I don’t quite remember when this happened. It was back in the days when there actually were a few weeks between baseball, football and basketball seasons. That was a hell of a long time ago, but not before cable television. We all went over to Hoyt’s house on Monday night, schlepped down the stairs to what is now known as a man cave. In one corner was the washer and dryer and the other an old sofa and a couple of recliners in front of a television. In another corner was a harvest gold refrigerator filled with sodas and beers.
This was where we watched our games. Hoyt’s wife Thelma didn’t mind if we spilt beer on the furniture as long as we didn’t mind if she did a few loads of laundry. We just ratcheted the sound up to high. We were all going deaf anyway so what difference did it make? Thelma was good to us. She always brought us down a tub of popcorn.
Anyway, it was during these off seasons we switched over to TCM, Turner Classic Movies. Hoyt, Marvin, Kenneth and me, we liked the old black and white movies. This was like a secret society we had there, because a lot of guys didn’t like admitting they liked watching movies except porn. If they watched anything else, their wives made them watch and it was a royal pain in the ass.
Not me and the boys. We didn’t care if it was John Wayne, Jimmy Cagney or Fred Astaire. And the dames were good too. Back in the old days I don’t think they wore bras all the time. When we were growing up, these were the movies that came on after midnight Friday. The folks and the younger kids had gone to bed. There I was, all by myself, a bowl of popcorn and a Nehi red (I couldn’t decide if it was strawberry, raspberry or what), and I could watch anything I wanted because the next day was Saturday and I had nothing to do.
Somehow Hoyt, Marvin and Kenneth let it slip during the Super Bowl one year that they liked all those old movies because they brought back good memories. The next thing we knew we kept Monday night reserved for just us, no kids, no wives, no arguments. On this particular night, we watched King Kong.
“Did you know Fay Wray wasn’t really a blonde?” Kenneth tried to form his words around the kernels of corn he had just crammed into his mouth.
“Knew that. Black hair. Do I win a prize?” Marvin replied.
“Yeah, you win the ‘Stop Being a Smart Ass’ trophy,” Hoyt said.
“You know, we should go out and buy some plastic trophy and put that title on it.” I was always the creative one in the group.
“If we’re going to have a trophy, it ought to go to the one who comes up with the most unusual fantasy one-night stand from the old movies.” Kenneth swallowed his popcorn so we could actually understand what he was saying.
“Yeah, and you get disqualified if you say someone like Jean Harlow. Like who wouldn’t?” After one or two beers I was ready to let my imagination fly.
“Did you know her husband killed himself because he couldn’t—well, he couldn’t,” Marvin said.
“I still think we need a “Stop being a Smart Ass” trophy,” Hoyt said.
“Spring Byington.” The name just popped out of my mouth.
“Wasn’t she a bit old?” Kenneth asked.
“She was young at some point,” I defended my opinion. “She was always so giggly sweet. I don’t think she was ever mean to anyone.”
“You did know she had a girlfriend, didn’t you?” Marvin relished every syllable.
“Aha! I gotcha on that one!” Kenneth beamed. “She was married in 1910 and had a couple of kids before her husband died.”
“Margery Main was married too, then her husband died,” Marvin instructed us with a knowing nod of the head. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Margery Main was married?” My voice went up an octave.
“As you said, she had to have been young at some point.” Hoyt finished his beer and was about to go to the harvest gold repository of refreshments when he shook his head and sat back down. “Margery Main…that puts me off my beer.”
Just at that moment Thelma came down the stairs with a basket of dirty towels.
“What are you boys talking about?”
“Spring Byington and Margery Main,” Kenneth replied. A smile tried to crack around the corners of his mouth.
“Oh, I just loved those two old ladies!” Thelma crammed the towels into the washer. “I used to have this fantasy they were my grandmothers, and on stormy nights all three of us would crawl into bed and cuddle under the covers.” After she turned on the machine Thelma turned and smiled. “Anybody want another beer?”