Grandpa Larry (II)
Part Two:
Henry forced the flask, into Larry’s hand. “Drink up” he almost barked, as my grandfather paused, then putting the chrome steel flagon to his lips, drawing slowly.
As the red-eye touched his throat, a reflexive instinct, caused him to regurgitate the liqueur in a spew. All over the backseat of the Studebaker.
“God damn! Boy” Henry chuckled “Awful wet behind the ears?” his head cocked to the side, with a wiry smirk chiseled upon his face.
“Come on” he waves “I got us a few rooms, complimentary of the host, owes me a favor or two” glancing at a pocket mirror, that he pulled from his bag “Two painted lady favors! in fact” Larry, tenses.
Prostitution in California was a wide-spread industry. Built on the demand from lonely gold miners, without a pot to piss in, but enough silver dollars to have a rip down yonder, on Main Street.
Drinking and corralling, fighting in the saloons, and fucking! the girls upstairs.
While they could still stand up?
Its institution was entrenched, left unmolested, until as late as the 1950’s, (i.e. Tuolumne County) when the federal government stepped in! to put a final stop to it.
The ruins of these brothels still remain in downtown Sonora, a door with a stencil reading “SONORA ROOMS” off of South Stewart and Church St.
Henry turned, facing towards the gas lamps of the saloon. Flicking his wrist, with an extended index finger. Larry jumped, from the backseat of the Studebaker; with a slightly anxious posture.
Henry grabbed him, around the shoulder. “Don’t worry! boy” the smirk a little wider “Got to pick them cherries? sometime” shaking Larry, in emphasis of his words.
Larry, just tilted his head in embarrassment. Blushing, with a coy smile, the corner of his mouth pulled to the right.
Kicking their boots against a sign post, to clean as much of the mud from the trail, back to the earth.
They proceeded to walk up the steps, onto the boardwalk.
The saloon, upon entering was dimly lit, with oil lamps hanging from the ceiling.
There was probably electricity connected to something, but you wouldn’t have known.
The bar, was arranged in a horseshoe shape. Made of burl wood, with a glossy lacquer finish. Placed as a standing island, in the center of the establishment.
A mural was painted on the wall to the right. Depicting a battle scene, from the civil war.
Bellying up the the bar, Henry asks “What are you drinking? son” as Larry squirms, he continued “I think an ale? would do you” the barkeep leans forward, over the noise of the crowd “We have some steam ale, from San Francisco” he says.
Henry’s eyes light up “Ah, perfect! that’s where we are in route” he pauses “Yes, we’ll have two and one red-eye” Henry confirms, turning around slowly.
Looking to his right, are two young ladies! dressed in slightly modernized flapper attire.
Mink shawls, with short bias-cut gowns hemmed tight! with some beaded tassels, dangling from their skirts.
Deep plunging back cowls, where one could easily see the dimples on their lower waist! above their ample “pixie” derrières.
They both had their hair “bobbed” with thick defined waves, rolled one upon the other.
With heavy makeup, painted on the line between “dancing girl” and “lady of the night”? with the question remaining.
They looked as if they worked at the “Hurdy-Gurdy” dancehall, which was located next door.
Perhaps they worked upstairs? as well.
The barkeep places one large schooner glass mug in front of Larry, then Henry, along with his whiskey.
He asks “How are you traveling to San Francisco, over the Golden Gate?” waiting, Henry replies “Why yes! my good sir, it will be our maiden voyage over its newly built arches” he gusts “It is a modern marvel? you know”
The barkeep snickers “Why! yes sir, it is I’ve seen pictures-though I haven’t been past Sacramento, or the Valley…myself” his voice trails.