THE CLOWN MUTILATION INCIDENT

How I remember my happy clown (pre-mutilation)

Yesterday would have been my mother’s 70^th birthday. She’s been gone for 16 years now, and there’s not a day that I don’t think about her or miss talking to her. But this post is not going to be a sad one, that’s something she would never want - my fondest memories are of all of us laughing & having a good time – everything was always an adventure -  she made things fun, even in times of adversity. So this one’s for you, ma.

Me, my mother & my sister

Nobody has a greater fan than their mother, & mine was no exception. Why, she probably headed up this secret fan club of moms. But that doesn’t mean that there weren’t times I’m sure she wanted to shake me good for some of the stunts I pulled. (and sometimes she did just that) Why, I must have thousands of stories that confirm this point, and even though I’m sure you would want to hear all of them, I’ll narrow it down to just one. (for now – depending on how this blog thing goes).

Picture it – Sicily, 1927. No, that’s not right....



Miami Beach - 1967

 I mean - picture it – Miami Beach, 1967. Apparently, my grandfather used to send my grandmother, my aunt & my mother on Miami beach vacations when she was growing up, while he stayed home, working away while the wife & kids were having a grand old time at the beach. Maybe sending everyone away was a vacation for him too. (reminds me of my friend joe who always says: I told my wife “pack your bags honey, we’re going on a pleasure trip”, to which his wife asks “where are we going?”. His reply – “I’m driving you to the airport”) Well I guess it’s funnier when he tells it, and after I’ve had a few martinis.

Anyway, this tradition of “sending the wife & kids to Miami” continued after my mother got married and had me & my sister. I don’t know if my father was so happy about sending us off to the sun & beach while he stayed home working, but I guess when you’re 27 years old & the Italian father in law tells you it’s a good idea, you just roll with it.

Don't forget to pack the wigs

It was a different time back then. Hotels were big and women’s hair was even bigger. I always remember the night before we went on any trip – my mother always headed up  the packing, which included two wig cases, (with these cool Styrofoam heads with wigs on them), several large, heavy suit cases (no restrictions back then), & the “medicine” bag, which contained all the essentials that one might need if you were to encounter a tornado, hurricane, torn limb, salmonella poisoning, or any other disaster one might expect on a trip to Miami beach.

So off we went to Miami, my mother, my sister and I, my grandmother, my aunt Kathleen & her 3 children. I was 6 years old & my mother was 26.

The Monmarte

The lobby

The hotel we stayed at was “The Monmarte” - a large hotel built in the late 1950’s, which had a huge lobby with a staircase, and a tremendous sitting area where people gathered after a tough day of lounging at the beach, to talk about their exciting daily adventures. Back in the 60s, people would just hang out for hours in hotel lobbys, all dressed up, just talking & playing cards, while their children played in the various nooks & crannies of the hotel. There were always activities for the children, & it was not uncommon for parents to let their children (even 6 year olds) run off & play by themselves within the confines of the hotel. (doesn’t sound too safe by today’s standards, but remember, this was almost 45 years ago)

Even the kids dressed up in the lobby

So on the night of the “clown situation”, all of us children were joined in the lobby by the adults, for the nightly big game of bingo in the cavernous lobby. There were several smaller prizes, but the grand prize was a HUGE stuffed clown doll. I mean, this doll was almost as tall as I was. I can still remember staring at it the entire time we played – praying to god to let me win that sweet clown. I’d be the envy of every kid at the hotel. Every prize was won & now it was time for the last game – & the lucky winner walking out with that big stuffed clown. Silence fell over the lobby as the “full card” game began….




The winning card

 B-3, I-5, O-10…. You could cut the tension with a knife as the caller rolled that big cage & grabbed out those bingo balls. I remember sitting next to an older girl  (probably an old hag of about 12 years old), and we both were down to needing one number. As the caller was about to announce the next number, I looked over to her (I’m sure with beaded sweat on my chubby little brow), and pleaded with her to let me win if they called her number first. She just made a face at me. Then the number was called. And I won!

I jumped up & down, shouting BINGO, BINGO, & hoping no one else would also win. How would they split that big clown if there was a tie? I ran up to the front, they checked my numbers (kind of the precursor to today’s lotto), and I was handed that tremendous clown doll. I remember dragging it back to my mother, who was just so proud that her little boy was talented enough to win such a prestigious prize. We all celebrated by ordering ice cream, & I handed my clown over to my mother while my cousin Leonard & I we went to play with some boy we met at the bingo game, who was also staying at the hotel.

