Alone with a Butterfly

By Frank Di Silvestro

“Alone with a Butterfly” is about the White and Black situation as it existed in 1951, in the Hunts Point section of the Bronx where a benign segregation between whites and blacks is considered normal, especially by sixteen-yea-old Freed Messina and his girlfriend. In Freddy’s neighborhood the blacks, who hold good city jobs, live solely in an apartment building called the Colored House by the white neighbors. A sixteen-year-old black boy, Willy Hamilton, lives in the Colored House with Carol, his fifteen-year-old pretty sister. She is a superb artist and suffers from congenital illness that often weaken her so that she must rest. Willy is the only black boy in Freddy’s class at Hunts Point High School. Despite fearing ridicule by his friends and strong disapproval from his father for associating with blacks, Freddy becomes friendly with Willy and Carol. He is enthralled with her beauty and the magnificence of her paintings. Freddy and Carol like each other. Since Carol doesn’t go to school and must remain home all the time, she feels alone. But because of Freddy’s interest in her, she doesn’t feel alone anymore.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Dec 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781982273323

Book preview

1

In 1951, in the Hunts Point section of the Bronx, a peculiar form of benign segregation existed between the whites and blacks. Indeed, Freddy Messina and his friends and his girlfriend, Maureen Ruggiero, were unaware that it was segregation. They thought it was the way things were supposed to be, never giving it a second thought. The white people in the neighborhood called the apartment building on Faile Street across the street from where Freddy lived the colored house. Only blacks lived in this building. They lived nowhere else in Freddy’s neighborhood, though some were thinly scattered throughout Hunts Point. Most of the blacks in the colored house had steady municipal jobs. In their limited contact with whites in the neighborhood, they were cordial and respectful. The few black teenagers who lived in the colored house didn’t hang out with Freddy and his friends or hang out in Harry’s Luncheonette or in Marvin’s candy store. No one questioned or even wondered about this. It seemed normal for the Negroes to want to stay among themselves. They might go into a store on Faile Street to buy something, but they would immediately return to their apartments. They did their main shopping at the A&P on Hunts Point Avenue. No one paid much attention to this peculiar relationship with blacks who lived in the colored house. It was just the way things were. It was assumed the colored people wanted to live in their own building and had no apparent desire to integrate.

Freddy and Maureen had no reason to believe this situation wasn’t perfectly normal. Though they had never been in the colored house, they had always looked upon it with slight, inexplicable fear and imagined it to be a strange place with mysterious occupants. At Hunts Point High School, which was a block away from where Freddy lived, there was only one black student in Freddy’s class, Willy Hamilton. Willy lived in the colored house. He was intelligent and well-mannered with a pleasant nature. Since in their class Willy’s desk was next to Freddy’s, they had occasion to now and then say a few words to each other. The other whites in Freddy’s class were indifferent to Willy’s existence. It was almost as if he wasn’t there.

After school, Willy would go home alone, and Freddy wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day, unless Willy happened to go to one of the stores on Faile Street to buy something; then they might run into each other with a friendly nod or a quick hi. Though Freddy never engaged Willy in a conversation outside of school because he feared his friends would ridicule him or think less of him, lately this struck him as being absurd and perhaps even cowardly.

One Friday afternoon in late June, all the students had left the classroom except Freddy and Willy, who were lingering at their desks. Their teacher, Mrs. Gleason, a dark-haired, attractive woman in her late thirties, didn’t notice them since she was carefully checking some test papers on her desk. Freddy happened to glance over at Willy and observed him holding a painting that he was about to put securely in the back of his notebook to prevent it from slipping out. The painting, which was the face of a black boy, caught Freddy’s eye with keen interest.

Did you paint that? Freddy asked with a tinge of hesitancy in his voice.

Oh, no. My sister, Carol, painted it.

I didn’t know you had a sister. How old is she?

She’s fifteen.

Oh, a year younger than you and me. Does she go to Hunts Point High School?

No. She hardly ever goes out.

Something wrong with her?

She’s sickly and weak.

Freddy paused and wondered if he should continue this conversation. Though he was friendly with Willy in a distant way, he thought it was bad manners to pry into a colored boy’s private life, so he decided to drop the subject and head home. But the sickly state of Willy’s sister and the fine painting were too much for his curious nature. Can I see your painting?

Willy held it up. Freddy was quite impressed with the quality of the painting. Wow! That’s you! he exclaimed. It looks just like you. Your sister can sure paint.

Thanks. I’ll tell her that you liked it. It’ll make her happy, he said as he placed the painting with special care in the back of his notebook. She becomes so sad and lonely at times because of her illness, so I try to make her happy.

Has your sister painted any other pictures?

Oh, yeah. She’s got a lot of them all over her room—all kinds. They’re beautiful. You should see them.

