LUCKY1
I suppose the word best used to describe her then would be “lanky.” It was a word I recall hearing more often then than now. Now, you might say “tall and thin”. In the forties it was “lanky.” Another word I recall hearing in reference to Mrs. Luckenbach was “divorcee.” Now, that one is still in use, but it doesn’t carry the same impact. It isn’t as pejorative as it was in the 1940s. Then, it bore a stigma and was always whispered, although not too often, because Mrs. L was pretty much the only divorcee in the building…perhaps the only one on the block. Moreover, she wasn’t seen all that frequently. But the really whispery thing about Mrs. L was the fact that she was, on more occasions than could be considered discreet, seen in the company of different men.2
The first time I can remember seeing Mrs. L she was arm in arm with a mustached man in a military trench coat and barracks cap. He was referred to as “the Marine,” and in fact was one…the first one I was ever aware of, if not the first I had ever seen. I recall him staggering his way home on Cabrini Boulevard on many afternoons and evenings and can recall overhearing disparaging comments by neighbors with regard to his sobriety. He was supposed to be Arthur’s and Bobby’s father, or so we thought, but after he vanished and the years seemed to make more clear the marital status of Mrs. L, that idea was dismissed. Mrs. L was the mother of the boys. That was that. There was no father.3
There was a grandmother, Mrs. L’s mother. Pretty much it was she who took care of the boys. The old lady never left the apartment but was frequently seen in her housedress and scuffs, shuffling her way between the apartment and the hallway incinerator. And often she could be heard yelling the boys’ names into the street, her face and shoulders visible, leaning out of the third floor window. Mrs. L apparently worked during the days and typically was seen arriving home in the evenings; unlike her mother, smartly dressed in a suit and heels, her hair always done up. 4
My first recollection of Bobby and Arthur was of the two of them, running across the street, wearing sailor hats. It was soon after a ringworm scare and school inspection for the bug, complete with lamp lights and nurses. Beneath the boys’ white hats their heads were shaven. 5
They were both called “Lucky.” The name seemed to fit each of them. Arthur was “Lucky.” Bobby was “Lucky.” Arthur was the younger but not by more than two years. Bobby was always the considerably taller. You might say he was… lanky. They bore no resemblance to one another, either physically or in their behavior. Bobby seemed quietly and confidently to enjoy the status of older brother. Arthur was the wilder and tougher, the more demonstrative and impetuous. But although Arthur was undeniably what kids referred to as tough, and maybe even the toughest on the block, he was not, as many a “tough” kid was, psychotic, volatile or nasty. He was approachable. And contrary to utilizing his “tough” status to bully, Arthur was often prevailed upon by younger, smaller or weaker kids to protect, defend, or help them out of a jam with less understanding denizens of the neighborhood. He was a good arbitrator, mostly because he could negotiate from a position of strength. And he never exacted anything for the service.6
Bobby sometimes played stickball with the older kids on the block but was less of a presence than was his brother. He kept to himself. Shortly after the Korean War broke out I seem to recall Bobby jauntily arriving in the neighborhood one afternoon in a sailor suit. I say “seem to recall” because I can’t figure how he had got hold of the uniform so fast and perhaps over the years I had only imagined him as a fully outfitted sailor, somewhat prematurely. In any case, he was back in civilian clothes some days later. Word was he was turned down, and reclassified 4-F because of a punctured ear drum. The rejection became known from the neighborhood buzz, and the feeling was that for Bobby, pride had turned to shame. It had, at least for him, become disappointment.7
Arthur meanwhile was becoming sinewy, although not nearly reaching the height of his older brother, and developing his lean muscular frame by some mysterious process, which, when I queried him about it, he did confide, could be attributed to strenuous weight lifting at home...barbells! It was the first I had ever heard of this process. Shortly thereafter, from spring through the fall, Arthur rarely wore anything but T-shirts with sleeves rolled up to the shoulders, unfiltered package of cigarettes tucked securely in the folds. And soon after that he became the first on the block to sport a tattoo on his deltoid. It was a red heart with an arrow piercing it. Beneath it, it said Mother. I remember many brief evening conversations, with Arthur perched on the fender of a parked car, during which he waxed knowledgeable on any one of a number of subjects. Arthur had the wisdom of a kid who was three or four years older than you were. He knew about weight lifting, women, sharp dressing, and, it seemed, the adventuring ways of the world. Later that year Arthur enlisted, impressively, in the U.S. Air Force. The feeling was that Bobby felt badly.8
