In my early and more vulnerable ages, as a child, my father had once told me that family was the most important thing. Even today those words were still doing backflips through my mind. “Earnest, aint nothing better than family! Not boozes, not women, not even sex! Family will always be there by your side.” There wasnt really much after that, at least that i could remember for that matter. But he had reminded me a lot, which could be the reason why it stayed in my mind for so long.

In a way I understood what he meant. He had married my mother from his early years after the war had ended, and got a blue collar job working as a plummer. He bought one of those nice small houses you see in magazines. With the white picket fence that blocks the road from the yard. With the grass so green, it would smug on your shorts after a day of play. He had raised a family, just an ordernaly one. One boy, and one girl. The baby, which was me, often got picked on and was left out of neighborhood games, and my older sister Jasmine would often let it happen. But no matter what the case, my father always told me to stick with my family no matter what the problem was. He helped me understand that Jasmine was trying to fit in, and couldnt have her little brother bugging the fun. To be honest, I’d cry myself to sleep and stay distant from my sister. If she didnt want to be my sister out on the street, why would she be it in the house.

But soon that attitude would stretch into a long argument between us. By the time I was old enough, I left that small house with that picket fence bordering it. Since then, I hadnt really seen jasmine or heard from her. Growing up in deep Virgina, where the towns are normally close with one another, its harder to leave home. Where would one go? I couldnt enlist in the military, there was no occuring war. I didnt really want to go to school, didnt find the need, so I bought a train ticket at the nearby train station.
I still remember the look on the clerks face when I asked her for a ticket. She put on a fake face, almost like she hated sitting behind that desk handing out tickets. By the look in her eyes, you could tell she hated watching people getting on the trains. “Where to?” She asked. I had lugged the two ton suitcase I had packed the night before. I didnt know if I was going away for life or just a while, so I packed for both. “Know any place where I could get fresh liquor and a nice place to lay my head?” “Well....” She hesitated and leaned over the counter. She looked down and up at me. “What’s a boy like you know about liquor? Suprised you had enough courage to leave your house. You ain’t going no place. Boy if you know anything about liqour than you would know that in some parts of this country it’s still banned.” I placed a set of coins, my father had given me before I left, under the slot door. “ 10 dollars you keep in your pocket, and how about 2 for a ticket for the next train to roll in.” She looked at the change and then back at me. “I guess you’re a big boy, and can play big boy games.”
I wasn’t really a “big boy” at all. Deep down inside, I was just a young 16 year old boy with a little pocket change, who knew a little something about a drink or two. At the time, when alcohol was illegal in the us, that was the time when people tried to buy it the most. After our studies, my peers and I would sneak around to the lake and get drunk for hours. Every time we’d return home for supper, we’d be reeking of whiskey. My father wouldnt ask any questions, because he was a child once but my mother and Jasmine couldnt stay in their own business. Especially now, they had drove me over the edge to leave.
While waiting for the next train to pull in, I noticed a man walking along the sidewalk dressed in a nice plain white suite topped with a yellow hat. He walked with a certain swagger that seemed to express his way of thinking he was better than everyone else. He held a cane in his left hand, and had his lips wrapped around a pipe. He was slender in size, and medium built up to his shoulders. “Oh how much I’d like to be him.” I whispered to the clerk, who seemed to be looking at the same thing I was. “Oh that man, he’s rich. Owns half of the whiskey that comes in and out of this part of town. He ain’t no millionaire or nothing, but he sure something special.” “He’s a bootlegger?” “Shh! Dont blurt it out! That man and his whiskey keep me sane, so don’t say a word.” I had never dreamed of becoming a bootlegger. Wasn't’ really worth the time of dreaming about. It was ‘dirty business’ according to my father. “Those men who took that risk, were men of crime.” my father would say.
“Where you think he going?” I asked. “Probably to get some more whiskey! Should I go talk to him and see if he can give me first sip of it?” The clerk laughed in her booth. “Where does he get it all?” “Boy, I thought you said you knew alot about liqour!” she shouted. “I guess I never thought about where it came from.” “Well, it comes from New york I think. He travels up there and pays his suppliers to ship some down. They normally smuggle it on the trains, and no one really notices. But I do! I sit here day and night watching trains go in and out. I watch men come off that train with crates and load them into a big truck!” “From New York?”
“Hell yeah from New York! I hear they hold the best parties up there! They have all those secret bars placed around the city. Serving all types of drinks! Oh what I’d do to go there.” “You think I could go there?” I looked at her with a curious expression on my face. “Are you a bootlegger?” “No.” “Well are you an actor?” “No” Well are you a politian?” “No” “Are you rich in any way?” I stared down at the rest of the change in my pocket. “No” “Well then. You dont belong in New York City.” she explained.
We sat there, waiting for the train in silence. I thought about what my father was doing right now. He could have easily came to the station to stop me from boarding that train, that afternoon, but he hadn’t. Maybe he had forgot about me, or maybe he was sitting in my room right now gazing out the window. But for whatever he was doing, it was stopping him from stopping me run away. My mother was probably washing the clothes out front, while Jasmine was off reading or something.
My family had been a working class, intelligent family. Something must had gone wrong in the making of me because those traits didnt seem to pass down the line into my jeans. My father, my mother, and my sister all graduated grammar school. But me, I seemed to be the off shape in the puzzle that didnt really fit. Maybe it was the boozes that drove me to run, or maybe frustration but no matter what it was I was still going to travel away from Virginia and never look back.
After a few moments, the train finally pulled into the station. “Well, there’s my ride.” I picked up the suitcase and waved goodbye to the clerk. “It’s your lucky day. Off to New york you go boy.” As I walked away, I smiled at the clerk and once again she put back on her fake pathetic smile she had once i bought the ticket in the beginning. The rich man, sitting on the bench boarded the train behind me. He carried no bags, or even a newspaper by his side. Only the pipe stuck in his mouth was the only thing I knew he carried. The man traveled two seats back, after I sat down.
