Two Holdups
January 9th, 2009by Irene Zion (Lenore's Mom)
MIAMI BEACH, FL-
(The First Holdup)
My mother was at the A&P. That used to be a supermarket, I’m not sure if it still is. She was buying groceries in broad daylight when four men with ski masks covering their faces ran into the store. They each had a handgun. They closed the front door and turned over the OPEN sign to CLOSED. They gathered all the people working and all those shopping and herded them to the back of the store.
(I don’t have a picture of my mother at the age this happened, so here is one way before and one way after.)
“Everyone down on the floor!” they demanded.
Everyone got down on the floor, except for my mother.
“I said get down on the floor!” one robber yelled.
“No,” my mother said.
“No?” the robber said.
“Lady, you’re going to get us all killed!” said a shopper on the floor.
“That floor is filthy,” my mother stated.
“Do you understand that we have guns and we are prepared to kill you if you don’t do as we say?” asked the robber who had been dealing with my mother.
While the one robber was trying to handle my mother, the other robbers were grabbing things from the more acquiescent shoppers and workers. All the people on the floor began systematically losing their wallets and purses and jewelry.
“What is the matter with you?” complained the unfortunate robber assigned to my mother.
“Why are you still standing there?” he asked.
“I will not get on that dirty floor and I will not give you my wedding rings,” my mother replied.
“Look, Lady, we will shoot you if you don’t give us your wallet!” he shouted.
“Alright, I will give you my wallet, but first you must promise me that you will mail back to me my identity cards, like my driver’s license and my social security card. My address is right there on my driver’s license,” my mother stated.
“Okay, Lady. I promise I will mail them back to you,” he said.
“Fine, then,” she said and handed him the wallet from her purse.
With my mother still the only one standing, the robbers all ran out of the A&P.
Until the day she died, my mother remained incensed that her robber had lied to her.
(The Second Holdup)
(Here is a picture of Victor at approximately the age in this story.)
One cold, snowy, winter day, nine-year-old Victor spent a good part of the day at the Brooklyn Children’s Museum. When he left he walked home through a park whereupon two bigger, older kids approached him. They may have had a knife or not, Victor somehow doesn’t remember that detail.
“Give us your coat,” they demanded.
“But you already have coats, and it’s freezing out,” Victor replied, sensibly.
The big boys got really close to Victor.
“Give us your coat now,” they said.
Victor was a thinker, not a fighter. He assessed the situation and came to the conclusion that these boys could easily hurt him badly. Victor gave the boys his winter coat.
“Give us your belt.”
“Okay.”
“Give us your hat and your gloves”
“Okay.”
“Give us your shoes.”
“My shoes?” Victor asked. “There is snow on the ground,” he gesticulated, suddenly feeling less tractable.
The big boys made threatening gestures, which returned Victor to a state of compliance. He untied his leather shoes and handed them to the big boys.
“Give us your wallet.”
“Okay.”
The big boys rifled through the wallet to see what they got. As they did, Victor saw his membership card to the Brooklyn Jewish Center.
“Uh, could you just give me that membership card? Victor said. “You can’t actually use it or anything,” he reasoned, “I mean, you don’t look Jewish.”
At last, the boys let Victor keep something. He was very pleased as the big boys walked away. Then Victor walked home the seven or eight blocks in the snow in his socks, holding his membership card to the Brooklyn Jewish Center in his bare hand.
Tags: Add new tag, Assessment of Danger, Irene Zion, Robbery, Stubbornness
dad should have popped a cap in their asses.
i dont think he was strapped at that age
did they even have concealed weapon permits back then?
Aw, Heck, Lonny. It was the Wild West in Brooklyn. You didn’t need a permit for anything. You got what you needed and no one could tell you differently. (Although a nine-year-old probably wouldn’t have the cash for a handgun.)
OMG, it had to be really scary for a young child to experience what Victor went through!
It must of helped make him to be the man that he is today…
Your mother was definitely a very stubborn and lucky woman!!! What the hell was she thinking??? Too bad she actually thought the robbers would return her stuff!!!
Lenore,
He was little and alone and unarmed.
