From the Improvement Era, December 1948 –

“Beat Glad Drums!”

By Mary Knowles

Ruth held tight to Jake’s arm and looked at the gold and white drum set in the window and then with trembling at the sign that said $150. “There they are, Jake!”

Jake didn’t say anything, just looked, his old felt hat pushed to the back of his head, and she thought, $150, and just a bit over two weeks until Christmas! She could hear Jerry’s excited voice, “Oh, golly, Mom. You should see the drum set in Kimball’s window. What a Christmas present that would make!”

For a minute he had been her little boy again. Her heart gave a painful wrench. Frightening how a boy could change! One day there was a closeness between you, and your worries for him were no more serious than satisfying his huge appetite, and keeping shoes on his feet, and then, almost overnight, he was a stranger, acting male and independent, hanging around street corners with Pete Bakkus and his gang, sullen and stubborn, if you questioned his actions.

But if they could get the drum set for him! She pictured Jerry sitting at the drums, his long legs bent, a grin on his face as he played a roll on the snare drum, faint at first, then rising in crescendo, until your heart pulsed with its rhythm, then crash! with the cymbals.

She began to talk, excitement in her voice. “Mr. Standish, the music teacher at Central Junior says Jerry has a natural sense of rhythm. And if we could get him a drum set so he could practice, he’d really go places, and –”

“You lost your mind, Ruth?”

Her heart gave a sickening plunge. “What do you mean?”

“Figurin’ I can buy the kid a present that costs that much!”

She turned to Jake, her worn pocketbook held tight. “I know it’s a lot of money, Jake. But Jerry wants it terribly much. If he had a drum set, Jake, he wouldn’t chase around with Pete. He –”

“You worry about the kid too much, Ruth. Every boy goes through that gang stage. He’ll get over it. Even if I had the money, I wouldn’t spend it on junk like that!” He took hold of her arm and piloted her away from the window, and Ruth was conscious of an ache in her heart. She should have remembered that where Jerry was concerned Jake had a stubborn blind spot, a “You can’t expect him to stay tied to your apron strings” attitude.

She walked beside Jake up the street, the snowflakes cold on her cheeks. Ever since their marriage Jake had been driving a truck for the local coal company. The salary was small, and times had been hard with five children to feed and clothe, but she hadn’t cared. Their love for each other had been warm and understanding. She had been so sure Jake could work a miracle.

Jake put an arm about her. “C’mon, honey, snap out of it! this is our payday date.” He whistled a few bars of “White Christmas.” “Got the kids’ things out of layaway,” he told her. “Took ’em down to the company until Christmas Eve.”

She tried to feel glad that the smaller children were going to have a nice Christmas. She tried to recapture the thrill of their payday date, but the glow wouldn’t come back. She wondered whether Jerry was out with Pete.

“Want a burger?” Jake was grinning at her. They had reached “the Mug,” and this was always the climax of their payday date, French fries and a cheeseburger.

“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

Jake looked surprised and angry. “Okay,” he shrugged his shoulders and they walked on in silence; she was remembering the look on Jerry’s face when he played the drums in the school orchestra.

Suddenly Jake stopped and took hold of her arms. “Look, Ruth, don’t let’s spoil the whole evening. I was figurin’ on buying Jerry the red ski sweater you said he might like.”

“He doesn’t want a ski sweater. He wants drums!” She remembered the Christmas she was sixteen. She had wanted a pair of rhinestone buckles more than anything else in the world. On Christmas morning there’d been a pair of black patent leather bows, and something wonderful in her had died. “Getting the one thing you really want is terribly important at sixteen, Jake!”

“But listen, Ruth. Where’d you put the things? Front room’s the only place, and it’s so small!”

“I’d move all the furniture out if necessary. Getting those drums now is the most important thing in the world, Jake!”

“He’s got a lot of nerve askin’ for an expensive gift like that!”

“He didn’t exactly ask for them!” He hadn’t, except with the longing in his voice. “He’s been such a good kid, Jake. He’s worked during the summer cutting lawns, and –”

“Where’d I get $150?”

