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Chapter 2   
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Almost Piano Lessons

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After my mom split up with her third husband, we could no longer afford the comfortable two-bedroom apartment that overlooked Echo Park, so we moved into a one-room apartment near Santa Monica Blvd. and Vermont Ave., on the southeast fringe of Hollywood. Not far from us there was another small apartment that had a sign in front advertising Singing Lessons and Piano Lessons. Well, I had always wanted to learn to play the piano, so I asked my mom if we could inquire about the cost of lessons.

She assured me we couldn't afford it, and besides, we didn't have a piano—so where would I practice?

But I stopped to inquire, anyway.

Mrs. Martinson, a woman who appeared to be in her mid-seventies, was both the singing and the piano teacher. When I asked about piano lessons she said they were a dollar an hour, and that I could use her piano to practice on whenever it wasn't being used. Even my mother agreed that that was a bargain, so she let me sign up for lessons.

However, I quickly discoVeréd that Mrs. Martinson really wasn't interested in giving me piano lessons—what she actually wanted to do was give me singing lessons. She suggested that I forget about the piano and start taking voice lessons—or the same price. (Also, I think I may have let it slip at some point that I had once sung in an opera.)

Thanks, I told her, but I have a lousy voice and, besides, I really wanted to learn the piano.

Pretty-Girl Persuasion

But she wasn't going to take no for an answer. She went on to tell me about one of her students, a young lady of about my age (14) who needed someone to sing duets with and about how I would be just right as her partner. Well, the young lady turned out to be quite charming and very pretty, and it was hard to say no when our teacher introduced us and said she wanted us to practice together.

But it was a duet destined for disaster. The girl had a beautiful bell-like voice that filled the room with glorious sound, while I croaked along like I had a mouth full of moldy mush. It was awful. I felt ridiculous, and the girl was too embarrassed to say anything.

But Mrs. Martinson just smiled and assured us both that my voice would quickly improve under her guidance. I later came to learn that Mrs. Martinson didn't have any other teenage male voice students, and was desperate for someone—anyone, apparently—to learn to sing duets with her talented young protégé.

Well, after unmercifully murdering a chorus of One Alone, I couldn't wait to get out of there and go home. And I never went back for any more lessons of any kind.

But I still wish I had learned to play the piano.

Mrs. Martinson's Multi-Talented Son

In the meantime, however, my mom had gotten to know Mrs. Martinson's son, who lived with his mom in their small studio apartment. He was a very nice gentleman of about 40 and his name was Veré. However, he was nice in a "Liberace" sort of way.

My mother had quite a few friends of his particular persuasion (although, in Veré's case, I think there may have been a lack of any persuasion at all). Anyway, she used to tell me that these friends were very interesting and generally quite intellectual and how she liked knowing that whenever she was with them she'd never have to worry about warding off any unwanted advances. Well, I was pretty sure there was no danger of Veré ever making a move on my mom.

Veré, like his mother, was a musician. He played piano in a night club in downtown Los Angeles, but said he didn't really like the job too well, because he'd rather be playing a better class of music somewhere else. But, he explained, those kinds of jobs were hard to find.

In any case, the thing about Veré that really caught my mom's attention was that he did fortune telling on the side—although he hated the term "fortune teller," preferring "psychic" or "medium" instead.

Anyway, while his mom gave music lessons in one room, Veré would give "readings" in the other room.

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My Mom's Musical Mystic

But since his mother had her Piano and Singing Lessons sign on their front door, I couldn't help but wonder why there was no sign advertising Veré's soothsaying services.

Well, I was told that selling psychic services was considered illegal in Los Angeles, and that putting a sign out front would surely have invited a visit from the city constabulary.

In any case, Veré seemed to have a sizeable clientele, and was kept quite busy by some devoted believers who enthusiastically spread the news of his marvelous metaphysical capabilities fom person to person. Well, my mom just loved having her fortune told. And Veré was a man of all fortunes. He read palms, did numerology, worked out horoscopes, read tarot cards, and—most entertaining of all—did Egyptian sand reading.

What—you've never heard of Egyptian sand reading? I think it was Veré's answer to the crystal ball—which I sort of expected to find among his paraphernalia, but never did.

In a semi-darkened room you would sit opposite Veré at a small table that had a round brass tray at its center. The tray was about 18 inches in diameter, and had a glass bottom with a light of some kind beneath it. There was also a small lamp clamped to one edge of the tray. Finally, there was a layer of fine white sand about half an inch deep smoothed out across the glass bottom of the tray.

Now Veré would open a wooden case about the size of a cigar box to reveal its contents of a dozen or so stones of various sizes and shapes. They looked like ordinary backyard rocks to me, but I was assured that these were precious stones from Egypt, from whence he also claimed the fine white sand had come.

Sand, Stones & Soothsaying

By now you might be wondering how I know so much about Veré's inner sanctum when it was my mother who went in for fortune telling. Well, she was so enamored of his "readings" that she finally insisted I have one,too.

She knew I didn't go in for this sort of thing, but her faith in his prognostications was so strong that I guess she thought he'd make a believer of me, too. So, just to keep peace in the family, I went one afternoon. Of course another reason I wasn't too anxious to go was I didn't want to get cornered by his mother into taking voice lessons again.

