1967 Summer of Love - Part Seven
Book One - In the Beginning was the Word. The unauthorized biography of Jake and Elwood Blues, the early years.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Blues Brothers or any related characters created by Dan Aykroyd, John Belushi, Ron Gwynne, John Landis, Mitch Glazer, Judith Jacklin, Tino Insana, and others. The events in this story occur approximately thirteen years prior to the movie. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only.
Continued from part six
I dealt the chicken out just as Jake plugged the volcano ash with his latest kill. One after the other, he stuck each drummy in his mouth and stripped the meat clean off. By the end, his wide cheeks were twice their usual size, like a squirrel packing away his winter dinner. After getting his fill, we made our way toward the stairs of Calvary which led to Sister Mary’s office.
Her office was the only room on the fourth floor of the three-story building. There had to be a fourth floor, we just never saw any trace of it from the outside. The weathered stairs wept as we stepped on each one. Buried into the landing, to the left of her door, was a life-sized crucifix with the Savior hanged without relief. We kept our eyes on the door. It opened with a moan... from somewhere to the left.
With her back to a bay of triple windows, Sister Mary sat alone in judgment with her yard stick measuring the width of sins on her desk before her. The door shut behind us with another moan, this time from our own mouths. We looked at each other as the Sister finally spoke, “Jacob, it is good to see you have returned no less the worse for wear. Please, have a seat, the both of you.”
“We’re only here for a minute, Sister. Just give me the paperwork to sign out Elwood and we’ll be outta your hair. You can put out the sign saying ya got room in this inn.”
“You cannot take Elwood, Jacob. He’s a ward of the state entrusted into our care here at St. Helen’s. He has no known family. He cannot leave until he is eighteen. Same as you, until you decided to steal a bottle of Whiskey, thirty-five dollars fifteen cents, and that Archie comic.”
My eyes traveled from the Sister’s to Jake’s, “Archie?”
“Happy Birthday,” his smile matched mine, with his hands raised in a shrug.
“Enough, you two. Back to the present. I mean back to now. Today. Why you are here.”
“But Elwood and me, we’re brothers. Since the day he was born. Just like you told us.”
“Brothers in spirit, yes. And I was, at one time, grateful for your tutelage and care of young Elwood. Now, I am not too sure of your temptations upon him.”
I watched them volley back and forth, first Jake would slam one over the net and the Sister’d slam it back. Neither gave the other any chance to make a mistake. I scratched the tip of the middle finger on my left hand with my right thumb, its nail tracing out the scar that reminded me of our pledge.
The pledge we made five years ago.
Jake’s lip still bled from fighting Mark O’Malley earlier that afternoon. His right eye grew into an oversized black olive with a brown pit barely peeking from the center. But still, he was standing. That’s better than O’Malley. O’Malley who was fifteen years to Jake’s thirteen, and nearly twice his size. O’Malley couldn’t come to attention without Sister Mary propping him up against the flagpole. All because he wanted my cookie at dinner that night and I said no. It wasn’t so much the no but because I was scared, my stuttering made it worse. It gave O’Malley’s bullying fuel and he picked me up by the waistband of my underwear. Jake let out a howl and tackled him below the belt. The rest is written on the sidewalk next to the basketball court.
We snuck away into Curtis’ room to wash Jake’s face and look for some bandages. We didn’t find any bandages, but we did find some smokes. Jake pulled a few drags off one while I sat in silence, pickin’ my shorts from my crack. The longer he smoked, the hotter he got until finally he exclaimed, “Fuck it. They ain’t ever gonna mess with either of us again.”
From out of his pocket, he pulled the end of an E-string. He said he got it off the floor of the recording studio when Curtis took him to meet Elmore James the week I was down with the chicken pox. He grabbed a pair of pliers out of the toolbox layin’ at the foot of the monster hissing next to the stairs and led me over to the table lamp. Using the pliers, he held the tip of the guitar string onto the hot bulb and quickly sliced open my middle finger and then to his own did the same1. We pressed our fingers together. We weren’t brothers by blood, but we became blood brothers. Brothers in the blues.
The Blues Brothers, Jake and Elwood, from that day, on.
Jake was obviously thinking the same thing when he flicked off the Sister, accidentally (I think). “Look here, Elwood is my brother. By blood or by blues, we are brothers. You taught us the Bible says we are our brother’s keeper.”
“Excuse me?” the Sister’s patience worn thinner than my socks.
“I said. Elwood and I are brothers. From the first day he was born, we either slept in the same bed or the same bunk. We’ve taken care of each other. We’ve looked out for each other. We even took a goddamn blood oath that nearly got us both lockjaw. Elwood is my brother and I am my brother’s keeper, you fat penguin.”
One moment her hands were empty. The next the yardstick was smacking Jake out of his seat. “You will not take the Lord’s name in vain, Jacob Earl Papageorge.”
Jake scrambled back to his feet, “Sister, both you and the Lord have my word: I am my brother’s keeper. Elwood and I are brothers, and a brother never leaves another brother behind. Come on, Elwood, we gotta come up with a plan.”
Slowly standing up, I watched Jake open the door and vault down the stairs.
“Don’t worry, Sister Mary. Everything’s gonna b-b-be alright. May the Lord be with you and keep you safe,” I said as I backed out the door to catch up.
“And you, Elwood. And to you both.”
I found him on the front step of the orphanage, looking up at the billowing black sky. The blackbirds sitting on the telephone wires were silent while the factories sang around us. Handing me a smoke he sighed, “I promise, Elwood, you’re comin’ with me. Soon.”
Nodding slowly, I sat down and took the smoke deep into my lungs.
Jake heard them first, the drums, low and resounding. He perked an ear up like that dog on all the record labels next to the old record player. I joined him as I heard trumpets flying over the marching of the drums. Then we saw the octet trodding around the corner, the navy blue musical ministry of the Salvation Army. Some of them appeared born with their instrument, some achieving talent in their instrument, but the bass drummer definitely had his thrust upon him. As they passed, suddenly above the din, came angelic voices carrying their message on the wind: Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.
The blackbirds, they took wing, encircling above our heads. High above them, the soot and ash split apart as if struck with an axe. The sun, pure and cleansing, shown down upon all our faces for an eternal second. Serve the Lord with gladness; come before His presence with singing.
“A band.”
“What?”
“I gave the Lord my word to be my brother’s keeper, Elwood. Make a joyful noise and serve the Lord. Don’t you see?”
“Jake, I d-don’t think that’s wha- ”
Jake stood, affirming in his commitment, “We’ll put a band together!”
“A band...” What could I do? We were brothers, and we stood together.
Coming soon: Book Two - The Exodus
Just T for you, a newsletter full of musings from an old person.
Glazer, Mitch (Miami Mitch). The Blues Brothers (novel). 1980.