Joseph Sciuto's Blog: A Curious View: A Compilation of Short Stories by Joseph Sciuto, page 5

“IN MEMORY OF MY FRIEND WALTER,” By JOSEPH SCIUTO

                                  IN MEMORY OF MY FRIEND WALTER

                                       “…I LEFT BEHIND FRIENDS.” R.S.

When I left Southern California people asked, “What do you miss the most?”

I replied, “My friends.”

“Not the beaches and the great weather year round?”

“I miss those, but not nearly as much as I miss my friends.”

“How about when you moved from the Bronx? Besides your family, what did you miss the most?”

“My friends.”

“Not the pizza, Chinese food, and great restaurants.”

“I missed those, but not nearly as much as my friends.”

“And where you live now, what do you like the most?”

“The friends that we have and how friendly all the people seem to be. Yes, I like the beauty and the galloping horses but not nearly as much as the people and our friends.”

When I was growing up in my grandmother’s house in the Bronx, in the mid-sixties and early seventies, at least seven of her children, my aunts and uncles and cousins, lived within a couple of blocks of my grandmother’s house. Like my grandmother, many of her children would die in the apartments and homes they originally lived in…still within walking distance to my grandmother’s home.

Those types of neighborhoods, where generations of families lived so very close to each other, have mostly disappeared from the landscape of the Bronx. Like many of my cousins, they either moved to different parts of New York or out of the state all together.

Yet, there are exceptions and my friend Walter was one of them. He lived 67 years in the Bronx within a radius of a couple of miles from where he was born. The last 40 years in the same apartment with his sister, not far from Westchester square. My older brother and a few other friends whom I have had the pleasure to get to know and consider friends after moving to Los Angeles are also among that dwindling group.

In the eighties, nineties, and early 2000’s when my parents were still alive and I would visit from Los Angeles, Walter was a regular guest at my family’s home and anytime I needed a guide to accompany me around the landmarks in Manhattan, Walter was always a willing companion, whether it was to the museums, the libraries, Grand Central Station and one very memorable visit in August 2001 to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty where we both took pictures of the Twin Towers as we passed them on the ferry. Less than a month later they both collapsed before the eyes of the world in a cowardly act of terrorism.

It was also during the nineties, that Walter, my Uncle Sonny, my two brothers, a couple of longtime friends, and I took our annual weekend, mid-October visit to the Hall Fame in lovely Cooperstown, New York. It was during our last couple of visits that we didn’t go to visit the Hall of Fame as much as the local taverns and restaurants. After all, how many times can one look at a bunch of plagues and overpriced merchandise?

Even after my parents and my adopted parents (my Uncle Al, Aunt Carmela and Aunt Rena) passed away, I still visited the Bronx at least twice a year to see my older brother, a few cousins,  and naturally Walter.

Regardless of what bar or restaurant we walked into in the Bronx, a number of the guests always greeted Walter. Unlike a number of people I knew whose friendships were bought by the large parties they threw at their mansions overlooking the ocean, or by a title, or the amount of money they had, Walter’s friendships were earned the old fashioned way by acts of caring, kindness, and one of the first to be by your side at a time of tragedy or true old fashioned folly. He worked for the Board Of Education in upper Manhattan for 35 years and needless to say did not make a fortune and even after being diagnosed with cancer and going through treatments he seldom missed a day of work.

My wife, who met Walter only a few times in the late eighties, never failed to mention what a really nice guy he sounded like after talking to him on the phone when he called us at home. My reply was always the same, “And that’s exactly the way he is in person.”

I talked to Walter quite often after he was diagnosed with cancer and he always sounded upbeat and confident. It was only after he stopped replying to my phone messages that I became concerned and then my brothers told me that he was suffering terribly and not eating and was rushed to the hospital. Yet, when my brother called me a couple of days ago and told me he had passed away it still came as a shock.

When a reporter asked Rod Serling, creator of The Twilight Zone, what he would like engraved on his tombstone he replied, “I left behind friends.” Well, in the case of Walter Patrick he leaves behind a legion of friends who will carry around his memory of kindness, caring, and companionship for generations to come.

Rest in Peace, my Friend.

