The Other Side of Me

chapter 11
It was wonderful to be home. Richard had grown up. He had graduated grammar school and was ready for high school. The only thing that marred my trip home was that Natalie and Otto were still fighting. And this time it was Richard who was caught in the middle.

I spoke to Natalie and Otto about it, but the bitterness ran too deep for them to stop fighting. They were simply wrong for each other.

I decided it was time for Richard to come to Hollywood. Ben and I were selling enough stories for me to support myself and my brother.

I said to Richard, "How would you like to go to Hollywood High?"

He was staring at me. "Do you mean it?"

"You bet I do."

There was a silence and then a yell that I thought was going to break my eardrums.

One week later, Richard moved into Gracie's boardinghouse and I introduced him to everyone. I had never seen him so happy. I realized how much we had missed each other.

Three months after Richard and I left Chicago, Natalie and Otto got a divorce. I had mixed feelings about it, but I decided it was the best thing for everyone.

Early one morning, I received a phone call.

"Sidney?"

"Yes."

"Hi, pal, this is Bob Russell."

Not only was I not his pal, but I had never heard of Bob Russell. Probably a salesman. "I'm sorry," I said, "but I haven't time to - "

"You should have done some songs with Max Rich."

I was startled for a moment. Who could have known - ? But then I realized who it was. "Sidney Rosenthal!"

"Bob Russell," he corrected. "I'm coming out to Hollywood to see you."

"Great!"

One week later, Bob Russell arrived and moved into the last available room in Gracie's boardinghouse. It was wonderful to see him. He was still as enthusiastic as ever.

"Are you still writing songs?" I asked.

"You bet I am. You shouldn't have given it up," he chided me.

Richard, who was gregarious, had already made friends at Hollywood High. Sometimes he brought them to Gracie's boardinghouse and other times he was invited to their homes.

One night, when we were invited to a dinner party, I was taking a shower, and as I reached for the soap, the herniated disc in my back slipped out, and I fell to the floor in agony. I was in bed for the next three days. I decided that, like it or not, it was something I would have to live with for the rest of my life.

Natalie called me one evening. "I have some news for you, darling. I'm getting married."

I was thrilled for her. I hoped this time she would be treated as she deserved to be treated. "Who is it? Do I know him?"

"His name is Martin Leeb. He's a toy manufacturer. And he's a doll."

"That sounds wonderful," I said enthusiastically. "When am I going to meet him?"

"We'll come out there and visit you."

When I told Richard the news, he was as excited as I was.

The next call, the following week, was from Otto. "Sidney, I just want to tell you I'm getting married."

"Oh?" I was caught off guard. "Anyone I know?"

"No. Her name is Ann Curtis. She's a very nice woman."

"Well, I'm pleased for you, Otto. I hope you'll be happy."

"I know I'm going to be."

I wondered.

With Bob Russell there, it was like old home week.

He had brought with him the latest song he had written. "It's a torch song," Bob said. "See what you think of it."

I played it on the piano and said, "It's beautiful." I had an idea. "There's a singer opening at a club on the east side Saturday. I'll bet she could use this. Do you mind if I show it to her?"

"Be my guest."

The following day I went to the club where the singer was rehearsing and showed her the song.

"I like it," she said. "I'll give you fifty dollars."

"I'll take it."

When I gave the money to Bob, he grinned. "Thank you. Now I'm a professional."

Hollywood had its temperamental mini-storms every day, but in Europe, there was a real storm brewing. It had started in 1939, when Germany and the Soviet Union invaded Poland. Britain, France, and Australia had declared war on Germany. In 1940, Italy had joined with Germany, and now a dozen European countries were at war. America had declared its neutrality. But not for long.

On December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese, and the following day, President Franklin D. Roosevelt declared war on Japan.

An hour after Roosevelt had declared war, Louis B. Mayer, the head of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, who was appointed by the MGM president, Nicholas Schenk, called a meeting of his top producers and directors. When they were assembled, Mayer said solemnly, "You all heard what happened at Pearl Harbor yesterday. Well, we're not going to stand for it. We're going to fight back." He looked around the room. "I know that I can count on every one of you to join me in standing behind our great president - Nicholas M. Schenk."

Ben and Bob and I were all of draft age and we knew we were going to be inducted soon.

Ben said, "There's a training film unit at Fort Dix in New Jersey. I'm going to enlist and see if I can get into that."

He volunteered the next day and the Army was happy to get him. One week later he was on his way east.

"What are you going to do?" I asked Bob.

