Shirley & Frankie – 1967 (Part 2)

As the owner of J&J Bar on Detroit Street in Flint, Michigan, Shirley was well-acquainted with all the regulars. Even when she wasn’t working, Shirley spent most of her time at J&J Bar talking, drinking, and on occasion sleeping with some of the patrons. Since Shirley spent more time at J&J Bar than at her own house or with her two kids, she regarded her regulars as her family. Among these regulars was Suitcase Judy, a woman Shirley felt a particular affinity towards. Perhaps it was Suitcase Judy’s auburn hair, which, though faded, reminded Shirley of her mother’s. Or perhaps it was the helplessness of Suitcase Judy’s circumstances, so similar to the ones Shirley created for herself. Or maybe, most likely, it was simply the fact that Suitcase Judy ran a good business which, in turn, brought many male customers to J&J Bar.

Whatever the actual reason, Shirley took notice of the two occasions when Suitcase Judy re-entered the bar crying. I use the term “re-enter” because Suitcase Judy never left the bar for long except, of course, for special trips. At least once, sometimes twice a year, J&J Bar rented a bus from late Spring to early Fall. This was baseball season which meant that mostly male baseball fans left Flint, Michigan, and the confines of J&J Bar and traveled an hour and two minutes to Tiger Stadium in Detroit, Michigan. It was in the very back row of this bus, in the left corner, that Suitcase Judy had established her service shop. And by “service shop,” I mean imagine if a Motel 6 in downtown Detroit were on wheels and catered specifically to men with too much testosterone and too little conscience.

The first time Suitcase Judy re-entered the bar crying, it was a typical March evening. The purity of winter in Flint had melted, leaving behind patches of brown slush that better fit the mood of the city. Suitcase Judy always came in and out through the bar’s back door and this particular night was no different. She walked from the parking lot into the wall of smoke which greeted all who entered J&J Bar. Moving familiarly down the short hallway, past the two restrooms where a feeble attempt was made using toilet paper to patch up a hole punched through the shared wall between the two bathrooms, Suitcase Judy continued towards her usual booth. Under the poorly done nature mural painted by a Native American man (“Chief” as he was known to the locals) in exchange for months of free beer, close enough to the pool tables to speak with her more athletic customers, and within reach of the bar counter, Suitcase Judy took her spot at her usual booth. Red splotches stained her face from her hairline to her neck, revealing that she had been crying with some force. Her drugstore mascara, unable to withstand the flood of salty tears, had dried down her face, forming a tar-like substance on her cheeks. She grabbed a cigarette from her purse and lit it furiously, exhaling dramatically as she allowed the smoke to calm her nerves.

When Shirley noticed that Suitcase Judy was not her usual, perky (in all senses of the word) self, Shirley stomped out her cigarette, put her 19-year-old son, John, in charge of working the bar counter, and joined Suitcase Judy in her booth. Knowing that a despondent woman was never a good look for a bar, Shirley, hoping to calm her down asked, “What’s wrong?”

(To Be Continued)

Missed the other parts?

• Read Part 1 here
• Read Part 3 here
• Read John’s Whole Life Story