“The Eagle Glides, Its Talons Spread Wide,” By Joseph Sciuto

The Argonne Cross (WWI) is located in Section 18 of Arlington National Cemetery, June 16, 2015, in Arlington, Va. Around 2100 remands of service men buried in Europe during World War I were disinterred and reinterred in ANC, specifically in Section 18. The Argonne Unit American Womens Legion erected the cross to their memory and honor in the southwest corner of the section. (U.S. Army photo by Rachel Larue/released)SONY DSCThe Nurses Memorial, a granite statue of a nurse in uniform, is located in Section 21 in Arlington National Cemetery, June 15, 2015, in Arlington, Va. The memorial was originally erected in 1938 and rededicated in 1971. (U.S. Army photo by Rachel Larue/released)The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier early in the morning at Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, Virginia, August 7, 2018. (U.S. Army photo by Elizabeth Fraser / Arlington National Cemetery / released)The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier early in the morning at Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, Virginia, August 7, 2018. (U.S. Army photo by Elizabeth Fraser / Arlington National Cemetery / released)The Korean War Contemplative Bench is located on the north side of the Memorial Amphitheater beside the Korean White Pine tree donated by President Kim of Korea in 1965. The pine tree was replaced by President Roh Tae Woo on Oct. 17, 1989. A Korean Mountain Ash was planted behind the bench.

The Eagle Glides, Its Talons Spread Wide

Time to say goodbye to this world,

And ride a green wave beyond the sea,

My body riddled, my parents stricken,

My wife a widow,

my children fatherless.

Marine to Tyrant cried, how dare you defy

My service, courage, and love of country.

The eagle glides, its talons spread wide.

Time to leave this country

And dispense of the Grand Old Party’s desecration.

Our rivers polluted, our teachers maligned,

our courts corrupted; our civil rights vilified.

Woman to Tyrant cried, How dare you try to control my body,

Deny me my constitutional rights, my sacrifices, and my love of country.

The eagle glides, its talons spread wide.

Yet the church bells ring

as the autocrat and his minions stand at their pulpits

and preach lies and  malfeasance

as their congregations cheer.

God to Tyrant cried, “The LORD will not hold him guiltless

that taketh his name in vain. Love thy enemies, forgive others, and care for the poor.

Practice humility, not retribution.”

The eagle glides, its talons spread wide.

Time to step back and re-imagine a country.

Where state and religion are separate.

Nativism decried,  isolationism rejected,

Children protected, and guns excluded.

The Founding Fathers to Tyrant cried, We did not

Fight and defeat the British so you could be King.

The eagle flaps its wings, its talons tighten,

As it squeezes the infectious bile out of its prey

And a once promising nation is re-born. eagle glides, its talons spread wide.service, courage, and love of country.The eagle glides, its talons spread wide.

Deny me my constitutional rights, my sacrifices, and my love of country. to leave this country

An unbiased opinion: There is only one choice in this presidential election and that is a lovely, intelligent, articulate black lady, named Vice President Kamala Harris. She has served as a prosecutor, senator, and vice president. She has “served only one client in her career and that is the people.” Her opponent, a five time draft dodger, convicted sexual abuser, convicted felon, found guilty of fraud, and started an insurrection at the U.S. Capitol where 144 innocent people were injured and two Capitol police personal died. Former President Trump has cared about only one person in his life and that is his self.

our courts corrupted; our civil rights vilified.

Woman to Tyrant cried, How dare you try to control my body,

Deny me my constitutional rights, my sacrifices, and my love of country.

The eagle glides, its talons spread wYet the church bells ring

IN MEMORY OF MY LOVELY WIFE, MELISSA.

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the
strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them
better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives
valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is
no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive
to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end
the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at
least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be
with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

President Theodore Roosevelt, “The Man In the Arena.” 

We dedicate ourselves to the greater glory of God and to the greater good of all people from all faiths and cultures.

Jesuit Mission Statement

On a cold, dreary, winter morning in the town of Independence, Missouri, the headlights of a car pierced the darkness as it passed through the gates of the cemetery. Two gravediggers looked up from the grave they were digging. One of the men stepped out of the hole and stood beside the closed coffin they would eventually lower into the ground after they had finished their job. There were no wreaths, no crosses, no artificial flowers that would have indicated the previous gathering of friends and family to bid the deceased farewell.

A man stepped out of the car while he kept the headlights on and the car running. He walked toward the coffin and stopped as the grave digger standing by the coffin asked, “Mr. President, what are you doing here?”

Former President Harry S. Truman greeted each grave digger with the nod of his head, removed his hat, and looked solemnly down at the coffin and remarked, “I never forget a friend.”

Paraphrased from David McCullough’s brilliant biography, “Truman.”

After spending two years researching cancer, mainly pediatric cancer, reading over twenty books on the subject and two encyclopedic text books on the subject, supporting a brilliant, eight year old child stricken with this terrible disease, talking with doctors and nurses who specialized in pediatric cancer, I came away with an appreciation for the doctors, nurses, and administrators, that to this day leaves me in total awe and wonderment at their support and caring for their young patients and their parents. They represent the very best of humanity.