Gotta get that flip right in 1967

 I remember my mother sitting on one of those massive lobby couches with her beautiful long straight wig (she had very wavy hair – not a very good 1960’s look) & her beaded white dress & high heeled shoes. She kind of looked like marlo Thomas in “that girl”. Me & leonard waved to her & my aunt Kathleen as we ran off to play.

Now my cousin Leonard & I grew up together & were more like brothers than cousins. He was 9 months younger than me & about half the size of me. At that time, he was the outgoing one & I was the follower. We were in cub scouts together several years later, & our cub scout leader, Mrs. Adolph, once told my mother & aunt that she thought it was better that Leonard & I be in separate troupes because she said that whenever I wanted something, I would whisper it to Leonard & he would ask for it for me. And on the other hand, she said that I used to tie Leonard’s shoes & button his coat for him. (Sounds a little like a co-dependent relationship to me).



I guess I was batman &
Leonard was Robin

 Anyway, the bottom line is that I clearly remember (sorry Len) that Leonard said that we should go to this kid’s room & play, instead of staying in the lobby of the hotel. He assured me that we would just stay a little while & no one would notice. So off we went up into the elevator & into this kid’s room. I guess we were on “children’s time” & didn’t realize that we were there for hours instead of minutes. (I remember jumping up & down from bed to bed in his room, playing “batman & robin”). I guess a complicated game like that just can’t be played so quickly.



Busted in Miami Beach



So we bid farewell to our new friend & came walking out of the room amid a flurry of policemen & people with flashlights running up & down the hall. I remember smiling & thinking like a 6 year old -  “wow, something really big must be going on!” Suddenly, one of the men grabbed us by the arm. “ ARE YOUR NAMES GERALD & LEONARD?” He said in a loud voice. “Yes we are”, I mumbled, almost immediately with tears in my eyes. In that second, I realized that this entire commotion was centered around us & we were probably in a lot of trouble. “Come with us” the man said, dragging us down the elevator & into the lobby.

Nobody was sitting chatting on the couches anymore - people were scurrying everywhere, & then I saw my mother & my aunt. They looked nothing like they did earlier – my mother was no longer wearing her Marlo Thomas wig – it was dangling in her hand, looking kind of like a wet rat. Her dress was wet & disheveled & her high heeled shoes were gone. She was standing there in stockings that looked torn & tattered. Her mascara was running & she had tears in her eyes. (and to say she didn’t look too happy would be putting it mildly)



But was my clown ok?


It seems that our little game of “batman & robin” kept us busy for three hours, and after searching the entire hotel lobby for us, the police were called. A short time after that, someone must have said something to the effect that “maybe they went down to the beach or by the pool”  & apparently that’s when the wig & the shoes came off as my mother & aunt threw themselves into the nighttime surf looking for our limp bodies. I have to admit, even though I knew I was in some serious trouble, all I could think about was my precious life size clown. I hope he wasn’t lost or misplaced in all of this mess. But I knew that this moment was probably not the right time to ask about his whereabouts.

 



Couldn't my father realize that I
just lost track of time?



 I was just praying that my mother would be happy that I was alive & forget about whatever had happened in the last few hours. But no such luck. She smiled for a second, I guess glad that I was still alive, but then started yelling at me as she walked me up to our room, yelling the entire time about how many times she told me not to venture past the lobby. Boy, how this night had turned bad so quickly. We got up to the room & there was my grandmother with my sister, everyone crying & yelling. Italians do that a lot, so I wasn’t so surprised. Then came the phone call to my father in new york to tell him I was alive. Apparently, he was getting ready to fly down to Miami to join in the search for us too. He asked If I was ok & when I told him we were playing batman & robin he just joined in with my mother about “how could I do that”. But it was just like “blah blah blah” to me. All I kept thinking was “where was my clown?”

Where was my clown?

 Suddenly, there in the chair next to the couch I saw him. I guess it was bad timing when I asked If I could play with him at that moment, because my mother, blinded with being upset, grabbed the clown & started tearing it up. Off came its head, & then an arm, & then a leg. I started crying & we were all crying & then hugging & then crying again. I guess my mother just needed to get it out of her system. Of course she loved me & was glad to see me & know I was ok. But all that fear of what could have happened took over for a second. And then as fast as this entire event happened, it was over & we were ordering room service.

It took many, many years for us to think about this story & laugh, but we often recounted this event many times over the years & every time we did, it just seemed funnier & funnier.

The wise old clown

I didn’t have that clown for more than a few hours, but in the end, he gave us all years & years of enjoyment just by talking about him. All we had to say was “remember the clown” & we’d all burst out laughing. He made us all a little wiser after that night -  I never again had to be told not to venture beyond the lobby or wherever I wasn’t supposed to be. And I didnt', because, after all, who would want to lose two clowns in one lifetime?