally tattooed and dares not show they’re bothered by it. Names are chosen and set faster than concrete. The cruelty of teenagers has proven to be relentless; as so it was the day a young boy woke up Duffy Pendle and fell asleep Cheesecake.

The Pendle family resided at two-eleven Market Street on the northwest side of the city. Long rows of tenement buildings mirrored each side of the street and a multitude of sounds echoed up through open windows. Summer assured the noise of children, automobiles, horses and front stoops clustered with adults. These mingled with intermittent clamor of police sirens, mailmen, produce men, domestic quarrels, barking dogs and infinite ways of generating noise. Additionally, the wee hours of morning were not exempt from silence. Alley cats, rats in the garbage and crooning tramps were a steady presence. It wasn’t until the bitter cold blew in off Lake Michigan that any measure of quiet returned to the streets.

Summer provided time to catch up and take notice of who’d been eating well. Gossip in the streets weaved up and down, back and forth, in and out and between. Women did the shopping, cooked, hung out their laundry and cleaned house all while keeping tabs on their children. This repetition played out daily while the more fortunate of husbands were at work.

The Pendle’s lived on the third landing of a five-story walk-up. Their modest apartment ran straight through to the rear and all windows looked out upon Market Street in front; and a thirty-foot-deep courtyard in the rear. Clothes lines ran from kitchen windows on each floor to a tall wooden pole centered at the rear of the courtyard. On windy days clothing often fell taking the pins with them. Katie Pendle dyed her clothing pins black to avoid any question as to which of the fallen were hers. Her thinking was quickly adapted and all found a sure way of identifying their own.

Duffy opened his eyes taking in the sounds and aroma of morning. Katie had a sixth sense when it came to her son and always knew without calling out that Duff was awake. Her sense traveled on the tempting smell of pancakes sailing into his bedroom. Duffy had no sooner caught his first whiff of breakfast when the crushing reality of ‘Cheesecake’ returned.

His newly acquired identity would not be enjoyable yet would not interfere with his arm extending for the maple syrup. One less pancake a day he surmised. He’d ease off slow and steady until his body resembled more of a cruller. It would be no easy departure from the pastry family; none-the-less he promised himself to give it more thought after breakfast.

Like most mothers, Katie Pendle enjoyed watching her son eat. Stepping into his knickers he called out:

“It sure smells great mom.”

“Well get your tail out here young man, it’s ready”.

An only child has plenty of elbow room and Duffy was treated like a prince at the kitchen table. Sam Pendle was out the door at six a.m. each day and breakfast was normally served in two shifts.

“Do you remember what today is?” she asked.

“Sure do, its dad’s birthday”.

“Well, you make sure and be in this house by six o’clock tonight Duffy Pendle! I’m baking a nice chocolate cake for your father. I’m giving you fifteen cents and I want you to stop at McGowan’s on your way home. Ask Mrs. McGowan to give you three tall candles for our cake. Don’t forget and be careful not to break them horsing around!”

“I won’t mom”.

“That’s good, because if you do, I might forget to bake a cake when your birthday comes around”.

They grinned at one another knowing the truth in such matters. While there would always remain a chance of Duffy breaking the candles, there would never be a chance of Katie not baking on his birthday.

Loose change has a way of burning holes in the pockets of fourteen-year-old boys and this youngster was no exception. In the seconds it took him to get down four flights of stairs he’d already hatched a plan for the fifteen cents. Carrying his shoe shine box, he made his way down the street and turned the corner to meet up with fellow shiner Woody Belski. Everyone referred to Woody as the ‘Stick’. He was taller than both his parents and thin as a broomstick. The Stick hid anything he wanted kept secret in his top pocket. Nobody his age could reach it before Woody had hold of their wrist.

On his way around the corner Duffy contemplated a great idea, or so he thought, for the candle money. His plan was simple and clearly that of a boy his age. Once the gang arrived at their shoe shine corners he’d slip around Second Street and into Park’s Soda Fountain Parlor. He’d quickly devour a vanilla egg cream, perfect after pancakes and then fill his pockets with soft licorice. He’d then replace the ill spent money with shoe shine profits and proceed on schedule to McGowan’s for the birthday cake decorations. This would keep his stomach full of treats and he’d begin watching his waistline in earnest the following day.

One advantage of shining shoes on separate corners was that none of your friends noticed you chewing. If word got out you had something worth tasting, you shared it or had your pockets turned inside out.

The Stick was sitting on his front steps as Duffy approached. Events of the previous day would readily surface or prove to have been a bad joke in passing. Duffy did not want him to detect any hopefulness in his eyes and opted not to look up upon reaching him.

