The Golden Age of Tongue Kissing: Brooklyn 23, Ny

By Stan Pollack

The Golden Age of Tongue Kissing weaves a memorable story of a growing up experience spiced with laugh-out-loud humor.
A word of caution- do not begin to read this book at bedtime unless you are prepared to stay up all night and laugh your head off!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 26, 2002
• ISBN: 9781465323774

Stan Pollack

In retirement, author Stan Pollack discovered a prolific tendency to write and publish a half dozen books covering several genres in a short time. "The Golden Age of Tongue Kissing" is a semi-autobiographical story weaving a memorable and humorous accounting of a growing-up experience in Brooklyn, New York. Two novels followed, each inspired by actual past events. "Specific Intent" is a fast-moving detective versus fugitive chase placing the main characters in exotic locations around the world. "Does God Have a Sense of Humor" allows the reader to decide. Inspired by current political events, "Upset 2020" fictionalizes the election of our nation’s first third-party president. "Suddenly 80: Finally Single and Lovin’ It" is a laugh-out-loud portrayal of discovering new freedom and liberty in the Golden years.

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Copyright © 2002 by Stan Pollack.

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Contents

THE EARLY STAGE

THE WAY IT WAS

HERE TO NOWHERE

BURNING BRIDGES

THE EARLY STAGE

After sitting a preposterously long time in the waiting room, the patient is finally received by the apologetic doctor saying, I hopeyou did not mind waiting so long. The patient weakly responded, It’s a shame you couldn’t have seen my illness in the early stages!

My military career had several stages. However, it is only the earliest one which merits recounting. Before we get to it, I do own up to having opted for active duty as a reservist in lieu of an imminent draft call. Then, some years later, to my chagrin, I was recalled to military service because Communists and Germans decided to build a wall in Berlin, which was deemed a threat to Bensonhurst. On the good side of the wall, West Germany declared that they were working for peace and anyone who stood in their way would be crushed. Less than twenty years after the Second World War ended, the goose stepping could be heard again. America’s response was simple. They merely plucked me out of civilian life and shipped me off to combat training in Texas.

My reserve company consisted mostly of Jews and Italians from New York. I spent many hours with Tony Pellagrino on the firing range only because our names followed each other on the alphabetical roster. I don’t know what type of work Tony did in civilian life, but after each shot he’d carefully wipe his fingerprints off the handle of his rifle with his handkerchief.

The Mafia, enraged that a Mexican hired hand absconded with the loot taken in a bank heist, sent an enforcerto Mexico City to recover the money.

He was accompanied by Goldstein, the mob’s Spanish speaking accountant. The traitor was tracked down and accosted. The enforcer asked Goldstein to find out where he hid the money. He says go to Hell, Goldstein interprets to the enforcer, who promptly pumps a bullet into the capture’s leg. Ask him again, the enforcer demands of Goldstein. Hesays, ‘Goscrewyourself.’

The enragedgunman lets loose a bullet into the other leg, and says to Goldstein, Tell him the next shot will go between his eyes.

The victim comes to his senses and yells out, Okay. Okay. Tell him that all the money is in the trunk of my car under the spare tire.

Goldstein promptly turns around and tells the enforcer, He says he’s not afraid to die.

Young, inexperienced 2nd lieutenants had a difficult time as active duty reserve officers. Regular army colonels would continually keep a stern watch from afar checking their proficiency in putting the troops through their paces. The best story I heard concerned a reserve lieutenant who discovered that his entire platoon, marching eight abreast, was heading toward a giant cliff. In sheer panic he forgot all the commands to reverse their direction. He remained frozen and helpless as the troops moved closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. In the far distance came the roar of the battalion’s colonel shouting, Good heavens man, at least say goodbye to them.

Alvin Shaller, our company clerk, met his Waterloo early one morning when he accidentally shot off his M1 rifle in the barracks, just barely missing the head of a soldier standing nearby. Alvin was swiftly taken into custody by the Military Police, and because of his reservist status was assigned a civilian lawyer. What then transpired between them was reminiscent of a scene from the classic motion picture, "My Cousin VinnyT This lawyer meets with Alvin at the brigade. Trying to impress him he tells Alvin, Hey, I’m a terrific lawyer. I’ll prove to the court martial board that you were having breakfast when the shot was fired. I’ve got two doctors ready to testify that you suffer from amnesia. I’m also flying in two eyewitnesses from New York. My best friend is on the court-martial board and the Captain Liddy heading your trial is my wife’s uncle. Meanwhile, try to escape!

Old lawyers never die, they just lose their appeal!

Mike Tyson Boxing Champion

Born Brooklyn, NY1966

I took my basic training in South Carolina, and for most of us from New York, it was the furthest we had ever traveled from home. We had never met Southerners before and I’m sure that they were just as befuddled with us as we were with them. The southern stereotype proved true to form, and there was every indication that we did not disappoint them either.

Regular army personnel had never experienced an intact, street smart reserve unit from New York. Jewish reservists will refrain from giving advice to officers, headlined an order from the base commander.

Weekend passes which were usually hard to come by for draftees were easily acquired by our reserve unit. Getting rid of us for a few days was a high priority. We would roam around the small southern town outside the base and probably appeared like foreigners to the locals. Once we stopped a redneck in the street and asked him if he knew where the Jews hung out. He looked us over, pointed and said, Ya-all see that tree over there!

