March 11, 2006--Saturday Story: "The Siegel Twins"

The Siegel Twins

Every time there was a Siegel family gathering, the Siegel Twins’ cousin Yetta would pull them aside to tell them that they needed to do something about their busts. Yetta was something of an authority on the subject, reportedly having fully developed breasts of her own by the time she was just twelve. And though she was by then thirty-five and the mother of three, they were still her best assets.

She would tell Rochelle and Rachael that unless they did something with them very soon they would likely wind up marrying bus drivers and living in adjoining basement apartments just down the street from their parents. They were that important to their future.

I should tell you that I unfortunately know none of this firsthand. All I am reporting here came from Donny Friedman, the star of our school basketball team. Though not much of a scholar, he had an unstoppable jump shot, and this latter attribute qualified him for many visit to the classroom coat closet with the Twins. They too were not known for their prowess with long division. So they were an early version of soul mates—they were well suited to communicate even among the camphor-suffused coats.

Though we were most eager to learn about those forays, as a gentleman in development he was reluctant to share any intimate details. He was, tough, equally sensitive and thus quite willing to talk sympathetically about there anatomical dilemma—they by no means wanted to live out the same fate as their mother, who was in fact married to a bus driver—they were desperate to do something about their breasts and it appeared that they had selected Donny to be of assistance, even though he was not showing any signs of interest or aptitude in science or the medical arts. This was somewhat unusual since at least half the Jewish sixth grade boys had already declared themselves pre-meds. Donny, though, did the best he could to be cooperative and helpful.

He had a sister, Marcy, and she was quite a prodigy in the bust department and told Donny that the best thing the twins could do, besides spending afternoons in the closet with him, would be to brush their hair at least a half dozen times a day, stroking each side of their heads exactly one hundred times, while chanting, “I must, I must, I must improve my bust.” This Marcy said would help pass the time as well as increase the needed blood flow to the affected areas.

Donny duly passed this along and reported back to us that Rochelle and Rachel had already gone through two brushes each, they were also famous for the kink in their hair, and they, and he, were feeling optimistic—something measurable seemed to be occurring.

Some weeks later, Donny told us that Marcy learned about a product called Bust Cream. She saw an add for it on the back cover of True Romance magazine, ordered some via the mail-in coupon, had tried some, not because she needed it but in the interest of experiment, and could give it her endorsement.

The Siegel twins, he said, also secured some and, in his first slip into indiscretion (we were hoping for many more), told us that he was helping to administer it each afternoon in the closet.

“So that was what I smelled,” said Herbie Fleishman, “And all along I thought it was Moth Balls.”

“You moron,” we chorused.

“But I never smelled Bust Cream before.”

“With a beak like yours you should be a specialist in smells. You should know the difference between Moth Ball and Bust Cream,” which brought quite a few guffaws from the rest of us, similarly endowed.

And as it turned out, Herbie, later “Dr. J. Herbert Franklin,” not only had that beak clipped, but also became a famous ear, nose, and throat man. As my mother said about him many years later, “The Biggest on Park Avenue.”

Donny had so befriended and served the Siegel Twins that they invited him to accompany them to their cousin Rosela’s Sweet Sixteen. It was to be at the Club Elegant on Ocean Parkway. A very fancy place which meant that Donny needed to get a suit a full six months before his impending Bar Mitzvah. (He also needed to learn some Hebrew; thus far three years of rote drill left him stranded just halfway through that backwards alphabet.) Fortunately he was the same size as Larry Diamond, who, because his family had money, already owned two suits. So Donny had his choice between blue serge and charcoal gray. He chose the former because the Twins told him it would go better with their dresses. And please don’t forget to but two wrist corsages. Cymbidium Orchids were much preferred, promising if he showed up with these that they would later in the evening at the party give him a full, up close update about the results of the brushing and creaming.

Donny promised to give us an update about that update if we would chip in to help with the orchids, which we enthusiastically did. And he then promised to deliver that report first thing Sunday morning. We thus made plans to meet him at Bob’s Candy Store so we could learn the results of our investment.

He was a little late but did show up, looking a little bleary eyed but still with the familiar athlete’s hop in his step. Maybe actually a little more hop than usual. We were thus optimistic that what he was about to tell us would be well worth the wait. We ordered four Egg Creams and retreated to a private booth in the back of the store, leaning toward Donny who had set himself up in the middle of the banquette on one side of the table so the three of us had to squeeze into the one on the other side. I could feel Melvin on my right and Herbie on my left trembling in anticipation—or was I the one, from my excitement, causing all the vibrations?

He tortured us by beginning with a description of the Club--who cared about the decorations—it was truly elegant and therefore, he snorted, well named. He had never seen such chandeliers except maybe in Larry Diamond’s mother’s dining room. And instead of electric bulbs, the whole place was lit by giant candles which where on top of what he described to be huge Menorahs, even though the place was owned by Italians. And they had a band playing that included four guys all in tuxes, including one who played the saxophone, clarinet, and trumpet.

