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1969
BY TOM COBEY
On November 2, 1968, Kevin Lancer turned 15. Two days later his father, and two of his father's Monday night poker friends, bought a small bungalow colony located 70 miles north of New York City, in the Catskill mountains of Sullivan County. It was called, "David's Bungalows" after the original owner's son.
It remained a mystery to Kevin how his father came up with the money for such a venture. He suspected the two other partners supplied the cash and his father agreed to supply the manpower for the day to day operation. To validate his suspicion, Kevin and his father were the only two doing the physical maintenance.
During the forties and fifties, David's Bungalows operated as a prosperous business. At the time, residents from New York City traveled to the mountains for the relative coolness and safety of the area. There, mothers with children spent July and August in rented cottages while their husbands worked in the City. When air travel became more assessable, the families who spent money in the Catskills took their vacation dollars elsewhere. As a result, most of the smaller resorts went out of business. Despite the prosperity of the area fading like an old shirt, John Lancer bought into the dying industry, and with the willing labor of his 15 year old son, worked to make a go of it. Thus setting the stage for the following summer.
Their ignorance of how to run the business became apparent when they neglected to drain the water pipes from the 20 small cottages and one main house before winter set in. The mistake cost them dearly. The following spring when the sun melted the ground, it also melted the water in the pipes. Because of the winter's severity, 40 pipes burst from the pressure of the ice within.
Each structure sat on stilts 20 inches off the ground. Kevin's father, a grim man to begin with, looked like a general sending his troops into battle. He assigned Kevin the task of traversing each crawl space in search of broken pipes. "Just follow the water line until you come to the split," his father instructed, "and make the mends the way I showed you." He stood by the opening of each scuttle hole smoking cigars as his son pushed and pulled his way under every unit.
Because the ground temperature stood just above freezing, ice water immediately soaked Kevin's clothes. Cobwebs, laced with dead insects hung from every joist and soon covered his face like a shroud. Small bits of glass and stone rubbed exposed flesh raw. Holding the flashlight in his mouth he worked from his back, a supply of spare parts sat in a wooden box at his side. After a splice, he called out. "Okay! Turn on the water." Most repairs leaked on the first try, and when it held, he found another split five feet farther up the line.
This scene was played out 20 times, once for every unit. When the work was done under the cottages they set to repairing the broken pipes in each unit. Every bathroom and kitchen had burst pipes. From late March to the first week in May they repaired plumbing. Along with the water pipes, there was grass to mow, trees to trim, a ball field to maintain and a large steel pool to clean, paint and fill from the river that adjacent the property.
On June 5, father and son paused in their maintenance chores for lunch. They had selected a small one bedroom unit attached to the main house for their storage shed and office. Its central location seemed perfect, and because of its small size, the lost rent was negligible; a consideration not to be taken lightly. They cleared the kitchen table of tools, then made sandwiches. Neither talked as they went about their task, both were too hungry and tired for the effort.
After the senior Lancer had devoured half of his sandwich, he leaned back in his chair, looked at his son and said, "How would you like to stay here this summer and keep an eye on the place? Somebody needs to clean the pool filter and keep up with the grass." He took a sip of his beer, then put it down slowly. "There's always things that need looking after. A blown fuse to replace or a clogged drain to snake. You can stay here." He motioned with his hand to the unit they now sat in. "I already talked it over with your mother, she didn't like the idea at first. But after I explained the need, she agreed. I'll pay you one flat fee for the summer."
Kevin hadn't considered the possibility. Nor was he accustomed to his father asking questions that required a decision on his part. Most conversations were limited to him giving orders, and Kevin's acknowledgment of those orders. The question also suggested something new. Not only was it the first time his father had actually discussed something serious with him. Something grown up. But the implication hinted at his father's willingness to trust him with a large responsibility.
"Sure dad. I'd like to stay here and help." What else could he say? No thanks, I'd be frightened to stay here alone, something might come in during the night and take me away. Or, Gee dad, I'd love to, but if I did, I'd probably fuck everything up. No. His father had opened a door, it wasn't open wide, still, it lead to something other than being a kid. He felt the excitement build in his stomach as the realization of what transpired sank in.
He moved in on Monday, June 28. Kevin's mother had stocked the cupboards with enough food for three people and fussed over the whole situation to the point of embarrassment. "I want you to call every evening," she said, "and if I don't hear from you, your father and I will be up here before the sun goes down. I don't want to make a 30 minute trip for nothing, so don't forget. Do you understand me?"
"I understand mom. I'll call every night at dinner time. I promise."