She should have heeded the warning note of anger in Jake’s voice. But all at once her heart began to pound. Always until now, life had been a challenge – always being a bit poor, but managing to make ends meet somehow. Now, all of a sudden, being poor was stark and hurting.

“One hundred fifty dollars!” she cried. “That isn’t so much. Mrs. Sarlo’s husband got that much for a Christmas bonus. Some people give their boys a convertible for Christmas and think nothing of it.”

For a moment he looked as if she had struck him, and then his jaw stuck out in his stubborn mule look. “Too bad I’m not a millionaire,” he said. “Too bad I don’t have a swell job like Bill Sarlo. Bet Bill Sarlo with all his money doesn’t hand over his paycheck every week to his wife!”

He was asking her for a bit of praise, and she couldn’t speak the words. Jerry would hope against hope for those drums. “And I’ll be Bill Sarlo’s wife doesn’t scrimp and save the way I do, either!”

They said a lot of mean things to each other standing there in the snow, and finally Jake snapped. “Okay, so I’m a failure and my kids are underprivileged, but I don’t want to hear any more about drums!”

“Don’t worry; you won’t!”

All the way home Jake kept a few steps ahead of her, and when they reached home, he went in their room and slammed the door.

Ruth went to the back room. Jerry’s bed was empty. She undressed, put on her robe, and sat by the stove. Worry for Jerry was a physical thing. She heard Jake’s snore. Jake doesn’t care, she thought. He won’t wake up to the danger ahead until Jerry’s in real trouble.

It was after twelve when Jerry came home. He looked more lanky and overgrown that ever in the tight fitting Levis.

“Gosh, Mom. You still up?”

Mustn’t nag, she thought, or I’ll never find out where he’s been. “I wasn’t sleepy.”

He sat down opposite her, his hands beating out a rhythm on his knees, as if he always carried a tune in his head. “Did you and Dad go by and see the drums in Kimball’s window?”

She looked at Jerry. He was almost a man, as big as Jake. Because of Jerry, they’d said things to each other they’d never forget. She wanted to cry, he’s been a good father, the least you can do is be a good son and not worry us half to death. And then she saw the longing look in Jerry’s eyes and she remembered the rhinestone buckles and knew how Jerry was feeling inside.

“Yes, we saw them, Jerry,” she said slowly. “It looks like a swell set, but you – you can’t just wish for an expensive gift like that. Your dad’s got about all he can handle, just feeding and clothing us all.”

Jerry bent his head, and his hands stopped their beating. Ruth got up quickly, came back with cookies and milk. “I made these for you today.”

Jerry munched on the cookies. “Pete stopped by,” he said. “We finally ended up at the ‘Calico Cat.’” Her hands were suddenly icy. The “Calico Cat” was a night club. She thought, my Jerry in that place. “The drummer, Mom! Oughta see him do a Gene Krupa roll on the snare drum!”

This time he only went to hear the drums. Maybe next time he’ll take a drink, she thought. Only two weeks until Christmas. If only there were some way. If – why not buy the drums on the instalment plan! She could do curtains, dress dolls.

“Maybe Santa Claus’ll bring you the drums for Christmas, Son.”

There were tears in Jerry’s eyes. “Santa Claus? Aw, Mom, I haven’t believed in Santa Claus for years!”

Next morning she was up at six. Jake ate his breakfast in silence, but when he picked up his lunch bucket, he took hold of her arm. “Honey, don’t let’s be mad –”

She remembered that last night Jake hadn’t even tried to find a way to get the drums. But she had. She turned her head away from his kiss. “Okay,” he said huskily, “if that’s the way you want it.” He banged out of the house, and she looked after his tall, broad-shouldered figure apprehensively.

As soon as the older children had gone to school, Ruth bundled Bobby and little Jake into the buggy and pushed them downtown to the music store.

“If I bought those drums in the window on the instalment plan, how much would I have to pay down?” she asked the manager.