For the first time in our lives we felt like strangers in our own country. We saw things we had never seen before, such as tires hanging from backyard trees and washers and dryers on front porches. A southern soldier told me proudly that he could trace his ancestry back to Sir Walter Raleigh. I told him that my family records were lost in the Flood.

The people living around the army base traditionally invited soldiers into their homes for Thanksgiving Dinner. The call came into the captain’s office, and the lady offered to invite three soldiers to her home, adding, I am not prejudiced at all, but we would prefer not to have any Jewish personnel.

That Thursday, her doorbell rang and there stood three big, black smiling soldiers and one said, Lady, di Captain Levy done sent us.

We appreciated the fact that we were serving in the United States Army rather than the Russian Army. While we had some trying experiences, we could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

The Russian firing squad escorted a prisoner to the place of execution in the pouring cold rain

What a terrible morning to die, muttered the prisoner.

What are you talking about? barked back a guard.

"We gotta march back and live!

I actually enjoyed much of army life. These hitches posed no special problems for me, since an early childhood experience prepared me well. At the age of five I entered a paramilitary institution named PS. 177.

This was the EARLY STAGE! Here was the chain of command. At the top was the principal, a figurehead whose name escapes me. Do you remember the name of the president of the Third Reich? The real power was in the hands of the Vice Chancellor, known to us as the assistant principal.

Miss Harrington was a thin, well manicured individual with a bluish tint in her hair, and sported a lace handkerchief neatly tucked under her waistband. She never ever cracked a smile and with good reason, for shaping up six year olds was serious business. She had the mind set of a state trooper hiding behind billboards to catch his prey. Slinking around the stairwells, she would position herself out of sight and await the poor slob who dared walk up the down staircase. A quick grab of his wrist, double timing steps down the hallway, and a loud bang of the door behind them, completed in seconds the apprehension of the little culprit. Knees shaking and stuttering through an explanation of his crime the kid was subjected to the most frightening words in the world. Bring your mother tomorrow! What a chilling performance by Miss Harrington. She snagged this little kid like a fish out of water, and she was not apt to throw him back in too quickly. I often thought that if not for the Allied victory at that time, there, but for the grace of God, walked Eva Braun.

We could not conceive of Miss Harrington being subjected to the habits of ordinary people. We never saw her eat, drink, scratch, blow her nose, or God forbid, go to the bathroom. Her conduct and demeanor were as perfect as her stiffly starched blouse.

The teaching staff consisted mostly of middle aged Irish women. They were no nonsense types with a flicker of kindness. One of my favorite teacher stories was told to me by my brother Kenny, also a soldier at PS.177. He had a fourth grade teacher named McDonald. This was years before the name itself became a household word. However, her 300 pounds or so was a prophesy of what lay ahead for the American people’s future shapes.

Anyway, she had the lazy habit of leaning back in her chair against the front classroom wall and tossing blackboard erasers in the direction of talkative students. On this particular day she leaned too far backwards and in a split second was sprawled spread eagle on the floor. Six kids ran to help her, but could not lift up this screaming creature. Morris Shimmel tried to pick her up by her teats! Finally, the principal came arunning to see what happened to his star pitcher. He was the only adult male in the school and his muscle ended the crisis. It was safe to assume that Mrs. McDonald’s eraser flinging days ended then and there.

As for Morris Shimmel, rumor has it that he was just released from the Brooklyn House of Detention.

Unbelievably, after the faculty, the next plateau on the chain of command was me! Captain of the Safety Squad Guards! We were a battalion of kids assigned to patrol and control the perimeter streets surrounding our fortress school building. All guards were outfitted with wide stark white safety straps which crisscrossed the body and came together into one huge highly polished chrome buckle. When the latch was snapped shut, it sounded like a slamming cell door at Sing Sing Prison. Our assignment was to patrol street crossings to ensure the safety of the troops. In order to operate effectively, we were given no restrictions. They wanted pit bulls out there. If it were not for the fact that we all believed in God, pit bulls they would have gotten. However, harassment against jaywalkers and writing up a report against an infraction was as far as our little consciences would allow us to go. A report went on your permanent record which would follow one for the rest of his life. It created future episodes such as this, Oh, Mr. Levine, the Senate Committee is ready to confirm your nomination to the United States Supreme Court. Just one final question, sir. What about this report on your permanent record? Huh?

I did not start out as Captain of the safety squad. I came up through the ranks, first as a regular guard, then a lieutenant and finally captain. Getting onto the safety squad was no small feat, and it was my first experience on how far one can get with a payoff.

Briefly, it went something like this. The kid, who was captain at the time, loved comic books. Comic books happened to be my best commodity, and I was fluid. So, one rainy Saturday morning this kid showed up at my door. I dragged out my collection into the hallway of my apartment house. There he quickly sifted through them with the speed of a bank teller separating different denominations of bills. Out came my favorites-Superman, Batman, Archie, Archie and Jughead, Wonder Woman, Mutt and Jeff Captain Marvel, Tarzan. He shoved them into an empty cardboard carton and quickly took off. Not one word was spoken.

Scene two: It’s Monday morning and I’m