She threw her arms around him. "You be good and don't get into trouble." She said the words while holding him tight in a bear hug. Kevin thought she might be crying and it worried him she knew something he didn't. If there were a reason for tears, he certainly should be in on it. For a short time he worried his parents were about to change their minds and call the whole arrangement off, but they did leave and Kevin sampled the first taste of freedom in his 15 years. It tasted just fine.
The first week flew by. The weather turned cool and rainy on the second day. Despite the dreary skies and cooler temperatures, he felt invigorated. He busied himself with adjusting to his new surroundings, as well as taking care of the pool, a task quickly turning into a chore larger than expected. Leaves constantly blew into the water and because of the rain, the chlorine had to be watched closely. Nevertheless, he liked the work and made it a point to introduce himself to every new family as they arrived. And although obligations came first, business before pleasure and all that, he noticed several kids that looked his age. Kevin suspected he would not be lonely.
While sitting on his porch Kevin watched a boy walk by. He looked his own age, with shoulder length blond hair and a muscular frame. He walked toward the handball court, an area that doubled as the outside movie screen on Friday nights, like a drive-in without the cars. Kevin had noticed him a few times wandering aimlessly and looking bored. On impulse he jumped from the metal rocking chair and threw himself out the door.
At 15 his social skills were mostly undeveloped. An adult would have started the conversation with an introduction and handshake. Kevin said the first thing that popped into his head. "Want to play some catch?"
The boy stopped and smiled. It was a big smile and infectious. "Okay, give me a second, I'll get my glove." He started to jog in the direction he came, then stopped and called back. "You got a ball, or should I get mine?"
"We can use mine." Kevin answered, then ran to get his glove and hardball.
Catch had a way of sizing a guy up. If you didn't know the person you tossed with before you started, odds were you would by the time you finished. The telltale signs were obvious enough to any kid. A guy poking at the oncoming ball with the palm of his glove sticking out like a shield and his eyes half closed, spoke volumes. Maybe he didn't extend his elbow nor twist at the hips when returning the ball, thus making every throw high and wide. If your partner caught the ball with a casual ease then lobbed it back until his shoulder loosened up, you knew he played, and if he played, you could be on the same team.
They didn't talk at first. For five minutes the two boys tossed the ball, each demonstrating their mastery of the task. When they felt convinced of the others worthiness for further conversation, they began with the introductions. They talked as they threw, Kevin said, "I've seen you around a few times. My name's Kevin."
"I'm Joey. Your dad own this place now?"
"Yea, him and two other guys. I'm staying up here for the summer to help out. Is this your first summer here?"
"Hell no. This is our third summer. How is it being on your own?"
"Well, it's a lot of work, but I like it fine. I'm staying in the apartment over there." Kevin motioned with his glove toward the small apartment off the main house. "So, if this is your third year, you must know everybody."
"Guess I do. Last year there was a group of us that played ball together, and just hung out. A couple of them didn't come back this year. If you want, come over to my apartment tonight. You can meet the others, the ones that came back. We have some pretty good poker games."
"Poker? I'm not very good at poker."
"Don't worry. We don't play for money."
After dinner, and a call home to his mother, Kevin wandered over to the front porch of the main house. Although his apartment was attached to the same structure, it sat to the rear of the building, thus blocking any view of the front. The sun had set and the oncoming night felt cool and good. Taking a deep breath he smelled the heavy scent of living things. Trees, grass and weeds with flowers came together to perfume the air with a heavy sweet mixture of mingling fragrances. He told himself he had nothing to be nervous about, kids were kids no matter where they were from. Nevertheless, a subtle fidgety feeling crept over him. Were kids who grew up in New York City somehow different? Would they see him as a hick?
As he approached the porch he heard laughter. It sounded genuine, even comforting. Kevin paused and listened. A girl told somebody to keep it down. There were accusations of cheating and the sound of playing cards being shuffled. They were friends and he wanted to be one of them. He climbed the three steps to the porch and opened the wooden screen door.
Four kids sat at a picnic table playing cards. Joey, at the far end of the table, shuffled the cards with the ease of a riverboat gambler. "Here comes another victim." Joey said to the group. Then, "This is Kevin, his dad's the new owner here, so we got to watch what we say."
If the lighting were better, all would have noticed a red flush draw over Kevin's face. "You don't have to watch what you say. We're new at the business and I know some things need work. But we'll get it right."
The girl sitting to Joey's left spoke up. "Everything's fine, don't listen to him, he's only busting your chops. You and your dad are doing a great job. Here, sit down and we'll deal you in." The girl slid down and motioned for Kevin to sit. "I'm Lorry Glucksman." She put her hand out and Kevin shook it. Only after he grasped her hand did he realize his palm was sweaty, too late to pull it back.
