Hurt by her involvement with Fred Jenkins, this was the first time since then that Willie Mae anticipated her future. Excited and nervous, Willie Mae doubted she’d ever live with her parents again. After watching six siblings leave home and make their way in the world as adults, her time had come.
Elma, the fun-loving brother nearest her age, was just 19 when Dad signed papers allowing him to marry Vivian Sterling, who was not yet 18. Elma finished an accounting course and now lived in Canyon with Vivian and their two-year-old daughter, Elma Lynn.
Willie Mae’s brother A.D., who taught her world history in high school, was now superintendent of schools in Floydada. He and his wife, Rose Stewart, expected their first child soon. They were in Illinois, where A.D. was finishing a Masters Degree in education.
Willie Mae put the depression of her high school years and the heartbreak of Fred Jenkins behind her. She was at last on her own path.
The flat fields she watched from her bus window seemed alarmingly dry and dusty. She couldn’t remember when it had last rained. She picked up the newspaper Dad handed her as she got on the bus. Skipping the news of the presidential campaign, Willie Mae read about seventeen-thousand unemployed ex-servicemen who were living in tents near the White House. They had bonus certificates from World War I, and were trying to get a law passed forcing the government to cash them. More interesting to Willie Mae was the story of Amelia Earhart’s solo flight across the Atlantic. Most electrifying was that Jackie Mitchell, a 17-year-old girl, signed as a pitcher for the Memphis Lookouts, a minor league men‘s team. Jackie struck out the great Babe Ruth in four pitches and Lou Gehrig in three, in an exhibition game. Willie Mae felt optimistic. Women could do things they’d never been able to do before.
She folded the paper, thinking of her future. She’d asked Dad and Mama to send her to nursing school last year, but Mama said no, explaining, “I can’t stand to think of my daughter giving men baths.” Her new job helping Mrs. Putnam would be a little like nursing. Maybe it would lead to other opportunities.
* * *
“Give me a Cummings Kiss,” her brother Ennis held his arms out as Willie Mae stepped down from the bus. Behind him, his wife Jewell held Dorothy Sue, who was almost 4, in her arms. Doyle, 8, waited beside his mother. Willie Mae stooped to hug her sister-in-law, who was much shorter but able to extend an infinitely warm embrace. Her arms enfolded Willie Mae along with the little girl she carried on her left hip.
“Hi, Dorothy Sue. Look how you’ve grown!” Willie Mae kissed the soft cheek the child offered. Turning to Doyle, Willie Mae hugged him and they exchanged kisses on both cheeks. Warm happy greetings were a Cummings tradition.
They all drove the ten miles to Ennis and Jewell’s farm over a bumpy caliche road, leaving a trail of white dust hanging in the air behind the car. Willie Mae was again struck by the dryness of the fields surrounding them.
“When do Mr. and Mrs. Putnam want to leave for New Mexico?” Willie Mae was anxious to know more about the couple she’d be working for.
“I’m not sure. After supper, we’ll go over to their house and find out their plans.” Ennis turned into a lane bordered by small juniper trees Jewell had planted. Willie Mae was impressed at how hard her sister-in-law must’ve worked for that bit of beauty in the flat landscape. The long lane led to a tiny house the couple had built on this homesteaded land.
The house had just two large rooms. Half of the front room held the kitchen stove, ice box, pie safe, a small section of cabinets, a counter top with a sink and a homemade table with six chairs. The front door led to the “parlor” quarter of the room. Two easy chairs flanked a wind-up record player. Farther back were two beds and a chest of drawers. Both beds were cot-sized with cotton mattresses folded in half over flat metal springs. When more sleeping space was needed, the springs could be extended and the mattresses unfolded to make double beds. One of them had been folded out and fitted with fresh, ironed white sheets. Ennis and Jewell’s bedroom was in back.
“Bill, you’ll share Dorothy Sue’s bed.” Ennis put her suitcase on top of the dresser that stood between the two beds.
“Oh, good. I get to sleep with the prettiest girl in the world,” Willie Mae gave the child a hug.
Dorothy Sue blushed and smiled. “Will you sing to me?” The nephews and nieces seemed to love hearing Willie Mae’s large repertoire of songs and dramatic readings.
