Two Women, Chapter 4

So, "Who's Monica?," Mona had asked Ted.  Was this a big mistake on his part or a little one easily explained away?  Time for a quick decision by Ted.

"Did I say 'Monica?'  Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," replied Mona in a calm voice.

"Well, I apologize for that.  Let me think.  The only Monica I know is...a dentist I used once while traveling on business."

"Seems she made a big impression on you."

"She did fix a bad tooth ache, but please let's not make a big deal out of it.  How 'bout dinner Saturday night?"

"Are you trying to change the subject?"

"Maybe."

"Was she beautiful?"

"Was she beautiful?  I dunno.  Maybe."

"Where's she a dentist?"

"North Carolina."

"That's a big state.  Remember the city?"

"Ah...Chapel Hill."

"Maybe I should go there when I need a dentist.  What d'ya think, Ted?"

"Maybe.  So, what about dinner Saturday night, Mona?"

"Maybe."

San Francisco

 I first began to think about San Francisco when my favorite baseball team, the New York Giants, moved there in April 1958 when I was 12 years old.  The relocation didn't bother me as I lived 286 miles from New York City.  Adding another 2,510 miles had no effect on me personally.

Fourteen years later (1972), I arrived in San Francisco for the first time in my brand new green Fiat 124 Sport Coupe (along with my ex-wife Bonita).  I even made it to Candlestick Park to see my Giants beat the Pittsburgh Pirates 8-0.

In 2008, I made my second trip to San Francisco (along with my wife Cristina and friends Kevin and Connie), this time in a rental car.  We stayed in the same hotel (at 940 Sutter Street) where Judy (Kim Novak) lived in the 1958 classic Alfred Hitchcock film, Vertigo.

"At 5:12 AM on April 18, 1906 (115 years ago today), a major earthquake struck San Francisco.  As buildings collapsed from the shaking, ruptured gas lines ignited fires that spread across the city and burned out of control for several days.

More than three-quarters of the city lay in ruins, including almost all of the downtown core.  Modern estimates (of the death toll) put the number in the several thousands.  

More than half of the city's population of 400,000 was left homeless.  Refugees settled temporarily in makeshift tent villages in Golden Gate Park, the Presidio, on the beaches, and elsewhere.  Rebuilding was rapid and performed on a grand scale."

On October 17, 1989 (my late brother Ted's 47th birthday), my Giants and another San Francisco earthquake came together.  Just before the start of the third game of that year's World Series at Candlestick Park (5 PM local time) between the Giants and the Oakland A's, a 6.9 magnitude earthquake occurred, causing the game to be postponed...for ten days, the longest delay in World Series history.      

 

Mike Parr

During my freshman year at Penn (1963-1964), I lived on the fifth floor of the Class of 1928 Dormitory, upper quad, 37th and Spruce Streets, Philadelphia.  There were 33 of us in 11 rooms.  You can do the math.  

In the middle of the year there were rumblings that many of us (not me) were dissatisfied with our roommates.  As a result, the Resident Advisor (RA) on our floor devised a plan to change many of the room assignments in order to return to peaceful coexistence.

I stayed in my room, but I got two new roommates: Ralph Pincus from Pittsburgh and Mike Parr from Baltimore.  My old ones were Steve Sandler from Boston and a name I forgot from (pre-Disney) Orlando (metro area population then 230,000; now 2,002,000).  

Ralph invited me on my only trip to his hometown for a Jewish holiday weekend.  Nice guy, Ralph.  We met again at the Class of 1967's 25th reunion in 1992.

On the other hand, Mike Parr was memorable.  He was a rich kid,  destined to join a lucrative family business after graduation.  

Mike once showed me (at my request) his 27 belts resting in his dresser drawer.  I had one belt .  Who needs more than one?

Mike was good-looking: tall, blonde and well built.  Plus he had oodles of self-confidence.  Especially with girls.  At mixers, he had no trouble meeting and picking them up.  

Obviously, Mike was someone I wanted as a friend, someone who could teach and advise me.  And he became my friend.  

Mike got his girlfriend to fix me up with her friend, Phyllis Green, a freshman at Temple University.  We dated a few times.  Mike gave me some pointers.

Mike could sweettalk anybody.  Once he bought non-refundable tickets to a concert, but had to cancel at the last minute.  He told the ticket agent he needed the money to go home for his mother's funeral.  He got the money.  His mother was fine.

Unfortunately, Mike was lazy and lacked motivation.  We had the same 8 AM class.  Many times I couldn't get him out of bed in time.

After three semesters, Penn determined Mike wasn't making satisfactory progress and sent him packing back to Baltimore.  A pity!  I wonder what became of Mike Parr.    

The Maltese Falcon

 In 1941, John Huston wrote and directed the classic film noir, The Maltese Falcon, which starred Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, Jerome Cowan, Ward Bond, Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet (nominated for Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor, won by Donald Crisp for How Green Was My Valley).  The film was nominated for Academy Award for Best Picture (also won by How Green Was My Valley).  

The Maltese Falcon is based upon the 1930 novel of the same name, written by Dashiell Hammett.  In 1990, it was listed as the 10th best crime novel of all time by the Crime Writers' Association.  

Sam Spade (Bogart), a private investigator in San Francisco, is hired by a female client (Astor) who is worried about the whereabouts and safety of her sister.  Spade's partner (Cowan) agrees to follow her when she is to meet her sister's boyfriend.  Turns out her story is a complete lie and the partner is murdered.  

The real story is that the female client, whose name is O'Shaughnessy, along with two others, Cairo (Lorre) and Gutman (Greenstreet), are desperately seeking an extremely valuable statuette of a bird (The Maltese Falcon).  So valuable that three people are murdered to get their hands on it.

In reality O'Shaughnessy killed Spade's partner and Spade turns her in to the police.  At the end of the book, which I recently finished, Spade meets his late partner's widow.  

In the movie version's ending, a policeman (Bond) holds the statuette (which turns out to be fake).  He asks, "What is it?"

Spade responds, "The...stuff that dreams are made of."  It is one of the most famous last lines in movie history.  

Apparently, Humphrey Bogart suggested this line to John Huston (who was nominated for Academy Award for Best Screenplay, won by Sidney Buchman and Seton I. Miller for Here Comes Mr. Jordan) who added it to the film's script.  For years I didn't know the whole story behind this line of dialogue.

Thanks to my wife Cristina, we now know that Bogart was paraphrasing a line from Shakespeare's The Tempest.  A character named Prospero says, "We are such stuff as dreams are made on."  Cristina came across this revelation while reading a book about the great French author, Marcel Proust.  

Before going to Hollywood, Bogart was a stage actor on Broadway, appearing in 18 plays from 1922 to 1935.  As such, I believe he must have read The Tempest.