Anyway, I was treated to the full platter of Veré's extraordinary ethereal expertise. Well, I couldn't get too excited about the palmistry, the numerology or the tarot cards, but I'd always had a mild curiosity regarding astrology—and he told me just enough about it to satisfy this curiosity—but failed to convince me of anything.

Anyway, the best part was Veré's Egyptian sand and rock show.

Here's what happens: Veré tells you to use all ten fingers to break up the smooth surface of the sand in the tray. He gives you about twenty seconds worth of this "dry finger-painting"—then says to stop.

Next you're told to take the stones out of the box and place them in random order anywhere on the sand. Up until now the light under the glass has been off—but suddenly it comes on to reveal the "valleys" I had made in the sand, displaying in stark contrast the freeform patterns my fingers had created.

The light coming from below in the semi-darkened room also illuminated Veré's face in much the same way they used in old horror movies to make someone look sinister and menacing. The resulting effect was kind of mysterious and surrealistic, and I found myself actually becoming a little bit curious about what would happen next.

Finally comes the piece de resistance—the little lamp clamped to the tray's edge gets turned on. Casting its light across the tray, it causes the rocks to throw long shadows across the miniature sand dunes. What does all this light and shadow stuff ultimately mean? I had no idea, but Veré had plenty of answers.

He assured me that each line in the sand had a significant meaning, and that the placement of each stone was equally meaningful.

For instance, he explained that the shadow of one particular rock being cast across a certain valley meant that I was in danger of suffering an injury of some kind in the not too distant future (and, sure enough, I broke my collar bone a few weeks later).

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Sand & Rock Revelations

However most of the signs, he said, happily pointing them out one by one, assured me of a long and prosperous life.

Well, even though I wasn't buying any of this, I must confess to having had the feeling that Veré sincerely believed in everything he was saying. My mother certainly had no doubts about his sincerity, and at no time did I ever feel that he was ever just putting on a performance purely for the money.

But I've always had a tendency to give people the benefit of the doubt, and have been told I'm overly gullible. In any case, his apparent sincerity failed to make any kind of a believer of me, much to his and my mother's disappointment. But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun for just that one afternoon.

Saving Money with Neccos
More Adventures with Veré

Speaking of fun, my mother and I eventually got to be pretty good friends with the Martinsons, occasionally going out to dinner or to some theatrical event with them. As long as they were willing to accept my position on fortune telling and voice lessons, we got along pretty well. But that's not to say we always agreed on everything.

One day we decided to go to a new restaurant called Rand's Roundup. It was sort of a forerunner to the Sizzler, specializing in prime rib and steaks, with an all-you-can-eat salad bar-which was a new concept in those days. But, to our surprise and dismay (my mother's and mine) Veré had smuggled in some Tupperware under his oversized coat, and commenced to pile his plate precariously high at the salad bar.

Then, half of what he took ended up in the plastic containers. Well, my mom and I were always on a tight budget, but it never would have occurred to us to do something like this-so we just declined any further invitations to accompany the Martinsons to Rand's Roundup.

But the most embarrassing thing I can remember happened one night when Veré, my mom and I went to see a play at a "dinner theater" in Hollywood. I can't remember the name of the place or the play, but the show was included with the dinner.

The menu items were a little pricey, but that's how they were able to include the performance at no extra charge.

Well, there would be no all-you-can-eat deal here-so what did Veré do?-he brought food with him so he wouldn't have to order too much. The first item he produced was a package of Necco Wafers.

By the way, do they still make Neccos? I haven't seen them in years, but they used to be a popular candy at the movies, being about the size and shape of a quarter, and they came in a variety of pastel colors.

Well, I was shocked to see him spread out a handful of these tasties on the table just as a waiter was approaching carrying a wine list. I scrambled to scoop them up, hopefully before the waiter spotted them, but one landed on the floor at Veré's feet just as the waiter arrived.

Offering Veré a gracious smile, he said, "I believe you dropped a quarter, sir," and bent over to pick it up. Well, the look the waiter gave us when he found himself retrieving a Necco made me want to crawl into a hole and hide.

But Veré didn't appear to be perturbed at all. He just gave the waiter one of his Liberace smiles, and said, "Thank you so much." And, needless to say, he didn't order any wine.

Well, my mother continued to go out with Veré to dinner and other social events from time to time, but that was the last occasion for me.

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Prologue   Ch.1 Alameda - Los Angeles 1939-40   Ch.2 Echo Park 1943   Ch.3 Virgil Jr Hi 1944   Ch.4 Le Conte Jr Hi 1945-46
Ch.5 Gower Gulch 1946   Ch.6 Hollywood Hi 1946-47   Ch.7 Drop Out 1948   Ch 8 Norma Jean Salina 1948   Ch 9 Fort Ord 1949
Ch.10 Fort Belvoir 1950   Ch.11 Korea 1951   Ch.12 Back to Civilian Life 1952   Ch.13 Cornet Stores 1953   Ch.14 Puerto Rico 1955
Ch 15 Signs by George 1956   Ch 16 Mexico 1958   Ch.17 Fullerton 1960   Ch.18 Fallbrook 1973   Ch.19 Costa Mesa 2000