CD Review
The Rock and Roll Era: 1957,
various artists, Time-Life Music, 1988
Jimmy LaCroix’s older
brother, Evie, usually didn’t speak two words to Jimmy, or let him speak two
words to him. (Jacques and Evian, by the way, to mother, mother Daphne, and all
still up around Quebec City French-Canadian relatives but Jimmy and Evie, strictly Jimmy
and Evie, among themselves and their respective Olde Saco corner boy crowd in that odd
generation-skipping rush to become Americanized, to be like the bloody English
and Irish, and shed that blasted patois
thing, that down from hunger thing, that damn Gallic saint this and saint that
thing and bless yourself before every meal, at night, in front of every passed
church thing, and vanilla melt in with souped-up hot rods, Luckies cigarettes
rolled up a white tee-shirt sleeve, and a Coke bottle beside you at all times
in order, hell, in order to “pass” with the Down East lobster fisherman’s
daughter and that Irish mick’s colleen daughter, the one with that flaming red
hair, prayer book in one hand and her other hand, well, let’s leave it at that
since Irish colleens, or for that matter wistful mermaid yankee girls, do not
figure in Jimmy, or Evie’s, life just now.) Evie LaCroix fully subscribed to
the prerogatives of being an older teenage brother, an older American teenage
brother, moreover one with both a license to drive (although he had been seen
on back roads, the dirt roads and gravel pit ruts that passed for roads, around
Gorham Road, out in farm country driving full-throttle when he was barely
fourteen san license) and an automobile, or rather the automobile, a late model
flash red (make that very cherry red) ’57 Chevy.
That hard fact car was
nothing but a girl magnet (hell, Evie had picked up a few real women looking
for kicks and ready to do what was necessary in the sex department to get to
that front seat on more than one frosty Friday night when her walking daddy was
away and, according to rumor, even a very married woman, a Mayfair swell woman
with kids from over in swanky Ocean City who got her kicks for a while, very hush,
hush and out town up in Portland nestled
up against his shoulder) added fuel to the flame of the “no talk” rule between
the brothers.
See teenage guys in the Acre
(the French-Canadian section over on Atlantic Avenue) had too much to do to
keep those fast cars up in order to keep that girl magnet headed their way to
talk to inconsequential brothers. Every day after school (and some weekends
too) Evie LaCroix could be seen at the Adventure Car-Hop doing solemn duty as a
short order cook serving greasy burgers and oil-drenched fries to the
multitudes.
And every once in a while
pulling his head up from the splattering stovetop to eye his girl of the
moment, Lorraine Champlain, the ace carhop of the place, and one fox that every
guy in town, every guy maybe from young guys like Evie to old, maybe thirty
year old guys, wanted to get next to. Just in case you don’t remember or don’t
have Wikipedia handy a car hop was,
well, a young, good-looking woman who came (in some places via roller skates)
to the side of your car, took your order, and eventually brought you your burger
with whatever on it, fries and soft drink on a tray. Nice touch in car
conscious 1950s America, even in sleepy old dying mill town Olde Saco, Maine.
Lorraine, all blond hair (real, by the way, Evie said so real), small breasts
like all F-C girls, long forever legs and some perfume thing that made you do a
double-take when she took your order (if
Evie did not have his head up, otherwise pass, wisely pass, please). And
while many guys ogled Lorraine (and left big tips as tribute) she was true blue
to her Evian (not Evie, not to her, or anything like that by the way and no
mother’s boy talk about him letting her use that forbidden name, not if you
didn't want to mix knuckles with corner boy tough Evie, no leave that noise at home,
or better stand in some sullen corner at home if that is your line). So you can
see that Evian certainly would have had o time, no time at all for bon
Jimmie.
Except Jimmy, all twelve
years of him, had to, just had to break his armed truce with Evie and speak
two, maybe more words. Jimmy was smitten (local Olde Saco corner boy, junior
division, word for love, puppy love learned, or half-learned, from a poem
picked up in Miss Genet’s class and immediately adopted in junior division corner
boy society) with one Mimi Dubois, Lorraine’s cousin, and someone who might one
day challenge Lorraine as the ace car hop in town. But that future prospect was
not what was bothering Jimmy that day, the day he got up enough nerve to ask
Evian the big question.
He had asked Mimi to go to
the movie theater, the Bijou where they had sci-fi stuff and monster movies not
the Majestic where they only had old time film noir fare with guys getting
themselves blasted up for dames and getting nothing for their efforts, except an off-hand slug in
the chest or something, with him on
Saturday afternoon to watch the double feature and he needed a please, please
favor because the theater was too far from her house to walk and her parents
would not let her go without a ride. (They in time-honored tradition did not
make the social faux pas of
suggesting that they take the pair to the theater, jesus, no, they had been
told in no uncertain terms to not even mention that possibility.) Also Jimmy’s
parents were out for the very good reason (although not as good as the “in no
uncertain terms” one) that Mr. LaCroix had been out of work as the dying
textile mills where he had worked most of his life had laid him off and he
didn’t have an automobile at the moment.
So Jimmy spoke, spoke to Evie
on the fly after school one afternoon as Evian was preparing to enter his
chariot very cherry red Chevy to head to Adventure Car Hop about driving him to
the theater. And here is how young Jimmie laid out his case to his older
brother. One day at Doc’s (the local Acre drugstore where the junior high
school kids hung out because, one, it was right across from the school, and
two, Doc’s had a soda fountain and super jukebox that played all the latest
teen hits)Jimmie had cornered Mimi. It was there that Jimmy approached his
sweet Mimi to ask about going to the movies. And Eddie Cochran saved him. No,
not Eddie in person, but his latest hit, Sittin’
In The Balcony.
Jimmie kind of came at Mimi
sideways, like twelve year old goofy guys will, and asked Mimi off-handedly a
hypothetical question concerning her
choice for movie seating options. Down in the orchestra which meant a
silly date, like old people did, watching the movies, and maybe eating popcorn
or up in the balcony where in Olde Saco tradition (and maybe every other
civilized place as well) the young, very young sans automobile, sans money,
sans any idea of what was going on went to “make out” and not watch some silly
old double feature (although they might come up for air for popcorn
occasionally).
Mimi answered like this, and
thus caused Jimmy his boldness in asking his brother for help. “If you are
asking me just to ask me a silly question while Eddie Cochran’s Sittin’ In The Balcony is playing then
I’d answer orchestra but if you are really asking me to go to the movies with
you then it’s the balcony. Evian laughed, laughed out loud at that and then
grabbed Jimmy by the shoulder and said “Sure kid, I was young once too.”
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