“Tickets! I’m collecting all them tickets!” The ticketmaster yelled. He walked down the asile like it was a full train, searching along each seat. But in reality there was only three of us in the cart, including the ticketmaster. When he came to my seat he punched a whole on my ticket and nodded me off. Then, walked to the rich man and stopped. “On another business trip Mr. Gener?” I looked back behind me, and poked my eye between the seat crease. “ Yes, yes it would seem so. Business is booming!” The man crossed his legs and took off his hat. “Well goodluck on business Mr. Gener.” The ticketmaster closed the gates to the train and blew the whislte. Within minutes, the train was on its way.
The sunshine from the near Virginia state seemed to become hard to see after the train cleared the border. I remembered feeling a sense of feeling alone when I read the sign “NOW LEAVING VIRGINIA” Deep down inside it felt like the sign had read “NOW LEAVING FATHER, MOTHER, SISTER.”
To pass time I began to whistle a toon my father had taught me when I was a child. It was an old jazz song, he often sang in the war. He’d whistle it everywhere he went, and soon I had caught on. The toon told a story about a young boy who’d lost his way, but through hardship and struggle he found the right path. Thinking along the lines of notes to the song, it made me think if I’d ever lose my way. Where would I fall back to? Would I’d ever find my way?
I wanted a new start. A fresh one at that. No frustation or no tears. No more Jasmine or mother screaming in my ear. My own home, and maybe a family. The thought of having someone had already hit me. I felt like I needed someone to love and care for, and someone to do the same for me. Back at home, I hadn’t really picked up a girlfriend. The girls never caught sight in me. My life was going nowhere. It seemed my life would crash into a brickwall and never recover.
The ticket Master came stolling up and down the asile again, after a few minutes into the ride. He stopped at the rich man’s seat and chatted him up for a little while. After a few moments with talking to him, he finally came to my seat. He approached with hesitation, in a way coming off as if he didnt want to talk to me. The glasses that slide on and off of his face, acted as a shield to hide was he was really looking at. As I looked closer, I could see his white eyes looking me up and down on my face. “You a bit young for New York?” he sat on the seat next to me. “No. Not at all.” “You look it. I’ve traveled through that town many times, and have never seen a boy as young as you are get on this train. Only Mr. Gener in the back there rides this train back and forth.” “Oh is that right?” “Yep, sure is. I tell him to stop traveling and save his money, but he is addictied to his business.” The old man took off his glasses and cleaned them with a towel. “And what might his business be?” I was testing if the gentlemen was a well known bootlegger outside of Virginia. The clerk from the station seemed quite fond of him.
“Some say he’s a salesman of some type. I have never asked. Not any of my business to stick my head in his. But as for you I worry.” “And why is that?” “Well because your a little boy! How is alittle boy supposed to survive in a dog eat dog world? How are you going to fit? You’re just a puppy.” “I’m not as young as I look Mister I can survive.” “Oh and how old are you? My bet is 16. Hey Mr. Gener!” The old man stoud from the seat and called back to the rich man. “How old do you think this boy is? I say 16.” The rich man looked at me in the eyes for a few brief moments then took a puff from his pipe. “I’ll say 13, boys a runaway. I’d say throw him off, if he’s such a big boy he can fend for himself.” The rich man laughed along with the Ticketmaster, but I didnt join in. At that moment I thought my dream of leaving was over. “Why are you going to New York anyway?” The rich man asked. I cleared my throat and stoud tall. “ I’m looking for a job. A good place to rest my head and drink a little.” Then both men stopped laughing. “What you drink little boy? The hard stuff?” “What’s it to you old man? I drink it all I call swallow. But as for you you can hardly swallow dust!” “Ever heard of respect your elders boy! I’d outta push you out of this cart and make you eat sand and let the animals get you!” He grabbed my arm and started to pull me out the seat.
“Now wait a minute!” the rich man stoud up. “You let that poor boy go! Let him dream if he wants. He wants to work in New York, let him. He dont make it, so be it! He dies a nobody!” He sat back down and continued to smoke his pipe. “Thank you sir.” I took a slight bow. He tipped his pipe in my direction. “He’s right..you’ll die a nobody! Now sit your a** down before I really have to throw you out!” The ticketmaster walked out of the cart, leaving only two of us in the cart.
“You didn’t have to do that.” I turned back at the man. He was white with slicked combed back hair. “I know. But if I didn’t you’d be back at home. I’ll let you dream.” He took a suck from his pipe. “I need to get off this train. I could really use a cold one right about now. Know where I could taste something?” I tried to sound old and mature, but he seemed to see right through my act. “You can find a soda down by a local drug store when we get off. They sell lots of sodas!” He laughed to himself. “No. I want some whiskey! I need to take a trip!” “You want to find some good drink in New York, you might want to take a cab to the city! Get off at a place called ‘sheperd’s Field’, it might look run down but that’s the point. Go there knock on the door three or four times and say ‘goguta’ and they’ll let you in.” “No questions asked?” “Not one word.” “You own the place?” “No, just a spot I visit. But when I’m done taking care of business I might swing by. And if your still there, I’ll buy you a room.” He laughed so loud that he dropped his pipe.”What’s so funny?”
“You! You’re funny! They’re gonna eat you alive in there! I’d wouldnt go in there even if I was paid to. Don’t go I’d be saving your life if you didn’t.” “So why’d you tell me then if you dont want me to go?” “For my own laugh!” I turned back in my seat in embarasment. The rich man had played me like a flute, and I played along with his toon.
It was almost an hour later, when we arrived in Dolit New York train station. When I got off, I watched as the rich man paid the ticketmaster. Then he walked out into the parking lot where a car was waiting for him. You could tell it was nice and expensive. The wheels turned perfectly with the axle of the car, which was hard to find, and the wax on the paint was so good the sun bounced right off. I was suprised that he hadnt drove his own car, but then I thought it might have been his supplier for the whiskey. Maybe I’d follower him and find a warehaouse of liqour of all types. But maybe he wasn’t a bootlegger at all, probably just a salesman. I’d never know, for I hadn’t seen that gentlemen since that day.

