Amerikai Magyar Szó, 1987. január-június (41. évfolyam, 1-25. szám)
1987-02-26 / 8. szám
Thursday, Feb. 26. 1987. AMERIKAI MAGYAR SZÓ 13. John T. Gojack: , JÓCSÁK AND SON "Sure thing, Mr. Wright, there's nothing like a steady job," I said as I closed the door for him. Odd jobs were not enough for a restless nineteen-year-old. I talked to Pop and my sisters about the prospects for me and it seemed the army was the best bet. I went off to the Recruiting Office without further discussion. Worried about my weight, usually 119, I went in for the preliminary interview and quick physical checkup. It seemed a miracle when I hit the scales at 126 pounds. It must have been the butter beans in Mississippi and the great food provided by my family at three different houses. All were glad to see me after nearly a year away, and all fed me as if I were starved. Another day of paper work, a complete physical by a doctor, and I was on a bus to Fort Thomas, Kentucky. My family was pleased that I would be stationed at Fort Thomas, only sixty miles from home, and could come home often if I wished - and had the bus fare! Three other young recruits were with me, and we had a great time anticipating the joys of army life. Good food, uniforms to catch the girls' eyes, travel, training to acquire skills, headed the lists. The stories and rumors we exchanged might have applied to men on the moon; they had no relationship to army life as we later learned. We arrived at Fort Thomas shortly before evening chow, were assigned bunks and then taken to the mess hall. Almost fifty years later, I remember every detail about that first army meal. There were two delicious pork chops, carrots not overcooked, crisp home fries and a fresh salad. With no room on our trays, we went back for dessert later. This was apple pie, topped with a big scoop of ice cream. Absolutely heavenly! One could go back for more though no one did. We were to be sworn into the army in the morning, so technically were not yet officially in. A cynical fellow recruit from Dayton claimed this was a special meal so that we would not back out of the enlistment in the morning. "God, you're too dumb to be in the army. Can't you see that all the soldiers here are eating the same meal?" said another recruit. It was a pleasant surprise to find the dinner was so good. "I'm changing my life's plan as of this meal," I pledged. "Don't tell me you're giving up women?" asked one recruit. I explained that my plan was to work hard, save money, and retire early to play golf and travel. "Now my plan is to stay in the army for thirty years and earn a full pension. Any organization that offers such good food for its new members deserves my support as long as they will let me stay." And I meant it at that time of course. Army life was easy in 1935, with the hours, the training, the chores all a snap. Bus trips home left Friday afternoon and returned late Sunday night. I learned to take down and re-assemble a machine gun blindfolded, and in fast time. I qualified for a crack drill squad by learning how to loosen the straps of the old Springfield rifle in a way that coming to "port arms" sounded like a rifle shot. Another soldier showed me how a little shellac in the shoe polish would make shoes shine like a mirror. With plenty of time to read, play poker for matches in the evenings, and shoot crap on payday, there was ample social life in the barracks. Newport, Kentucky and Cincinnati, Ohio were easilv reached by streetcars. Four of us became good friends and went to town together. Someone said that eighty percent of the company were illiterate. Most of the men were from the mountains of Eastern Kentucky and Tennessee and were suspicious of city boys from Ohio. There was nothing antagonistic involved. It was simply that we four were considered snobs because we spent time reading and writing instead of bull-shitting and cutting up a lot. However, when it came to the payday poker and crap games, everyone was treated and accepted as an equal. There was an economic yardstick that measured us all the same. All buck privates received twenty-one dollars a month. No, correct that. With the contribution to Old Soldier's Relief, automatically deducted, our pay was twenty dollars and seventy-five cents per month. "The eagle shits tomorrow; want to come to town with us?" said one of my buddies, the evening before payday. Hearing that they had found a poker game in Cincinnati I agreed immediately. After pay was distributed, we passed up the poker and crap games and spiffed up for town. My friends laughed when I questioned why we caught a car for Newport, instead of one directly to Cincinnati. Getting off, they headed