Very interesting. Your mother sure was a gutsy lady. Good thing it didn’t happen today-she’d be dead as a door knob.
She showed great faith in humanity expecting her things to be returned.
Victor the Believer and Thinker started young–that was a great story.
My mother thought she ruled the world, Cecile! She was so ANGRY at that robber for not honoring his promise!
Wow, it is definitely indicative of the different era in which little Victor was held up by bullies that the bullies gave him back his Jewish Center membership card simply because they couldn’t use it, instead of ripping it apart in front of him to torment him, and then kicking his ass for being a member of a different religious group than themselves. Doesn’t that make his hold-up seem almost quaint?
Jeez, Gina, you really think that would happen today? That’s really scary. I wasn’t thinking that way at all. Probably have my head in the sand.
Irene, you have one heckuva (heckuvan?) audience & fan club: I got the announcement, read the article, and within half an hour, maybe less, I find I’m at least 4th or 5th in line commenting…
Defiance alternatively waxed & waned in the Land of Zion-to-be and Zion…
Gina’s comment echos our feelings -about both incidents -remarkably closely: these events seem almost civilized when compared to the near ubiquitous (and usually erroneously labeled as “senseless”) mayhem we are informed of by print & broadcast media. On the other hand, perhaps contemporary thugs (BTW, look up the etymology of ‘thug’ for grins) take Sherman’s maxim to heart, adding the category of ‘crime’ to that of war, and by extension, the third category to the (author unk) maxim of “All’s fair in..”
Well Frank,
I suppose you and Gina are right. There certainly is a lot of senseless violence. In both these robberies there was only the threat of violence, but that’s all. Yup. I guess these are old-fashioned robberies, after all.
How’s this for senseless violence?
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090109/ap_on_re_us/death_row_eye;_ylt=AiKVSu3ERWxYL.ZcfqNfUlhI2ocA
I started reading the story in this link out loud and my sister said, “thanks a lot, I’m going to have bad dreams tonight”. She’s 27 and claims that even the mildest scary thought makes her have bad dreams. I told her to go to a therapist.
Whoa, Autumn, you’d better not read her the rest of my stuff! (Or then again, maybe you’d want to….)
Is that your dog in the window? She looks like one of my Goldens, Brooklyn. Kind of a small picture, though. Could be a walrus too.
Wait! Autumn,
I just realized you were talking about the story in the link!
Yeah, that one would give anyone nightmares. Your sister may not be such a weenie.
I thought she got scared by my post. This has got to be the mildest one yet. Sorry. Got confused.
Irene, Yeah I meant the link story. I agree that story was pretty horrifying but she claims she will have nightmares if anything remotely scary goes on. She can’t deal with scary faces in any way shape or form.
The golden actually belongs to my sister the sissy. He’s wonderful, the most docile pleasant (if not a little demanding of affection) golden I’ve ever known. His name is Howie. I got to name him.
I think what’s horrifying about that linked story is that it made me laugh. Really, I should be ashamed!
Your sister is a sissy. Nice she let you name Howie, though. Excellent name.
It’s a little scary that it made you laugh, but I have laughed at equally awful things so I won’t judge. It didn’t shock me, and that’s the scariest thing of all. I am one of the masses of the desensitized.
Yes it was nice that she let me name him. I also named my other sister’s boxer, Herbie. They lengthened it to Herbert Hogfarmer. Her ex-boyfriend has custody though.
Autumn, I guess I laughed because it was so absurd that it didn’t feel real. It was out of the realm of my sense of reality. I don’t think it’s being desensitized, I think it’s having placed your psyche in an earlier, saner, safer time and not wanting to give it up regardless of the mayhem.
Herbie’s a good name too. You have nice sisters. Is two it? I always wanted a passel of sisters, but it’s probably better this way. The genes in my family were pretty scary.
Does your sister have visiting rights?
Two sisters and two brothers. Two is enough. It’s just the right amount actually. One younger one older (sisters that is). Both brothers are older than all of the sisters and that’s good too. Older brother’s, in my opinion, are better than younger brothers. Unless they have good looking friends who they won’t let you date.
