BLACK PRESIDENT, CHAPTER 14. Marilyn Monroe's house gets bugged, and Sarah delivers 'white' male twins.

<https://www.vogue.com/article/marilyn-monroe-six-things-you-didnt-know>, <https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08NWCN6XG>

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

June 4, 1961

James parked the van about a half-block away, next to an electrical box, and figured that with his company insignia painted on the sides no one would get suspicious if they saw two workmen hanging around the place. His partner, Osh, went straight to the electrical box and cracked it open as a precaution, thus giving any casual observers something on which to hang their observations. They must have been from the electrical company. Why? Because I saw him open that metal flap to the electrical box up the north side of the block where Marilyn Monroe lives.

Once the men were actually inside, the whole operation of planting the bugs would only take ten minutes, tops. One, two, three, and they had disarmed the lock to the back door and entered. They immediately spotted the phone, its long cord heading halfway down the hallway corridor toward Monroe’s bedroom and back again in a big loop. Unscrewing the mouth piece, James replaced the receiver with an identical-looking unit containing a built-in transmitter, capable of broadcasting sound 300 feet to the voice- activated recorder in the van. Meanwhile, Osh drilled a small hole in the floor of the bedroom, just an inch or so from where the bed touched the wall, and threaded a wire down through the opening. The tiny microphone wired to the top end settled into the hole neatly, almost impossible to detect unless someone got on their hands and knees and prowled around in dust bunnies.

Osh had called that mic/transmitter his “little money-maker,” and James had to agree. They had been guaranteed a cool twenty- five grand from a certain Mr. Hoover upon receipt of the first full tape of Monroe and her “friends.” A few minutes of touchy-feely, bed squeaky dialogue between her and either Kennedy boyfriend, and they would have their payoff well in hand. They had heard that DiMaggio had also paid for his own surveillance of Monroe, a stake- out of her house to keep track of his ex-wife. One hell of a way to carry a torch, Osh had thought.

Osh hadn’t mentioned to James that Roselli, Sam Giancana’s man in Hollywood, had secretly offered him $100,000 for any tape of Monroe screwing Kennedy. When Osh had asked which Kennedy he was talking about, Roselli had said, laughingly, Any...either...both! Roselli said he already had recordings of John Kennedy and his brother Bobby talking to Monroe. Now he wanted the bedroom ambiance, some distinct proof that their relationship had been consummated. Sooner or later someone would collect big, so why shouldn’t it be him, thought Osh, as he peered at James reinstalling the phone back together in the living room and tidying things up. He was a few years older than his partner, had maybe ten years on James, so why shouldn’t he get an extra slice of the pie? Jame would be thrilled with his share,$12,500 out of the $25,000. Osh would use his extra $100,000 to open up a little motel in Florida or someplace, to retire in style.

A dog barked somewhere off in the distance, and both men froze. No matter how many times they had pulled off clandestine work, there was always that overriding fear of getting caught, punished, even killed by some over-eager cop or security guard. Capture and imprisonment was just not an option in either of their minds. Every time a car drove by the house they involuntarily held their breath, until the outside sounds died away. Then, with the coast clear, both men returned to the rigors of the job, completing their mission as quickly as possible. Just as James silently released the back door catch back into its receptor, a light flashed on in the front hall of Monroe’s house, accompanied by a voice which came to them slightly muffled. The men quickly crouched down, preparing for the dash toward the cover of nearby bushes.

“Marilyn? Is that you, honey?” called Mrs. Murray, the live-in house-keeper. Contrary to what the men had thought, it was not her night off.

“Shit,” was the word that Osh and James expressed almost every step they took back to the van. By the time James settled into the driver’s seat, Osh, with earphones strapped on, was listening to Mrs. Murray tapping on Marilyn’s bedroom door, calling out her name. Osh felt his blood racing as he heard the click of the door. Murray’s voice became louder as she opened the door against the thick carpet.

“Marilyn?”

The sound was so clear and immediate that Osh spun around. For a second his senses had told him that Monroe’s housekeeper, whose voice he heard right in the middle of his head, had opened the van door and was standing right there with them, bending over the electronic debris.