Joseph Sciuto on researching pediatric cancer for his novel, “Sofia.”

The four examples presented above are a collection of traits and characteristics that, for me, represent the very best in humanity. Dr. Anthony Fauci possesses all of these traits and characteristics, along with his colleagues, and “On Call: A Doctor’s Journey in Public Service,” by Dr. Fauci is a fascinating and eye-opening journey that takes the reader through his dealings with 7 presidents, congressional hearings, supporters and adversaries in his fight against AIDS, Ebola, influenza, SARS, and eventually Covid. 

Born in Brooklyn, N.Y. to Italian/American parents he attended Catholic Grammar Schools, was accepted and attended a highly regarded Jesuits’ High School where he was the star basketball point guard on their high school team but at 5feet, 7inches tall he gave up any fantasy of playing for the NY Knicks. But, it was the teachings of the Jesuits that would have a profound impact on his life and his professional choices, especially their mission statement: We dedicate ourselves to the greater glory of God and to the greater good of all people from all faiths and cultures.

After graduating college, he attended medical school, did his internship, and instead of going into private practice and living on Park Avenue he decided he could do the most good for people across the world by going into public service where he would serve as the director of The National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases at the National Institutes of Health from 1984 to 2022.

Around 1985, the HIV/AIDS virus started to make headlines in the United States. The gay community was quick to take the lead in fighting this deadly virus. Dr. Fauci was quick to understand the danger this virus posed not only for gay men in the United States but for all people around the world, including heterosexual men and women. 

Despite being a firm advocate who was desperately trying to get funding to study and find a cure for this mysterious virus, the activists attacked him. And so what did he do? He joined the activists and went to the hospitals throughout the country to see the victims and too many funerals of those who had fallen.

He approached the Reagan administration and asked for help but they brushed him off. They didn’t want to be associated with a “homo,” disease.

Things would quickly change when President George H.W. Bush took office in 1989. He gave Dr Fauci the green light on fighting this deadly disease. So thankful was Dr. Fauci to President Bush that he dedicated an entire chapter to him called: “A President, a Gentleman, and a Friend.” 

Dr. Fauci said, “One of his greatest honors was being invited to President George H.W. Bush’s funeral.”

The Clinton administration, especially First Lady Hilary Clinton, continued the effort and funding for the virus, and by the late nineties treatments (drugs) were discovered that if victims of the virus were discovered early and they stayed on the regiment of drugs they could expect to live a relatively normal life.

And then the big game changer came with the inauguration of President George W. Bush. Under his administration, and with a great amount help from Dr. Fauci and his staff, a program and funding to combat the AIDS virus worldwide was put into place. It worked so well that an estimated 20 million men and women on the African continent were saved from this deadly virus, and millions more in Asia and Europe.

President George W. Bush in 2005 awarded Dr. Fauci The National Medal of Science and in 2008  The Presidential Medal of Freedom.

 

While President Bush tied the Medal of Freedom around the neck of Dr. Fauci he whispered into his ear, “Others might not know what you have done but I do.”

Over the next 16 years progress was continually made against the AIDS epidemic but a vaccine still has not been developed, but now one pill taken daily controls the virus so well that in blood tests performed on people with AIDS it doesn’t show up in 97 percent of all patients.

Dr. Fauci and his staff at The National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases were also in the forefront in the fight against Ebola, influenza, Scars and, of course, “The Covid Virus.”

Vaccines against Covid had unprecedented success rates ranging from 85% to 95% and were made available in record setting time. The face most associated with this Virus was Dr. Fauci. Sadly, the man who helped save tens of millions of lives was being ridiculed by the president, U.S. Senators, and Governors…people who saved no lives.

But, like George W. Bush said, I know what you have done and now the world knows how indispensable this man and his staff were in the face of Covid 19 and all these other terrible viruses.

IN MEMORY OF MY LOVELY WIFE MELISSA:

On the morning of July 13, 2024, I heard my wife scream, “Joseph I feel like I am going to faint.” Two minutes later my wife literally died in hands. It was a shock that has left me feeling empty and lost.

My wife represented the four attributes I described above. After two terrible accidents at two different Hollywood Studios she remained in the Arena. One lawyer told her he could get her 25 million dollars if she sued. She replied, “And if I did that my staff would be fired, men and women who are taking care of elderly parents. One dad who has a daughter suffering from Pediatric Cancer. Families left with no health insurance.”

She never sued and after two back surgeries and hundreds of shots in hope of alleviating the pain, she continued to suffer for the next 25 years. She never stopped working and continued to work for the greater good of all people from all faiths and cultures, and she never forgot a friend.

My lovely wife represented the very best of humanity.