No visiting rights. It wasn’t a mutually decided breakup.
If you had a passel of sisters and they were just like you, I think you would be doing ok. Also, sisters are different than mothers. The connection is different. You would have had strength in numbers.
I envy your big family, Autumn. All I could do was have my own. I could only get 5 out of my husband. If I wanted more, he said that I needed an entirely different husband.
I’d try to stomp on your envy and say it’s not all that great but that would make me a liar. I just won’t rub it in.
Your husband is onto something. 5 kids is the perfect amount. I had a friend who was from a family of 9 kids. That’s 4 too many. Both sets of my grandmothers had 5 kids too. I don’t think the newer generation is going to be carrying on that tradition.
I can ask my mother if she will be your surrogate mother. Your family size would multiply drastically.
He was just a pussy! We would have had ten wonderful children! (Grumble,grumble,grumble.)
My one daughter with kids is done at two measly children. Seems it’s “just not my business.” (As, if!)
The rest of them are useless to me. (Until they bear fruit, that is.)
Thank you for offering to share your mother. She should definitely get a say in it, though. I may be more than she can handle.
She may have a say in it, but I am pretty sure my brother’s (in their youth) have tested her beyond level of acceptability of most people. You would probably be a welcome breath of fresh air.
Too bad your mom didn’t take a cue from Victor and requested her DL and Soc Sec card before handing over the wallet. Would have saved years of grumbling.
I loved the similarities in their stories; each involving a wallet, but ending with such different circumstances.
Brilliant!
You know, Kimberly, it surprises me that she didn’t remove them herself first. I’m sure she kicked herself for that for years after it happened. She NEVER forgot anything that annoyed her. Let it eat away at her and make her even angrier.
They are sort of similar stories, I think. But with all my Mother’s bluster, Victor ended up with his treasured membership card to the Brooklyn Jewish Center, and she got bubkis.
Now there is no question that your mom was crazy or that society was that much different then. I can’t believe that nothing else happened to her.
nana was a badass
she didnt mess around
and she always made sure we didnt need to make a bm before we left the house
i admit this is off topic
Yes, Lonny, Nana was assuredly a badass.
If you remember, she tried to make you all have a bm in the morning because that was the right time. There is a time and a place for everything.
Amy,
I’d guess you were right on both counts. She definitely was crazy, and I’m starting to acknowledge that society is rougher now. Kinda sad.
Man, Nana sure was ballsy. Too bad she wasn’t armed. I could picture her with a .38 or something.
Hey, Tim, she was one ballsy woman.
I’m afraid if she had been armed though, she’d have shot my Dad and then me and then my brother one night and then cleaned up the mess really really efficiently.
Not everyone should be armed, hard as that is for me to say.
I wish the world were sensible again…
I love every single post you give us. They are like little gifts!
Hi Christine! How was Christmas and new Years in Japan?
Boring! The Yen rate is hideously low so we’re keeping a low profile. It was actually nice and relaxing just staying home.
Cocooning at Christmas is the best. Good choice, Christine!
I love your mother! I love that she thought the floor was too dirty. Did you grow up in a very clean house? Did she keep all her children clean?
Thanks for the great post!
Jessica Anya,
You could literally eat off the floor of our house. My Mother cleaned all the time, using this as a way to not interact with her husband or children. We always had to be out of the house so she could properly clean. Everything was always in its place, also, which is a whole different animal.
My house is a total mess. I like it that way. I spend time with my peeps. I have great peeps.
Was there plastic on the furniture? I’ve always thought that’s the only true indication of a clean house.
Well, that and the smell of Lysol in the air.
Great story!
Plastic on the furniture, plastic on the lampshades, and nubby, plastic runners in the entrance hall. Yes, indeed, all the mark of a truly clean home!
Rob and Jessica Anya,
There was plastic on the dining room chairs. Really thick plastic. Only on holidays were we allowed in there with company. The living room didn’t have plastic covers on the couches and chairs because we were not allowed to sit in there ever. It did have plastic on all the lamp shades, though. The living room was ONLY for company.