Arthur was killed shortly thereafter while stationed out west. The story had it as being a car accident somewhere on the coast. For most of us word of what had happened carried a most unreal quality and did not convey the kind of devastating, tragic impact it should have. It had the undertone of another wild event; another bit of the kind of rash mischief that characterized much of what Arthur did. How he lived. And for some time the expectation was that someday, somehow, Arthur would be coming back.9
Less and less was seen of Bobby and it seemed the days of carefree stickball and frivolous hanging around outside, in romp and high jinks, had passed. With Arthur’s vanishing from the ranks, something of the cavalier was gone from the block. When I did see Bobby he never smiled, he never laughed. He seemed sullen, bitter. And always, he kept to himself, dissuading any casual conversation.10
We moved to the apartment above the Luckenbachs. I was attending high school and playing piano. And just about everyone within earshot knew. One day a strange thumping sound, a persistent bass vibration, began to emanate from the floorboards. It was not long afterwards that Bobby Luckenbach, one afternoon, rang my doorbell.11
It was a warm spring afternoon and the promise of the school term’s end, an exciting summer, romance and all the indefinable options open to youth, softened and tantalized the air. It was the kind of air so gentle and undisturbing, its benevolence almost went unnoticed, certainly unappreciated. But it was there. And it seemed to me, at least in subsequent years, to have colored and set the tone for everything that happened that afternoon. 12
It was the first time I had ever seen Bobby Luckenbach standing at my door. Up front and person to person, so to speak. An older kid, calling for me! I was totally puzzled as to what he might have wanted. It crossed my mind that my playing might have gone too far and his visit was by way of a complaint. Bobby said he knew I played the piano and that I was attending a music high school and he wanted to show me something. He said he would appreciate my opinion. Apparently, he had wanted to share something with me. Obviously, there was no one else. 13
We went downstairs and for the first time I ventured through the Luckenbach door. The old lady was there, in her housedress, shuffling about. Bobby took me through the long hallway into his room at the back of the apartment. With an indescribable pride he showed me his high-fidelity set up: the speakers, the amps, the turntable, the receiver. And then with great delicacy he lovingly removed several records from a neat array of albums carefully organized on new, dust free shelves. The albums were Frank Sinatra with the Nelson Riddle Orchestra and a guy I had never heard of, Stan Kenton. The room filled with a vibrating Artistry in Rhythm and Opus in Pastels, Laura and Intermission Riff. I now understood where the thumping bass in the floorboards came from and heard a combination of sounds I had never heard before, called 23 Degrees North 82 Degrees West; synchronized trombones that haunted me for years until I finally learned what the title meant and located the recording. (It turned out to be the coordinates of Havana, Cuba.) And then Bobby played Sinatra’s I’ve Got You Under My Skin, snapping his fingers to the Nelson Riddle arrangement. I had never seen him smile so broadly and so much. I had never seen him as happy. Since then, Sinatra/Riddle and Stan Kenton have always been connected for me, and spring days have always borne the strains and echoes of those tunes; the music those men made. 14
I had completed my first year at Hunter College when Bobby asked me down to hear some new Kenton sides he had just bought. He told me he had gotten a job at a neighborhood record store. And soon, he said, he would be going for his “G.E.D.” He smiled a wide grin, revealing a row of crooked, somewhat poorly aligned, and concave top teeth.15
The last time I saw Bobby Lucky he was busy with customers in the mom and pop record shop on 181st Street between Broadway and Fort Washington Avenue. He was laughing, in motion, totally involved.16
The Port of New York Authority razed our apartment building shortly thereafter. All the 20 Cabrini tenants had to relocate and I never saw Bobby after that, although on many spring afternoons I wondered where Bobby Lucky and his mother had flown to and whether Bobby was still hearing the sounds he had loved. He didn’t seem to be listed anywhere, not under any of the spellings I tried for his name. It was, after all, a tricky name. Luckenback? Luchenbach? Luckenbach? Or was it Luckenbacher? It wasn’t Lucky.17