I have been a very fortunate person. I was raised by a great family, I have alway had great friends, and I was married for 34 years to an amazing, loving, caring, and exceptionally intelligent and talented wife. I only wish it had lasted longer, and that I was the first to go.

My wife had told me that she knew I was the “right man,” when I recited from memory the entire poem, “Annabel Lee,” by Edgar Allan Poe.

The last stanza perfectly summarizes my feelings for my Lovely wife:

“For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

   In her sepulchre there by the sea—

   In her tomb by the sounding sea.”

Love, Joe and Melissa

The Flip Side of Today’s Supreme Court Ruling On Immunity

The supreme court’s ruling today about presidential immunity is disgraceful but it shouldn’t come as a surprise. The court’s rulings over the last three years have literally turned our democracy upside down.

But unbeknown to many, the court’s ruling gives President Biden the power to order his Justice Department or the military the ability to arrest highly suspicious individuals, such as Former President Trump, on espionage charges. The selling of top secret military documents to enemy combatants, such as Russia and North Korea, and endangering the lives of U.S. assets overseas and the very citizens of our country. 

It would be poetic justice for the Former President to be tried before a military tribunal after calling our soldiers who fought, died, and were left crippled for life defending our country, our democracy, “losers and suckers.” Also, Justices Alito and Thomas should also be arrested on bribery charges and aiding and abetting an insurrection against the United States.

The question is does President Biden have it in him to do such a thing, or does his morals get in the way? The Supreme Court has given him the okay, making it quite clear that a president is immune from prosecution while acting in the capacity of his office and who could argue that the three men above, just to mention a few, have acted in ways detrimental to the United States and its citizens?

THE MOVIE MOGEL AND THE SAY HEY KID

THE MOVIE MOGUL AND THE SAY HEY KID

At the far left-hand corner of the bar at the infamous West Hollywood Palm Restaurant, our very best lunch customers gathered (customers who frequented the restaurant four to five times a week).

They usually arrived fifteen to twenty minutes before we opened which was great because it gave me time to talk to them and listen to stories that would influence my life and my career as a novelist.

They included, T.J., who worked for Peterson Publishing, Hal Goodman, a multiple Emmy award winner who was a writer for Bob Hope and for The Johnny Carson Show, Steve Uslan, who owned his own printing company, and Tom Mankiewicz, son of legendary film director, writer, and producer of some of the greatest movies ever made, such as "All About Eve."

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THE MOVIE MOGUL AND THE SAY HEY KID

At the far left-hand corner of the bar at the infamous West Hollywood Palm Restaurant, our very best lunch customers gathered (customers who frequented the restaurant four to five times a week).

They usually arrived fifteen to twenty minutes before we opened which was great because it gave me time to talk to them and listen to stories that would influence my life and my career as a novelist.

They included, T.J., who worked for Peterson Publishing, Hal Goodman, a multiple Emmy award winner who was a writer for Bob Hope and for The Johnny Carson Show, Steve Uslan, who owned his own printing company, and Tom Mankiewicz, son of legendary film director, writer, and producer of some of the greatest movies ever made, such as “All About Eve.”

Tom also had a great career. He was the main writer on a number of the famous James Bond movies, including “Diamonds Are Forever, Live and Let Die, The Man with the Golden Gun, and was a creative consultant and writer on many other Bond movies. He worked as a creative consultant on director Richard Donner’s, “Superman: The Movie and Superman II: The Richard Donner Cut.” He also wrote “Ladyhawke,” starring Michelle Pfeiffer which also was directed by Mr. Donner.

Tom directed “Dragnet,” starring Dan Aykroyd and Tom Hanks and the movie, “Delirious,” starring John Candy and Mariel Hemingway. He was creative consultant, contributing writer, and director on the hit T.V. show “Hart to Hart (1979–1984), and his list of credits goes on and on, not only in movies and T.V., but also on Broadway.

Natalie Wood and Tom Mankiewicz

Tom told me many stories about famous actors, actresses, directors, producers, movie heads, etc. He was often very complimentary and greatly admired many of their talents and skills, but the person, beside his father, whom he idolized the most and had never met was the legendary baseball outfielder Willie Mays (the Say Hey Kid). Living in New York when he was very young, Tom was a New York Giants fan and huge fan of their star center fielder, Willie Mays. When the team moved to San Francisco and became the San Francisco Giants, Tom was back living in Los Angeles and his love for the Giants continued. The person he continued to idolize and, who many baseball experts (and Tom) considered the greatest baseball player of all times, was the “Say Hey Kid.”