"I don't know yet. I have asthma. They won't take me in the Army. I'm going back to New York and see what I can do to help. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to join the Air Corps."

On October 26, 1942, I applied for the Army Air Corps.

In order to have my application accepted, it was necessary to get three letters of recommendation from prominent people. I did not know any prominent people. I started writing letters to members of Congress, telling them that I was determined to serve my country and that I needed their help. It took me two months to finally collect my three letters.

The next step was to make an appointment at the Federal Building in downtown Los Angeles, to take a written examination. There were approximately two hundred applicants in the room. The test, which covered logic, vocabulary, mathematics, and general knowledge, lasted four hours.

The mathematics section baffled me. Because I had changed schools so often, I had never really learned some of the basics of math. I missed most of the questions in that section and was sure I would be rejected.

Three days later, I received a notice to report for an Air Corps physical examination. To my surprise, I had passed the written test. I later learned that only thirty applicants in the group had been accepted.

I was sent to an armory uptown for my physical examination, sure that I would pass with flying colors.

When the examination was finished, the doctor asked, "Any physical problems I should know about?"

"No, sir." And as I said it, I thought about my herniated disc and I wondered if that was important. "I - "

"What?"

I knew I was on dangerous ground. "I do have a problem, sir, but it's very minor. I have a herniated disc that slips out once in a while, but - "

He was writing on my application, "herniated disc." I watched him pick up a rubber stamp with the word DISQUALIFIED in red letters.

"Wait a minute!" I said.

He looked up at me. "Yes?"

I was not going to let anything stop me. "That disc doesn't go out anymore. It's cured. I can't even remember the last time I had a problem. I only mentioned it because it was something I used to have." I didn't even know what I was saying, but I knew that if he red-stamped my application, I was through. I kept talking until finally he put the rubber stamp down. "All right. If you're sure - "

In my sincerest voice, "I'm positive, sir."

"Very well."

I was in! All that remained was the eye test, and that would be no problem.

I was sent to another office, where I was handed two index cards, each one containing the name of an optometrist who could approve my application.

"Take this card to either doctor," I was told. "When you've passed your eye examination, have him sign it. Then bring it back here."

I went back to Gracie's and told Richard how well everything was going. It looked like I was going to be in the Air Corps.

Richard was devastated that I might be leaving. "I'll be here all alone."

"Gracie will take care of you," I assured him. "And Mother and Marty will be out here soon. Anyway, the war can't last very long."

Sidney the prophet.

The following morning I went to see Dr. Fred Severn, whose name was on the first card. His reception room was crowded with men waiting to take their eye tests. I sat in his waiting room for an hour. Finally I was ushered into Dr. Severn's office.

"Be seated." He looked at the card I handed him and nodded. "A pilot, huh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, let's see if you have the twenty/twenty vision they require."

He led me into a smaller room with a large eye chart on the wall. Dr. Severn darkened the room.

"Read it from the top."

It was easy - until I got to the last two lines. I could not read a single letter. But surely getting that close was enough.

The lights came on.

The doctor was writing something on the card.

I had made it!

"Just give this to the receptionist," he said.

"Thank you, Doctor."

As I walked out the door, I looked at the card. My name was on the card and at the bottom he had written, "Physically disqualified. Defective visual acuity." Signed, "Dr. Fred Severn."

I could not believe it. I could not accept that. Nothing was going to stop me from getting into the Air Corps.

I started to walk out with the card.

The receptionist said, "Sir, may I have your card?"

I kept walking, pretending not to hear.

"Sir - "

I was out the door.

I still had one doctor left to go to. But how could I make sure that I would pass his test?

One hour later, I was in the office of my regular optometrist, Dr. Samuel Peters. I told him what had happened.

"For twenty/twenty vision," he explained, "you need to read all the lines."

"Is there any way you can help me?"

He thought for a moment. "There is."

He reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a pair of glasses with lenses that looked like glass bottle tops.

"What's that?"

"That's what's going to get you into the Air Corps."

"How?"

"Before you go in for your next eye test, wear them for a while. They will inhibit your vision so that your eyes will be straining to see, so when you walk in for the test, your vision will be better than ever."

"Great," I said. I shook his hand, thanked him, and left.

I had made an appointment with the second doctor, Dr. Edward Gale, for ten o'clock the following day.

I walked into the lobby of the building his office was in and sat down on a bench. I put on the thick glasses, and waited for them to do their magic.

Thirty minutes before my appointment, I took the glasses off and walked into Dr. Gale's reception area.

