The Girls from Winnetka

Ann-Margret

In the 50’s, when I was 17, I got a job singing in a night club on Rush Street in Chicago. You had to go downstairs to get there. A really small place. It was me and Scott Smith, a piano player, and we did duets together. I was standing behind the bar, next to the bartender, and could hear ice cubes clinking into glasses. I’d be singing through that. That’s when the owner came over to me and said, “You’re such a nice girl. Why don’t you just go back home, get married, and have babies?”

Barbie

When her father returned, he packed up his clothes and moved out. Her mother maintained her usual pleasant demeanor, lovingly caring for her two girls. Barbie couldn’t understand why her mother never mentioned a problem or talked about how unhappy she was. Barbie worried about what was happening to her family. The day she overheard her mother whispering on the phone in the master bedroom, Barbie crept downstairs and picked up the receiver. Her mother was asking the family lawyer if she should get divorced. Barbie gently laid the receiver in its cradle and ran upstairs to her mother’s room. Tears turning her rosy cheeks crimson, Barbie stood in the doorway. “Promise me you’ll never divorce Daddy.” Her mother was sitting on the edge of the bed, her head down, her hands folded in her lap.
“I want him home to walk me down the aisle.” Her mother nodded. She recognized Barbie’s attempt to orchestrate reconciliation. But Barbie did have walking down the aisle in mind. She and Web had been going steady since freshman year when they met playing in the Marching Band.

Annie

While at college, Annie accepted an invitation to join a USO tour. Her troupe flew to Korea in a C-130 and landed at K-14, the central airbase. Everywhere she went, she saw poverty and the ravages of war. Whole families lay sleeping in gutters—father first, mother, baby, and the other children. In a covered army truck going to a base to do a hospital show, the troupe followed another covered truck. As the two trucks motored down the road, local women jumped into the back of the first one. At the base, the women gathered around the flag pole. Soldiers ran out to grab a woman and rush back to their bunks. For the hospital show, nurses pushed the soldiers who were able to get into wheelchairs to the main room. Annie’s solo was That’s My Boy. She picked out a handsome young man in a wheelchair and sang to him. When she finished, she saw tears running down his face. She ran off stage, afraid she had embarrassed him or hurt his feelings. She was devastated. His nurse hurried backstage to explain he was paralyzed from the neck down and wanted to let her know, the only way he could, that he appreciated her song. Annie went into the audience to thank him.

Her group accepted a request to perform at a base of Turkish soldiers. At the sentry post, Annie noticed a large wooden arch which appeared to have been elaborately carved. But a closer look let her know the arch was human ears, tongues, fingers, and hands. That night while she danced and sang to an audience of solemn soldiers, with their arms folded across their chests, she envisioned her feet and tongue as parts of the arch’s décor.

The troupe left Korea for Iwo Jima. As their plane banked over the seven and a half square mile island, Annie saw rusted hulls of boats and planes still stuck in the volcanic sand. Later that day, standing on the hill beside the monument, she was humbled by the sacrifice of more than 6,800 young American lives. Annie went on to entertain in Formosa, Guam, Aniwetoc and Quowagalein before returning to the States and sophomore year at college. Never before had she felt as grateful for the life she lived.

Margo

Several nights (after the love of her life left to do his residency), she sat in her room in tears wondering if she’d ever be able to go out with a man without getting involved. A nurturing, loving friend, she had been a bridesmaid in eight weddings. Her friends were having babies and asking why she didn’t get married. Each time she answered, “I don’t want marriage. I want a career.” Margo was the firm’s first female account executive. A rep for a magazine, related to her account, called her. “I can’t believe you hold the job you do. They tell me you’re terrific. I’d like to see for myself.” At first, she refused. But after several phone conversations, she thought he sounded interesting. They met for dinner and he seemed so nice she let him drive her home. At dinner he’d been intellectual and polite, so she thought it would be alright to ask him in for a drink. As she went into the kitchen to make their drinks, he sat down on the brown sofa in the living room. When she returned carrying two glasses, he had nothing on but his under shorts. Margo set down her drink and excused herself. She ran quietly down the hall, so she wouldn’t wake her roommate, slipped into her bedroom, and locked the door. Early the next morning, she walked out to the living room. He was still there, sitting on the brown sofa. “Someone’s really hurt you,” he said.

Laura

In Chicago, Laura and Kevin joined an integrated church. The white pastor told them Dr. King would be staging a protest march in Chicago. Kevin couldn’t participate because he had to work but Laura said, “I’ll go.” The minister hesitated at first and then agreed to pick her up. They sat in a pew, waiting as the church filled with Blacks. Jesse Jackson noticed them and asked them to go with him to a side vestibule. He closed the door. “We’re expecting some rough treatment. Under no circumstances, talk back to hecklers or say anything to anyone.” They nodded. “If anything breaks out, do this.” He sat on the floor cross-legged on top of his hands, palms down. They did the same thing. Laura was beginning to feel scared. “Stay in this non-violent position, until the crowd is under control, no matter what.” As more people, including Ralph Abernathy, wanted to see Jackson, Laura and her minister returned to the church to wait for Dr. King. After he arrived with his entourage, they filed out in twos. Laura was the only white woman. One of the organizers suggested that she and her minister separate and each walk beside a black person. Laura was assigned to an older black man, who seemed shy. They walked together, without talking. A path had been made for them with white wooden sawhorses lining both sides of the street. White policemen in blue uniforms stood behind those fences. Inside the white and blue a stream of black flowed down the middle, with Laura in the center. White people behind the fences began shouting at her. “Hey, Red, can’t you get yourself a white man? Nigger lover!” And they chanted: “She can’t get a white man. She can’t get a white man.” Laura was terrified, but didn’t let on. The quiet black man beside her reached over, took her hand, and held it as they moved through that nightmare of racism. Her eyes straight ahead, she kept walking. They circled back and returned to the church. Someone yelled, “Dr. King’s been hit and fallen to his knees.” Somehow in the confusion, Laura found her minister who took her home.

Brooke

Brooke and Charlie went out on weekends and during the week to glamorous black-tie events at huge estates, easily making new friends. Charlie let her plan their social activities and handle the finances. She welcomed these responsibilities, which she considered a chance to assert herself, to do what she wanted--her way.
And he, wisely, never interfered with anything she wanted to do. If she wanted to give a party, she could. If she wanted to have it catered, she did. If she wanted to take the baby and visit her parents, she left.