I walked over to the clerk booth to see if there was any way to get a ride to the city. As I approached, I noticed the ticketmaster from the train sitting on a bench. He was reading the paper, and enjoying a cup of tea. As I passed him, he looked up from his paper and purposly cleared his throat. “Excuse me young man, can I help you get a taxi to some place?” he wipped his glasses again. “You want to help me now? A minute ago you wanted to throw me off the train.” “I apologize. Never in my years have I seen a young boy..I mean man travel the railroad alone.” “Well, I guess you can help.” I pulled my bag over to the bench and sat beside him. The ticketmaster turned around to the clerk’s booth and knocked on the glass. “Hey, can you pull a taxi around for this young man.” He looked down at my suitcase.

“You packing for two?” “Well I thought I’d settle out here. You know, stay awhile.” “Stay here in New York? Now you are a young man, but only the toughest survive around here. Especailly now with this prohabition mess, times are worse than ever. People shooting each other over some whiskey and sweet grain! I’m glad I only pass through here, and not stay.” He brushed his white mustache with his hands. “It cant be that bad.” But it was. Virginia hadn’t been heavily influenced by the war that was going on in America. The war on liqour had been really bad and was only heard about in the local paper that was delivered daily to our mailbox.

“Yes it is. I’ve seen some of the danger myself. I remember pulling into this station and seeing five men load the train with kegs or something. It was my first tour as a ticketmaster, so when I asked the conductor what was going on he told me to turn a blind eye. If I’d known it was liqour at that time, I would have stopped those men. But now thinking about it, they probably would have shot me.” The man explained. “What do you think they were doing? I mean liqour hadnt been banned yet.” “Well that’s the point, they knew that the government was drawing close on banning the whiskey, so they were pulling it out of the city to sell.” “Well, I bet those men are rich now...don’t you think?” “Sure they are, hey let’s check on that taxi. You sure you wanna go?” “I wanna see what it’s like. You know, you remind me of my father.” “And if he were here, what do you think he’d want you to do?”

