Montlake - 2021 and Way Beyond by William Goodrich Bellman Chapter 31 - The Case of the Stolen Car

One warm summer Saturday evening, Harold Shaw and I were walking up Pine Street, in downtown Seattle, both lamenting the fact that we didn't have dates that night. A car with three girls and a boy driver drove by. The driver honked the horn and waved at us. We didn't recognize the girls or driver and thought nothing of it. A few minutes later a young man came walking down the street towards us. When he came alongside, he stopped, and said he was the guy that just honked at us and that he had told his girl companions that he knew us and would go back and see whether we would like to join them. They were going out Madison Avenue to a beer parlor and he wanted dates for the extra girls. Harold and I were delighted and we walked up to his parked car, where he introduced us as, "my friends Bill and Harold". Harold and I jumped into the back seat and, to make room, one girl had to sit on my lap. She had a bad case of acne which turned me off.

The Madison Street beer parlor was typical of those prohibition days; an old house in a shoddy neighborhood, shades pulled, and usually with an elderly woman in charge. Furniture was sparse, with just straight back chairs and a couple of tables. In this one were several other young couples, sitting and drinking beer. The cost was three quarts for one dollar. In most such places the beer was freshly brewed, we called it “green”, and had probably just been bottled. In this parlor there wasn't even any music, so we just sat there making small talk and getting “looped”.

On leaving and getting into the crowded car, someone forgot to close the right rear door and it caught on a fire hydrant as we started out. In those days the rear car doors opened from the front. They were called "suicide doors". I don't remember where we were intending to go, but after prying the bent door shut, the driver just wanted to get rid of the girls. He drove them to his girl friend's home, said goodbyes, and the three of us drove towards downtown. On the way, he told us that he worked for the Frye Hotel garage as a parking attendant. That he had parked this car for a patron of the hotel, learned that the man would not be using the car till morning. When our friend (?) left work that evening he borrowed the car. The question now was, "What to do about the damaged door ?". We all decided, he should take the car back, park it, and hope for the best. He dropped Harold and me off and that was the last we saw of him and the stolen car.

Speaking of stolen cars, a neighborhood friend, Jack Poitras lived on Miller Street, a few blocks north of my home. His father was the manager of a plumbing supply firm down in the industrial district of Seattle. Jack had been in reform school, and was someone I should not have become friendly with, but whom I felt sorry for, because the other kids were not allowed to associate with him. I kept my friendship with him a secret from my parents. One Saturday evening Jack and I wanted to go to Parker's Pavilion, a dance hall on Aurora Avenue North. But how to get there?. We had no wheels. Jack said "leave it to me!" We boarded the trolley for downtown and on the way Jack told me how we were going to get to Parker's. "When we get downtown, we'll walk to First and Pike; you wait on the corner, and in a few minutes I'll come by in a car and pick you up". I wanted to know where the car was coming from, and Jack explained that he would check all the parked cars till he found one with the keys in it, and he would take it. I was appalled at the thought of it but I was too chicken not to go along with the plan. Today my reaction would be called peer pressure.

When we got to First and Pike, Jack disappeared and sure enough, within a few minutes he drove alongside in a nice Buick sedan. We drove out to Parker's, had a great time dancing and found two girls that agreed to let us take them home. On the way to their homes, one of the girls said "You know, last Saturday night we went home with a couple of guys, and they told us that they had stolen the car we were riding in, which really scared us, and we would never do that again." Jack and I didn't say a word.

After dropping off the girls we drove back to Montlake, parked the car on 24th Avenue, and walked home. Just like the girls, I vowed I'd never do that again. Jack eventually ended up in the penitentiary for robbing a bank. This was several years later. In the interim, he managed to steal my first love, Louise Raymer, away from me.