“I sure will. Here’s a chair where we can sing together.” Willie Mae touched a rocker near the children’s beds.
The delicious aroma of beans with ham hock simmering on the coal stove greeted them. Willie Mae set the table while Jewell made cornbread and opened a jar of chow-chow, a green tomato relish. They cooked corn-on-the-cob and sliced luscious ripe tomatoes from Jewell’s garden. After supper, everyone piled back into the car and drove about a mile south to the Putnams’ home. Jewell introduced Willie Mae. “This is Ennis’s sister, Bill.”
Orville extended his hand. “How did a pretty girl like you get the name Bill?”
His good-natured smile put her at ease. “My name is really Willie Mae. I had a lot of older brothers. I’m not sure which of them first called me Bill, but I seem to be stuck with it. I’m happy to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Putnam.”
“Please, call us Orville and Charlotte.” Orville gave her hand a hearty shake and turned to his wife, sitting in a rattan chair with wheels. Her legs were wrapped in a quilt despite the warm weather.
Willie Mae shook Charlotte’s extended hand and returned her smile. “I hope I can be helpful to you.”
Charlotte squeezed Willie Mae’s hand, then lowered her brown eyes. Her skin was pale in contrast to her dark hair, but Willie Mae thought she was pretty.
Orville spoke up. “I’m sure you’ll be helpful. The doctor said that a few weeks of mineral baths at Hot Springs might dissolve the blood clot that is keeping Charlotte from walking. We thought it was certainly worth a try. I need to stay here to keep up the farm work. If you’re ready, I’ll take you over there tomorrow and then come on back. If I don’t haul water for my cotton crop every other day, it’s not going to make it.” Turning to Ennis, he asked, “How’s your maize?”
“Same thing. Thank goodness there’s still water for the windmill to pump. Did you read about the terrible dust storms in Nebraska? They say their topsoil is turning to dust and blowing away.”
Dread was palpable in the room. Willie Mae knew that banks hadn’t granted loans to farmers since the 1929 stock market crash. It was a hard time to be a farmer on the plains.
* * *
The Putnams and Willie Mae left early the next morning. By that evening, Willie Mae and Charlotte were settled in The James, one of 40 hotel spas in Hot Springs, New Mexico. Orville made arrangements for their food and lodging, gave Willie Mae the doctor’s recommended schedule for Charlotte’s bathing sessions, and by mid-afternoon he’d started home.
The hotel dining room was set with large tables where guests sat together. Willie Mae was excited to see that there were quite a few other people her age. A beautiful blonde girl sat across the table from her. Willie Mae couldn’t take her eyes off of her. She caught Willie Mae’s eye, smiled and said, “Hi. My name is Dorothy. What’s yours?”
“I’m Bill. This is my employer, Mrs. Putnam. Are you here for treatment?”
“No. I’m a singer at the La Paloma Hotel. Can’t afford to stay there myself.” She seemed to enjoy the macaroni and cheese, green salad and biscuits she was eating. “You’re welcome to go with me tonight. The dancing starts at seven-thirty.”
Willie Mae was elated to get this invitation. The room where she and Charlotte were staying was adequate, with twin beds, a hot plate for making tea or coffee and an adjoining bathroom, but it would be nice to go out and give her employer a little privacy. She looked at Charlotte.
“Feel free to go, if you want to, Bill.” Perhaps Charlotte was having the same thought about their room. “Once you help me get settled for the night, I’ll be dead to the world. I’m very tired.”
“How much does it cost? I don’t have very much money.” Willie Mae blushed. “Don’t worry.” Dorothy made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “The friend who is picking me up is staying there with his employer. He can sign for your cover charge and drinks.”
“Are you sure? What will he think? Won’t he mind me tagging along?”
“Don’t worry,” Dorothy repeated. “Walter is a sweetheart from Muskogee, Oklahoma. He works for a Cherokee Indian who struck oil on his land. Walter drives him around wherever he wants to go in his Cadillac. We’re not a serious couple but we have a lot of fun together. Walter will be happy to have someone to talk to and dance with while I sing.” Dorothy laughed.
Willie Mae felt doubtful, not sure she’d feel comfortable dancing in a strange place with someone she’d never seen before. She was glad that she’d practiced the latest dance steps with Ina Rae and their girl friends. That comprised most of her dancing experience.