"Mr. Sheldon," the nurse said. "The doctor is waiting to give you your test."

I smiled smugly. "Thank you."

I walked into the inner office and handed the card to Dr. Gale. He looked at it and said, "Air Corps, huh? Sit down."

The doctor darkened the room and a lighted eye chart appeared.

"Go ahead. Start at the top."

There was one little problem. I could not see one single letter on the chart.

He was waiting. "You can start now."

On the first line there was something that could have been a big A, but I wasn't sure. I took a chance. "A."

"Yes. Go on."

There was nowhere to go. I was almost blind. "I can't - "

He was staring at me. "What's the next line?"

"I - I can't read it."

"Is this a joke?" He was angry. "You can't read any of those lines?"

"No, I - "

"And you want to fly in the Air Corps? Forget it!" He picked up my card and started to write.

My last chance had just gone down the drain. I was panicky. I started babbling. "Wait," I said, "don't write anything yet."

He looked up at me, surprised.

"Doctor, you don't understand. I haven't slept all week. I've been taking care of my mother. My eyes are tired. I haven't been well. My favorite uncle just died. It's been horrible. You have to give me another chance."

He was listening. But when he spoke, he said, "I'm afraid there's no way you can - "

"Just one more chance."

He could hear the desperation in my voice. He shook his head. "Well, we'll try again tomorrow, but you're wasting - "

"Oh, thank you," I said quickly. "I'll be here."

I rushed back to my optometrist's office.

"Thanks a lot," I said bitterly. I told Dr. Peters what had happened.

"How long did you wear the glasses?" he asked.

"Twenty, thirty minutes."

"You were only supposed to wear them for ten minutes."

Now he tells me. "This is important to me," I told him. "I have to do something."

He sat back in his chair for a moment, thinking. "Did he darken the room when you read the chart?"

"Yes."

"Good."

He walked into a closet and came out holding an eye chart.

"Oh, that's great," I said. "I'll memorize it and - "

"No. Different charts have different letters."

"Then what's the point of my - ?"

"Here's what you do. Practice on this chart. You squint the letters in. That will sharpen your vision. Keep working on it until you can read the two bottom lines. In the dark, he won't see what you're doing."

I was skeptical. "Are you sure that - "

"That's up to you. Good luck."

I spent the whole evening squinting in the letters of the eye chart. It seemed to be working, but I wasn't sure how I would do with Dr. Gale.

At ten o'clock the next morning, I was back at Dr. Gale's office. When he saw me, he said, "I don't know why we're bothering. After yesterday - "

"Just let me try."

He sighed. "Very well."

We went back into the same room. He turned out the lights. "All right. Go ahead." I sat in the chair and started squinting in the letters of the chart. Dr. Peters had been right. I could see the letters very clearly. I read everything, including the last line. The lights came on.

Dr. Gale was staring at me in astonishment. "I can't believe it. I've never seen anything like this," he said. He went on. "You missed a few letters in the last two lines. You have twenty/twenty-two vision. Let's see what the Air Corps has to say." He signed the card and handed it to me.

The next morning I reported to an Army officer at the Federal Building. He looked at the card and said, "Twenty/twenty-two. That's not bad, but we can't train you to do combat flying. For that you need twenty/twenty vision."

I was shocked. "You mean I can't - "

"I'll tell you what you can do. Have you ever heard of War Training Service?"

"No, sir."

"It's a new branch of the Army Air Corps. It used to be called the Civil Air Patrol. In the War Training Service, they'll train you to fly ferry planes to Europe or to be a flight instructor. But no combat flying. Would you like to be in that?"

"Yes, sir." I was going to be an Air Corps pilot after all.

"Since you're not going to be in the regular Air Corps, you have to supply your own uniform. You'll get a cadet's pay and a place to live. Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your flight training will be at Richfield, Utah. You'll report there a week from Monday."

I had never been so excited.

Natalie came to town with her husband and Richard and I finally got to meet Marty. He was short, gray-haired, and heavyset, with a friendly face. I liked him immediately. We all had dinner together, and I brought Natalie and Marty up-to-date on what was happening.

"So you're going to need a uniform," Marty said. "Let's go shopping."

"You don't have to - "

"I want to."

Since there was no regulation regarding our uniforms, Marty took me to an Army-Navy store and bought me beautifully tailored officer's uniforms, and a leather flying jacket. I bought a white scarf to wear around my neck, so I could look as much like a flying ace as possible.

I was ready to help America win the war.