Tom knew more about the game of baseball than any person I have ever met. Like me, he saw the beauty in the game that many people of younger generations miss. He saw the immense skill it took to play the game. He loved the game so much that he became part owner of a Triple A team in Oakland.

On this particular day, Tom and I were discussing Barry Bonds and the accusations that he was using steroids. A ballplayer at 37 years old doesn’t suddenly start hitting over seventy home runs a year when throughout his illustrious career he seldom hit more than thirty.

What was sad, both of us agreed, was before using steroids and suddenly turning into the Incredible Hulk, Bonds was an automatic, first ballot Hall of Famer. His statistics were astonishing with over 400 stolen bases and over 400 home runs. We now agreed that his chances of ever making the Hall of Fame were slim at best.

I looked away from Tom as I heard our hostess open the front door. The first person to walk in was the great Frank Robinson (the only ballplayer to win the MVP award in both the American and National Leagues). Playing with the Baltimore Orioles, he won a World Series Championship and was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame on the first ballot with nearly 90 percent of the vote.

Directly behind him was a shorter man, so at first my view was blocked by the taller Robinson. That shorter man, at five feet, eleven inches tall was none other than Willie Mays the “Say Hey Kid.” Behind him were four baseball executives.

The hostess sat them at a round table for six people and as I turned to Tom and asked, “Did you just see who walked in here?” He shook his head and I replied, “Frank Robinson and Willie Mays.” I pointed at the table they were sitting at and before I knew it Tom took off toward the table. I jumped in front of him and said, “We just can’t run up to the table like lunatic fans. They might all jump out of their seats and head for the front door.”

I approached the table with Tom breathing down my neck and told Mr. Robinson that it was a pleasure to meet him and it was a real honor to have him and his guests eating lunch at our restaurant. We shook hands and then I turned to the Say Hey Kid, shook his hand, and remarked, “It’s a great honor to meet the greatest player to ever play the game of baseball.”

He laughed and replied, “And how would you know. You’re too young to ever have seen me play.”

I remarked, “but I have seen many videos of you, looked at re-broadcasts of many of the games you played in, seen the pictures, and read many books on baseball. I have no doubt you were the greatest.”

He smiled, nodded and softly replied, “Thank you.”

I introduced them to Tom and slowly walked away. When I turned back around on my way to the front of the restaurant, I looked at the table and saw Tom conversing with his idol. Here was one of the most accomplished men in the movie business, yet at this moment in time, the child in Tom re-emerged. He was animated, laughing and smiling, reliving memories of the Say Hey Kid sliding into second base, hitting home runs against the monstrous winds that twirled around Candlestick Park, and running deep into center field, his back to the ball, and making an over the shoulder, basket catch, in the 1954 World Series against the Cleveland Indians.

The restaurant got so busy that I never had a chance to talk to Tom later that day, but the very next day Tom came into the restaurant with his charming, ever classy, lovely assistant for over twenty years, Annie. She remarked, “I heard you and Tom had a big day yesterday.” I agreed and she continued, “He came back to the office so excited that I thought maybe the American Film Institute was finally going to recognize his astonishing body of work, but instead it was much bigger than that. You guys got to meet the great Willie Mays.”

“Yes, we did and it was really exciting,” I replied as I looked at Tom who still wore that same smile from yesterday and nodded in agreement.

It wasn’t long after this that I left the restaurant, unceremoniously, after nearly twenty-five years. I nevertheless kept in touch with many of the customers … T.J., Hal, and Tom.

Tom was gracious enough to meet with my lovely wife, who at the time was working at Disney, to discuss a project she was working on. They met over lunch at Tom’s favorite restaurant. He told my wife that he really liked the project. That it reminded him of the type of great movies Hollywood doesn’t make anymore, such as “The Philadelphia Story,” and “And all about Eve.”

By this time, Tom had slowly started moving away from the movie business and had started teaching a class at Chapman University. Even though he couldn’t help my wife, she came home and was very excited to have had lunch with Tom and for him to have said that her project reminded him of the great movies Hollywood once made.

Later that day, I called Tom to tell him how much I appreciated him taking the time out to see my wife. That she had a great time and, in turn, he remarked that he had a wonderful time talking to her.

He also told me he was having the time of his life teaching the class about film at Chapman University. He invited me to come and sit in on his class, and so we made a date in two weeks time to do just that. I was to drive up to his home in the Hollywood Hills and from there we would drive to the university and after class go out for lunch.

A week later, on a Sunday night, I received a call from my friend Jay who said, “I have some sad news to tell you. It was just reported that Tom Mankiewicz has died. I knew the two of you were close and thought you would like to know.”

