Valleys of Death Read Free Page A

house.”
    Bill and my dad had been partners since they were kids. They were song-and-dance men who played all the local clubs along the eastern seaboard and on the Friehofer’s radio show. My father played the banjo and Bill Herron—I called him Uncle Bill—played the marimba.
    Entertainment ran in the family.
    My dad’s brother Frank had sung on the stage since he was eight years old. He made it to Hollywood and appeared in nine movies; Fox Movietone Follies of 1929 , Sunnyside Up and Happy Days , to name a few. In 1932 my dad and Uncle Bill were scheduled to go out to Hollywood when they finished their engagement at Million Dollar Pier in Atlantic City, New Jersey. But before their last show the studio sent a telegram canceling the trip.
    Frank had promised to marry a chorus girl and put it in writing. Of course he was already married, and she threatened to slap him with a million-dollar breach of promise suit. Things had caught up with him, and when it hit the headlines across the nation I had a new aunt. But the scandal stopped any interest Hollywood had in another Richardson. So my father, Bill Herron and Frank continued to play in clubs and theaters along the eastern seaboard.
    In 1944 they went on tour with a show entertaining troops all across the country. In 1945, they went overseas. It was two days before I left for Europe myself. My dad arrived back home from the USO trip in Europe. My mother had her boyfriend move in, and when my dad came home she told him he was no longer welcome. We went out together and it was the first time I saw my father drink. I wanted to cry for him. My heart was breaking. I dropped him off that night at Bill Herron’s house. I spent the night at my mother’s house with my brothers and sisters and felt a million miles away. I loved my mother through it all, but I always felt sorry for my father.
    After lunch, we went downtown to one of my dad’s booking agents, checking to see if they had any shows. Dad was working at Yale & Towne as a tool crib expediter in the daytime and at nights and on weekends playing club dates.
    We walked into the office and said hello to the receptionist. My father introduced me and started a pitch that I would hear with every new face about my tour overseas and how well I was doing in the Army. He was also showing me off. He was very proud of me.
    Back outside, he told me he was seeing a young lady who was divorced with four children.
    â€œShe’s very nice and I think you will like her, we’ll get together soon,” my dad said. “Hey, Bill, suppose we get together tomorrow night, go to dinner and a movie, with Cathy and me?”
    â€œThat’ll be great.”
    The next night we went to a movie at the Earle Theater and to dinner at Bookbinders, one of Philly’s best restaurants.
    The one thing I remember most about Cathy was she loved my dad. I saw how she snuck glances at him and how they tenderly held hands during the movie. At the end of the night, Cathy asked my dad and me if we could come to dinner at her house on Sunday. She wanted me to meet her children.
    On Sunday, I pressed my uniform and met my dad at Cathy’s house in northeast Philly. She had three boys, ages nine to fourteen, and a sixteen-year-old daughter, Claire. Cathy was a good cook, and she laid out a spread of roast beef, mashed potatoes and peas. In between bites, I fielded questions about my travels to Italy, France and Austria. They were Catholic and marveled at my stories about the Vatican and St. Peter’s Basilica.

    My dad and I. He had just returned from Europe and I was leaving for Europe the next day. Author’s collection.
    After dinner we all went outside to take some pictures with Cathy’s Kodak Brownie camera. Since Claire and I were the oldest of both families, Cathy and my dad decided we should have our picture taken together. I walked up next to her and smiled. My father told me the pictures turned out