•••••

July 24, 1961

Sarah felt like the roof of her head was going to explode. The nurses kept up their orders to “Push...PUSH!” but she felt powerless to try anymore. She had caught the flu in the last two weeks and was now completely exhausted. The doctor finally ordered the gas that put her under.

Across town, Leon sat home, still recuperating. He’d gotten weaker during recovery, but tried extra hard as the pregnancy advanced to start pulling himself out of the downward spiral. He made sure he walked a little every day, inside the house mainly, because he was still too stiff to safely wander about on the sidewalks. The doctors humored him, said to take it slow. “Rest” is what they prescribed, knowing his health insurance wouldn’t pay for the psychological assessment his condition seemed to warrant. So Leon distracted himself with TV shows, a few westerns, then Lucy and What’s My Line. Once Sarah was admitted to the hospital, he phoned in every hour or so. He pestered the nurses for updates, but got no satisfaction from their responses.

“Yes, Mr. Little, she’s coming along. We’ll let you know when we hear anything. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Leon was finally going to be a father, and he wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to have his kids see him weak and crippled. So with a little determination now, he shifted his weight around on the mattress, tensed and released the muscles of his legs and arms, lifted his shoulders and released the weight again. Minimal exercise at best. Yes, he’d be getting back to the shop soon...back to rolling under cars, turning socket wrenches, caring for the junkers of the neighborhood. Soon...

As soon as Sarah lost consciousness, the doctor made the first incision, two thumbs over from the pelvic bone and down. Mindful not to let his cut exceed the width of the top layer of skin and the abdominal wall, he quickly revealed the two babies nestled together, arms intertwined. When the doctor began to remove one of the twins the other seemed to clasp him tighter. A second pair of hands lifted twin #2, and soon the room erupted with crying sounds. The doctor clipped the umbilical cords and nurses cleaned, measured, and weighed the boys, then gently wrapped each in his own clean, white hospital blanket. The nurses took a little extra time to clean the birth canal fluid off the strands of black hair that covered each of the infants’ heads. With their dark, wet hair, the boys looked like miniature barroom card sharks, as seen in tintypes from the gold rush days. “Little gamblers” was what one of the nurses called the infants as they cried their way into the world.

“Lordy, all this fuss over littl’ ol’ me!” said Leon as Sonny helped him into the Oldsmobile 88. “All I know is..ah get to go on living...instead a having this ol’ apartment as my final resting...”

“You sure do!” said Sonny, all pumped up from whatever it was he’d been drinking on the way over. “You done been sprung from the sick house! Damn right! So you better start living, right now!”

Sonny handed Leon the bottle of Black Jack Daniels and swerved the car into his lane.

“Yuh just go ahead. Yuh earned it!”

While he understood that Sarah had two little babies to deal with, even with nurses and Bela’s help, Leon did feel a little hurt and disoriented to have Sonny be there driving him, instead of his wife.

“So, Sarah...She...she’s going to be in the hospital until Saturday I guess?” asked Leon after taking a gulp of the whiskey, his left hand holding up the bottle while his right hand kept a firm grip on the hand-rest part of the door. “Needs her rest?”

“Damn right she does. Those two big’uns keeping her mighty busy. Pretty little things. Real white and purty boys, I’d say.” said Sonny, reaching over for the bottle on the seat.

“White...white boys?” said Leon, caught off guard. “My kids are white?”

“Well...er...ah, course not,” Sonny quickly back-peddled, at the same time doing a lousy job of steering the Olds straight down the road.. “They jus look white...yuh know. Because of yur wife. Cause she’s got white in her. That’s all. They gots some a her white so they’s a little white too,” said Sonny, finally finishing up.

For several miles there was just silence in the car. When the Olds pulled up in front of the Swedish hospital on Broadway, Leon watched as Sarah’s pale face appeared from behind the glass window and then vanished. In moments she stood there again, holding two tiny bundles. Leon couldn’t see much beyond the cocoon-like wrappings, but waved and smiled just the same.

————

(Chapter 15 next)