Alcohol takes no prisoners, only slaves...
A precis of events from the mid-1960s to the early 1980s:
Dick Robbins, in constant pain and almost immobile, would start drinking in the Mustang Club bar at lunchtime. He would then spend the afternoon in the club's card-room, gambling and drinking more. By dinnertime, he was usually irascible, prone to lash out with one of his canes at any employee or patron who angered him. Mary Robbins was of little help. She too was drinking heavily. Dick's daughter, Babs, was brought in to be a floor manager. Babs was a finishing school girl and a graduate of Southern Methodist University. She was pretty and a perfect lady, she handled her job very well. One of Bab's finishing school friends, Jayne Mansfield, became famous as a big-breasted, blond bombshell movie star.
Dick was always good to me. When I was in trouble, he would ask about it and revel in the details. Once, after we were on a dove hunt, he gave me a twenty gauge Belgium Browning humpback shotgun. Perfectly balanced, it would come up to my shoulder as if on it's own. That gun would be worth thousands today.
The owners of the Master Hosts Inn raised the rent on the Surf Club. What had once been an amiable business relationship became tense.
That summer I picked up six hours at San Angelo College. I lived in a dorm with no air-conditioning. I saw Jane as often as possible.
In the fall, I went to Del Mar College to pick up more hours and improve my GPA. I would earn some money doing odd jobs for the clubs. Jane arrived, taking a job with the phone company which she hated. We married early in the following spring.
We returned to Austin. Jane went to work for some doctors; I picked up twelve hours and some good grades.
Sonny and Mary came for a brief visit. Upon learning where Jane was working, Mary told her that she would never trust doctors again.
Later that summer, Charles Whitman went to the Texas Tower where he killed or wounded over a score of people.
I took a job at the state capitol with the Texas Railroad Commission.
Later that year Eric, our older son, was born.
In the spring, Mary had surgery. Ominously, Sonny said nothing. Madlyn came to Corpus to care for Mary and manage the house on Dinn Street. She would stay for nearly a year.
Jane and I moved back to Corpus. I took a job with a bank, Jane with a title company.
Bill, a musician friend who was a drummer, told me that one of the bands he played with was looking for a base player. I didn't play base, but I bought a base guitar and amp. I learned quickly and joined the musician's union. I was soon playing gigs up to four nights a week. This activity was not smiled on by my bank employers.
Madlyn cared for Mary as if she were her child. She would help Mary with her bath, make-up and hair; she would always make sure Mary had a clean dressing gown to wear.
One day, the doctors told Mary that she was not going to get any better. Mary spoke to no one for the rest of the day.
Eventually, Mary returned to the hospital for her final stay. We took Eric to see Mary. He looked unknowingly at her and she looked at him knowing that she would not live to see him grow. At least he smiled at her...
Madlyn returned to San Antonio.
Sadie returned to San Antonio...She had visited Mary a few times...very briefly.
Several widows began showing up at the Surf Club. They would smile at Sonny and look daggers at one another One of them was Pearl Clogston.
Sonny arrived at the bank one afternoon and took me to our clothing store. We bought new black suits. One evening, shortly thereafter, I walked into the Surf Club and found Sonny sitting with a man and woman. He introduced Doctor George Parma and his wife, Betty. Dr. Parma was a dentist, Sonny explained, and Betty was my sister.
The conspiracy of silence, created and insisted upon by Mary, was undone. Sonny and his sisters had all complied with Mary's demand that I was not to be made aware of Betty's existence. Sonny and his sisters had seen and talked to Betty over the years and they were all on congenial terms. We talked pleasantly for a while and then I went home and told Jane of my illumination. The next day I wrote Betty a letter.
Coming back to my desk one day after lunch, I was told: "Go to the hospital and hurry!" Mary, mercifully, was dead when I got there. She had not been cognizant for two weeks; she weighed sixty pounds.
There were two Catholic funeral masses: one in Corpus and one in San Antonio. Some people were scandalized that Napoleon Jackson, the Black Headwaiter from the Surf Club, was one of the pallbearers. Monsignor Al Cannon, a three martini lunch man, conducted the service. Many people from Corpus followed us to the service and burial in San Antonio. Mary was laid down in the family plot near Jessie.
Leaving the cemetery, most people went to Betty's house. There were plenty of covered dishes of food for the hungry and booze for the thirsty. Sonny, understandably, was very thirsty. I was to drive us back to Corpus that night in Nora Myers' Lincoln. She was one of the widows in pursuit of Sonny.
Before we left, I was introduced to Adrienne...
(continued)
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