I looked through the New York Times and the Los Angeles Times online and didn’t see any mention of Tom’s death. For a moment, I had a glimmer of hope that Jay was wrong. A few minutes later, the assistant manager at the Palm Restaurant called me up and verified what Jay had said. He continued, “It’s so strange because Tom had lunch here on Friday and on his way out said, ‘he’ll see us on Monday. He didn’t look any different than usual. They reported he died from pancreatic cancer.”

A few months later while shopping at a CVS in Studio City I ran into one of Tom’s cousins whom I knew from the restaurant. We exchanged a number of stories and just as he was about to leave he remarked, “You knew more about Tom than his own family knew.”

Thirteen years later, while sitting at my desk, a New York Times bulletin ran across the top border of my computer. It read, “Famous Hall of Fame outfielder Willie Mays (the Say Hey Kid) dies at 93.”

It was so strange because after reading the bulletin the first person that came to mind was Tom Mankiewicz and the day Willie Mays came into the restaurant. Tom and I had a list of our favorite baseball movies and on top of that list was the movie, “Fields Of Dreams.” The movie, starring Kevin Costner as an Iowa corn farmer, hears a booming voice that says, “If you build it he will come! If you build it he will come.”

Mr. Costner is convinced the voice is telling him to build a baseball field. He cuts down a large portion of his cornfields and builds a large baseball diamond. The cornstalks that remains standing are used as a substitute for the outfield walls, and out of that sea of corn comes walking Shoeless Joe Jackson, played by Ray Liotta. Mr. Jackson, considered, at the time, to be one of the greatest ballplayers of his generation, was banned from baseball for allegedly betting on the 1919 World Series. Even though he and the other ball players involved, were found innocent in a court of law, the then-Commissioner of baseball banned them all for life.

Like it promised, the voice delivered not only Shoeless Joe but teams of former baseball players from that era and they, once again, got to play the game they so loved.

That very night, the night I heard of Willie Mays’ death, I had a dream. In my dream a young Tom Mankiewicz stands before the giant gates of a stadium and through the clouds walks a young Willie Mays, dressed in a Giants uniform, carrying a bat and glove.

Willie remarks, “It’s been a long time Tom.”

“Yes, it has, Mr. Mays.”

“Willie, please. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“And a world of time to do it.”

Tom opens the gates to the stadium and before them is a large, majestic baseball diamond. Willie, wearing his famed # 24 on the back of his uniform, walks out onto the field as the capacity crowd stands and applauds as Willie tips his hat repeatedly and runs out to center field and takes up his position.

The umpire yells, “Play Ball,” as a young Tom stands in the tunnel, tears of joy rolling down his face, as he watches the game and repeatedly flips a baseball into his gloved hand.

As the roar of the crowd stirred me to “slightly awake,” I closed my eyes tightly, loath to leave my friend alone in the tunnel. But then, I heard the stadium crowd and the crack of a fastball against solid wood, and I knew that it was a home run. I woke up knowing that as Willie rounded third and headed for home to the chant of Willie! Willie! Willie! that he would wave in his biggest fan and the two of them would watch the rest of the game together from the dugout. In my head, the roar of the crowd and the smell of the popcorn permeated the room, and I watched Tom and Willie kicking back and having a great time.

“AN UNFINISHED LOVE STORY,” BY DORIS KEARNS GOODWIN

I have told this story quite a few times over the years, probably because it has had such a profound impact on me.

It was back in the early nineties while I was working at a famous/ infamous Los Angeles restaurant. It was a Saturday evening and we had just opened at 5pm. A well dressed man in his early sixties walked into the restaurant. He was early and was waiting for five other guests to arrive.

Our General Manager told me to sit him on table four which was a table for six or more guests and looked directly out at Santa Monica Boulevard. He followed me and sat down at the very end of the table. I asked him if he would like a drink and he replied, “Yes please, a Johnny Walter Black on the rocks.”

I brought him the drink and he asked where I was from and I told him from the Bronx but that my father was born and raised in Massachusetts. In the city of Lawrence and during the summer time they lived in the resort city of Salisbury Beach.

He was also from Massachusetts, and when I asked him if he now lived in Los Angles he replied, “God no!” He still lived in Massachusetts but travelled the country quite a lot. He was even quite familiar with the part of the Bronx I was from.

He continued, “That for the longest time he didn’t visit Los Angeles, and it was only lately, after twenty years, that he started to come back to visit friends.”

I asked, “Did you dislike the city that much?”

He simply shook his head and took a sip from his glass and replied, “I was Robert Kennedy’s chief advisor during his 1968 run for president. I was at the Ambassador Hotel, celebrating his California victory in the primary, when he was killed.”