Herbie was confused, “All at once?”

“No, not all at once, Herbie, you moron.”

“But what about the Twins?” I stammered.

“They were there too along with their cousin’s and Rosela’s friends.”

“And?” we all asked at once.

“Everyone was wearing gowns, like at a wedding. I’m glad I had a nice suit.”

“And?”

“There was a long table where they had little meat balls and tiny stuffed cabbages and there were waiters walking around with silver trays on which there were Pigs In Blankets. You could eat whatever you wanted.”

“And?”

“The band played all night and everyone was dancing.”

“And?”

He leaned forward, “The girls’ dresses were all strapless.”

We were at last getting closer to what we had anteed up to hear, “And the Siegel twins, what about theirs?”

“I think they were pink. I’m a little color blind but I think that’s why they wanted those orchids.”

“And did they like the flowers enough to . . . you know? Let you see?”

Donny leaned further across the table so that our heads were inches apart. “Let me put it to you this way—they were the only girls there who didn’t have to constantly pull up the tops of their strapless dresses.” He winked. That was something else at which he excelled—winking. Though we all practiced that art none of us could yet do more than look as if we were squinting myopically when attempting to emulate Donny, or Clark Gable.

“And?”

He moved even closer toward us and lowered his voice yet further. Here too he had advanced far beyond any of us—his voice had already changed and his whispering was thus already yet another form of art. “I really need to tell you about the twin’s cousin. Yetta.”

Again all at once, “Yetta? Who’s she?”

“Their older cousin. A woman. With three kids.” He seemed distracted by thoughts of her.

“So what’s the big deal with her? She sounds old.”

“She is but she still looks good. In fact, very good.” He returned to winking, “Even better than the Twins.” Yet another movie star wink.

“What are you talking about?” All this about this Yetta and not the Siegel Twins was making us annoyed, making us feel that we would not be getting our money’s worth.

“Well, it got to be about 11:00 and the Twins had not yet let me check up about their progress and I was beginning to feel frustrated since I knew their parents had hired the band until only 11:30 and the party would end at that time. But just as I was about to give up on the Twins, Yetta came over to me and asked if I’d like to go out onto the terrace that overlooked the Parkway for a smoke. Now you know I don’t smoke because of basketball, but no girl or woman who looked like Yetta every invited me for a cigarette on a nightclub terrace before so I went with her and let her light up one for each of us since I told her yes I’d like a smoke. It made me choke and cough but to cover up I told her that I had a cold. I don’t think she believed me.”

Donny had recaptured our interest. We were thinking maybe we would hear something good. “And?”

“She asked me what I thought about Rachael and Rochelle. I told her I liked them. She said, ‘That’s not what ‘m talking about. You know what I mean. They told me all about you and that coat closet and the brushing and the cream.’ I couldn’t believe what she was saying, thinking she was going to get me into trouble for what I was doing to them. Get me expelled from school or something. I tried to tell Yetta that it wasn’t my fault; that the Twins were the ones who came up with the idea to meet in the closet every afternoon.

“But Yetta stopped me before I could get any words out and said, ‘I know all about what they are up to and how they have been using you.’ I was stunned, though must admit I didn’t mind being used by them in that way.

“’And how do you think they are doing?’ Yetta asked. ‘What do you mean doing?’ I was so nervous that I wasn’t understanding her. ‘You know, with my idea about their busts?’ ‘Your idea?’ ‘Yes, I’m the one who told them they need to do something about them. So what do you think? You know more about them than I. Have they gotten any bigger?’ ‘Ugh, I’m not sure. To tell you the truth I was supposed to find out tonight.’

“Yetta laughed at that one, saying, ‘Forget about that. In fact, forget about them. They’ve moved on.’ ‘Moved on?’ I asked, becoming very confused.

“‘Yes, thanks to me and of course you, they told me they are now ready for Italians.’

“I was now totally puzzled, ‘Italians?’ ‘Yes, Italians, for boyfriends.’ I was speechless.

“Yetta then moved closer to me, took my hand, and guided it to her waist. I could feel her ample hip beneath the satin of her gown. She whispered close to my ear, ‘And it’s also time for you too to move on.’ She was leering at me. I could taste her perfume and inhaled the smoke she blew towards me. ‘They’re ready for Italians. And you, you Donny are ready for a woman.’”

Donny said no more. We couldn’t think of anything else to ask. After a moment, he slipped out of the booth and left Bob’s. Through the front window we saw him, head down, turn the corner onto East 56th Street.

We sat there, not saying anything. Each of us lost in our own thoughts.

I was wondering if I would ever be ready for a girl much less a woman.