The Dragon and Joseph Smith

(Or how I ended up sleeping in Barbara Smith's bed)

I was pretty sad the day the Mormons left town.  Roddy Zurenborg was my best friend, big brother and protector.  When his family moved away I lost my body guard, and the neighborhood became a dangerous place for 10-year-olds.

That was it for the Mormons until many years later when I moved to a western Missouri town just outside Kansas City.  Who'd have thought that the town of Independence was the spot where the Mormons believed Jesus Christ would land when he returned to Earth.  Who knew that there was more than one flavor of the Mormons -- The Reorganized LDS, Temple Lot, Cutlerites and Restoration Branches headquartered at Independence.   The Utah Mormons even had a visitors center there to be close to the action when Christ returned, and were apparently very bent out of shape that the RLDS (now known as the Church of Christ) owned the deed to Christ's landing pad.

In addition to Jesus Christ, Harry Truman was Independence's other famous returnee.  He retired there after being president.  I wish I could have asked Harry Truman what he though of the religious politics of his old hometown, but he died a few years before I arrived.  There was a very nice larger- than-life bronze statue of Harry on the town square.

I got myself a small apartment on the outskirts of town near a new middle school and a cornfield.  The apartments were new. too.  A year before they and the school had been part of the cornfield.   A few years later the city acquired what was left of the cornfield, dug a hole for a pond and turned the land into a nature preserve.  You'd be surprised how fast the trees grow back.

The apartments were like a college dormitory, young and very social.  That's how I met Big Bob, Barbara and her husband one day after work.  Bob was out from New Jersey, doing some specialized construction work on a hospital in Kansas City.   I never caught what Barbara's husband did.  Barbara was a gorgeous, vivacious redhead with short hair and freckles.  One part of an obviously loving couple.  Barbara we learned was the great-great-great-great granddaughter of the Mormon prophet Joseph Smith.

Big Bob provided most of the entertainment: good drinking buddy, nonstop talk.  If someone was giving you the evil eye in a bar, Bob would tap them on the should and they'd think better of it and walk away.   Bob was really big.  Bob was also a babe magnet.  This I never understood.  Maybe it had something to do with animal magnetism and smooth talk.

Paradise lasted awhile until one night over a beer Bob announced that Barbara had run off never to return.  Her husband moved out of their apartment and was soon gone too.  Someone told Bob he could have their furniture and  since Bob didn't need it he gave it to me.  I returned all my rented stuff and took over Barbara's.  That's how I ended up sleeping in Barbara's bed... sans Barbara.

Louie, The Greek

The doorbell rang, my mother opened the door, and a man dove into the room.  He did a paratrooper's somersault, sprang to his feet and shouted:   "Hi, I'm Louie!  Where's Jimmy!"

That was my mother's introduction to my father's lifelong friend Louie, the Greek.  My father (aka The Dragon) met Louie one summer long ago at Long Beach, New York, just outside New York City.  Louie's uncle had a food stand on the boardwalk by the beach and little Louie got to spend summers with his uncle.

"We were best buddies.  Two scrappers.  We fought like cats and dogs.  Father Joe over at St. Mary's taught your father how to box.  Marques of Queensbury Rules.  I didn't know any rules."  Louie said with a wink.

It was the Roaring Twenties and Prohibition.  Long Beach was a destination for the affluent and smart set.  It's political leader was Lorenzo Carlino, Lucky Luciano's lawyer.  One night my grandfather was taking a walk on the beach and a cop stops him.  "Mr. Mac, you need to go home now."  The cop winked and grandpa got the message.  Bootleggers were landing a boatload of booze that night.

In the movies Long Beach was home to the Godfather and, in fact, there was some of Lorenzo Carlino and the local gangsters in the Godfather's Don Corleone.   In real life, though, Long Beach was a demilitarized zone.   Sonny never got gunned down at the toll booth on the Long Beach causeway from New York City.   It was a summer playground for Louie, dad and their friend Eddie Handy, another wild kid.   Eddie didn't survive the war.

After the war, Louie became a Nassau County cop.  My father became a lawyer.  He might have become a cop like Louie or a mechanic -- he liked fixing cars -- but his mother wanted him to be a lawyer. 
"You're going to law school, Jim." 
"I didn't apply, Mother."
"Jim, I talked to Agnes Muldoon and she talked to Felix (Agnes's henpecked husband) and Felix talked to the dean at Fordham.  You've been admitted to start in the fall." 

Imagine Felix Muldoon one of the most connected politicians in New York State, a guy who, in Chicago's smoke-filled room, told Flynn to back Roosevelt, having to go hat in hand to the president of Fordham Law to ask a favor. 
"Father Gannon, it's Felix Muldoon.  Do me a favor.  Agnes is on the war path.  She wants her friend's son Jimmy Mac to go to law school.  He's a good kid.  Regis, Holy Cross.  That's right his father's gone, the one who lectured at the school of Social Work and sent the city's public school lunch trucks to the Catholic schools as well.  Yes, Wagner's friend.  Great.  Call me when you need a favor.  We should do lunch next time you're downtown."