He took another sip from his glass and continued, “I don’t know what you think about President John F. Kennedy or Senator Ted Kennedy, but one thing I can tell you for sure and that is that Robert F. Kennedy is the best human being I have ever known.”

His eyes watered over as he finished the scotch in his glass and looked out at Sant Monica Blvd. I picked up his glass and remarked, “This one is on the house.”

He replied, “You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh yes I do,” as I walked over to the bar with the empty glass and felt tears rolling down my cheeks.

The other guests arrived just as I turned from the bar with the new drink. He stood up and greeted all his guests and then, like a real gentleman, he introduced me to each of his guests and remarked, “He’s been a joy to talk to while I waited.”

Ernest Hemingway remarked, “To be a great writer, one has to write honestly.” I have met and conversed with many politicians, made friends and conversed for hours with many of the Hollywood elite, and talked to Nobel Prize winners in a range of different fields and to this very day the words, ROBERT F. KENNEDY IS THE BEST HUMAN BEING I HAVE EVER KNOWN were to me the most honest statement any one individual said to me while working at that famous/infamous restaurant.

It was after talking to that gentleman that I decided to put aside all innuendos and rumors I have ever heard about the Kennedys and to do my own historical research on the Kennedys and no one individual and historian has been more helpful and knowledgeable to me than the great Doris Kearns Goodwin. First, with her biography “The FItzgeralds and the Kennedys,” followed by “Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream,” and finally with “An Unfinished Love Story. The Personal History of the 1960’s.”

“An Unfinished Love Story,” to me at least, is a tribute to her late husband Richard Goodwin who was a speech writer and advisor to President John Kennedy, President Lyndon Johnson (until he stopped working for him in 1965 over the Viet Nam War, which he did not support. The war took priority over Civil Rights and replaced the great record of accomplishments President Johnson had compiled during his first two years as President), for a short time for Senator Eugene McCarthy, and finally for Senator Robert F. Kennedy when he joined the democratic race for president against McCarthy.

To say that Mr. Goodwin was a man of great moral integrity might be an understatement. He could have made a fortune, not by being one of the great speechwriters of all time and an advisor, but by simply selling his great skills to the highest bidder.

Mr. Goodwin and his wife Doris Kearns, toward the end of his life, decided to go through the attic filled boxes in their home in Concord, Mass. that were titled the 1960’s. What they uncovered was a treasure throve, a first hand account, of the 1960’s through the eyes of her husband, through his many speeches, random ideas, and concrete ideas while working for two Presidents, senator McCarthy, and Robert F. Kennedy.

She also contributed with her written recollections of the 1960’s as a graduate student, an activist, and finally working for President Johnson during the very end of his term as President, and eventually went down to his home in Texas and helped him write his memoirs.

Many of the famous speeches delivered by Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, and by Robert F. Kennedy were drafted by Mr. Goodwin who never compromised his belief in equal rights for all, and the hope of a better future for all mankind.

“An Unfinished Love Story,” is a treasure that I highly, highly recommend.

And as for my historical research into the Kennedys I learned that to truly understand history one cannot rely on newspaper articles, or rumors, or partisan insanity and disinformation.

One simply needs to do the research and read actual accounts of what happened and how the individuals, often unheard of heroes, influenced the country and made it the envy of the world…at least until recently when our 45th president, our republican congress, and our corrupt Supreme Court decided to take a wrecking ball to it. I can only hope that more Americans wake up to the fantastic job President Biden has done in restoring America to its once prominent place. “The Shining City on the Hill.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYiOUEjzZNs

And yes, I have no doubt that the customer, the advisor to Robert F. Kennedy, saw the greatest human being he has ever met in Mr. Kennedy. After Robert Kennedy rose from the shadows of his legendary brother, President Kennedy, he represented the very best in a human being and proved it over and over again. First, with his trip to South Africa in support of the anti-apartheid movement and then in his legendary run for president and the promise of a presidency that would fight for the equal rights and opportunities that all Americans deserved and an end to the war in Viet Nam.

KRISTIN HANNAH’S, “THE FOUR WINDS.”

It was a little over forty years ago that I boarded my first plane ever at JFK. I was moving to Los Angeles where I would live and spend a large portion of my life. I had just graduated college and I had high hopes and dreams (woefully most never came true) but the dreams that did come through have fulfilled my life in a way I could never have imagined.

On my first flight ever I brought along John Steinbeck’s, “The Grapes of Wrath.” I enjoyed the book and I imagined it stayed with me for a couple of days. A couple of weeks later, while sitting in my apartment in Westwood Village, I watched a conversation between two fairly famous men discussing contrasting views on the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl.

