Another Chance
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2014 by Old Man with a Pen

We went to college. College costs plenty. Where did we get the money?”

That requires a step back.

Grannie being the beauty of the 19th Century ... Grace being the beauty of the 20th ... I spent quite a lot of time in detention or under suspension because I defended Grace ... Detention includied the times I had witnesses. Some of those witnesses ended up in detention right along side of me.

“You get your story to match ours or you’ll sit here in detention until the cows come home.”

And that worked ... for awhile. Daddy was beginning to believe I was as bad as the school board said I was. I know the new Mrs. Austin believed it ... her Charles was an angel. We had a friend ... ok ... Grace had a friend ... whose parent had 16mm movie camera with one hell of a telephoto lens ... a 998mm. He happened, accidentally, to be parked in the general vicinity of the spot where 90% of the confrontations took place ... and he filmed said confrontation. The film was developed out of town and Daddy was the first viewer.

He sued ... the school ... the principal ... the school board ... the sheriff ... the chief of police ... the parents of the assailants ... several of the parents were mentioned in the body of this sentence.

When we went to court, they all lost because daddy was smart enough to have the jury trial moved to a different jurisdiction. The accused didn’t have any relatives on the jury. The jury found the defendants guilty of organized crime. The judge awarded punitive compensation.

One hundred thousand dollars combined award doesn’t sound like much ... but it was a hell of a pile in 1954 ... really good homes were in the 20 thousand range ... really good ... four and five bedroom homes. The town mansion sold for thirty-five and it was on its own block. Grace got a like sum.

Rich kids.

Daddy made us bank it. In 1954, a savings account paid five percent. We couldn’t touch the principal but the interest became our allowance. Five thousand dollars a year paid out weekly is 96 dollars and fifteen cents ... big money for a kid. Just about twice what a blue collar worker got paid.

Court awarded, the money was tax free ... and I knew who won the Derby.

Grannie had one vice ... she loved to bet the ponies.

“Grandmother?” I said.

“What do you want?” she answered.

“What makes you think I want something?” I replied.

“You only call me Grandmother when you are trying to wheedle me. It used to be cookies,” she said. “I haven’t baked for a week and don’t intend to.”

“Daddy said your family shame is horse racing.” I wasn’t asking.

“Your Dad needs to keep his mouth shut,” she said. “Ok ... What is it?”

“I’ve saved my allowance.” My allowance was the interest on the hundred grand award.

“So?” she asked. It was like a lightbulb went off in her pretty black haired head, “Oh no, I am not going to bet your allowance on a horserace.”

“The Derby,” it was a statement. “Determine wins it in two minutes three seconds.”

“Damn it, David. Don’t be telling me such tempting things.” She was quiet for just a couple of seconds ... I swear I could smell the brain grease overheating, “You’re sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If you’re so sure ... who comes in second?” she asked.

I closed my eyes ... like I was going into a trance ... really I was reviewing the newspapers for 1954 ... the damn things are all in my head.

I said ... in a hollow spooky voice ... very difficult because my voice hadn’t gone into puberty yet... “Determine, Hasty Road, Hasseyampa, Goyamo,” I opened my eyes.

Grannie was looking at me like, who is this kid? “You’re sure. The Superfecta?”

“What’s that?”

“All four places,” she explained, “Three places is a trifecta. With the time the Superfecta odds are about thirty-five thousand to one.”

“You mean ... a dollar win on a Super ... whatever ... wins thirty-five thousand?”

“Yes,” she said, but I could tell she was lost in the never-never land of the track; roaring crowds, flying hooves and scattered dirt. The shout of victory or the rip of the betting tickets in defeat.

“I have a hundred bucks.”

“What?” She shook herself, “Oh ... you want to bet a hundred dollars on a Derby Superfecta?”

“Yes,” I replied.

She looked at me ... hard. I could tell by the flush I had her.

“We need your Dad.” She went to the kitchen stairs and hollered down in the cellar, “Charles! I need you...”

Daddy lived weekends in his HAM shack in the basement. “CQ CQ CQ W8PSY looking around for a call.” He either ‘fisted’ that or voiced it for hours. ‘Fisted’ is HAM speak for Morse code transmissions. He even had a war surplus transmitter receiver in the bedroom.