“I’d have to have at least twenty dollars down and twenty dollars a month,” he told her.

“Wouldn’t ten dollars do?” She could not keep the pleading out of her voice. “I want awfully much to give them to my boy for Christmas.”

The man smiled. “Well, I guess ten would do it.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll be back soon with the money.”

She walked fast, pushing the buggy through the heavy snow, to Hoffman’s grocery store. Did Mrs. Hoffman know of anyone who wanted curtains done or dolls dressed? Mrs. Hoffman certainly did.

By 10:30 Ruth had ten orders, and soon there was a boiler full of water on the stove and a pair of curtains done, a pair on the stretchers. By the end of the day her back was breaking, but her heart was light. As soon as Jake came home, she’d tell him everything. he’d never been one to hold a grudge.

But Jerry was there, and she couldn’t tell Jake during supper, and afterwards Jake dressed in his best suit. She asked, “Where are you going, Jake?”

He said half-joking, but angry, too, “Oh, don’t be so nosy.”

All at once she was so tired she wanted to cry. “I don’t care where you go, or what you do!”

His face went red. “Okay, let’s keep it that way!”

Jerry scarcely finished his supper. “I’m going out for a while, Mom,” he said.

With Peter, of course, she thought. But now that awful feeling of helplessness was gone. When Jerry saw those drums Christmas morning –! She worked until twelve and then tumbled tiredly into bed. A few minutes later she heard Jerry come in. But Jake wasn’t home. It was after four when he went to bed. Next morning she looked at his drawn face, his tired eyes.

Life was a sharp pain through the weary days that followed. Every night as soon as supper was over Jake dressed in his good suit and went out, not to return until three or four in the morning, and Jerry was gone every night, too.

She had given herself a week at most to get the ten dollars, but little Jake was taken sick and some of the women were slow to pay, but finally, three days before Christmas, she had the money and fifty cents extra. Again she bundled the two small boys into the old buggy and pushed them towards town. Her spirits were like bright tinsel ornaments strung on a Christmas tree.

She reached Kimball’s. The drums were gone. She hurried into the store. The manager came towards her. She opened her hand and showed him the crumpled bills, and dimes and quarters. He said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I was hoping you’d come back for them. But you didn’t, and I sold them yesterday.”

She couldn’t speak. She walked slowly home, crying quietly. So that was the way things turned out, even when you tried and tried.

An hour after she reached home, she heard Jake’s truck drive in. She went to the window. She saw Jake’s face as he climbed down from the big truck. She thought, something terrible’s happened. Maybe he’s lost his job because he’s been partying too much to do his work right, and it’s all my fault – mine!

She met Jake at the door, her arms held out to him. “Jake –”

“I got there too late,” he said tiredly. “Somebody else had bought the drums.”

“The drums, Jake!”

“Yeah! he grinned at her, a bit sheepishly, quite proudly. “You’ve been so mad I couldn’t tell you, so I was going to let it be a surprise. I been workin’ nights at the post office, helping with Christmas mail. Made fifty bucks, enough to buy the drums on time, but somebody else beat me to them.”

She distinctly saw a halo above Jake’s head, tipped at a jaunty angle. Her arms went about his neck, and she was crying out the heartache and weariness of the past ten days, and Jake was holding her tight and saying healing, loving things.

She started to laugh. “Oh, Jake, there are other music stores in town. We can buy Jerry a swell drum set!”

But there were no drum sets in town. They came home tired and discouraged. And Ruth was remembering that Jerry had been gone every night and again that feeling of helplessness possessed her.

After supper Jake put an arm around Jerry’s shoulder. “Care to take in a show with your old man?”

Jerry’s grin was almost the old grin, and then he stubbornly thrust his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, Dad. Made another date for tonight.”

Ruth said, “Jerry, you can’t – ” She saw Jake’s warning look. “No good to forbid him to go,” he told her after Jerry had gone. “When I was Jerry’s age, there was a kid, George. Mom didn’t like him, and she wouldn’t let me go with him. So after she’d gone to sleep, I’d sneak out the bedroom window.”

