Andy
Bageson
Kathryn
Lynch
©
Copyright 2019 by Kathryn Lynch
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This is a
story about my Dad and Mom encountering a Jewish person for the
first time. In the post Second World War era, Jews were any persons
of Jewish ethnicity no matter where they were located, and any
persons who espoused the Jewish Faith whether born into it or
converted to it Andy Bageson may not have been the best example of a
Jew, but he was the first Jew I ever knew with all his virtues and
all his flaws.
My Dad was
born and raised in Saco, Maine, a town run and ruled by Irish
immigrants and their descendants. French persons were allowed to do
business there in the daytime, but never stay overnight. Across the
river, Biddeford, Maine was a French enclave where English was seldom
spoken except to conduct some daytime business. The Irish left town
as the sun set. Both the Irish and the
French
feared and “hated” the Jews. That fear was common to all
because the Jews were “loud talking, aggressive, shrewd
business men who came into a town, bought up businesses, hired other
Jews to run them, and left other citizens without property or
employment”.
At the age
of 6, I knew the following certainties: 1. I was a mixed child
because my Dad had sneaked across the River to woo and wed my Mom.
2. I couldn't see much of anything beyond two feet (profound,
uncorrected nearsightedness. 3. I was afraid of Jews.
In 1946, Dad
used his Military Severance Pay to open a large tire shop on a busy
street corner in Tacoma, Washington. It was a true precursor of the
Les Schwab stores of today, offering tire sales, tire repairs and
balancing, tire rotation, analysis of brake, drum and other wheel
problems, as well as referrals to other garages for more complex
problems. Dad ran the business in the garage and Mom took care of
billing and telephone inquires in the office. My sister and I were
too young to be left alone, so we spent many hours wandering around
watching the action in the shop.
So it was
that one day when all of the shop and office employees were eating
their lunches together in the bay, a horn began to blast over and
over—a signal to open the service doors. Loud music oozed from
the large cadillac which entered, then limped to a stop. A short,
somewhat squat man emerged from the vehicle, jumping up and down,
waving his arms frantically in the air and shouting:
“What does a guy have to do to get a tire in this
place?”
Now, I
thought this was the silliest thing ever asked because pallets of new
tires surrounded the bay. More than 200 tires were neatly displayed
in stacks ready to roll out of their confines at the slightest nod of
approval from a buyer. These stacks were large enough for me to see.
It was later explained to me that the man, whose name was Andy
Bageson, did see them but this was his way of introducing himself. In
fact, he was the owner of Bageson's Jewelry across the street and the
cadillac had been driven from the storefront where it was ordinarily
parked. Finally, I was informed that this extraordinary performance
was halfway to be expected because Andy Bageson was a JEW!
Every day
after that Andy Bageson walked across the street at lunchtime to chat
with my Dad. An unusual friendship began which often led to my wide
eyed younger Dad reacting to some new idea that the middle aged Jew
put forth. The two men discussed a wide variety of topics, while I
absorbed every word with my highly developed hearing. I soon lost my
fear of Jews, especially since Mr. Bageson often arrived with a small
toy or exotically wrapped chocolate candy. Dad and Mom now began to
speak about Mr. Bageson in friendly terms.
So it was,
that in due time, a visit was scheduled for Andy and Anna Bageson to
come to our home. It is possible that Mr. B scheduled the visit
himself, but regardless of the circumstances, this was big, as big as
it gets. We were under strict orders not to mention this to friends,
and during the visit not to make messes or speak AT ALL! As the
cadillac with one shiny tire pulled up, the couple was just what I
expected. Anna Bageson was a small, somewhat shriveled woman, who
stood stiffly, silently, and robotically by her husband's side
while he chatted happily nonstop, enveloping her in his arms as he
emphasized a point.
When Mom
served French crepes for dinner, I wondered how Mr. B was able to
swallow food and talk at the same time, a feat I have never seen
duplicated. After dinner the chat continued nonstop for about an
hour until he suddenly made an announcement:
“Do you want Anna to play?”
I pictured
this woman picking up the checker game, or a deck of cards to play
solitaire or rummy. Instead, Bageson went out to his cadillac and
removed from the trunk a musical instrument case, a music stand and
several large, flat music books. He did not speak another word. In
fact, Anna Bageson was an accomplished classical violinist. After an
area was cleared. She threw back her head, and eyes closed shut, she
began to play, a look of intensity and joy transforming her
unremarkable features. This woman was lost in the music and so were
we all. When a piece was finished, she glanced at sheet music for a
quick review and head thrown upward, closed her eyes to begin anew.
I had never heard anything so staggeringly powerful and beautiful. At
that moment, there developed in me a lifelong love of classical
music.
A few weeks
later, Dad noticed that Bageson had not stopped by for a shop visit
in three days. Dad sent two employees across the street to check on
him. The store was darkened and appeared closed but the door was
unlocked. Bageson lay face down on the floor, with his hands and
feet tied together. He had been robbed by two men who trashed his
store before making off with some of his nicer pieces. Police were
soon everywhere but too much time had passed for much evidence to be
found. Bageson was transported to the hospital for the night. Upon
release he arrived at our shop, telling everyone who would listen
about his adventure across the street.
Life went
back to normal for a few weeks Then suddenly one morning, the street
was again clogged with police. Something had happened at Bageson's
Jewelry Store. A large contingent of police finally emerged with
Andy Bageson in their midst, arms handcuffed behind his back, He was
being arrested and charged with insurance fraud for staging a fake
robbery, then filing a claim for his losses.
I don't know
what happened later to Andy Bageson or to the birdlike, sensitive
woman he clearly adored. I do know that the two of them taught me
how to accept differences in others, Jewish or otherwise.
(Unless
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Kathryn
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