Scene 23

Scene Twenty-three...The Kennel Club #1
Time: Lunch hour, Wednesday, March 13, 1946
Place: William's boat
Storyteller: William


Why in the world does Harry want to talk with me?
Am I moving too fast or too slow with Betty?
Did I say something wrong to his wife?
I haven't been this nervous since Thanksgiving.
Or maybe New Years, when I almost drowned his daughters.

A knock on the door ends the guessing game, but begins my queasy stomach.

"Come in," I try to sound relaxed, but run to the door. "Want to grab a bite at Sal's?"

"No, thanks. I need privacy," he replies.

Oh, no. What could require privacy? "Have a seat, Mr. Robertson."

"Call me Harry. I've been meaning to thank you for helping my wife. She's a changed woman, even painting again. Her lab tests show improvement. I was worried sick."

"Betty is relieved, too," I reply.

"You've made so much progress with Lois, I'd like to get your opinion on my little problem."

"Of course, Harry. What is it?"

"The tragic murder at Bayfront Park turned Lois into a recluse. She refused professional help. Wouldn't talk about it. I couldn't fix her. My wife didn't want to go out with me. Then I got lonely."

"Lois and I used to have so much fun together, especially at the ocean...both the Jersey shore and Florida beaches. I remember her running in the sand. Laughing." Harry's eyes close as he reminisces.

"We ride the train to Atlantic City. Grand hotels line the boardwalk."

"We take baby Betty to South Beach. They make sand castles."

Harry's eyes open. Reality puts a frown on his face.

"That word...lonely...scares me, Mr. Robertson."

"Oh! It's not what you're thinking. I started leaving work early...would drive over the MacArthur Causeway to South Beach. I'd stare out at the ocean and remember 'the good old days.'"

"That sounds like a relaxing pastime," I say with relief.

"Problem is, I started stopping at The Kennel Club to bet on the dogs...just for fun."

"You, of all people, know it's legal. They have a license, Harry."

"But over the years, I got hooked."

"Is it breaking you financially?"

"No. Both Lois and I were 'born with silver spoons in our mouths'...two trust funds."

"Are you addicted?"

"Yes, and it makes no sense because the reason I began betting doesn't exist anymore. Why can't I walk away from it?"

"A lot of G.I.'s got hooked on gambling during the war. It began out of boredom, but eventually the thrill of winning became their reason for living."

"My willpower is usually strong, but I keep going back to the tract. The Hudson heads that direction without my permission."

"Don't panic. Once I explain how you got hooked, the science behind it, you'll probably be able to walk away and never look back. According to psychologists, gambling is based on 'the variable schedule of reinforcement.' It's used to train animals."

"Humans are a lot smarter than animals, so how does this pertain to me? Frankly, your suggestion is insulting. Maybe coming here was a mistake." Harry stands to leave.

"Please hear me out. I'll give you an example of 'the variable schedule' with humans, okay?"

"He sits back down. "Do you have any ice tea?"

I hop to it. "Sure. Sugar or lemon?"

"Both."

Oh, good. There's ice. I hand him the cold glass.

"We all know a sweet gal who meets a handsome, charming man. He treats her like a queen for the first month of their courtship. She falls head over heels for him."

"Sounds like Betty," Harry chuckles.

"On their next date, he's grumpy. Had a bad day at work. Doesn't smile and compliment her like usual. She tries to cheer him up, but he cuts the evening short."

"She better not be Betty. Go on, William."

"Let's call her Carol. The following Saturday, they go out for supper. John is back to his charming self. She thinks, 'anyone can have a bad day.' The next two dates are wonderful. Carol is happy as a lark."

"I don't trust John." Harry is catching on.

"During the next month Carol doesn't know whether Dr. Jekyl or Mr. Hyde will knock on her door. There's no pattern. The lack of pattern is key."

"Does Carol go to her family for their opinion?" Harry asks.

"No, because she wants them to like him. However she told a trustworthy friend about John's mood swings. Deloris said, 'Dump him!'...Carol couldn't do it; she lives for the times he spoils her with sweet talk and gifts."

"Carol isn't thinking straight. She should have taken Deloris's rational advice." Harry shakes his head.

"A few nights later, John makes his 'one phone call' from the police station to Carol. He claims the fight wasn't his fault, but the cops got it wrong and booked him. She bails him out. John hugs and kisses her. Swears it will never happen again."

"William, stop! I want to wring his neck. What's this twisted love story have to do with gambling anyway?"

"John's unpredictable schedule of being both nasty and nice is what keeps Carol hooked."

"The unpredictable schedule of both winning and losing money at the dog track is what keeps you hooked, Harry. If you hit the jackpot every time, you'd get bored and quit. Why? Because you have a trust fund and really don't need the money."

"I get it!"

"Great. Once victims understand that it's the hit or miss reinforcement schedule that keeps them addicted, they can usually quit cold turkey."

"What did the trick for Lois?"

"She trained herself to do an incompatible activity. Instead of baking at home, she's taking art lessons...at U.M., right?"

"Yes...Maybe I can train the Hudson to head to the golf course instead of the tract."

"Let's hope you like golf as much as Lois loves painting."

We both smirk and shake hands. Lunch hour is over.

Harry better not be frequenting the poker room at that place; many a trust fund has been lost at those tables.
















Popular posts from this blog

Scene 95...Epilogue

Scene 21

Scene 3