“Give me your money, David ... before your Dad gets up here.”

I handed her 20 five dollar bills. She put them in her pocketbook just as Daddy opened the basement door.

“Yes, Mom?” he asked.

“I need your notary seal and a piece of your letterhead stationery.” She waved her hand, “Scoot.”

He scooted.

Daddy’s office was the living room and den of the house. When he bought the place in 1936 he had the living room slash dining room pocket doors slid back in their pockets and the doorway built over. The den was his office, the living room was the office waiting room cum secretary’s office. He had to go down the hall to get to the office.

While he was doing that, Grandmother was counting out a fistful of twenties.

Daddy came back with a yellow legal pad, his notary seal press, a fountain pen and a letterhead piece of office stationery.

Grannie had beautiful penmanship. She wrote, ‘$200.00 Kentucky Derby Superfecta ... Determine, Hasty Road, Hasseyampa, Goyamo with the winning time 2:03.’ She signed it and handed it to Daddy.

“Notarize that, Charles.” He did.

“Initial and date these.” These were ten twenty dollar bills.

“Two hundred Dollars! Mom?”

“Just do it, Charles.”

He didn’t ... instead he took out his wallet and exchanged the twenties for two hundreds. He wrote the serial numbers on the notarized letterhead ... and kept a copy of the letter for himself on the legal pad. That he tore off, stuck in an envelope, sealed it and dated it across the flap. On the front he addressed the envelope to himself and gave me a buck.

“Take this to the Post Office and have it sent registered ... return receipt.”

The ‘book’ was the barber in the basement of the Courthouse ... great place, huh. So, I delivered the two hundred to Ed the barber, took the envelope to the Post Office, across the street from the Congregational Church ... corner of West State and Brush Street.

I handed it to the counterman.

“Registered, please. Daddy wants a return receipt.”

The counterman took my buck and stamped the envelope, REGISTERED LETTER RETURN RECEIPT REQUESTED.

I went home and we waited.

May First 1954 ... the Derby ... at 5pm on the Third of May, Ed the bookie, showed up. He had a big bag and it looked heavy.

“Adele, I don’t know how you did it. The boys in Detroit won’t let you book again. The only Superfecta with the time ... Seven million dollars. Count it.” He sat with Daddy while Grannie counted out seven million dollars in two piles. A bunch of it was banded bundles of hundreds but there were plenty of loose bills. It took hours.

“Three million five hundred thousand for me.” She cackled like the witch in the Wizard of Oz and put her pile to one side, “Three million five hundred thousand for David.”

When Grannie said David, Daddy almost fell off his seat.

“Thank you Ed.” She took thirty five hundred off each pile and handed it to him. “This is yours for paying off.”

Ed left after telling Grandmother Austin he’d miss her and her betting slips.

“You bet a hundred dollars on a horse?!?” He was right in my face.

Grannie came to my rescue, “No, Charles. He bet a hundred dollars on FOUR horses.” She shook my hand... “And the time.”

She rounded on Dad, “You should be happy, Son. They won’t let me bet the ponies anymore ... and I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss it. Three million, four hundred ninety-six thousand, five hundred Dollars worth of miss it.” She grabbed me and gave me a kiss ... with tongue. WOW! Then she started laughing like a demented creature, picked up her pile and tossed it in the air. Hundred dollar bills everywhere!.

Daddy did as he always did when he had a large deposit of cash. He put my money in paper grocery bags and sent me off to the bank. Three grocery bags and my little red Radio Flyer wagon. He called the bank and made certain they knew it was for my account.

He just didn’t tell them how much.

The head teller and the bank president counted it.

“What did you do ... win the Derby?” asked the bank president.

I didn’t say a word ... grabbed my bankbook and headed out the door.

Deposited in my savings account was Three million, four hundred ninety-six thousand, five hundred Dollars ... and no cents. My account was now Three million, five hundred ninety-six thousand, five hundred Dollars and no cents.

No mention was made of my five percent allowance ... everyone just assumed...

Three thousand, four hundred fifty-eight dollars and 17 cents ... a week!

I could buy a car!!

If I had a license.

If I could drive.

Chapter 3 »

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