“Josh called, Josh called,
Josh called about seven times while you were out Betty,” Mrs. Becker yelled up
to Betty rushing to her room in order to get ready for her big date with new
romance Teddy. Teddy today freshly met, six hours and fifteen minutes ago
freshly met, at the beach, the beautiful, beautiful Olde Saco Beach, formerly
just a beach, a too stony to the Betty feet touch beach, fetid at low tide (it stunk,
honestly) and on more than one occasion held to be a beach fit solely for
lowlife by one Betty Becker. But now beautiful, beautiful since Teddy, Teddy
Andrews, had noticed her, had traversed and graced his bare feet on that stony
brine in order to introduce himself to her, her Betty Becker, soon to be a
senior at Olde Saco High and then, then …fleeting moments of fantasy, Mrs.
Teddy Andrews.
Now it was not merely
happenstance that Betty Becker was on Olde Saco Beach this July 1960 afternoon,
stationed there along with her bevy of summering Olde Saco High School girls (okay,
okay three other girls just in case four does not make a bevy) in their sacred
sanctified spot between the Seal Rock Yacht Club and the South Saco River Club.
This spot had been a dedicated place for the pick (and not so pick) of the Olde
Saco High soon to be senior girls since, well, since there was probably an Olde
Saco Beach, or at least as far back as anyone, any soon to be senior girl could
remember. Reason: reason number one and there was (is) no other reason worthy
of mention was this was prime real estate, stony brine or not, to be noticed,
noticed in summer swim suits or diaphanous sun dresses, by what passed for the
Olde Saco Mayfair set, junior division. In short, future husband or lover
material to take a step or two up in the world without much heavy lifting (or
so most of these young unworldly women thought).
That reason was moreover of
more recent origin, and datable as well, since Lydia LeClair, Olde Saco Class
of 1944 and of humble MacAdams Textile
Mills mill worker family had snagged Robert MacAdams, a grandson of the
founder, and was even then comfortable ensconced in a small mansion over in
Ocean City for all to see, and admire. So from that time not only was this spot
sacred senior girl ground but the seat of dreams of getting out from under some small white picket fence cottage
over on Atlantic Avenue and a pinched
life fate like their parents. So daily in the summer, pretty girls, not so
pretty girls, even just average girls could be found between those two boat
clubs and nowhere else. And heaven help, no better, hell help any soon to
be freshman, sophomore or junior girl
(one not even need to mention junior high girls) found in that precinct before
her time. Come to think of it most days anybody but that select company. (And
any others would be well advised to avoid that place what with the preening,
the giggles, and the incessant johnny angel, teen angel, fool in love, earth
angel, angel baby, endless sleep, music roaring out of those collective
transistor radios). But enough of beaches, enough of stones, enough of boat
clubs, enough of blaring music back to Betty Becker and her palpable dream.
That afternoon Teddy (father
a lawyer for the MacAdams Textile Mills and therefore worthy of local Mayfair
swell-dom) had spied her, he said, from the deck of the Seal Rock Club and was
compelled, compelled he said, to check out the foxy blonde-haired chick (boy
term of art, circa 1960 and forward, for, girl, woman) in the red bikini. Betty
smiled, smiled the of the knowing, knowing that she had turned more than one
head this summer, older guys too with silly no-account leering looks, with that
very revealing bathing suit. Unlike the others though, young and old, that she
would have rebuffed if they had approached (some if they had come within a mile
of her) Teddy had noticed, saw red, saw sex in big letters, walked over to the
bevy of blankets (the other three of the so-called not exactly unbecoming but
not blonde and red-bikini-ed and therefore this day not Teddy Andrews
temperature raising) told her just that, told her how foxy she looked. And she
practically swooned (although already practiced in coy-ship just smiled,
obligatory smile responded). A few minutes of off-hand banter and they were dated
up for the evening.
Dreamy Teddy, rich Teddy, of
the father-bought new Pontiac Star Chief sitting in front of the Seal Rock Club
for all the world, all the Olde Saco girl world to see, and that was what
mattered, with plenty of zip and style (car and boy)that
every girl in school was crazy to get in the front seat of, and with. Teddy of the now
forget Josh, forget he ever existed Josh. Josh of the two years standing since
the first day of freshman year as her beau, but more importantly, with "what is
a girl to do big doings and a big hungry world," walking Josh of the
no car fraternity. Blah. And before Betty could hear the faint ring of another
Josh call she was out the door and planned to be off-limits, Teddy off-limits,
to every Josh in school, including Josh, until somebody came by with a father-bought
Cadillac and then maybe she would find herself in the front seat of that
automobile. Maybe. Yes, a girl, a
working-class girl with good looks, a good
personality but a little light on the book smarts, and a lot light on the dough
smarts had to look out for herself. Josh, eternally understanding Josh, would
understand, wouldn’t he?
Meanwhile Josh, Josh of the
infinite nickels, had stepped away from the telephone at Doc’s Drugstore over
on Main Street after making that eighth call to one Betty Becker. See, Josh had
two reasons for using the public telephone at Doc’s, first, he didn’t want
snooping older brothers to harass him over his long Betty craze (they had her
figured as, at best, a gold-digger and was just hanging on to Josh until the
next best thing came along) and so he would not use a home phone to call her.
And secondly, currently, the Breslin residence, due to an out of work father,
had no phone with which to call Miss Betty in any case. So he was pushing shoe
leather between the telephone booth and his stool at Doc’s where a forlorn Coke
(cherry Coke) was waiting on the completion of his errand. He said to himself
one more time was all and then he would head home. Doc’s motions made him
realize that was his fate in any case as he was ready to close up shop for the
evening. Ninth call, no soap, and he left saying a pitiful good night to Doc.
Out on Main Street he walked
head down, lost in thought, when a big new Pontiac, two-toned (a couple of
shades of green then stylish, uh, cool) passed him by, honking like crazy. He
didn’t realize who it was until the car came back to him honking like crazy
again. Then he saw Betty and her dreamy Teddy laughing, laughing like crazy at
the “pedestrian.” The car stopped, Betty
got out and gave Josh his class ring back saying that she was not walking any
place anymore, thank you. And then, to add insult to injury, Teddy floored the gas
pedal leaving dust all over Josh. He could faintly sense them laughing, laughing
like crazy once again as they drove away. (Josh found out later through one of
the Betty bevy that she was miffed at Teddy for that last act, although she
never said anything to Josh about it then or ever since she avoided him like
the plague thereafter.)
When Josh got home he went up
into his tiny room (the fate of the youngest brother), closed the door behind
him, locked it, and turned on his transistor radio. Rock and roll music calmed
him down at times like these. Then he thought over the situation and while he
was still hurt he could see that Betty had to take her chance, take her chance
to get out from under the Olde Saco rock and while he didn’t forgive her he did
understand. What he didn’t understand, and wouldn’t understand for many years,
was why she acted that way that night on Main Street after they had just
discussed the issue the not making fools of each other under any circumstances
the previous week. That previous week Betty and he had laughed at that thought promising
eternally that such would never be their fates.
[Betty MacAdams, nee Becker,
did eventually find her Mayfair swell, for a while, marrying a great-grandson
of the founder of the MacAdams textile fortune, moved over with the rest of the
clan to Ocean City, had a couple of kids, was eventually divorced by that
great-grandson when he went to live with his mistress, and was last heard from living
quietly in Europe on her divorce settlement. For a while, until such things
went out of fashion, public fashion anyway, Betty (Class of 1961) was held up
as the Olde Saco High senior girl example of the possibilities of summering
between those two old boat clubs waiting on the Mayfair swells, junior
division.- JLB]
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