Some bars, especially run-down seedy bars, are governed and fueled by alcohol, illicit activity, and questionable connections that can make just about anything happen. During one of my stops at J&J Bar, I explained to my mother how I was interested in photography as a hobby and that one day, when I had enough money, I wanted to buy a nice camera. My mother listened quietly but said nothing.
On my next J&J Bar stop, my mother proudly proclaimed, “Johnnie, I have something for you!” She reached under J&J’s countertop and handed me a brown, many-times-used paper bag.
“What is it?” I anxiously asked.
“You’ll find out, just open it.”
Through whiffs of smoke, I unfolded the bag and found a Ricoh SLR camera. My heart raced with excitement as I fondled the camera before reaching further into the bag in an attempt to look for the instruction manual.
“Ma, there’s no instructions? How do I load the film and adjust the settings?”
“It didn’t come with one, you’ll figure it out,” she shrugged.
As I flipped the camera over trying to figure out where to load film, I noticed a Social Security number etched on the bottom of the housing. “Ma, what is a Social Security number doing on the bottom of my camera?”
“I was wondering the same thing myself,” she said, acting confused.
Out of guilt I never used that camera. I stuck it away in a drawer and eventually donated it to Goodwill. But I realized from this incident that anything, and I mean anything, can be arranged in a bar if you know the right people.
Life continued as usual for the next six months. Shirley and Gary fought. Suitcase Judy had sex. And everybody drank far too much alcohol. All the while, no one (except Clyde and Suitcase Judy), not even Gary or Shirley’s other two children (with two different men), knew that Shirley was “expecting.”
When the time finally arrived in early January for Suitcase Judy to give birth, Shirley drove her an hour away to a small community hospital that had been arranged through a collaborative effort between J&J Bar and Clyde’s bar. Even though the information as given to me by my mother is murky, the basic facts are as follows:
- Suitcase Judy was admitted under Shirley’s name and Suitcase Judy was now Shirley, having claimed that she left all forms of identification at home since she was merely traveling through the area with a friend.
- Being in active labor meant that few questions were asked of Suitcase Judy and even fewer answers were obligatory.
- After nearly twelve hours in labor, Suitcase Judy gave birth to a baby boy, prenatally shackled by alcohol, but perfect for Shirley (the real one).
- Shirley (the real one) was somehow able to get her fingerprints on the baby boy’s birth certificate. From that point on, under Michigan law (but with complete disregard for the law), the baby boy belonged to the real Shirley.
- The real Shirley named the baby boy, Frank.
- When Shirley eventually came home with baby Frankie, Gary was surprised and a bit confused when he realized he was now the father of a bouncing, baby boy.
- Despite her best efforts, Shirley and Gary eventually divorced before baby Frankie entered kindergarten.
- Despite multiple other marriages (the exact number is unknown), Shirley never again used a baby as a form of marriage counseling.
Suitcase Judy returned to J&J Bar less than a week after giving birth. Walking past the restrooms and the poorly done mural, she sat down in her usual booth. Since the vice squad, city of Flint, and the Michigan Liquor Control Commission, eventually revoked J&J Bar’s liquor license, I never saw Suitcase Judy again.
As the circumstances of his birth would suggest, Frankie has struggled in life and Shirley continued being Shirley…both of their lives will be revisited later in this blog.
(Once a month I will focus on investing and my next blog post will do that in a unique way. My purpose is to introduce the novice or newbie investor to the “how to’s” of investing, not the “what’s” of investing.)
Shirley will again share the spotlight in two weeks.
(To Be Continued)
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