The Life and Times of Ruby Mercury

An Evening in the Motel

A few weeks after I was fired from the Rip Van Winkle Motel some of my friends came up with the idea that they were going to rent a room and we were going to "party" in the room.  The guys knew that Mr. L. had treated me badly and wanted to have a revenge party in the motel.  Nothing destructive was planned, we just thought it would be fun to pull one over on mean Mr. L.  So on a Saturday evening, a few guys I knew rented a motel room at my favorite motel.  There were two guys and another girl that I knew, but didn't know well.

Everyone was concerned that if the motel owners knew I was going to be in the room they wouldn't rent the room to them or they would kick us all out.  So I was sent around to the back of the motel where I was pulled through an open window into the motel room.  When we got inside, we sat around talking for awhile, then someone came up with the idea that we needed to buy some liquor. 

No one was twenty-one yet, the legal age for buying liquor in Tennessee.  We sat around plotting on how we were going to get some hard liquor.  After an elimination process that eliminated everyone but me, I was nominated and given the money to go and purchase a bottle.  The guys gave me instructions on how to convince the cashier I was twenty-one (I was actually eighteen), and pushed me back out the rear window of the motel.

The liquor store was within walking distance, so I reluctantly strolled over appearing very nervous.  I entered the store and picked up the bottle I'd been told to buy. 

"Are you twenty-one?", the clerk inquired.

"Yes", I boldly lied.

"What year were you born in?"  

My mind raced, as I tried to do the math in my head.  But I hadn't been very good at math, and the answer wasn't coming to me.  After about a minute of looking very stupid and not saying a word, I just turned and ran back to the motel.  I left the liquor bottle on the store counter.

Later, the guys found a guy who went inside and bought us some beer.  I didn't have any tomato juice so I didn't drink very much. 

We had music playing once we settled in the motel room, and the volume was turned to loud.  We were having a good time, talking and playing rock 'n roll the way it is supposed to be played:  Loud.

It didn't take long before Mr. L. came knocking on the door.  I was shoved into the bathroom, and the rest of the group answered the door.  Mr. L. warned them about the noise and as I was later told, looked around the room suspiciously.  Once he was gone, I came out of my hiding place.

We quieted down for a few minutes, but the beer brought out the need for loud music by the guys, and the volume was once again raised.  It didn't take long for Mr. L. to return and for me to be shoved back into the bathroom. Mr. L. gave us a serious lecture, calling the guys delinquents.  That was too much for the guys to absorb and one of the guys told Mr. L. to:  "Go get fucked!"  

That was it.  We were ordered to leave the room.  Mr. L. gave us five minutes to gather our belongings and get out.  So the belongings were gathered, I was shoved back out the rear window and everyone else left out the front door.  The party was over, so we all went home. 

Obsessed

I always had my pick of guys.  Not because I was so gorgeous or hot, but because I lived on Navy bases, and there were never enough girls for all of the guys.  So I was lucky to have so many guys around me all the time, and to have such a large choice in whom I could date.

There was one sailor who was a few years older than I, who would follow me around and bring me gifts.  He was a sailor, with blond hair and blue eyes.  He was average in height and just a little chubby.  He never asked me out, he would just suddenly appear and have a gift for me.  Usually he brought jewelry.

I didn't want to accept the gifts and would tell him so.  He would usually insist and I would have to explain that I didn't feel comfortable accepting a gift from him.  Sometimes, after refusing a gift, I would find it in someplace that was personal to me, among my things, and I would have to take the gift. 

One time he came directly to my front door, knocked on the door and when I came to answer, he handed me a box.  Once again I told him I couldn't accept the gift.  He told me I had to accept the gift because I would break his heart if I didn't.  I didn't know what to do, so I took the gift.  Opening the box, I discovered a jewelry set, with matching crystal earrings, bracelet and necklace.  It was very pretty jewelry but I never felt comfortable wearing any of the pieces. 

I never was frightened of this guy, although perhaps I should have been.  I was uncomfortable around him though and very awkward with the gifts.  In 1960 the word "stalker" hadn't been coined.  Women didn't have many rights, so the idea of protecting a woman from someone giving her gifts would have been thought ridiculous. 

Fortunately, this guy was eventually transferred away from Millington, which solved my problem.  Thankfully, I never had to find out if he was dangerous or not.

An Older Man

I continued seeing John, the photographer.  We would meet in a designated place in Memphis and then we would usually have lunch together.  One time we drove out to Graceland and parked near the famous gates of Graceland.  It was a drizzly, overcast day and there were no fans about that day.  So we sat in Johns car eating our lunch and talking.

John loved to talk about his travels and especially reveled in telling me stories of South American sexual tribal rituals that he had claimed to have witnessed.  He would give a detailed, graphic description of these events, which were presumably meant to make me aroused.  I would listen, then attempt to change the subject.