Willy’s last remark penetrated the teacher’s concentration. Mrs. Gleason looked up from her test papers to listen with interest to their conversation. They were unaware she was listening to them.

You should frame that painting of yourself, Freddy was now saying. You don’t wanna lose it.

That’s a good idea. I’ll hang it on the wall in my room. I brought it to school because I didn’t wanna let it out of my sight.

I don’t blame you. Your sister has real talent.

If you ever wanna see her paintings, let me know.

Freddy was surprised—indeed, astounded—at this invitation and was uncertain about how to respond. I’ve never been in the colored house, not even in the entrance hall, he thought. He began to wonder about Carol’s paintings, since he had a natural feeling for art. He had often viewed with aesthetic pleasure the paintings and sculptures in his father’s art books of great artists. Ever since he was a child, he had visited museums with his parents. So he asked, What do you mean?

I’ll take you to my sister’s room so you can see her paintings.

Gee, I’d love to see them.

How about tomorrow morning? It’s Saturday, Willy said as he walked away from his desk. I live in apartment B on the ground floor.

OK. I’ll see you in the morning.

See you then, Willy said as a slight smile touched his lips.

Freddy remained thoughtfully at his desk for a few moments as he watched Willy walk away. Then, as he gathered his books, he noticed Mrs. Gleason pleasantly staring at him. As he turned to leave, she bowed her head and returned to her test papers, smiling warmly to herself.

2

On his way home, Freddy wondered how his parents might respond when he told them about Willy’s invitation to see Carol’s paintings in the colored house. As he entered his apartment, he greeted his mother in the kitchen and then, as was his custom, went directly to his room to do his homework at his desk. But after five minutes, he realized he couldn’t concentrate. He looked up from his history textbook, thinking, Right now I won’t mention anything to my mother about Willy’s invitation. I’ll tell my parents about it at dinner.

He decided to go to Harry’s Luncheonette to hang out with his friends and play some records on the jukebox. He removed his white shirt and red tie and examined his biceps critically, which reminded him that in the last few days, he had neglected to physically work out. This concerned him. He removed a barbell from under his bed and sat in a chair and did some arm curls for about fifteen minutes. Pleased with the sensation of strength he felt in his biceps, he hurried to the bathroom and washed his armpits and applied some underarm deodorant. Then he put on a short-sleeve beige shirt that went with his brown pants. He returned to his room and viewed his reflection in the full-length mirror, which was on the clothing closet door. Admiring the way his arms looked as he flexed them with tight fists, he smiled. He then scooped up some coins for the jukebox from the top drawer of his bureau and hurried out.

Harry’s Luncheonette was on the corner, a few doors from the front entrance of Freddy’s apartment building and across the street from Hunts Point High School and the public playground. Maureen lived on Hunts Point Avenue, a block away. When Freddy arrived, he was pleased to see Maureen looking pretty as she stood at the jukebox with her girlfriends, listening to records. Mario Lanza’s Be My Love was just ending, which always excited him because he liked the way the tenor ended on such a thrillingly high note. Some of his buddies were also there, sitting at tables and at the counter. Maureen wore a simple, short-sleeve, red cotton sweater, a tight black skirt, and wedge sandals. She was Freddy’s age. He considered her the prettiest girl in the neighborhood. She had doll-like features and dark blue eyes with a shapely, well-proportioned figure. She resembled both her good-looking parents. Her father was Italian, and her mother was Irish. She had her father’s olive skin, which allowed her to tan naturally in the spring and summer, and she had her mother’s slightly wavy, abundant brunette hair, which fell to her shoulders. As Freddy approached her, she smiled warmly, thrilled to see him. He returned the smile. It always excited both of them to meet this way. He stood next to her as she looked at the record list in the jukebox, reading aloud the names of songs she might want to play: Perry Como’s If, Johnny Ray’s Cry, Les Paul and Mary Ford’s How High the Moon, and their big favorite, Tony Bennett’s Because of You.

Play ‘Because of You,’ Freddy said. This was Bennett’s first big hit, which launched his career. His Italianate tones had captivated Freddy and his friends. They loved the song and the bel canto sound of Bennett’s young voice. It was unique. He sounded like no singer they had ever heard. Indeed, Martin Block, on his popular Make Believe Ballroom radio show, had been playing the song as often as he could.

After listening to Because of You, they left the luncheonette and walked to Maureen’s apartment building. They sat on a step in the vestibule and talked for a short while. Maureen loved to hear Freddy sing. He had a natural singing voice. She asked him to sing in the echo-chamber-sounding vestibule, which always gave his voice a potency that thrilled them. As he sang a few lines from Vic Damone’s You’re Breaking my Heart, trying to imitate Damone’s style and voice, some adults entered the building, and Freddy, shy and embarrassed