We actually did have those nubby plastic runners at the kitchen door and at the front door. I had totally forgotten about them!
We were only allowed, this includes my Dad, in the kitchen and the “sun parlor” which was a closed in porch about 5 by 12. We lived in the sun parlor.
My Dad sat on a lawn chair in the sun parlor. You know, the kind with the webbing? He was very handy so every time it would wear out he would weave in new webbing. We were allowed in the bedrooms, of course. Mom liked it when we were upstairs out of sight.
So now I see where you get it from, Irene.
Your mother was one tough and cool lady.
Lordy, Rich, she certainly was tough.
She was steel wire and concrete.
She was anger held in check by a frame.
She was fear.
She was alone.
I AM tough, but I am not like my mother.
I am soft.
I am open.
I love.
I have family.
That’s beautiful, Irene, and sad, the differences between you and your mother, the poetry and truth of it.
Thanks, Gina,
Been working on separating myself out from her my whole life. It doesn’t hurt me anymore, but I’ve come to a point where I ache for her life. She was never happy. Eighty some years never being happy is an unbearable sentence.
Your mom = badass. One tough-as-nails, cleaning-crazy badass.
Yup, you are right, Rob, as usual.
The one time I was mugged, on New Year’s Eve, in the East Village of New York City, where I had no business being, I didn’t hand over my wallet I just opened it and held it out. The junkie reached in and took the bills and fled. Though I was terrified, I think he had a knife, I was also smug as I had other money folded away in different places in my wallet. I learned to do this from my cautious mother and I always wanted to tell her that her plan worked. But I didn’t want to tell her about the mugging as it would have caused her much distress and there was no reason to make the whole family paranoid because of one random incident. I was paranoid enough for years after, enough for the whole family.
Love your stories and how they make me think of my own stories.
Ruth,
Was this a time before credit cards also? Now the credit cards are worth more than the money.
That’s funny that you couldn’t let your mother be proud of you for following her advice about squirreling away the money because she’d find out you didn’t follow her advice about staying out of the East Village late at night! You totally screwed that one up! HA HA!
I remember A&P. Did it stand for Atlantic and Pacific? Ok that’s irrelevant but whatever.
Keiko,
It stood for: The Great Atlantic and Pacific Tea Company. I have no idea how tea was involved in one of the first supermarkets.
Oh I loved that poetry up there -
One almost sighs at a time when thieves had honor.
Thanks, not sure listing things is poetry, but I’ll take it where I can.
Yeah, imagine honorable thieves. (But that one thief did NOT mail back Mom’s license and Social Security card. That was not honorable. But, then, he didn’t shoot her and that was honorable.)
Robbers and burglars suck. I’ve been covering a story lately that happened on the street where I grew up where a carjacker shot a man. The carjacker ended up getting shot in the head by a cop.
They do, NL, they do. I’m glad they shot him in the head. He shot the poor driver in the gut without even seeing if he’d get out with just a threat. Too bad the carjacker didn’t die. Too many bad guys in the world. Gotta clean house.
According to Wiki, A&P is still around, just in different names:
A&P US
Current Banners
A&P Food Market (includes A&P Fresh format & “Super A&P” format)
A&P Super Foodmart (New England division)
Food Basics USA
The Food Emporium
Pathmark (”Super-Center” and “Sav-A-Center” formats)
Super Fresh
Waldbaum’s
therefore A&P is still around.
on another note, there’s another good holdup story in our family. remember that ben got held up in hightstown by a bunch of toddlers packing heat? (i am certain this is *exactly* how it went down and i refuse let silly little things like “facts” and “sara was in boston, but ben was actually *there*” get in my way.)
I can’t believe Pathmark is an A&P! We used to go there in the Bronx. Good hunting, Sara!
I totally forgot Ben’s mugging. I’ll have to ask him all about it. Thanks for reminding me!
ugh. another smiley. hate that.
also, i think i may have been in minnesota for the big heist, not in boston.
Don’t worry, Sara, I’ll get the skinny on this and report back!
Oh, these are both priceless stories. I can only hope that I am that calm, cool and collected when face to face in a hold-up. It’s inspiring, really.