He had noticed the girl a couple of times from a distance and considered her good looking. Now, sitting next to her, she took his breath away. Her black hair flowed in a thick wave to the middle of her back. And although her facial features were those of a teen, her body was of a grown woman--an endowed woman. In the space of a minute he could feel the almost electric affect she had on the group, and that included himself.
From across the table. "Hi, I'm Mike DeLouch. This dork next to me is my brother, Anthony. He's not too swift. We keep him around for comedy relief."
Anthony gave his brother a quick, yet solid punch to the shoulder. "The only dork here is you, shit for brains." Everybody laughed.
"Keep it down guys." Lorry said as she fought to keep from laughing. "You don't want my dad coming out here again, do you?" The thought of having Lorry's father make yet another appearance had a dampening affect on all at the table.
"Okay Kevin, this is stud poker." Joey said as he dealt the cards, "If you don't know how to play, just follow along. You'll pick it up, it's easy."
Despite each hand having different rules, it was easy. One time jacks were wild, another time deuces. One game he received seven cards, another time five. After 15 minutes of play Lorry reached under the table and retrieved a large jar of buttons. "Now remember, these are my mother's buttons, so don't throw them around. If she finds them all over the place she won't let us use them again." Everybody got a handful of buttons and the wagering began.
Conversation flowed quickly from serious topics to the ridiculous. They talked about music and who liked what band. They talked about the upcoming moon landing and how they missed their favorite television shows. As far as Kevin could tell, these kids from the city were no different from any he had known from Goshen. They were fun, sincere and best of all, in only a few minutes they accepted him as one of the group.
After two hours of play Kevin had lost most of his buttons, Joey had the largest pile, then in descending order, Anthony, Lorry and Mike. Considering his newness to the game, he didn't feel too bad. He had played for two hours and not lost all his buttons. In fact, he had won a couple of hands, although he suspected it might have been an act of charity by the others as opposed to any skill on his part.
As the night wore on the group grew tired of the game. Lorry spoke as she shuffled the cards. "This is it guys, last hand. We have to make it a good one. Anybody have any ideas?"
Each player looked around the table, nobody spoke up. Then Anthony ventured a thought. "You always come up with the best ideas, Lorry. You decide." He looked at Kevin. "It's like a tradition. We don't play for money, but on the last hand of the night we come up with something for the person with the worst hand to do. Like a task."
"Okay. Okay. I do have an idea," Lorry said as she shuffled the cards one last time. "Now, this is what the loser of this hand has to do." She turned toward Kevin. "You have a bike, right?" Kevin shook his head yes. "Fine. The loser of this hand has to ride Kevin's bike up and down the road in front of all the other bungalows and he, or she, has to shout `The British are coming.' I think three times up and back should do it."
Joey smiled. "I love it. And we'll tie cans to the back of the bike just to make sure everybody hears."
"Now wait a second guys. We can't do that--it's after ten." Kevin's heart began to speed up. "If my father hears that I had anything to do with a stunt like that, he'd kill me!"
Lorry turned toward Kevin. "Oh, come on Kevin." She put her hand on his shoulder and inched closer to where he sat. Her voice sounded deep and soft, like a oral caress. "You wouldn't even do it for me? And who knows, you might not be the looser. Please, please, and pretty please."
The scent of girl overwhelmed his senses, he felt his heart kick into an even higher gear. "Okay." The word came out in croak. If he didn't lose he could always deny any involvement in such an act of madness, and if he did lose--well, he wouldn't think of that.
Lorry dealt the hand and called the game. Five card draw, deuces wild.
At first he thought he had a chance. Kevin drew two five's, a two, a three, and seven. He held the five's and discard the other junk. Only after he threw away the deuce did he remember its status as a wild card. He groaned low as if in pain. "Three. Give me three." Lorry slid him three new cards. Joey took four, Mike two, Anthony three and the dealer took three. Nobody showed any emotion as each peered over their cards at the other players.
"I'll go first." Lorry put her cards on the table face up, a pair of jacks. Joey put his hand down, full house. Mike laid out three, fours. Anthony stared at Kevin, then licked his lips. He shut his eyes and turned his cards over, two five's. Kevin let out his breath. He had tied, there was no loser. He put his cards on the table.
Joey said it first. "Kevin lost."
"How could I lose? We both got the same thing, two fives."
"When there's a tie, you always look to the next higher card," Lorry chimed in. "Anthony's next higher card is a ten, yours is an eight. Sorry." Lorry divided the tasks with the authority of a commanding officer. "Joey, you get some string. Anthony, you and Mike get some cans. I'll get the bike. Kevin, you sit here. Okay, lets go, and keep it down. We don't want to disturb anybody. We'll leave that to Kevin." They all scattered.