“Hey, Stick, what’s up?”

Woody stood up fast and rubbed the top of Duffy’s head. With no expense rendered, out it came.

“Hey there, Cheesecake, what’s happening?

A decisive moment had arrived for Duffy Pendle. Answering Woody’s question would be acknowledging his new identity and usher in an eternity of humiliation. Morning had come swiftly and his well-fed frame was unprepared. Duffy was not prepared and in a flash, was summoned to another plate.  He could bark back throwing wood on the fire or simply pretend he had no qualms with his new identity. Any acknowledgement ‘Cheesecake’ was causing Duffy indigestion would give The Stick countless reasons to address him constantly.

There’s no justification for the torment administered by teenage boys. Society digests this period of growth as it does a lousy meal. An awkward time when minors irritate with astounding efficiency and puberty wreaks havoc on anything passing by.

So goes the girl with freckles
as does her frightened cat
Pushed until the brink of tears
and all alone they sat

A teen’s lack of compassion plays second to none. Not until dog’s bite back are their tails left in peace. Boys shall be boys and the fall-out associated with nicknames proved perfect for watching the defenseless crumble. Duffy also realized showing the slightest resistance might lead the gang to ostracize him. He envisioned a smoldering coo; being pushed to the outer limits of civilized adolescence and shining shoes on a corner yet to be mapped. Word of his banishment would spread like measles and even youngsters outside his circle would begin taking liberties.

What Duffy Pendle held in his back pocket was his old man. Minor discounts on shoe polish and fine cloth would no longer be afforded to the gang. None-the -less, Duffy had class and was not going to use his tired father as a bargaining chip; never factoring him into the equation while considering his response.

The mammoth issue was the girls. There have always been and will remain females attracted to rough and tumble young males. However ignorant or callous, this breed of testosterone has always managed their share of the harvest. Duffy’s circle enjoyed a small crop of these debutants waiting in the wings and this was certainly at stake! To be sent packing would create hardship in more ways than one. Unversed in charming the ladies, Cheesecake would no longer be sharing the company of skirts and ribbons.

His five seconds quickly turned to one and The Stick had all the time in the world. Suddenly confronted with the collapse of his entire known world, Duffy bit the bullet and gave ‘Cheesecake’ a place in society.

“I’m good Woody, what’s by you?”

Suspecting no grounds for antagonism the Stick let it go.

“Not much, I need money. I have to shine a lot of shoes.  Its days like today I wish people had four feet. Say, do you suppose you can get me some more brown polish from your pop? I’m running way low.”

Woody’s request eased Duffy’s anxiety a little; shoe shine supplies would certainly keep the verbal abuse in check. “I don’t know, Stick, go slow with what you have. I have to check and see what my dad has in the shop. I can’t hound him more than once a month for handouts.”

Although losing some of its immediate appeal, Duffy’s plans for the candle money were still on tap. They walked four blocks up to Main Street and met up with two more friends. Stanley Mycroft and Aaron Knox were sitting in the middle of the sidewalk on their shine boxes. They remained this way until Woody and Duff were only five feet away. Aaron stood up fast and looked Duffy straight in the eyes. He reached out quick, tapped his mid-section, and smiled.

“Hey, Cheeeeeeesecake! Let’s get moving guys, we’re late. I think all this Cheeeeeeesecake may be slowing us down.” Woody and Stanley said nothing as Aaron usually spearheaded the group.

At birth Aaron Knox was a tough delivery and had somehow grown with recollection of it. He wasn’t taller than a fire hydrant and wore intimidation on his face. He was in every game for himself and cleared a path with squinting eyes and a husky voice. Most adults could have foretold Aaron’s future but few had time or desire to counsel another’s child. Aaron was growing without regard for consequences and this was the inevitable in wait.  The upper hand of a bully dissipates with time; the playing field levels and a wiser breed dictates.

Woody purposely walked slower behind Aaron. He made a point of this although his gait could take him twice the distance. He’d stop any fist swinging for Aaron before it clipped Duffy accidently. Navigating crowded sidewalks was a moving art and readiness essential to remaining intact.

The boys arrived at their respective corners twenty minutes before the first rush of business men swept by. This morning Duffy had additional reason for trailing behind. In addition to being shortest, he surmised that out of sight was out of mind. The Stick although never willing to admit it, enjoyed slowing his pace to keep Duffy company. At present, they were the closest two of any combination in the four.

