Uncle Larry(Martin Green) Uncle Larry

Uncle Larry was a late addition to our family, and a surprising one. Aunt Rose, my father’s oldest sister, was in her forties, worked as a bookkeeper in Manhattan’s Garment District, had an apartment in Yorkville and had let it be known that she had no plans to marry. Then one spring day in 1939 she’d invited everyone to her place, for a family discussion on something, she’d said, and introduced us all to her new husband, Uncle Larry. She was never clear on how she’d met Uncle Larry or why she’d married him. He was of average height, balding, with a large nose and a number of strange mannerisms, like rubbing his nose, winking and giving a little cough about every other sentence. When he was introduced to me he said, “Arnold, glad to meet ya. Rose says you’re a pretty smart cookie.” Wink, wink. “We’ll have to get together some time.” Nose rub. “Give me the lowdown on things.” Cough, cough. I was ten at the time.

Uncle Larry was about the same age as Aunt Lily and had worked for the post office for many years. He wasn’t an actual mailman but did something in the back. Just what I never found out. So he had a steady job, which was very good in those Depression years. He was also, it turned out, a bit of a scallywag. For one thing, he liked to drink. For another, he was a gambler. He liked to bet on the horses and was never without a racing form. He evidently had taken a liking to me and at family get-togethers he’d call me over and we’d study the racing form, assessing previous races, times, weights and jockeys. I should say now that Uncle Larry, although a tippler, was never a drunk, and, although a gambler, was certainly not one to throw away all of his money on horses. For one thing, Aunt Rose kept a tight rein on him and there was no question as to who was the boss in that family.

My most vivid memory of Uncle Larry from those days was of a time when we’d again all been summoned to her apartment for another family discussion, possibly about Uncle Ed, who was always throwing away his money, not on wine or horses but on women. After an hour or so, when both Uncle Larry were both getting bored, he suggested that he take me to the corner candy store for some ice cream. Aunt Rose signaled her permission and off we went. But not to the candy store; instead, to what seemed like the neighborhood bar. It was dark and it smelled of cigarettes. Only three or four men were in there. The man behind the bar greeted Uncle Larry by name and Uncle ordered a beer for himself and a soda for me. Then he said, “I have some business back.” Wink, wink. “It won’t take too long.” Cough, cough. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Nose rub.

True to his word, Uncle Larry was back shortly, looking satisfied with himself. We finished our drinks and he said, “Well, we better get back. Your Aunt Rose will be thinking we got lost.” Cough, cough. “We won’t tell her we went to a bar.” Wink, wink. “What she doesn’t know … right?’ Wink, wink. Nose rub.

“Right. We went to the candy store and got some ice cream.”

“Oh, here. Had a good day yesterday.” Wink, wink. He handed me a bill. It was a twenty, which back in those days was a fortune to a kid like myself. “Our little secret, right?” Wink, wink. Nose rub.

“Right,” I said. “Thanks, Uncle Larry.”


Time, in the way it has, moved on. I went to college, was drafted into the army during Korea, moved from New York to California and ended up working as a research analyst for the State in Sacramento. I also ended up marrying another analyst, Ellen. In the fall after our small wedding we went back to New York and there was a family get together at my parents’ apartment in the Bronx with my remaining aunts, uncles and cousins. Uncle Larry wasn’t there because Aunt Rose had passed on, cancer, and he’d moved to Florida. Nobody knew exactly where he was, but I imagined it was somewhere close to a racetrack.

About a month after our return to Sacramento Ellen and I received a letter date marked Miami, Florida. It was from Uncle Larry. He’d contacted my parents and was writing to congratulate me on being married. Enclosed was a wedding gift, a check. It was for $500. “Wow?” said Ellen.

“Yes,“ I said. I pictured Uncle Larry saying, “Had a good day at the track.” Wink, wink. “Figured you could use a little money.” Cough, cough. “Don’t spend it in one place.” Wink, wink. Nose rub.

As it happened we could use the money at that time. Ellen was pregnant and we were also trying to scrape up enough to make a down payment on a house. I wrote back our thanks to Uncle Larry but he never replied and my parents had lost track of him. I still think of him now and then when I see a movie or TV show about horse racing. He was quite a guy.

###

---