The only thing you could count on when it came to them was seeing Mazie in her ticket booth on Park Row. Sometimes I’d swing by Chinatown for lunch, my office not being too far from there, and I’d see her there, and that was a nice way to pass the time. My crush on her hadn’t withered, I’ll be honest with you. We were both young people. Her bosom grew every year, and she wore the most flattering dresses. That girl just had a really enjoyable figure.
I was always waving to her from the street corner. If she didn’t have a line or her head in one of her magazines — she loved all those True Romance type of magazines — she’d wave back too, even blow me a kiss sometimes. She’d yell, “George Flicker, there he is, ladies and gentlemen, a real-life war hero!” She was the only one who didn’t forget.
Mazie’s Diary, April 1, 1926
416 Mulberry Street. Our neighbors are young, single ladies, most of them in nursing school. Top floor. On Friday nights they go to the movies together. They stand in my line and I sell them tickets and they all greet me with respect. They’re not so much younger than myself, but it feels ages between us. They’re just starting out and most days I feel like I’m already done.
Mazie’s Diary, May 3, 1926
Rosie said: Why are they having so much fun? Why are they so goddamned happy all the time? What’s with the tittering?
I said: They’re young and full of life! Look, lady, we wanted young. And none of them are going to die on us.
Rosie said: Not unless I kill them.
Mazie’s Diary, May 15, 1926
Tee lives down near the water, in a narrow but tall building filled with all the other extra Theresas from her settlement. Her building is quiet, whispers all around us, the lobby barely lit. We came in off the street and it was as if Manhattan disappeared behind us. So different from all the homes I’ve had in the city, where I’ve always heard the streets below calling up to me.
The elevator was out, so we climbed the stairs to get to her apartment on the top floor. Round and round. A maiden high in a castle, was what I was thinking. As soon as we entered her apartment, she took off her headpiece. She looks so young without it. That blond hair hanging about her shoulders. A real blonde, not a fake one like me.
The room is as small as she promised. Dark gray walls, two square windows, one with a view of the Woolworth Building. I asked her if the lights kept her up at night and she said she didn’t need much sleep.
I said: That’s right. Who needs sleep?
She said: When there’s so much to be done.
There was a hot plate in the room, and a small card table for dining. One giant painting of Jesus, and a few smaller ones. A single bed, a wooden frame, one small pillow, a wool blanket. A bookshelf, books in Latin. A Bible on a nightstand. I realized Tee doesn’t have much more than the people she helps.
Next to the Bible there was a framed photograph of Tee with her parents, standing in front of a waterfall, somewhere upstate I imagined, where her people are from. Her hair was all around her shoulders, and she was young and smiling. Tee, before sisterhood.
She cracked a window and put on some stew. I bought some bread at the market yesterday morning, and we barely used our spoons as we ate, just hunks of bread soaked in stew. We sucked our fingers. It was salty and I liked it. When we were done, we pushed the bowls to the center of the table.
I noticed the ring on her wedding finger. Married to Christ. I took her hand in mine and twirled the ring. I asked her if she always knew she had her calling.
She said: I think my parents wanted something else for me. I’m an only child. They dreamed of me getting married, and giving them a grandchild or two to dote upon.
I said: You never wanted that?
She said: I always dreamed of the stars and the heavens, and that someone was looking down on me, watching over me. My daydreams were about God.
I said: Do you really love him?
She said: I do. I truly do. My heart feels full when I think of him.
I had no response. My heart was full of so many things and yet not one thing at all.
She said: Who do you love?
I thought of the Captain.
I said: No one. Or no one like that.
Now she was holding my hand.
She said: I’m not trying to convert you. I accept you for who you are. But I would like to help you.
Instantly I was angry. She’s always making me angry. Whenever she tries to help me I can’t stand it. I don’t want anyone to help me. I don’t want her to think she knows better than me. I pulled my hand away from her.
She said: I’m not trying to change you. I swear to you, Mazie. I only care for you. I know you have secrets. You don’t have to tell them to me. You never have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m not your confessor. I’m your friend.
I said: Yes, you’re my friend. Not my parent, not my god. Nothing like that.
She said: I said I’m not. I know I’m not.
I said: Fine. You’re not.
I started to calm down. It was quiet there in her apartment. Just the moon and the Woolworth Building. What was I going to do with all my anger anyway? Was I gonna strike her? No. I love her.
She said: But you could tell your secrets to someone else. No one would have to know. It might make you feel better. Just to talk to someone.
I told her I’d think about it. That’s all she was looking for. Just so she knew I heard her. I’ll never do it, though. Trust a stranger? What a hoot. Plus, that’s what this diary’s for.
Before I left I gave her a gift, a stack of True Romances. She laughed at me.
She said: What am I going to do with these?
I said: For when you get bored with Jesus.
She said: Never will I tire of my savior.
I said: Boy oh boy, you and your savior.
She took them anyway. I know she likes them. I saw that juicy gleam in her eye. Who doesn’t love a little dirt? Surely she can’t dream only of him at night.
Mazie’s Diary, June 18, 1926
A postcard from Jeanie.
I’ll be in the Bay Area for the foreseeable future, darling. There’s money to be made here. Big crowds every night. Come visit if you please.
California’s on the bottom of my list of things to do, right after jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge for a nice swim. Wish she’d give us a ring though. I’d like to hear her voice.
George Flicker
This is something I never mentioned to Mazie or Rosie at the time because it all had seemed rather delicate, and I don’t like to get into anybody’s personal family business unless it’s offered to me or asked of me or they’re my own blood or what have you. But I had a cousin named Morrie who saw Jeanie perform in San Francisco, at a place called the Capri. It was maybe not a nice club, is what Morrie said. I said, “Well then what were you doing there?” “Ohhhh, I got dragged there.” Okay. Whatever you say, Morrie. She danced with a fan, and then she danced without a fan. It could have been worse. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Live long enough, you’ll give everyone the benefit of the doubt. It costs you nothing.
And who really cares what kind of dancing she did? Who cares, I say. Do you care? I didn’t think so.
Mazie’s Diary, July 1, 1926
I don’t believe in hell but I’m probably going there anyway.
Just to make Tee happy I went to confession. I said all that forgive me father nonsense she taught me.
It’s hard to believe the man listening on the other side won’t run and blab all my secrets to any bum on the street. So I only told him a few. Just to see how it felt. I told him about some of the lovers I’ve had around town.