MacArthur Park: The Novel

Take a trip back to the 1960s and experience the significant events of this decade through the eyes of Patrick Hanley -- a young teenager desperately trying to grow up in a sea of confusion. At no time in recent American History have the different factions of our society been so polarized. This time period was a true test of the American way of life and the principles the United States was founded on.

MacArthur Park is a novel about growing up in the sixties -- about six kids discovering themselves and about the turbulent times they grew up in. It's about how some of them survived and how some of them didn't. It's about how the war affected them and forced them to make decisions that would shape the rest of their lives.

The author is a baby boomer who grew up in a suburb of New York City.

MacArthur Park has been a work in progress for nearly thirty years. Inspired by the words and music of Jimmy Webb's song, the author started writing this novel shortly after its debut performance.

'I remember sitting there watching the television that night in 1969. Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show was a habit. I always checked to see which musical guests were on tap. Jimi Hendrix even showed up one night and blew the house away with just his guitar and amplifier. But on this night an actor, Richard Harris, debuted a song written by an unknown, Jimmy Webb, by the name of MacArthur Park. I never forgot the song and a few days later, inspired by its lyrics, I jotted down the first outline for this novel.'

The thirty-year time span for the creation of this novel has resulted in a somewhat unique way of presenting the essence of the sixties to its readers.

'I believe that everyone has at least one good story to tell. I hope that you find this one to be mine.'

'I told him that you and your father hadn't seen each other yet, and that you probably wouldn't be in school tomorrow.'

'Why not?'

'As I said before your father's thinkin' about private school for you. I think he will want to take you when he goes to some of them.'

'Oh.'

'I think he hopes that you'll never have to go back to your high school again. I'm sorry this had to happen Patty.'

'It's not your fault.'

'But I could make things a lot easier if I just took your side or your father's.'

'Don't worry; just let the two of us work it out.'

'But I don't want to lose either one of you.'

'Don't worry, you won't.'

'Patty I really think you were right to do what you did.' She was starting to cry. 'I just don't want to lose you like I lost your brother.'

I went over and put my arms around her.

'You won't. Just remember that there are some things I'm gonna do because I'm just me.'

'Your gonna need help with your father tomorrow.'

'You don't have to do anything ma . . .'

'I'll help, but hear him out, OK?'

'OK.'

I awoke early that morning, about three am. It was difficult to fall back to sleep. A rehashing of the events which that had led to my current problems permeated my thoughts. At the very best a severe tongue lashing was heading my way.

My father came stomping through the front door at a quarter of six. I could hear him go directly to the kitchen, open the refrigerator and pop the top of a can of beer. To put the confrontation off more than it had to be was stupid. I got up and walked into the kitchen. He was just sitting there staring off into space. At first I didn't think he noticed me, but as soon as I put my foot in the door he started in.

'Nigger lover.'

I looked at him in surprise, not knowing what to say.

'You heard me. You're a nigger lover.'

It was early in the morning and I wasn't thinking too fast. Words finally came to me.

'He's my friend, dad.'

'I don't give a shit; he's a nigger, so that makes you a nigger lover, doesn't it?'

'No he's a person.'

'So am I and you're my son...and you chose a nigger over your father. I'm fed up with you.' He slammed his fist on the table with anger and stood up.

'Go on get out a here...don't you have school or something like that?'

This caught me by surprise. I stood there with my mouth open. Finally I spoke.

'But I thought you were gonna take me out of school, and, and put me into a private school.'

'You can forget about that shit. The fuckin' union voted to go on strike. No work, no money. We have to move back to the city, right into the middle of nigger heaven. Serve ya right, we'll see how much of a nigger lover ya are when they slash ya tires an mug ya right in front of ya own house.' With this he downed the rest of his beer, crushed the empty can with one hand and threw it on the floor. 'Do whatever the fuck ya want...just get out of here.'

He stormed out of the kitchen and into the bedroom where my mother was still sleeping

I went back to my room and laid down on my bed staring at the ceiling. The thoughts just rambled through my head.

'Nigger lover.'

'I'll help you, Benny.'

'Mug ya in front of ya own . . .'

'I'll be your friend, Pat.'

'They'll slash ya tires.'

'Here comes the train Pat, listen.'

'The union's on strike...the union's on strike...nigger lover...the union's on strike nigger lover...the union's on strike.'

I heard my mother's knock on the door.

'Come in.'

'Sorry, I wasn't awake when he came home.'

'That's all right. Did he tell you?'

'Yes, he did. What did he tell you?'

'He said we may have to move back to the city.'

'Yeah, the last strike lasted thirty days. We were really bad off even though we were only paying rent at the time. Things got so bad I use to take the neighbor's milk from their stoop before they woke up. ... I...I had to...you and your brother were only babies; you needed the milk.'

I put my arms around her. She began to cry.

'When things got better, I left an envelope with money in it in their mailbox. I didn't steal anything.'

'I know, ma, I know.'

'He won't let me go out and work, ya know. He didn't then and he won't now. He's a proud man. He doesn't want anyone ta think he can't take care of his family. I don't know what we'll do; the mortgage has to be paid. Do you think you can help, Patty?'

'I'll try, ma. It's not easy for a fifteen-year-old to get a job, ya know, but I'll try.'

Try? What was I going to do? My father probably wouldn't take money from me anyway, that stubborn bastard. Maybe the strike wouldn't last so long this time.

'He's worked a lot of over time lately, so there's some money in the bank, but the union and management are so far apart this time.'

'Don't worry, ma, it'll be all right.'

I was lying of course. I had no idea of what was going to happen, and the future looked as dismal to me as it did to her. The roller coaster ride had definitely hit a new low, with nowhere to go but down it seemed. What a bitch of a situation. My father was totally pissed off at me because of Benny, but he was out of work, so he needed my help. He'd never ask for it, at least not now.

'I'll go out after school today and start looking for something, ma.'

'Thank you, Patty. But promise me one thing, don't tell dad.'

' If I find something, I'll just give you the money. OK?'

'OK. I'll slip it into the bank somehow. Come on, you need to eat your breakfast before you go to school.'

Concentrating on my schoolwork was difficult the rest of the week. My efforts to find a part time job proved fruitless. Al said the grocery store wasn't doing all that well since the new supermarket opened up downtown. The manager of the supermarket said I was too young. He couldn't hire me anyway because I didn't have any working papers. What the hell were working papers anyway.