I liked John.  He was always willing to listen to anything I had to say.  He would try to advise me but never tried to get me to disobey my parents or do anything I didn't want to do.  I think he liked me a lot.  He wanted to date me in the evenings and meet my family, but I told him they would never accept me dating an older man, and we should keep our relationship as it was.  He agreed.

John always told me if ever I couldn't meet him at the agreed time and place we would meet at a certain Memphis drug store.  He would repeat this over and over to make sure I understood.  He repeatedly told me he didn't want to lose contact with me.  I liked John well enough to want to maintain our friendship and didn't have any intention of allowing our friendship to end.

The Mine Fields of Dating

I continued to date, even when I was seeing John.  Most of the guys I dated were in the military and near my own age.  Most were casual dates, I wasn't serious about any particular guy at that time.

The dating game in 1960 was like a mine field.  Sometimes you made it through the date successfully, sometimes it exploded into a disaster.  I had experienced both circumstances.

One of my more pleasant experiences was a young man named Art.  We both loved dancing and danced very well together.  We even entered a dance contest at one point.  We didn't win but did well in the contest.  Another time we went to the Mid-South Fair, the state fair of Tennessee.  Art became obsessed with winning a stuffed animal for me by knocking down cans with a ball.  The more he tried, I became worried.  I tried to convince him he was in a "no win" situation, but he continued to attempt to win.  Finally, when he had lost nearly $100.00, he gave up.  Art was very nice, but never even attempted to kiss me goodnight.  We had a brother-sister type of relationship.

Sometimes I would go on blind dates.  One time I arranged to meet a guy I didn't know in the cafe section of a Memphis drug store.  A guy came in and introduced himself as my blind date.  He sat around for a short time, asked me some questions, and finally told me I wasn't the type of girl he was looking for, handed me money to pay the bill and take a cab home and walked out.  I thought the kind of girl he was looking for was probably a bit wilder than I was. 

Some guys were just jerks.  There were alot of guys who thought girls were just property and it was their challenge to conquer these girls by seducing them, or even worse, forcing them to have a sexual encounter.  I ended up with a few of these guys also.  One "accidentally" ran out of gas as we were driving in a secluded area.  There were many country roads and it wasn't hard to find yourself with a guy out in the middle of nowhere.  Then the wrestling match would occur, and you would try to convince the guy to just take you home.  I had this happen to me more than once, and on at least one encounter I cried when I arrived home.  I had slipped up in the dating mine field.

California Dreamin'

After I left the job at the motel, I looked around for a job for a short time and then just quit looking.  Another job wasn't what I really wanted anyway, I really wanted to return to California.  I had brought the subject up to my family several times but the idea was immediately dismissed each time.  I had no money to travel to California and no job if I did go.  In my mind, I figured if I did get a ticket to go to California, I could stay with my friend Patty and her family until I found a job and saved enough for an apartment.  

So one day when I was in Memphis, I walked over to the Greyhound Bus Station to check out the cost of a ticket to Los Angeles.  There was a line and so I stood waiting for the information.  After a short time, I noticed a guy standing in line in front of me.  He was older than I, later I would learn that he was thirty-eight.  He had light brown hair, slightly receding in the front.  He was just under six feet tall and he was dressed in slacks, dress shirt and tie.  He carried a sports jacket with him.  He introduced himself as John and asked me if I was taking a trip.  I explained that I was interested in going to California and was checking how much a ticket would cost.  We made small talk for awhile and then he asked me if I wanted to get some lunch.

I went with John, and he took me to lunch, where he told me he was a photographer for Life Magazine.  I wasn't sure if I should believe him or not, but since it really didn't matter to me, I accepted what he said.

After we ate lunch, we got into his convertible and we just drove around with the top down.  It was a warm day, and John complained about the heat, and asked would I mind if he took off his shirt.  I told him I didn't care.  The next thing I knew he had stripped down into his underwear (boxer's) and was telling me "I hope you don't mind, I'm just so hot".  John drove through the country in his underwear and we talked as he drove.  I clung to the passenger door, just in case he turned out to be a nut case.  After about twenty minutes, when I didn't react to his partial clothing, he decided he had cooled off enough to get fully dressed again.  He sheepishly redressed.

I wasn't interested in John romantically, but I enjoyed talking to him.  He was a bright man and he was older so he had good input about my dream of returning to California.  John seemed to really like me and wanted to see me again.  I toldd him I could never have him come to my home, because my parents would object to my seeing an older man.  I did agree to meet him again though.  I wouldn't even give John my phone number, but he was eager enough to accept that situation.  So we agreed on a date and place where we would meet and have lunch again in about a week.