Reading your e-mail about the elevator reminded me of a time BM (before marriage) when my now brother-in-law Charlie Grosh and I went out to Detroit to visit Sr. Anthony for a week. We also stopped off to visit Claire and Mike and some of Chucks cousins who also lived in the area. At that time and probably this time too the good sisters owned the old Detroiter Hotel right in the center of Detroit. During the twenties and thirties it was occupied by the "mob." When we arrived in my little Cortina car (this is a British Ford that looks like any small Toyota or Honda on the road) we met Sr. Anthony who immediately took us up to our apartment which was the "so called" penthouse suite on the top or 12th floor. As the story goes, at one time the mob killed some of its rivals and the cops found them hanging in this large walk-in closet that we used. At night we would go out onto the balcony and watch the locals yelling and killing and all that good stuff from the safety of the twelfth floor. We were treated good that week.
Well, the top two of three floors of this Sacred Heart Manor was for priests and sisters only, except for special guests like us of course, and none of the residents ever got to come up. The elevators in this building were the old fashioned type that were operated by elevator operators who were the nicest black women you'd ever want to meet. The problem was they didn't know who we were. Two young men, about thirty, staying on the top floor...what's going on? At one point one of them called me "father" (if she only knew) She thought we were priests. They didn't believe me when I told them who we really were. I remember telling them that if they saw any young women roaming around to bring them up. I would say this as the doors were closing on their way down. At one point one of the girls laughed so hard that I heard her as the elevator descended the shaft.
It was nice being related to the boss. On the day we arrived St. Anthony advised us to put our car in the basement garage if we ever wanted to see it again. We did. The following morning as we approached the "guard on duty" for the key to the garage he became indignant and asked, "And just who the hell might you be? Before I could say anything Sr. Anthony rounded the bend and told him. That was the first time I ever witnessed a grown man shit his pants in public. When we would go up or down from the 12th floor of course the elevator had to stop at every floor to let "residents" on or off...except when St. Anthony was present. You have to remember now that she was number ONE, the Head Cheese, at this place and every other place she was assigned to until she retired, so to speak, where she is now. When she got in we took the express route. The old folks would bitch and all she would say was that they were getting a longer ride. The first night she gave us a tour of the place. It was more like an inspection tour. When the elevator doors opened and the attendants saw her they all ducked and/or ran for cover. I never saw anyone run so fast in my entire life.
Every night Sr. Anthony and one other nun would come in just to see how was checking all the rooms to see if we had any girls stashed away. They were sneaky because one would get you talking and facing away while the other checked the large closets, bathroom, bedroom, etc. We thought it was funny at the time. This was the week that Man first walked on the Moon. We watched it from out suite. We also knew that the elevators stopped running at 11:00PM and that night we were visiting Charlie's relatives and just made it back with about ten minutes to spare. I wasn't looking forward to climbing twelve flights of stairs.
NOW, you are asking how does this all relate to Johnny's story about stepping out of the elevator. Well sir let me tell you. The girls who ran the elevator had that job down to a science. The elevators always stopped right even with the floor every time with no backing up. They were not automatic you really had full control of them and I think you controlled them with one big lever. One night as we were coming down I asked the girl if I could try it. SURE. She proceeded to give me a little instruction. Push forward we go down...pull back we go up. The further the lever moves from center the faster we go. Sounds easy to me. So off I went. Down we went just the two of us. Through the gate I could see brick walls sailing by as we descended. There were numbers painted on the walls so you knew what floor you were at. I remember asking her what happens if we get to the bottom and I would forget to stop. I figured there was a sophisticated braking system that would prevent us from seeing GOD before our time. She looked me in the eye and said "We crash." As I got to the fifth or sixth floor I slowed down to the point that anyone taking the stairs would beat us to the bottom. As I reached the first floor I tried my damndest to stop level with the floor and couldn't do it. I would go three feet up and two feet down. The constant up and down made me sick to the stomach. I gave up when we were about two feet below the stairs. At that point she insisted on letting her take over. I said I got myself into this mess and I crawled out of that box. We were at the first floor, main lobby, lots of folks around and me on all fours. I never asked to drive again.