Kevin closed his eyes and thought, this can't be happening. The notion of welshing never crossed his mind. To do so would mark him in the eyes of his new friends as a guy without honor. Somebody who went back on his word. In the ten minutes it took the group to prepare his bike, Kevin tried to come up with a way out and still maintain his integrity. Nothing came to mind. If he did it quickly, peddled as fast as he could, maybe things wouldn't be so bad.
"Okay Kevin, your horse awaits." Lorry bowed low and presented Kevin his own bike. The others in the group clapped and whistled. "You know what you have to do. Go to it Paul. Oh, and one more thing. Because you are the owners son, and new to the group, we'll give you a break. All you'll have to do is two times up and back."
Even as he threw his leg over the bar, he didn't really believe he was about to do what he knew he must. Trailing behind the bike, six cans of various size and two pie plates waited patiently to get moving. More to himself than to the others he said, "My God, I can't believe I'm doing this." As he began to pedal the cans and pans trailing behind began to clatter across the hardpan, and it sounded loud--very loud.
As he gained speed the cans made even more noise, he noticed the first light come on in the second bungalow to his left. As if on cue, he shouted, "The British are coming!" Again and again he shouted the words. He peddled fast as his legs could go and the night flew by in a blur. More lights were coming on. At the end of the first run he barley slowed down as he rounded a large oak tree and headed back a second time. Now, many lights were on and he could see the outline of people standing in doorways. A few cans had worked loose, but the noise coming from the back of the bike still sounded deafening in the quiet summer night. Although he knew his actions could create serious public relations problems, he began to warm to the task.
Coming into the home stretch, about one-hundred feet from his starting point, Kevin began to believe he had pulled the stunt off without any serious consequences. Then, from the shadow of a large pine, a figure stepped onto the road and with one outstretched arm executed a perfect clothesline. Kevin flew backward off his bike and hit the dirt--hard. Looking up from his prone position, a tall woman towered over him. Standing like the Statue of Liberty, she shouted, "Don't you know my babies are sleeping? What's the matter with you? Are you crazy?"
An hour later Kevin sat with Joey at another picnic table, this one under a large oak tree at the corner of the main house. Hundreds of flying things circled a low wattage street light on far side of the tree. When the wind blew, night shadows danced across the table making it look like a surreal, living painting. Lorry and the two brothers scrambled to the relative safety of their respective apartments after Kevin landed on his back in the middle of the road. Now the two new friends sat alone and talked quietly. "Do you think somebody will tell my father?"
"Probably." Joey tried to hold it in, but he couldn't help it. Putting his head on the table's edge he laughed into his arm. Muffled snorts and hoots came in rolling hitches from below. He had been laughing for the better part of an hour. The image of Kevin on his back and a screaming mother towering over him in the middle of the road tore at his repose like a tidal wave on a crumbling seawall. After a few minutes he slowed enough to verbalize his thoughts. "But he doesn't have to know it was you."
"Oh, right. How's he not going to know? This will probably be my last night up here. When word gets around, he'll know."
"No he won't. It was night, dark. Late. Who's to say it was you. All you have to do is say somebody took your bike. You heard something, but then you went back to sleep. You think the lady who knocked you off your bike knows you from any other kid here? This is her first year here. Come on, relax. Don't you know all young, hell-raisers look alike in the dark? Deny it all the way."
"You think that would work?"
"What choice do you have?"
"None." Kevin sat quiet for a minute, thinking. "You know, in a way, it was fun."
"Fun! My God Kevin, that's the best stunt any of us ever saw. We'll be talking about that one for years. You'll be a legend." Joey looked down the road. "I'm glad I didn't lose. Don't know if I'd have had the balls to go through with it."
"Shit, now's a hell of a time to tell me."
"Last year, Mitch, he's one of the guys that didn't come back, he came up with a good idea; the loser had to jump into the pool--naked. In front of the others."
"Really?" Kevin's eyes widened. "So don't keep me in suspense. Was Lorry playing?"
"Sitting right where she sat tonight. We were all praying that she'd come up with the losing hand. I cheated, and so did Mitch. But the girl's good, she cheated, too. Anthony had to jump into the pool. He froze his nuts off that night. We stole his clothes and he had to walk back to his place buck naked. That was good, but you beat it."
"So, does she have a boyfriend?"
"No. Not that I know of."
Although not said, Kevin sensed his new friend felt something more for Lorry than he led on to. He could see why. After only a few hours in her company, he too could construct a fantasy of being locked in an embrace with her.
WRITTEN BY TOM COBEY
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