Zoot Suit

It was during the 1930s in Harlem when my mother first saw my father. She immediately knew that he was "the guy she wanted to marry."  It was from behind the curtains of her mother’s brownstone apartment that she first saw him.  He bounced on the balls of his feet and exuded confidence.  He wore the fashion of the day -- the peculiar baggy trousers, which narrowed tightly at the ankles, a matching jacket, long dangling watch chain, and an extraordinarily wide-brimmed hat -- "the zoot suit with the reet pleat."  I recall an old photograph in which my father appears lost in the immensity of the costume, but the image has been lost over time.

A few years elapsed before my parents met face-to-face.  They were around fifteen.  My father must have done some peeking himself.  My mother said, "He liked my legs and thought it was cute when I wobbled by in my first pair of high heels."  One day while on the stoop of the brownstone in which my mother lived, my father bound up the steps.  He shook her hand as he introduced himself. "Hi!  I'm Tony Lennox Torres.  Glad to meet you!" and quickly went on his way.  This was odd since his name was "Ernesto" but, at the time, he thought "Tony" was a cool name.  It would be years before he accepted "Ernie" as his name.  And what was with the “Lennox”? There was a Lenox Hill Hospital nearby... and did he think the extra “n” was more distinguished? Maybe it increased his coolness.

Three years later when my mother's family moved across the street from my father's sister, Ernestina, my parents met again and began dating. My father kept his trim figure by boxing.  He was either a bantam or featherweight.  My mother said he would often compare their waist sizes. 

My father was quite the lady's man.  He always had a girl on his arm -- and others waiting to replace her.  When he and my mother were dating, they attended a dance. At one point, one of my father's former girlfriends came up and boldly took his arm.  My mother would have none of this.  She slapped the girl and took back "Tony's" arm.  My father knew then that here was a woman he could marry -- someone willing to fight over him!  From then on he affectionately called her "Butchie" for her aggressive claim on him.