Charlotte spoke up. “You should go, Bill. I don’t want you to be stuck with me all the time. It’ll be nice for you to meet some other young people.”
“All right then.” Willie Mae felt elated once the decision was made.
As soon as she helped Charlotte into bed, Willie Mae ran a comb through her permed blonde waves. She quickly changed into the party dress she’d made earlier in the spring, grateful that she’d packed it. It was an ankle-length mauve taffeta with a boat neckline and large puffed sleeves of a deeper hue. She knew it made her blue eyes even bluer. She put on lipstick and a little rouge and hurried back downstairs. Dorothy arrived in the lobby at the same moment.
“You look nice.” Dorothy smiled.
“Thank you.” Willie Mae thought her homemade dress looked pathetic next to Dorothy’s elegant ivory-colored satin halter dress. Willie Mae took a deep breath and put that thought out of her mind. She looked all right. She wasn’t going to be on a stage.
Dorothy’s friend, Walter Brown, arrived shortly. After a quick introduction, they hurried to the big car waiting at the curb. Walter took a paper bag from under his seat, pulled a cork out of a bottle inside and asked the women if they’d like a drink of whiskey. “My boss has a good bootlegger. This is smooth stuff.”
“No, thank you.” Willie Mae had tasted whiskey once and knew she didn’t like it. “I already feel a little tipsy, from just smelling the cork,” she laughed.
Dorothy also declined. Walter took a swig from the bottle and returned it to its hiding place. Willie Mae felt relieved that he drove conservatively. When Dorothy started singing “I’m Getting Sentimental Over You,” Willie Mae joined her. “Hey, you’ve got a good voice, Bill. Let’s practice this. You carry the melody. I’ll harmonize.” By the time they arrived at the large hotel on the main town square, the duet was close to perfect and Willie Mae was elated.
The La Paloma was a Spanish-style adobe building with a tiled roof, arched colonnades across the front and elegantly carved woodwork in the lobby and ballroom.
The three young people sat at a table near the bandstand. The seven-piece orchestra played “Mood Indigo“ and “April in Paris.” The piano player rose, placed a microphone in the curve of the grand piano spoke into it. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our beautiful songbird, Dorothy Jones.“ Dorothy slowly ascended the three steps to the platform as the musicians started playing “Night and Day.“
Willie Mae was entranced. It seemed she had landed in a dream. Dorothy had the crowd in the palm of her hand. When she said, “I’d like to ask my new girlfriend to sing with me,” Willie Mae couldn’t believe her ears. “Her name is Bill Cummings. Yes, I said girlfriend, and her name is Bill. We can accept that, right? Come on up, Bill. Let’s sing ‘Sentimental Journey’.” The crowd applauded as Willie Mae ascended the step. It didn’t sound bad. She was elated.
Walter asked her to dance the next number, “Walkin’ My Baby Back Home.” She was glad it wasn’t a slow one, and Walter led her in the Charleston, allowing her to keep her distance and still have a good time. Several other young men asked her to dance. By the time Walter and Dorothy dropped her at her hotel, she was exhausted but happy.
For the next four weeks, after Willie Mae helped Charlotte get dressed, they went to the pool for Charlotte’s bath appointments, Willie Mae helped her with a routine set of exercises to help Charlotte increase her stamina. A therapist taught them this routine the first day and came on the following Mondays to evaluate Charlotte’s condition and progress. The two women had lunch in the hotel dining room. Charlotte rested in the early afternoon while Willie Mae played dominoes with other guests or read. After another exercise session in the pool, dinner and helping Charlotte into bed, Willie Mae went out with Dorothy and her group of friends. Charlotte assured her she didn’t mind. She was an avid reader and enjoyed her solitude, though she loved hearing reports of Willie Mae‘s evening exploits.
She had a grand time. Dorothy invited her to sing with her more than once. Sometimes Willie Mae couldn’t believe that she was the same girl who’d been so depressed all through high school, the same one who felt broken hearted just a month before.
This was a dream job for Willie Mae at the time, but in later years she would say, “I wasn’t worth a flip as an employee.” Still, it launched her into adulthood.
I love the dancing and music. My mom had a lot of stories about those times and it brings them back to me. Thanks, Jann.
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