Thanks for the chuckles! (My husband saw me laughing reading this and stole my computer away to read it himself. I was only up to shoes with Victor. So you see, I was actually held up in the middle of reading this post and proved myself unworthy as all I could think to do was to hit said husband with hairbrush. I am so uncool.)
Thanks, Erika Rae,
Victor just told me of another holdup!
He was in “the young single digits” and his mom left him in the car while she went into the store to buy a pack of cigarettes. A robber opened the car door and picked up his mother’s purse and ran away. (I KNEW she was a lousy mother!) He thinks he only remembers this one because his mother told him about it when he was old enough to remember.
Protecting yourself with a hairbrush was a valiant effort. One must use what one has at hand, after all. You are, in fact, the epitome of cool.
I would suggest you not try this at home (or anywhere else), today you’d be dead. I get the dirty floor thing though. I think my kids would not be surprised with that story after having lived with me their entire lives. Although I don’t believe it was ever done instead enjoying the kids or my friends, I think sleep is what suffers in my case.
Yeah, Trish, I can actually see you refusing to get down on a dirty floor even faced with a gun. You are a pretty tough lady! I’m sure your kids would agree.
I loved the photos. Your mom looked so sweet in that photo of her when she was very young. Knowing her, I was expecting the robbers to actually mail her ID’s back to her.
Oh, Freezing in Illinois, wasn’t she beautiful, though? I just love that picture of her.
She seemed to have such potential for happiness in that photo.
Believe me, Freezing, she also fully expected the robbers to mail her back her IDs!
I can’t believe that no one has mentioned the great car that Victor is leaning against.
no five second rule at your house…i never met your mom but from the stories i always thought she was very scared and frightened(she sure was beautiful) victor has had the same ;ook pm his face while reading for decades!
ok 17 hours in the car makes one or possible just me unable to spell look on his face thankful you are the writer/artist
ksw,
She was scared, frightened and beautiful. There could have been a 30 minute rule at our house. It was very very clean.
Yeah, Victor looks the same as ever. The funny thing is that Tim looks EXACTLY like him at every age. I wish I could be around to see old man Tim!
Wow, Your mom is lucky and so is Victor. They both could have beaten, probably would have been nowadays.
My brother bought me a can of mace for Chanukah. Now I know why. If someone tries to take my wallet , they are going to get it!
Great brother, Melissa! Keep that with you at all times. Except I think it’s illegal in California, but you’re not there so what’s the worry? In California they don’t want any robbers, muggers, rapists or murderers hurt by having their eyes feel like they are burning. Humn. That’s a bit confusing, isn’t it?
(If only they’d had it way back then when nothing was illegal and citizens had more rights than criminals.)
Later that day, dad took “big boy” to have anal sex with a 60-year-old prostitute in a parking garage.
Dad was a matchmaker, of sorts.
Okay, now, THAT story is for a later time and he was older. No one pay any attention to that!
Sheesh, Ben!
I love each and every post by this talented writer! She’s managed to transform snapshots from her own life into stories that everyone can enjoy. When is the book coming out?
HA! Kyndra, I am the most disorganized person on earth. The best I can do is just write my memories down a bit at a time. Granted they are strange memories, but we are an unusual family.
I do love your stories and as one commentator said, sometimes they remind me of some of my own. Your mother seems to have been a determined women, but in todays society she might not have been so lucky. I know a guy who makes his living walking dogs at all times of the day and night. He told me that he always has a good amount of money in his pocket so that if he gets hold up hopefully they won’t kill him. Victor’s story shows a definite sense of what he felt was priority and important. I hope his feed did not freeze on the way home.
Ursula,
That is a sad commentary on our society that a dog walker has to come prepared with cash to give to robbers. That is just not in any way right. All he’s trying to do is his job and he has this to deal with.
wow your mom rocks i like her style poor victor im sure he did much better in his life than those bullys
Hey Alex, I’ll bet you’re right! Good point!
i can see sensible thinking runs in the family!
Was that a snide remark, Donald? I think it is, oh yes I do.