Stanley Mycroft spoke the least and was looked upon as more of a vacuum. He was undoubtedly the wisest and his two cents in any matter were worth a dime. He wore thick glasses and couldn’t take a confident step without them firmly affixed on the bridge of his nose. His nickname, suitably was ‘Four Eyes’ and was one he’d never outgrow. His condition would steadily worsen until the day he’d be referred to as ‘The Blind Man’. Stanley had the fewest customers as most would not trust their dime to his failing eyesight. Some however took pity and on occasion settled for less of a shine.

Attracting business was a primary skill. Each utilized what techniques delivered more profitable results. Cheesecake, or should I say Duffy, implemented a subtle respective approach. He never called out the word shine; aware any man on his way to work would understand his motive for being there. His tactic worked and often saw two others waiting in line. He’d speed up when necessary but slowed again just as fast.

The Stick worked quickly and appealed to those who sought the almighty dollar with similar urgency. These men settled for less quality; the sooner to work the more profitable their day.

Aaron was also a fast sale. Although never the preferred shine boy, he was clever and realized most would settle for him than cross the street cope with Stanley. He never had to work as hard anyhow; he tossed coins better than anyone in the group and would soak up much of the gang’s profits before the sun went down.

Stanley accepted his plight with dignity and determination. For every twenty men that passed by, only one stopped. ‘I’ll be right with you,’ he’d call out on rare occasion when a second man decided to wait. Those who did give Stanley’s handicap the right time of day were downright gentlemen; they understood and liked him for trying to keep up with his competition. Too innocent to grasp their compassion, Stanley went about his business with as much self-reliance as the divine had imparted.

How each achieved the task of making worn leather more presentable would have lasting effects. The groups hard work was building character and showing profits; each viewing an accumulation of loose change as a grand achievement.

Arriving at Barrow and Fourth Streets they set their boxes down and arranged their tools of the trade. This given morning Aaron and Woody went through their motions quickly and readied themselves for business.

Duffy, noting an opportune moment, slipped around the corner making a bee line for the soda fountain parlor. Early as it was he found himself in the catbird seat; immediately parking his ample bottom on an inviting swivel stool at the counter. With an expression of cleverness, Cheesecake motioned for Mr. Parks attention.

Bill Parks had been a fountain man for years and was an ordained master when it came to serve up sweets. He glanced up at the clock and could only shake his head. This moment would go down in the annals of vanilla egg-creams as his earliest request on record.

“Well now, good morning young man.”

“Morning, Mr. Parks,” answered Duffy with haste in his greeting.

“It’s pretty early buddy, what can I do for you?”

“Well sir, I’d like a vanilla egg-cream just as fast as you can whip it up please.”

“Are you catching a train?”

“Why, no sir, I’m working today and I’m late for work.”

“Right away,” answered Bill, while turning his back with a grin.

Reaching into his knickers, Duffy dug out the three nickels and stared into his palm. For a split second, each took on the shape of a tall candle! They weren’t burning but he couldn’t drop them onto the counter quick enough. The noisy blender stopped and seconds later his cold treat was placed on a napkin before him. Sitting up straight he leaned forward and tilted the white and red lined straw to his eager lips. Both young and old are familiar with the pleasure of a sugar rush, so I needn’t describe the look on Duffy face as that first cold sip hit the back of his throat. Mr. Parks observed the moment and afforded his lone customer undivided attention.

Four long sips maximizing his stomachs endurance and the egg-cream had vanished. The time it took Duffy to consume it was noted and equally entertaining. Spinning and sliding off the stool, he quickly advanced to the long glass display case: it was a small warehouse of candy. Mr. Parks bent down and took direction through the glass. Top shelf to the left, middle shelf to the right, bottom shelf to the right and the remaining five cents was spent. Duffy motioned to the three nickels on the counter while unconsciously licking his lips and taking receipt of the treats. Disappearing out the door, Duffy smiled while considering how nice it was Mr. Parks opened so early.

Passing traffic helped screen Duffy’s corner during the time he indulged. Stick and Aaron were already on their third customers while Stanley had just finished setting up.

The nicest perk of running your own enterprise at fourteen is calling it a day when it suits you. Numerous reasons are adequate; baseball, tossing coins, general mischief or girls ready to take up one’s time. After rush hour the streets settled and only who the boys referred to as ‘stray dogs’ would happen by for a shine. They’d smile from their corners when one reeled in an extra customer. All tried proving more the entrepreneur but the call of summer always had them counting their profits sooner than later.

Harding’s Hardware store was favored among the locals for its enormous array of everything from nails to washboards. To the boys however, its smooth three-foot-high foundation wall was all it’s worth! Harding’s rear wall was hidden in an alley and could not have been more conducive for pitching coins. Housewives living in the tenements behind would attempt clearing them out but never once deterred them.