I looked down at the suitcase, which reminded me of my father. He hadn’t stopped me at leaving, which would mean he wanted me to leave.

“He’s probably sitting smoking his pipe, thinking of all the adventures I’m going to endure.” “Well, fine so be it. Miss!” He tapped on the clerk’s booth. “Where’s that taxi?” “It’s around front!” the lady replied. “Let me walk you there. That bag looks quite heavy.” He struggled picking up the bag, but then lugged it over his back. When we got to the taxi, he put the bag in the trunk and opened the door for me. “You be safe now.” He tipped his hat. “Hey, how much do you think it cost for a fair?” I asked the driver. “Where you going?” I looked at the ticketmaster. “Where should I go?” The old man bent down to the window and handed the man a few dollars. “Take him to 42nd and 5th street. Drop him off by the Laguna.” The driver nodded.

“Thank you...” I hadn’t caught his name. He had helped me through so much, and I hadn’t got his name. “My name is james. You be safe young man.” He closed the door to the taxi and waved from the sidewalk as we pulled away. He probably had another train to run, or maybe he’d sit there for a few hours and enjoy his tea and paper.

“What’s the Laguna?” I asked the driver. “It’s a nice hotel, a good place to lay your head for a night or two.” “How much it cost?” “About 5 dollars per night.” He looked back at me like I was a bum he would normally pick up off the street with no money. I looked down at the few dollars that i had saved up from Christmas and my previous birthday. There was about 15 dollars wrapped up together. I figured that I could stay in the hotel for one night, then try to find a job the next day. If worse came to worse, I’d spend another night at the Laguna. I set aside four or 5 dollars in my right pocket, and the rest of the money in my left. I’d use the money in my right pocket for the hotel, and maybe the rest on food or liqour. But in reality i expected to get a job in the up and coming days. I could probably work as a bag boy at a local drugstore, or a waiter as a dinner or something. Being the big city that it was, New york City should have loads of jobs to go around.

After examining my money situation, I looked up to see outside. The taxi had pulled in front of the hotel. The location of the Leguna seemed very misplaced. It tried to scream luxury, but was built in the bad part of town. The building was small in width, which would mean it would have narrow hallways, but tall in height. The enterance door was small, with a roof over it. There was a stool infront of the door which meant there was a doorman, but there wasn’t. There was a dim light that hung from the roof, but was blinking on and off which meant the bulb hadnt been replaced in weeks.

From the noise from the traffic, it was hard to hear the taxi driver say goodbye to me. He had gotten out and opened my door and handed me my suitcase. Then, he quickly sped off which made me think of the way I had left Virginia, quick and without a farewell. It made me thinnk how things were going to be different now, without my parents raising me.

As I walked into the hotel, a small man sat behind a large desk. He was a white gentlemen, who seemed down the ladder in age. He wore a green doorman uniform, with the buttons strapped to the top, which met his short neck. Above his neck there grew a white beard, which matched his long eyebrows. As I apporached the the desk, the doorman pulled out a book and laid it out across the table. “Name please. Sign here. How long you stayin’?” The man’s voice told that the man was a heavy smoker. His voice was deep yet frail and faded at the same time. “Earnie Richardsion.” I signed in the book, and paid the man two dollars for a one night stay. After I handed the man back the book, he looked up and over the desk at my suitcase. Then he looked back at me.


“You with anyone?” his voice faded again. “Why you ask?” “Look kind of young to stay here. Surprised you managed to find your way here.” The old doorman lit a cigar and blew it into the air. “Enjoy your stay, Ernie Richardson.” He started to laugh, but his bad cough got the best of him. I took the key off the desk and quickly traveled up the steps. When I got to the hallway, I noticed the blinking lamp which was the only source of light for the enitre hallway. I walked slowly along the doors, in fear that I would alarm someone.

When I reached my room, I placed the key in the lock and opened the door. The room was small. There was a small bed to the left, one broken light that hung from the roof, and one window looking out to the back of the hotel. I placed my suitcase on the bed, and lit a match to act as a light. The floor was rough, and probably housed rats and cockroaches. I took off my shoes and placed them under the bed, still holding the match. Then, the match blew out. I notticed that the screen to the window was missing, and the wind had entered the room and blew the match.
I then decided to go to sleep. With no light, no one to talk to I figured it’d be the right thing to do, even though it was the only thing to do. But there was something keeping me awake. Something was eating at me, and I didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was fear that I couldnt survive out in the wilderness of the big city. I was just a country boy, who had just left his home. I think that the thing that was eating at me, was the thought of going back to Virginia.