struck up a friendship.
Back in New York, the foursome made a date for dinner. Over a drink in the Millers’ home, Arthur entertained Saul and Sasha while Marilyn was dressing. After an hour or more, Arthur excused himself. Soon he returned and urged Sasha to go into the bedroom and help Marilyn decide what to wear. Sasha quickly helped her choose something and the famished couples went out to Rocco’s, a favorite restaurant of Saul’s on the northern edge of Little Italy. Marilyn wore some sort of disguise, but word of her presence got out. Having recently thrown over Joe DiMaggio for Arthur, she was none too popular in the Italian community, and an unruly crowd formed on the street. Saul had to get his car and pull right in front of the restaurant so Marilyn could get into it without an ugly scene. For several years, Saul brought me greetings from Marilyn. When I was thirteen, I met her when he and Arthur were inducted into the National Academy of Arts and Letters. I remember her as very beautiful and surrounded by men, but she took a minute to say hello to me. Anita was upset that I met famous people though Saul. She felt left behind, and the gold Cadillac in which she imagined Saul was now full of celebrities.
I went with Anita to Chicago, where Grandma Goshkin and Grandpa Bellow both lived, but more often I went with Saul. He and I took the eighteen-hour train ride from New York on the Twentieth Century Limited. I drank ginger ale in the club car while we played casino—to me it was the height of luxury. If Saul and I drove, we’d pass the time singing “Old Hogan’sGoat,” “The Eddystone Light,” “Anne Boleyn,” and the songs Aunt Jenny had sung to Saul in Lachine during the First World War.
I most remember Fanny’s sloppy kisses and Jewish dishes such as boiled tongue and stuffed cabbage. I was supposed to kiss Grandpa but found his face rough from intermittent shaving. Abraham was in the habit of distributing silver dollars to his grandchildren. I kept mine in a metal cigarette box acquired in France, along with a huge wad of czarist Russian rubles Saul had given me to play with. During a summer visit, I decided to water the flowers in Grandpa’s backyard. I was wearing socks but no shoes and he anticipated that I’d make a muddy mess. I insisted that I could keep them dry and refused to take them off. Saul, still an indulgent parent then, stuck up for me. Grandpa was right. I did make a mess.
During Grandpa’s last years, the entire Bellow family, including Saul when he was in town, would go over to Abraham and Aunt Fanny’s for Sunday afternoon meals. The regular attendees were Morrie, his wife, Marge, and their children, Lynn and Joel; Sam, his wife, Nina, and their children, Lesha and Shael; and Jane, her husband, Charlie Kauffman, and their sons, Larry and Bobby. When Grandma Lescha’s name came up, her children spoke of her with great reverence. The afternoons were largely harmonious until the conversation turned to money, which shattered the superficial the goodwill. While the parents visited, the kids played intensely competitive games of Monopoly.
Abraham found financial threats the best way to reassert his waning paternal authority. His frequent fights with his children often ended with his announcement that he was changing hiswill and disinheriting the current offender. He would go so far as to call his lawyer, often in the middle of the night, with instructions to draw up a new will excluding that child. Morrie tired of this routine early on and turned his nose up at his share to emphasize its paltry size, but Abraham’s mercurial threats had serious consequences for Sam, Jane, and Saul, whose fragile finances made him particularly vulnerable. My father would rush back to Chicago to learn about the new will. By the time the family had assembled at Grandpa’s insistence to hear of the new asset division, he and the offending child had patched things up and the crisis would blow
Back in New York, the foursome made a date for dinner. Over a drink in the Millers’ home, Arthur entertained Saul and Sasha while Marilyn was dressing. After an hour or more, Arthur excused himself. Soon he returned and urged Sasha to go into the bedroom and help Marilyn decide what to wear. Sasha quickly helped her choose something and the famished couples went out to Rocco’s, a favorite restaurant of Saul’s on the northern edge of Little Italy. Marilyn wore some sort of disguise, but word of her presence got out. Having recently thrown over Joe DiMaggio for Arthur, she was none too popular in the Italian community, and an unruly crowd formed on the street. Saul had to get his car and pull right in front of the restaurant so Marilyn could get into it without an ugly scene. For several years, Saul brought me greetings from Marilyn. When I was thirteen, I met her when he and Arthur were inducted into the National Academy of Arts and Letters. I remember her as very beautiful and surrounded by men, but she took a minute to say hello to me. Anita was upset that I met famous people though Saul. She felt left behind, and the gold Cadillac in which she imagined Saul was now full of celebrities.
I went with Anita to Chicago, where Grandma Goshkin and Grandpa Bellow both lived, but more often I went with Saul. He and I took the eighteen-hour train ride from New York on the Twentieth Century Limited. I drank ginger ale in the club car while we played casino—to me it was the height of luxury. If Saul and I drove, we’d pass the time singing “Old Hogan’sGoat,” “The Eddystone Light,” “Anne Boleyn,” and the songs Aunt Jenny had sung to Saul in Lachine during the First World War.
I most remember Fanny’s sloppy kisses and Jewish dishes such as boiled tongue and stuffed cabbage. I was supposed to kiss Grandpa but found his face rough from intermittent shaving. Abraham was in the habit of distributing silver dollars to his grandchildren. I kept mine in a metal cigarette box acquired in France, along with a huge wad of czarist Russian rubles Saul had given me to play with. During a summer visit, I decided to water the flowers in Grandpa’s backyard. I was wearing socks but no shoes and he anticipated that I’d make a muddy mess. I insisted that I could keep them dry and refused to take them off. Saul, still an indulgent parent then, stuck up for me. Grandpa was right. I did make a mess.
During Grandpa’s last years, the entire Bellow family, including Saul when he was in town, would go over to Abraham and Aunt Fanny’s for Sunday afternoon meals. The regular attendees were Morrie, his wife, Marge, and their children, Lynn and Joel; Sam, his wife, Nina, and their children, Lesha and Shael; and Jane, her husband, Charlie Kauffman, and their sons, Larry and Bobby. When Grandma Lescha’s name came up, her children spoke of her with great reverence. The afternoons were largely harmonious until the conversation turned to money, which shattered the superficial the goodwill. While the parents visited, the kids played intensely competitive games of Monopoly.
Abraham found financial threats the best way to reassert his waning paternal authority. His frequent fights with his children often ended with his announcement that he was changing hiswill and disinheriting the current offender. He would go so far as to call his lawyer, often in the middle of the night, with instructions to draw up a new will excluding that child. Morrie tired of this routine early on and turned his nose up at his share to emphasize its paltry size, but Abraham’s mercurial threats had serious consequences for Sam, Jane, and Saul, whose fragile finances made him particularly vulnerable. My father would rush back to Chicago to learn about the new will. By the time the family had assembled at Grandpa’s insistence to hear of the new asset division, he and the offending child had patched things up and the crisis would blow
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