Back in the Bronx where I grew up I listened to many stories about the Depression from my grandmother and my parents who were children during that period. The stories they told me were from an eastern perspective (meaning NY, Boston, Jersey, etc). It was another reminder of how lucky I was to enjoy the love, generosity, and caring my brothers and I received from my family.

Until I read Steinbeck’s book, I didn’t know much about the Depression and the Dust Bowl era out west in California, Texas, Oklahoma, etc.

The next day, after listening to these two learned men discuss different views of the Dust Bowl era I went to my favorite bookstore in Westwood and sat at one of the many tables and read historical views of the Depression out west, the losing of family owned farms, the poverty, and the migration to California of many of these desperate, starving Americans and how they were blamed for the depression in California and called immigrants in the most derogatory of ways; even though they were probably third or fourth generations “American.” Steinbeck’s version was certainly the truer story.

Previously, the Mexicans and Chinese were deported, even though the economy of CA. had depended on them for their growing economy, but when things get tough someone has to be responsible, and usually it’s those with dark skin and who look differently and speak a different language.

Side Note: Sometimes history does repeat itself. Even though the United States has the strongest economy in the world and their are more jobs than workers, and unemployment is at an all time low, we have the two time impeached former President, recently convicted of 34 felonies, found guilty of sexual assault, and defrauding the state of New York of hundreds of millions of dollars, running as the Republican Presidential candidate on a platform of grievance and blaming the illegal immigration of people of color for everything under the sun…from crime, speaking a different language, dirty city streets, etc…

Sadly, he has about 25 percent of the US population following him as though he were the Messiah.

“The Four Winds,” written by the exceptionally talented Kristin Hannah is a riveting story of an Italian American family forced to leave their grandparents’ family owned farm in Texas during the depression in hope of finding work in California. Like millions of other Americans migrating to CA. in the hope of finding work and avoiding starvation they are treated like dirt, met with derogatory comments, and when they do find work so severely underpaid by the large farm-owners that they can barely survive.

Like all of the books I have read by Ms. Hannah, this book is character driven to the point that I shed tears throughout the story. Elsa, and her two children, thirteen year old Loreda and 7 year old Anthony are the victims, like so many others during this period, of an unfounded prejudice and the power of the super rich (large farm owners) to take advantage of the unfortunate, starving, among them that is despicable.

I Strongly, strongly recommend this book.

KRISTAN HANNAH’S, “THE NIGHTINGALE.”

For most of my life, I have refused to travel to Germany or Japan. The atrocious they committed during World War 2 were so horrifying that just the idea of stepping foot into either of these countries got me nausea. Friends have asked me, “If you were in their shoes do you think you would have acted any differently?” My reply has remained the same throughout my life, ‘I hope not. At the very least I would hope I would have had the courage to turn my gun on myself and blow my brains out before killing and torturing innocent children, women, and the elderly.’

Kristin Hannah’s wonderful book, “The Nightingale,” is similar to many books I have recently read about the important role women played in the resistance against the German occupies in France, The Netherlands, Belgium, and Poland.

Her novel is a historical fictional novel but she captures the horror and brutality of the Germans in France as well as many non-fiction novels I have read. And she captures the bravery and courage of so many women in the resistance that they seem as real as many of the brave women who actually existed.

Her book is truly a character driven novel centering on two sisters. One, a beautiful, young woman named Isabelle who joins the resistance and helps save downed British and American pilots and then helps them escape over treacherous mountain passages into Neutral Spain. The Second, Vianne, stays at her home in the countryside and tries to keep her family safe against the German intruders who have moved into her home. She, like her sister, gets involved in the resistance by saving Jewish children and hiding them in a Catholic orphanage in her town.

It is their stories and the surrounding dangers that keep you riveted to this book throughout. At nearly six hundred pages, it was very difficult to ever put it down. You just have to know what happens next.

I strongly recommend this book. It is a exceptionally well written novel and beside the two sisters, the other characters are beautifully developed.

Despite reading so many books on the Holocaust and World War 2, the inhumanity of the Germans is still horrifying, and the courage of the women, and all members of the resistance, is awe-inspiring.

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KRISTIN HANNAH’S, “WINTER GARDEN.”

There is one characteristic that is prevalent in every great writer’s works and that is the unmistakeable quality of “honesty.” Most people are lucky to write one honest sentence in their lives. The great novelists, poets, and playwrights, past and present, have managed to write tens of thousands of pages that exhibit honesty at its core.

Kristen Hannah’s novel, “Winter Garden,”manages to do just get. At its core is the functioning of a family looking for an identity through the inscrutable and enigmatic behavior of their mother. The story is told with such power and honesty that days after I finished reading it I can’t get it out of my mind. Truly, an amazing accomplishment.