It was on a balmy June day more than forty years later that I ventured into the New York Public Library on 42d Street to see if I could get the proper spelling of Bobby’s last name from an old listing in a 1949 reverse telephone directory. And what was his mother’s name, anyway? Perhaps, I thought, his number might still be listed, these days, under her name. I had always thought it was Mary…or Marion.18
Finding the proper room on the second floor, Local History, I accessed the telephone book on a reel of microfiche. And there it was: 20 Cabrini Boulevard with a listing of nearly all the tenants I had remembered; many of them quite gone and many quite forgotten. But something was wrong because Lucky wasn’t there. Neither was Luchenback, Luckenbach or any other similar spelling. It took me a moment and then I realized, of course! They didn’t have a telephone yet! I tried a 1950 book. My finger caressed the screen, moving down the list of long lost, familiar and now regained names. There they all were, as they had been. And there was Lucky’s. I might not find him now, after all these years, but I had found his name. Luckenbach. And the first name, unexpected. It was Bobby’s and Arthur’s mother. Her name, strange and uncommon. Kind of classy sounding. A lovely name: Marlan. It didn’t seem to fit her. But the more I looked at it, the more I looked back, the more I guess it did. The more it fit. Anyway, there it was. Marlan. Marlan Luckenbach.There it was.19
Author notes
This is a favorite story of mine.... It's a shame many don't seem to understand what it conveys. But it's all there. I can assure you who say "wha?" It's all there. And, again, like the story I always want to pair with this one, BEN BORDEN,(because of the same house and neighborhood) this too is not merely a "trip down memory lane." It IS a Short Story, with all the disparate elements and conflicts, the Major Character, the symbol and the Major Theme!
Thanks!
GA
A contest entry
- Show Me What You've Got! by Myra La-Ryn.
400 points, ended July 26, 13 entries
Honorable winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - your best stories, please (topics available) by Rhonin.
325 points, ended August 5, 16 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Success Stories by Migfin.
500 points, ended August 30, 13 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Got Clap? (Prewrites Only!) by Valkyrie.
650 points, ended September 20, 39 entries
Honorable winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Beauty by Solei.
250 points, ended October 25, 20 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Your Favorite by Pepsi.Cola.
200 points, ended November 29, 30 entries
• next story in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Thank you for referring me to this story -- I'll catch the Ben story later. This was finely done, with your main characters well-developed and distinct. I enjoy the unexpected in a story, and you did that with your characters. Only the narrator is left as something of an enigma, since some of your readers think the narrator is male, while others think female... and i think it doesn't matter, because what we are watching is the impact this family as a whole has on the narrator. The details are very effective, describing the neighborhood, the games, naming the artists on the records, and pointing out the movement through the library. I enjoyed this very much.
PS Hawkes Lake is the small lake that sits behind our house, named for the man from Scotland who first farmed this area. We really do have 10,000 lakes here in Minnesota, and many large and small throughout the metropolitan area (I live in Edina, which is a first ring suburb of Minneapolis.) Our back yard is partially landscaped, and partially allowed to go wild, so we have birds, various small animals, and even an occasional deer. The lake is almost frozen over, but last week we still had merganzers paddling about!
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youve got some trophies for this! good job
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WOW That's was really good.. im definately going to read some of your others!!
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This is a great story! Nice plot line, good characters, and very well written! I love stories wrote in the first person, so this is definitely going to be a favorite of mine! I always love reading your work, so nice job. Another fantastic story!
. Rewarded 4
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Nice, although I hate Jonas Brothers, I love your story!!!
I got confused on the words you used like "Divorcee" and such, but for some other reason... I laughed at them...
Either way, nice job~!. Rewarded 4
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OMG as if you could hate the jonas brothers!!!
