The following conversation was recounted to me by my mother, Shirley, at some point between 1967 and 1968. During these years, I would periodically travel the 1 ½ hours from college in Ypsilanti, Michigan, to my home (or rather, the home my grandparents created for me) in Saginaw, Michigan. Occasionally, I stopped by J&J Bar to visit my mother. Before 1968, J&J Bar could only sell beer and wine, but around 1968 my mother was able to secure a full liquor license, much to the delight of her regulars. Even today, I still remember the red neon “BEER” light in the front window that, in many ways, acted as a siren, luring in those who were thirsty or horny (or most likely an unashamed combination of the two). I always thought that the red light was appropriately colored.
On one of my stops, I met with my mother. Smoking and twirling her iconic vodka tonic with a twizzle straw, my mother’s eyes darted expectantly to the bar door every time she heard its welcoming squeak. It was not lost on me that my mother greeted her bar patrons like most greeted their family…as my grandparents always greeted me. We discussed her bar family as she eventually inquired about her real family in Saginaw. As my mother explained her familial absence, the bar put such demands on her life that it was often “hard to visit” her family in Saginaw. I’ve come to understand that, despite not always being present for her real family, much of my mother’s life revolved around her regulars and their lives.
When she brought up Suitcase Judy, she told me about the first time Suitcase Judy cried in the bar. Out of concern for my mother’s primary source of income, I asked, “Ma, why do you allow her into the bar? You know she could jeopardize your liquor license?”
My mother stared at her drink and thought for a moment before she responded, “Suitcase Judy doesn’t have any other place to go. Without me and my friends, I would worry about her.”
Even though my mother had many faults, she always had a big heart for the downtrodden. With a heavy smoker’s chuckle and a quick sip, she then told me this story about Suitcase Judy and one of her regulars, Dale K.
Upon seeing Suitcase Judy crying in her regular booth, my mother asked her, “What’s wrong?”
With a whiny Midwestern accent, Suitcase Judy revealed to my mother that Dale, who worked at the Sears down the street, had bought her a drink, so she led him out back. In the parking lot, somewhere between the bar’s dumpster and the dumpster which serviced the “George Wallace for President” next-door headquarters, Suitcase Judy said that she encountered the biggest penis she had ever seen (when Suitcase Judy told the story, she said “thingy” instead of “penis,” but given her profession, the word “thingy” seems like a feeble attempt at modesty). Upon seeing it, Suitcase Judy said she screamed and covered her eyes. When Dale began to get upset and call Suitcase Judy names, she tried to run away. Dale grabbed her arm, which led Suitcase Judy to slap him across the face, breaking free and running inside. Dale, upset and embarrassed by the salacious encounter, waited two whole days before returning to J&J Bar.
When Suitcase Judy finished telling my mom the story, she had substantially calmed down. Either the cigarettes were working or whatever drugs she had in her system had diminished enough to allow her to think somewhat rationally. My mother patted Suitcase Judy on the back and invited her up to the bar.
“Your next one’s on the house, okay hun? Just try to pull yourself together a little more,” my mother offered, nudging Suitcase Judy out of the booth. She hoped that more alcohol might suppress some of the tears.
“No, no. I gotta stay here. That guy playing pool,” she dramatically pointed, with no attempt made at being subtle, “definitely wants to get in my pants” (like I said, subtle).
My mother nodded and began to walk away just as the pool guy approached Suitcase Judy’s booth.
“Shirley!” Suitcase Judy yelled, causing my mother to turn back around, “I will take that free drink though!”
But, it was with Suitcase Judy’s next emotional breakdown in J&J Bar that Shirley’s life would change forever.
(To Be Continued)
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