Kerry was the kind of kid who when evaluated from a purely objective standpoint had three strikes against him on the popularity chart. First, he was new in town, arriving just a few weeks before my bar mitzvah. Second, his voice was high and childlike. And third, he was short, at least a full head shorter than me. None of this mattered, because Kerry had the swagger and confidence usually reserved for the starting quarterback of the championship team. Before he was at Morse even a week he was going steady with Lori, the shortest but one of the cutest girls at the school. Now, let me explain what going steady means in junior high school terms. Usually, but not always, there is a friendship ring exchanged. The girl may either wear this on her finger or on a thin chain around her neck. The boy will call the girl every night and whenever possible will walk her home from school. They exchange photographs and often go to the photo booth at Woolworth’s to get a set of pictures of themselves together. Each will write the other’s name all over their slam book and will duly note their relationship in the slam books of all their friends. Finally, kissing, second base, or any other hanky panky is mutually exclusive. For Lori going steady meant staying interested in the same boy for two to three weeks. I remember her telling me at the faculty-student basketball game she had gone steady with everyone on the team. When I reminded her she had gone steady with most of the boys in the school she giggled and feigned slapping me on the arm. At any rate, her relationship with Kerry established his credibility with the female population of Morse. Most girls regarded Kerry and Lori as the cutest couple and couldn’t wait for them to break up to have their shot at Kerry. During the course of those two weeks Kerry started making friends and sending out invitations to his bar mitzvah. When I received mine it was too late to mail him an invitation to my bar mitzvah, so I got permission from my parents and called. He came, had fun at the party, and gave me the latest fashion from Johnny Walker’s, a sharp looking red cardigan sweater with black piping and buttons that I would wear every chance I had for the next year. His bar mitzvah was a tandem affair because at the time his synagogue, Beth El, had an enormous congregation and probably a hundred kids trying to fill the fifty-two slots in a year. However, the celebration at Fazio’s on Fifth, an impressive nightclub in downtown Milwaukee, was his alone. Dark, despite the daylight outside, the club served excellent cuisine in the quintessential atmosphere. After lunch the adults, many in from Chicago, danced to the jazz combo while the kids went in the front foyer and sang Beatle tunes. That night a few of us were invited over to Kerry’s house for dessert. I had never been in an apartment larger than the home in which I lived. Kerry gave us a tour of the apartment and then took us in back to see the pool that had been drained for the winter. He said he’d have us back to go swimming in the summer. Then, we went inside and sat on the bottom of the spiral staircase. We transformed ourselves into Dave Clark of the Dave Clark Five singing and using silverware to pound out the beat to Glad All Over and Bits and Pieces. We never did get to swim in that pool because Kerry moved back to Chicago by the time summer came. I’m afraid we did not keep in touch, but the guy who had his bar mitzvah with him that day at Beth El, yet another Steve, who I know simply as M, would eventually become my lifelong friend.
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