Christmas 1937

The Bommerito and Roberts Families

There are no signs of life around as Benny pulls his car to the edge of the parking lot, close to the woods. He keeps the headlights off, but leaves the motor running. These new owners gotta understand that no exceptions means – no exceptions! Everybody in business buys protection. He pulls down the mask of his black knit ski hat to make sure his skin won’t catch the reflected moonlight. Benny moves slowly out of his car. The balsam trees smell so good that Benny inhales deeply; a big mistake. His nose runs, wetting the mask, which freezes, momentarily taking his mind off the business at hand. Benny’s job tonight is for his uncle Vince, the local administrator of the protection rackets.

The Valley View Restaurant nestles against a stand of balsams at the top of the mountain. Recently built and quite alone, the restaurant is dark and closed for the night. The new owners consistently refuse to abide by family rules for local business.

Creeping around to the huge fuel storage tanks used to keep the building warm, Benny runs into a ladder used by the owner to climb and shovel snow off the flat roof. He catches the ladder before it falls hoping the motion goes undetected by anyone chancing to look in his direction.

“Whew, that was close!”

He’s exhilarated, confident, with just enough fear thrown in to make this one of the most exciting things he has ever tried. He unwinds a long piece of lamp wick and loops it over the ladder. Benny stretches the wick line above the snow and pulls it across to the fuel storage tank. His nostrils flare at the pungent odor as he loosens the connection where the kerosene tank enters the building. As soon as the kerosene fumes saturate the air, Benny secures the wick. He withdraws to the ladder, ignites the wick with his lighter and races back to his car.

Sure of himself, Benny drives fast but stays within the speed limit; he gets almost to the foot of the mountain before the explosion. A huge smile spreads across his face. He searches the rear view mirror and sees the telltale glow of fire.

Hot damn, this kicks. This bit of business is pretty impressive if I do say so myself. Yes sir, Benny has talent. Being an enforcer sure whips being a bookie, and pays a lot more, too. Damn, I’m good at this, I’m really good! This’ll show Uncle Vince I’m ready for the big time.

Benny slows down at the sign, Bommerito’s Fine Dining, and turns into the drive arriving at the front entrance of the gaily-decorated former estate. He joins the line of cars creeping toward his parents’ restaurant as if he were a paying customer. At Christmas, his folks light up the valley with hundreds of displays and holiday decorations. People come from all over to see the spectacle. Two lines of cars are formed, one for the lookers, one for the customers.

During the holiday week, all four of the Bommerito brothers are expected to help at the restaurant, but Benny usually manages to avoid it. Holidays and busy weekends, second brother, Mario tends bar or parks cars. Always popular with the women, Mario talks all the time, mostly small talk and he flirts a little.

What a memory he has; knows customers by name even if they have only been to Bommerito’s once. To see him bustling cars around here, you’d never believe the rest of the week he works as an accountant at the insurance office for uncle.

Benny doesn’t go for serving people meals. Give him a car to fix up, or a job with some excitement. Benny works for Uncle Vince as an enforcer. He’s keen on life at its rawest. Benny reaches valet parking and slides across the seat of his sedan. Mario gets in as if he were going to park a guest’s car taking the wheel.

“How’d it go?”

“I’m sure I got away clean, but just in case, hide the car so it won’t be identified.”

“Wow, you must feel over the moon! I wish I could do something that exciting.”

“Yeah, it was great. Mario, you should have seen that building blow. Hell, it lit up the mountain!”

Mario grins as he swings around the building, making the tires squeal on Benny’s souped-up Ford and skids to a stop at the kitchen door.

“Hey, keep the brakes quiet, Mario. Don’t advertize the car. Just quietly, head for the garage at the house.” Benny jumps out and rushes into the kitchen. Benny notes the kitchen staff avert their eyes so if anyone asks they can say they didn’t see anything.

Mama Rose takes a deep breath at the sight of her son. Relieved, she whispers as she walks with him to the stairwell. “Benny, about time you got back and in one piece. Down to the cellar with you! You smell of kerosene. Go to the laundry, wash, including your hair; put on a uniform and go work the bar.”

Rose squeezes past her husband as she returns to the special sauce she is brewing on her stove. His eyes brighten at the pressure and his arm circles her waist. “Tony, he’s safe.”

“I told you, Rosie, don’t worry.”

The noise of dinners accelerates as Benny’s oldest brother, Joe pokes his head through the doorway. “Hey Pop, the next shift of cops can’t make it. They have an emergency. When Mario gets back, I’ll send him to direct traffic, so can Michael park cars?”

“No, we can’t spare Michael,” his father answers, “I’ll take over the greeting and seating and you can direct traffic until I can get Benny to relieve you. It’ll be good if people see Benny working.”

“I’m on my way, Pop!”

“Rose, you did a fine job raising these boys; no arguments, just do what they’re told.