Free Hold the Roses by Rose Marie Page B

my father. My mother did
understand after I explained everything. Then she talked to my father and he
told her, "I found out he's a drunkard, takes dope and is going to live off
her."
    My mother asked him, "Who told you?"
    He said, "I talked to a few musicians and they know him."
    This happened a lot. Mom would tell me, and I'd tell Bobby.
    Bobby would reply, "Bring the guys in front of me and I'll prove
they're wrong."
    When my mother told my father that, he would brush it off and not
mention it again. We were going around and around in circles.
    I finally said, "Mother, I'll tell you everything from the beginning."
    The next morning, everybody was home: my mother, my father, and
my brother. I said, "I want to talk to all of you. His name is Bobby Guy.
He's been with Kay Kyser since he was seventeen. He lives in California.
His horns and clothes are in California and he wants to go back there. He
knows he can get his job back. He has nothing here in New York. He wants
to marry me the minute he gets out of the army and go to California.
Those are my plans."
    My father said, "What did he do, knock you up?"
    I said, "No, we're just in love. I have never come home and said `I'm
in love with this guy or that guy and I want to get married,' have I?"
    My brother said, "No, this is the first guy."
    "Why don't you just meet him?" I asked my father.
    My mother said, "Is he Catholic?"
    I said, "I don't know, I didn't ask him."
    My father said, "What about his family?"

    I answered, "They live in Trenton. His mother, sister, and brother.
His brother works at Bethlehem Steel and his sister is a schoolteacher. They
are both married and have kids."
    My father said, "I want to meet his mother."
    I said, "Fine, I'll tell him and we'll arrange a meeting."
    To make a long story short, we made the appointment. His mother
came in from Trenton-my father never showed up!
    His mother was furious! She said, "Who in the hell does he think he
is?" I couldn't blame her. They never did get together.
    I did a club date at Laurel in the Pines. They had a jeweler there who
sold rings and bracelets to the rich folks. I saw a ring and fell in love with it.
    I told the fellow who ran the store, "Could we come up to see you?
Would you give us a break?"
    He said, "You come see me."
    His office was in New York City, so it was easy to go and see him. I
told Bobby about the ring, and we decided to go and see this jeweler.
    When we got there, I introduced Bobby and said, "We plan on getring married and that ring would be my engagement ring."
    He brought out the ring-it had a cabochon ruby in the center, a
half-carat diamond on each side, and four baguettes. There was one baguette on top of each jewel and one baguette on the bottom. It was truly
lovely.
    Bobby said, "Do you like that instead of one good-sized diamond?"
    I said, "Where are you getting all this money?"
    He said, "That's my problem, not yours. Do you really want it?"
    I said, "Yes."
    He then talked to the guy about payments. Bobby was making extra
money doing radio shows for Joe Schribman's orchestras and he'd have it
paid off in no time. I was thrilled, and the guy gave me the ring. Bobby put
it on my finger and I was engaged! Of course, the papers found out and
wrote about it, and my father went wild!
    He cornered me one morning and said, "Let me see the ring."
    I showed it to him and he said, "How much did you pay for it?"
    I said, "I didn't buy it. Bobby did, and he is paying it off in payments
whenever he does the radio shows for Joe Schribman's bands."
    "How can he make any money? He's in the army," my father said.
    I told him, "All the musicians at Camp Shanks are doing little dates
on the side to make extra money."

    My father said, "Who's this Joe Schribman?"
    I told him about Uncle Joe (as we called him) and how the guys in
the band from Camp Shanks hung out at the apartment. How he was
getting them jobs playing the radio shows because all the good musicians
were