Jami Attenberg - Saint Mazie

Later I knew it to be true that it was bad that Papa left us all alone, and bad that he had his hand on this woman, and especially bad that later on he hit Mama and Rosie, I know all of that. But one of the most beautiful things in life is seeing someone else happy. Isn’t that the most we can dream of?

Mazie’s Diary, August 15, 1921

I only saw what she wrote just now. We all forgot about everything after she left again.

Life is full of lies just waiting to be told.

Mazie’s Diary, September 1, 1921

Walking wounded, and we never even went to war.

Mazie’s Diary, September 15, 1921

She had someone who loved her and it didn’t even matter. She threw it all away like it didn’t mean a goddamn thing to her. I want love. I want it, and I can’t have it, and she throws it away.

Mazie’s Diary, October 3, 1921

I got a postcard from Jeanie today, at last.

It said: I’m not done yet.

They’re not criminals, they’re just drunks. Still they spend half their time in jail. The police are always roughing them up. I’ve watched it with my own eyes, every day for decades. But rich folks, they commit all kinds of crimes and nobody ever blinks. Hell, I drank straight through Prohibition, and that’s the least of my crimes. I knew the rules, and I knew how to break them without getting caught. No one ever threw me in jail.

Mazie’s Diary, November 1, 1921

Twenty-four years old today, though I feel like I’m a hundred.

Louis requested my presence in the car this morning. I said yes because I say yes to everything they want lately. We didn’t even drive anywhere. We just sat. The seagulls were screeching at the end of the block.

He said: Hey, sis.

I said: Yes, brother?

He said: I’m thinking you should become part of the family. Legally. Be a Gordon like your sister and me.

I said: I’m already your family. You raised me, you fed me, you took care of me.

He said: I want you to be blood. I’ve been watching over you forever, let me call you one of mine. That other one, there’s no telling what she’ll do, when she’ll be here, even if she’ll ever be here again. But you’re here, you’re our girl, you’re not going anywhere. So be one of the Gordons.

I thought about what it meant to be a Gordon versus a Phillips. My father is a violent rat bastard. A man who hits women is the worst kind of man. Still I am part Phillips, always will be. There’s no denying the truth of your blood. But I’m a Gordon too. When Jeanie left, everything shifted again. Our family rejiggered.

I said: It’s an honor that you ask me, Louis. But I don’t know if I can give up my name.

I prayed he didn’t take it as an insult.

He said: Maybe you could be both names. A Phillips and a Gordon. Make one of them your middle name.

I said: That sounds like something I could do.

He said: I’ll adopt you like you were my own.

I said: I’m yours, Louis.

Then we hugged, me and the big guy, until we cried.

This is the safest I’ve felt in years, knowing I’ll be his. Knowing he’s claimed me for his own.

Mazie’s Diary, April 16, 1922

Louis spoke to me yesterday about signing the theater over to me. He told me it’ll make his life easier in taxes, and that I’ll get more of a share of the money we bring in. He makes too much money, but not enough, whatever that means.

He said: It’ll be good for you to have it in your name. You practically run the joint anyway. Someday it’ll be yours for real.

I said: I’ll do whatever you ask. Give me a pen, tell me where to sign.

Mazie’s Diary, May 1, 1922

A postcard from the Captain, and I barely read it. Saw his name, looked at the lake, the mountain, somewhere in Oregon. Blue skies surrounding it all, a picture of a perfect day somewhere far away. He saw it, I didn’t. What do I care? I put it up in the cage with the rest of them.

These people who come and go can just stay where they are.

Mazie’s Diary, May 11, 1922

Saw Louis down the road from the theater with a dapper Jew. Nice suit, fine, narrow features, olive skin, doe eyes, thin. A tidy kippah pinned to his head. I could see how shiny his shoes were from half a block away. I don’t generally go for the religious ones but this one might make me change my tune. I’d slice some challah for him any old time.

I was hoping Louis would bring him over so I could give him a closer look. I waved at the two of them, but if Louis saw me, he was ignoring me. Finally he nodded at my future husband, no handshake exchanged, and the two of them parted ways.

Louis made his way over to the cage, hands in his pockets, stooped over, whistling.

I said: Who was that young fella you were chatting with?

He said: I wasn’t chatting with nobody.

I said: I just saw you. With that well-dressed Jew.

He said: That wasn’t anyone you should be worried about.

He smiled when he said it, all casual-like, but I felt prickly and cold. I never got a chill from Louis before, not my entire life.

Elio Ferrante

Was Louis Gordon a criminal? I guess we should think about what it means to be a criminal. History teaches us that some of our most successful leaders engaged in illegal activities. Hell, all of our presidents are war criminals. And I got some tough guys in my family, even though I love them like crazy. I’ve seen fights. Growing up in Brooklyn, you see fights. But I don’t mean Mafia, just, you know, big guys, tough guys. Some do time. But sometimes it’s just people blowing off steam.

And then there’s my cousin Joseph. He’s a gambler, and he got himself in all kinds of trouble, fell in a hole he couldn’t climb his way out of, but what he got caught for was credit card fraud. This is considered a victimless crime. He certainly felt that way, and for the most part, so did the judge. He’s in a halfway house now. His wife left him, took the three kids with her, left the dog behind. It was his dog. But he can’t keep it obviously, so guess who has the dog now? Me.

This is a beautiful dog, an Akita. Do you know about these dogs? They’ve got this soft, plush fur, and they’re sort of like stuffed animals. They don’t give a crap about anyone but their owners — they’ll basically ignore anyone else, maybe at best have a lazy interest in them — but they are loyal to the core to the hand that feeds them.

My cousin’s dog, she’s in perfect condition. Her teeth are as white as yours, like polished stones. This dog has been loved and cared for her entire life. Beautiful fur, shiny eyes, great disposition. And she sits by the door every night waiting for him to come home — even if his wife doesn’t. How bad could a person be if he took care of a dog this well? But he’s a criminal, I know it. Everyone in my family knows it. Thanksgiving was the worst last year. You know when everyone’s not saying someone’s name but you’re all hearing it anyway? It was like that.

There was a documentary that came out a few years ago on these guys, these Coney Island guys, not Louis specifically, though. I ordered it for the school library. Kids watch it sometimes for extra credit. I could get it from the school library and we could watch it together; I can fill in some of the blanks for you. A lot of these guys were heroes in their community. I think that’s an important thing to remember. They were legends and saints. Even if they broke the law.

Mazie’s Diary, June 15, 1922

Postcard from Jeanie. How’d she make it all the way to California?