straight for one of the whorehouses in Newport, then a wide-open town. Losing no time, they each selected a lady and went off to a back room. "Do you want a trick?" one of the ladies asked. "No, thanks, Ma'am. I don't have any money," I replied, engrossed in my book. My pals all returned to the reception room shortly and we headed for Cinci, for the poker game and the great sandviches in the restaurant out front. No one mentioned my passing up a professional lady in Newport. Hours later, riding the streetcar back to base, one of my friends brought up the subject. "John, it makes no difference to us, but we are curious. Was that your first time in a whorehouse and why did you pass up a jump in the sack?" Feeling in a good mood, having had a hot streak and doubled my paycheck in the poker game, I made them guess. "Are you a virgin?" one asked. "Hardly," I answered. "Are you afraid of spending the two bucks?" another questioned. "Have yöu noticed how much I've left at the poker game or in crap games in our barracks?" I answered. "Is it because you're a non-conformist?" asked the scholar in the group. I ignored the question but on return to the barracks looked up "non-conformist" in my dictionary. "Don't be insulted, and we'll not drop you if the answer to my guess is yes. Are you a queer?" asked the next friend. "That's a dumb question. What homo would spend most of his paycheck on just one date with a woman?" asked the first friend before I could reply. "I've got it. I forgot about his expensive teacher date. I'll bet he's getting more than he can handle - for free!" yelled the friend who first mentioned "queer". "You're all wrong," I said, chuckling. "If you guys had been working with me in the V.D. ward down in that Houston hospital I told you about, you'd pass up a whore for a good book every time." Then I described some of the cures for syphil- lis .and gonorrhea in different stages, without overstating what I had seen in my hospital days. "That's enough," said one of my friends. "You'll scare me out of going back to the whorehouse next payday, and right now I'm scared enough to buy rubbers." The next Sunday I was in for' a ribbing, not a questioning. A few weeks earlier, I had met a lovely lady while shopping for writing paper. She dropped a large package which I retrieved. "Thank you," she said. "Do you like opera?" She explained she was picking up the programs for the next performance of the Cincinnati Opera Company, which was "Carmen". Struck by her pretty face and hair, and surprised at her friendliness to a soldier in uniform, I confessed that I had never seen an opera. "I'd like to go, but could not afford it on army pay," I fibbed. "I'm in charge of these programs and organizing volunteers to distribute them before performances," she answered quickly. "Why don't you come to our matinee next Sunday, help distribute programs for a few minutes, and then sit with me free?" I agreed immediately. Opportunities to meet a beautiful and proper lady while in the army were rare. I thought she was joking when she told me she would write down which gate of the Cincinnati Zoo she would meet me at next Sunday. In the late '30s the Cincinnati Opera had a pavilion at the end of the Zoo, far enough away that the tenor and soprano had no competition from the animals, except for the barking of the seals. We were both early and had time to exchange some information. There was also time for me to confess that I fibbed about wanting to see an opera, thinking it was something only for the snobbish rich. "Actually, I only wanted to see you again," I admitted. "I love to sing, which is why I like teaching music in school," she said laughingly. "So if you don't mind, please be my first opera student." It was time to take separate stations. "IH bet you a dinner that you'll love Carmen," she whispered. She won. The ribbing I got in the barracks resulted from being too honest about my ignorance regarding fine restaurants. She had a car and picked me up at the front gate, where two of my friends had walked with me to check her out, and offer me advice for the evening. I had almost all of my monthly pay, nineteen dollars, in my pocket. She decided on Newport's most elegant restaurant, at the Beverly Hills gambling casino. Her car was moved out of the driveway by the casino valet service, an impressive sight new to me. The menu prices were stunning, forcing me to count my money time and again. It was a delicious meal and I was glad she liked wine, which I selected for its price, a notch above the cheapest. It was hours before the check came, so we had a pleasant time getting better acquainted. After studying the check twice and double-checking <