The rule book on tossing coins was and has remained basic. Closest to the wall won the other coins, landing atop any other was an automatic winner and a leaner against the wall paid double. Every game they rotated who would toss first. The Stick arched his nickels, Aaron threw lean and low, Cheesecake had no flavor and Stanley was happy to be facing the wall.

Duffy had managed six shines in his time of work and had doubled the candle money! Walking toward the alley felt good with coins and candy swirling around in his pockets. He kept the candy centered on his tongue as a bulging cheek would have cost him dearly.

Sam Pendle’s cobbler shop was along the way and the boys would drop off their shine boxes in care of Duffy’s father. Given the store’s limited space, they were not allowed inside simultaneously. Their greetings were always polite and intent on keeping Mr. Pendle’s generosity foremost.

After arriving at the alley, it took Aaron all of thirty minutes to separate his friends from their money. Woody and Stanley usually played with no more than they felt like losing; this was not the case with Cheesecake who continued tossing until only some remaining candy was left in his pockets. They walked out from behind the hardware store with Duffy having a few hours left to re-coup the lost candle money. The visualization of Katie Pendle’s face while hearing another of her son’s pathetic excuses had him hell bent on leaving McGowan’s with three tall candles.

On their way to the sand lot, thoughts varied. The Stick was running out of polish and decided the name ‘Duffy’ in lieu of ‘Cheesecake’ would be the more lucrative approach. He would not utter Duffy’s nickname until his shoebox was replenished. Aaron usually had the most money and the task of hiding it without being noticed before playing baseball. Running the bases had accidentally emptied his pockets on occasion. He strolled while considering which of his preferred hiding spots he’d go with. Stanley moved along hoping today he would hit the baseball. The ball usually hit him and new bruises were always awaiting a place on his body. For Duffy, getting to first base would mean coming up with fifteen cents; he inquired about a loan.

“Say Aaron, how about lending me twenty-five cents until tomorrow?”

“What for, Cheesecake?”

“I need it, that’s all.”

“Let me think about it, Cheeeeeeesecake. Alright, I’m done thinking, sorry, Duff.”

“Come on, Aaron, how about a little favor?”

“I’m not in a favorable mood. Besides, I have a date tonight. Why don’t you get your box and shine a few shoes at rush hour?”

“I won’t have time to get there and back home,” answered Duffy with a hard luck tone in his voice. “Come on Aaron; don’t be so tight, you’ve got plenty of doe.”

“Yeah, but I won’t if you keep eating Cheeeeeeescake!”

Getting insults and not money Duffy dropped back and tried Stanley.

“Stanley?”

“What is it, Duff?”

“How about lending me twenty-five cents until tomorrow?”

“How about asking someone else,” was Stanley’s suggestion.

“I tried; Aaron’s tight as a clam, come on Four Eyes, let’s have it?”

“I can’t do it, Duffy. I don’t make half the money you guys do. Why don’t you ask The Stick?”

Duffy then tried the Stick but came up with the short end. Woody had been saving for a new baseball bat and it had been three weeks since Cheesecake had come through with shine supplies from his father.

It was a long hot afternoon of baseball. Duffy was pre-occupied striking out three times; once for each nickel as he swung. He was usually lucky and held fast the money would materialize. The boys returned for their shine boxes and headed home to get cleaned up for dinner. Before leaving his father’s shop, Sam Pendle had a word with his son.

“Duffy, do you want to wait and close up the shop with me? Your mother wants us punctual tonight.”

“I know, dad, because it’s your birthday, happy birthday dad.”

“Thank you, son, well do you want to help me close and we’ll get moving?”

“Uh sorry, dad, I have to do something with the Stick before I get home. Ok? I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Alright, be careful.”

Sam watched Duffy run out. Instinctively he knew somewhere a fuse was burning. He shook his head and returned to mending.

After the group split up, Duffy walked alone in the direction of McGowan’s. He felt tired, hungry and foolish; again, he’d be licking his wounds. What would his decision be? Tell Mrs. McGowan he’d lost the nickels running the bases or how they’d found their way into Mr. Parks cash register? Undecided he approached the store; he would have flipped a coin to help with his decision, but….

He went on to explain how his sweet tooth had seized all accessible common sense. How he’d lost focus and was overcome with temptation. His round pleading face was more than she could stand and Duffy was soon on his way home with the candles. Tomorrow he’d most certainly settle his debt. He arrived on time and charged up the stairs. Excited and unfocused he stumbled five steps from reaching the top landing. Falling onto the bag he now had six shorter candles. They were not as pretty but there they burned. Katie and Cheesecake finished singing and smiled as Sam made his wish and took a deep breath.