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it has nothing to do with the topic
sooooooooo but it's good! don't get me wrong on that but it's good so just fyi the topic is the jonas brothers. -
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OMG I LOVE THEM TOOO!!!!!! BUt my fave is Nick too!! hehe
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Okay just one questin in what way does this fit into the prompt that you were asked to write about? The prompt being what inspires you? If you can tell me then I will be happy to judge this properly. Thanks
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OMG
What a nice story! I loved it!!! You truly have a way with words! Its awesome...! I wish i could write like that! You are amazing.
I always liked stories when it came to overcoming obstacles! Sure, his prodigy of a brother died and he was bitter, but thank god he didnt comminted suicide when he realized he was losing everything he wanted to do and be with... it slowly redeemed himself and overcame this thing and found to something that he loved to do himself.
I loved how you tell someone elses tale through the point of view of an another... its amazingly beautiful!
Esp. the last paragraph... the way the girl stills thinks about them even though it had been so many years and she still wants to find out their names...
I loved this story.
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Nice social comment......
...and I'm almost old enough to remember the stigma of divorce. We didn't have too many of those, and I never really cared, because to me they were just people. Kids have to be taught prejudice, a damning indictment on adult society.
The second sentence in para 4 really grated. "Pretty much it was she....", horrible American colloquialism, it really stands out against the rest of the language. If this was deliberate, I'll say no more, but I had to stop and gnash my chompers and take a raincheck on dispatching a bitter note of complaint to you, but whilst I privately anathematised such sinful linguistic abuse, I realise it might have a useful function. Can't guess what it is though.
As you say, all the elements of a short story about change is there. I love the bit about Marian, which in my old community was an exclusively Catholic spelling (meaning "of the purity and devotion of the Virgin Mary". Boy, did some parents get it badly wrong!).
As always, a gentle and evocative read, with a little more bite if you look for it. Nice one!. Rewarded 8
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good
i get what you mean about what you said in your author notes. I can see why this could be one of your favortite stories. good job welll written
good jjob agiaain
j
. Rewarded 4
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Yeah, I think I know what you mean. Back then, neighborhoods were like one big family. They were closely knitted to each other, even if the residences weren't even related. It was a lot of love.....everyone knew everyone else's business. There was gossip, but love nonetheless. This story seemed romantic to me.=)
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Great!
I really enjoyed this story, I probably even liked it better than Ben Borden. The characters seemed so real, and the emotions were authentic too. Gosh, you are such an excellent writer, how did you become that way? Did you go to college? You're so impressive!=)=)=)
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i really really enjoy this ALOT! it first caught my attention bcuz it was called lucky and thats my dogs name but its nothing about my dog lol. anyway i loved this alot and its cool how music helped bobby and i wonder why they just left. but my computer is acting put and wont let my type alot so im gonna rap this up with a I LOVE IT
. Rewarded 6
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Right...I don't remember reading any of your work yet so since it was on the features I thought I'd give it a go. I liked it. I was interested by the narrators interest in the 'Lucky' brothers and enjoyed hearing about there lives...well what he knew about them. As someone said below the fact that he remembered Bobby's music all that time really made the piece shine, just the thought that 40 years on he still wanted to know where they were or just know there name.
At the end he found it...almost felt quite relieving. Maybe this wasn't the comment you were looking for but I enjoyed this story and was glad I read it.
. Rewarded 8
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Very good job, that was very good, excellent story and descritpion, and just what i like. lol, it truly is beautiful just as i asked, fantastic, job
good luck -
Beautiful story
I kind of expected both the brothers to die, but you gave a very beautiful description of the family. I wondered whether Bobby became a musician or something.
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Gary!! I SEE you over there! This story so rocked. I absolutely loved it. It must be filed in the "HOPE" section, yes? I thought so. And oooh, you said "pejorative"! Woo hoo for three-dollar words! The whole story was just beautiful. I really like how you followed each Lucky boy and showed their differing paths. I was a bit concerned for Bobby there for a while, until you introduced the healing power of music. And how you ended the story, repeating the name and how it seemed to fit the more you thought about it, that was very picturesque. I could see you in the library, finger against the screen, tapping it absently in time to your own silent murmuring as your eyes flicked over past memories, and you were completely lost in recollection for a few minutes. Yay for deep and powerful imagery!