One good thing came out of Jimmy's law degree.  When the City of Long Beach health department tried to shut down Louie's uncle's boardwalk business -- no bathroom -- Jimmy worked a deal with the city to grandfather in the food stand sans bathroom.

Jimmy didn't like being a lawyer.  When he moved the family to Levittown, he started all sorts of little businesses that he and mom ran: an insurance agency, real estate, selling toys at the farmer's market, a travel agency.  He should have been wildly successful on a booming Long Island, but competition was fierce.  The insurance agents teamed up to provide insurance to the local school kids.  Then one year somebody in the consortium secretly submitted a separate, lower bid and got all the business.   Later the car dealer called up and said he loved doing business with my mom, but his bank told him no more loans unless he bought his insurance from the bank's agent.   The travel agency became an obsession.  It wouldn't work unless the agency had airline tickets it could sell and Jimmy literally had to take the case to the Supreme Court to get the tickets.   Then one day the office building where the travel agency was located burned down.  When the smoke cleared, the safe with the tickets was gone.   Jimmy was beside himself.   The tickets and the ticket validator were worth millions of dollars.  If they were lost, he'd be ruined financially.

Desperate, Jimmy called the Nassau County police chief, another old Long Beach friend.  The chief said:  "Sorry, Jimmy.  We've done everything we can.  That safe of yours is at the bottom of the Great South Bay by now."

Jimmy called Louie.  By then Louie was a detective in the county police department.  Louie said he'd help.  The two of them drove over to the ghetto in Hempstead and found the bar where the office building's janitor hung out.   Louis said: "Wait outside, Jimmy."  Louie came back after a few minutes.  "Here's the deal.  No questions asked.  We can pick up the safe in a half an hour around the corner."  A half an hour later, they had the safe... no questions asked.

Louie was a solid guy.  He gave anyone a chance to be reasonable... no questions asked.  One time he got sent on a hunt to bring in a murderer.  He tracked the guy to an apartment in Harlem.   Louie burst through the door, into the apartment.   On the other side of the room stood an angry black man, 6 ft 4, 250 pounds.  He was holding a big axe.  "I'm taking you in,"  says Louie as he pointed his Official Police Colt revolver with it's powerful .38-44 high velocity bullets at the man.  "Put down the axe and lie on the floor, or I'll blow your fucking brains out."  The man glared at Louie, but after a few tense minutes decided to be reasonable and put the axe down... no questions asked.

One day Louie and the other detectives get called into the DA office.  It's a new DA.  "We're taking in all the Mafia over in Long Beach and Point Lookout."  Silence.  Then Louie pipes up.  "Why!?  That's where they live.  All their business is in New York.  There isn't a crime out here in Nassau County we can charge them with."  The DA glares at Louie.  "Just do it."

So Louie and his partner get told to bring in Joey D for questioning.  "Christ!"  says Louie.  "That guy lives down the street from me on Point Lookout.  I've got to arrest my neighbor for nothing."

Louie and his partner drive over to Point Lookout, past the toll booth where the mythical Sonny got assassinated,  over to Joey D's house, and they knocked on the door.   By then the cat is long out of the bag.  Joey D's lawyer answers the door.  Louie tells the lawyer it's the police and the lawyer goes berserk.  F and A and SOB bombs are dropping so hard Louie's starting to have D-Day flashbacks.  Joey D runs to the door and screams: 
"Stop! Leonard! For heaven's sake this is my neighbor.  I'm so sorry.  Louie?  Is that right?  You're Louie from down the street." 

"That's right, sir, I'm Louie Sarantopolis from down the street.  I'm also a Nassau County police detective."
"I know."  Said Joey.
"I'm sorry, Mr. D., we have to bring you in for questioning.  It's not our idea.  There's a new DA."
"I know.  Don't feel bad about it," said Joey.  "I'm sorry for your trouble.  Would you like some coffee.  Can I show you the house?"  

"Sure," says Louie.  His partner is starting to think they've fallen through the rabbit hole and they're in Wonderland... so's Joey D's lawyer, Leonard.   They all have coffee and take a tour of the house.
"You have a very nice house here Mr. D., but we have to go now."
"I understand," said Joey.  Then genuinely contrite, Joey hands Louie and his partner each a $100 dollar bill:  "I am so very sorry for this trouble, Louie."

Louie's partner looks at the $100 bill in shock and says, "Christ! We can't take this, Louie."

Louie looks at his partner and says, "Relax.  It's my neighbor.  He's just trying to be polite." Then Louie whispered, "He wouldn't expect anyone to sell their soul for 100 bucks, especially in Nassau County where he doesn't want any trouble."

After he retired,  Louie got a job as body guard/driver for Senator Alfonse D'Amato, who was raised in Island Park, just across the channel from Long Beach.  It was a decent gig.  D'Amato and Louie seemed to be warming to each other.  One day, D'Amato invites Louie over to a party at D'Amato's house.

"Hey! Stella!  Put on your best dress.  We're going to a party at D'Amato's house."

Louie and Stella show up at D'Amato's, D'Amato greets them at the door, says "Hi, Louie" and then hands him a bartender's jacket.  "I need you to handle the drinks tonight."

The next morning Louie called D'Amato's office and told them to find another driver.