She thought of Pete, and the way his eyes would never meet hers. “Pete’s no good, Jake.”

“I know that, honey, but if we could get drums, Jerry’d be so busy practicing he’d forget all about Pete. I’ll borrow the truck and drive to Scranton tomorrow. Maybe I can find some there.”

But there were no drums in Scranton, and the day before Christmas they bought Jerry a tan fingertip jacket like Bill Sarlo’s boy was wearing and a red ski sweater. “And I’ll tell Jerry tonight how I’ve got enough money left to pay on drums when they come in.”

But Jerry didn’t come home for supper. “Surely he won’t stay away on Christmas Eve,” Ruth said. But he did.

After the children were in bed, Jake put on his overcoat and there was a grim look about him. “You might try the ‘Calico Cat,’ Jake,” she said.

“I’ll find him, honey.” He was back two hours later, without Jerry.

“Was Pete at the ‘Calico Cat,’ Jake?”

Jake shook his head.

“He isn’t home, either.”

“Maybe he’s been hurt!”

“I checked the hospitals, honey. The kid’s probably taking in a show.”

“Sure, that’s it, Jake.” They went to bed, but Ruth lay tense. She was remembering last Christmas Eve when a group of teen-age boys robbed Gladwell’s store.

“This George I was telling you about,” Jake said suddenly. “Nobody could tell me he was no good. Dad whipped me. Mom talked her head off. I still thought George was swell. And then one day I was fed up with George. It’s got to be that way with Pete. Jerry’s got to find out for himself.”

She heard the front door open ad Jerry’s step, and relief surged through her. But he didn’t walk right through to his bedroom. She cold visualize that one swift look about the small front room for the drums. The drums that weren’t there.

“Oh, Jake,” she whispered tearfully. “Things are so terribly important at sixteen.”

“I know, honey. I know!”

The children awakened all at once, and there were cries of “Santa’s been here!” The smaller children were already at their toys, and Mom and Dad must look and exclaim. But all the time they were watching Jerry. He lifted the jacket out of the big suit box, and as one they were at his side.

“Sorry we couldn’t get the drums, Jerry,” Jake was saying. “But right after the first of the year, I –”

“Have you and Mom been worrying about those drums?” Jerry turned and smiled at them, and it was a smile of great tenderness. “Gosh, I’m sorry. Guess I should have told you, but I wanted to surprise you. You see, I got to thinking about how you and Mom do so much for all of us, and I decided I didn’t deserve drums unless I worked for them myself. That’s when I got my job.”

“You’ve been working nights, Jerry?”

“Sure, delivering telegrams for Western Union. I earned five bucks and took it into Kimball’s music company, and begged the manager to save them for me. He said that was against regulations, but I begged so hard he called the owner, Mr. Kimball. He said it was okay and took them out of the window. And he told me if I could raise five bucks more before Christmas he’d hold them for me for good. That’s why I didn’t say anything until I was sure.”

“So you were the culprit that sabotaged us!” Jake laughed. ‘Your mother and I tried to buy them, too!”

“Oh, Jerry, we thought you were out with Pete Bakkus.”

Jerry said, “Pete Bakkus!” And there was contempt in his voice. Jake’s hand found hers and gave a hard squeeze. Some little thing – what it was didn’t matter – had turned Jerry against Pete.

“But I can help you buy the drums, son,” Jake said. “I still got some money, and –”

Jerry’s arm went around Jake’s shoulders, and he looked taller than his father. “Thanks, Dad, but I’d kinda like to do this on my own. I’m taking a paper route starting next Monday. It’s about time I was doing something to help you.” He sounded almost like a man, and then Ruth saw the little boy look of anticipation come back in his face. “Just wait until I get my drums, Mom,” he grinned. “And I’ll beat you out some solid jive!”

Oh, beat, glad drums, in my heart, she thought exaltedly. Beat!