Seriously. Good. Writing.
Thanks much for sharing this story in my contest. Good luck to ya.
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*sigh* This is a really great story, and I like it very much, but I must sigh because you are 900 words over the limit and your favorite color isn't in your authors notes. Hmmm, maybe if you put your favorite color in your authors notes I'll be lienent(or however you spell it) with your entry, cuz it proves you have read the rules, *hint hint*
Great story though, it's gonna be hard to judge this conteat, so many great entries, anyways, I'm not gonna check back to see if you add your favorite color, I'm just gonna hope you do and say, GOOD LUCK in my contest =DD
-Dani -
Haha, this story was great =D at first I thought the pace seemed a bit slow for it to be a typical success story, but then I realised that it isn't a typical success story, which made it even more special =)
The ending was ace, it was just so sweet that (either you or the character) cared enough about the family to keep searching for them. And that little moment of clarity right at the very end, it's just lovely =)
Thanks for entering, good luck in the contest =)
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Time Machine
Talk about a story that takes you back in time. The past has never been so vibrantly and percisely portrayed as it is in your stories. These characters came alive. Again they all held such a romatic feel, full of rich emotion and life. There was nothing fake about them, their situations or their reactions. What makes this story great is that it's so completely believable. Every event you describe is so in tune with the pace of those times that you can't help but get caught up in the sophisticated simplicity of this story. I love how you made music not only Bobby's outlet, allowing him to move on past the death of his brother, but his lifeline to the outside world, and human contact. That really hit a nerve with me because I could relate to that completely. This story was so refined, brimming over with nostalgia for a time long since past, and it makes me a little sad that life's no longer like what is described here, where men died in wars and not at the hands of gangs. Thanks for taking me on another wonderful journey, it was a shame to return to reality.
Rita-Dawn
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I can't explain what this story did, but i couldn't stop reading. it was slow, uneventful, yet you couldn't tear yourself from it. the way you conveyed a simple, plain tale in such a deep, thoughtful manner is fantastic. You turned a simple tale into what can almost be called an epic memory. though slow, calm and peaceful, this piece kept me on the edge of my seat the whole way. and when it finished, and Marlan Luckenbach's name was revealed, i had an inexplainable shiver of excitement race down my spine. this was truly a work of genius, kudos to you.
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Beautiful
I loved this. The ending was really good when the narrator is looking for Bobby and finds it. I liked the overall tone of this story a lot, one of those hazy memories kind of thing. I also liked the way you made her be involved but not really, it's more about Lucky and his family.
Unfortunately i can't consider you for this contest because you failed to comply with the request for your favorite movie in your AN. Please put this in. -
Enjoyed the place setting best. DOn't usually read stories placed out of the present and found it quite enjoyable. I really loved the ending of all other sections best. Some confusion for me at first, but i enjoyed it very much once i caught on. Thanks for entering...this was very enjoyable. You do have some Grammar things going on..missing commas, but NBD. Thanks again. d.
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Great write. I love the beginning AND the ending, and how you let the reader really THINK. I also like your writing style; you captured the correct mood for this time period, in my opinion.
Thanks for entering my contest and good luck! =]
-jj
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Man, I've been sitting here for five minutes trying to figure out what this reminds me of. I can't think of it, though. This almost seems like a chapter out of Going Solo by Roald Dahl, but I can't exactly say your style of writing reminds me of him. Anyway, I like how you put in random details that really give the story a realistic feel. It flows very nicely, too. Great job, as usual. I hope to read more.
~Trillian~
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What an interesting story. You seem to take some mundane, random thoughts and translate them into a moving and compelling piece of elegant prose. Very well crafted, Gary.
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In answer to your question;
Maybe If I had the skills.
You have such a way of giving every thing a story needs...
with the emotion that just drives the story.
Sometimes I got lost because of the way you wrote it... which is far more intellec than I can credit for.
Great work ~.~
Blair
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Nice one. You're right; I did enjoy it. Good on you.
Adding your comment:
Gary Alexander right now