Chapter Two- Soup's On, Davy!
Times Square Manhattan Early June, 1965.
Davy Jones, in his black suit, cap and boots was out of breath running straight off the boat's gangplank at Pier 34 to here having been told that Times Square was the city's heart and central meeting spot but he'd followed the grid map of Manhattan as best he could and made it with himself and small duffle bag intact that morning.
He walked up to an older dark haired man about to catch a bus.
"Sir, you wouldn't happen to know a Mr. Jones who'd been in London in '44?" Davy asked.
"Beat it, Limey!" the man sneered as he caught up to the bus and had the bus close its door on his umbrella while leaving him behind.
"Sir?" Davy asked.
"Now, you made me miss my bus and lose my umbrella! Get outta here!" the man fumed.
Davy spent the rest of the morning and a good part of the afternoon asking bystanders the same question until. .
, Davy saw a middle-aged woman in a khaki coat and red beehive and approached her.
"Ma'am, you wouldn't happen to know a Mr. Jones who'd been in London in '44?" Davy asked.
" Go play in traffic!" the woman scowled.
Davy ran into the Times Square grid.
"Hey! I didn't mean for you to take me literally, kid!" the woman gasped as she grabbed Davy moments before a taxi seemed poised to run over him.
"Sorry, Ma'am. It's just that I've come all the way from Manchester to meet me Dad and I don't even know where to start looking," Davy sighed.
"Here's a $5. Go to the diner on 43rd and Broad and maybe you can find something while getting a bite," the woman sighed as she handed Davy a $5 bill.
Somewhat hungry and dejected, Davy went to the diner and after waiting another hour before a table cleared, he sat down.
"Hey, Dutchy! You got a customer at the Table 8," a grizzled grey haired older woman hostess called out to a tall,skinny young blond man in blue slacks, white collared shirt and a vest with a soup bowl Dutchboy cut.
"I'm on it, Mabel!" 'Dutchy' called back to the hostess.
"Sir,"Davy started to say.
"Yeah, what'll, it be, pal?" 'Dutchy' asked as took out a his menu notepad.
Davy gulped and looked at the menu having no idea what to order as he'd never seen such items as hamburgers or hot dogs back in Manchester.
"Do ya have fish n' chips?" Davy asked.
"Fish and chips? Yeah, sure. Whatever," ' Dutchy' chuckled.
After a time. . .
"What's this? I've spent two weeks at sea an' all ya give me is a sammy and crisps?" Davy asked as 'Dutchy' gave him a plate.
"It's a tuna fish sandwich and potato chips- just like you ordered!" 'Dutchy' scoffed.
"I didn't order that! Take it back!" Davy boiled.
"Nothing doing! There's several hundred tourists who'd like your seat so eat what you ordered," 'Dutchy' insisted.
"OK, I ain't arguing with ya, Dutchy! Could I borrow a city phone book?" Davy asked.
"Yeah, but remember that it's your nickels not ours for the payphone," 'Dutchy' scoffed as he brought Davy the Manhattan directory.
Struggling to balance the gigantic directory while keeping a tight grasp of his duffel bag with his feet, Davy ate the tuna sandwich at the payphone while dialing the first number.
"Aaron Jones Residence? Good. Me name's Davy and I were wonderin' if you'd been in London back in '44"? Davy asked as the phone was slammed shut.
Davy put another nickel in the slot and dialed.
"Abe Jones Residence? Good. Me name's Davy and I were. Hello?" Davy gulped as that phone call abruptly ended.
He was about to cash in a dollar bill for twenty more nickels when 'Dutchy' stepped on a fried egg a bratty toddler at the closest booth had thrown on the floor- and in the process, 'Dutchy 'slipped flat on the floor while he flipped himself backwards and threw the entire tray load of six full dinner plates as well as four cups of coffee up in the air where they soon landed on. .
"Blimey! You ruined me only suit!" Davy boiled- as he reached down to help 'Dutchy' off the floor.
"Oh, and my getting thrown absinthe over tea kettle doesn't matter," 'Dutchy' sneered as he started to stand up
"Tomato soup, mustard, chocolate syrup and. . . petrol? Why did you have petrol on a dinner tray?" Davy asked as he looked at the damage.
"I was going to change my oil after this shift," 'Dutchy' explained.
"And yer car's parked here?" Davy asked.
"Actually, I just remembered, I sold my car last month," 'Dutchy' groaned.
"You dork!" Davy snapped.
"That's TORK! Peter Tork," 'Dutchy' explained.
"Well, Mr. Dork or Tork! You owe me a clean suit! I can't meet me dad looking like this!" Davy fumed.
"As soon as I finish my shift, I'll get your suit cleaned up," Peter sighed.
"OK, I'm holdin' ya to it!" Davy insisted as he momentarily grabbed Peter's right forearm with his own right hand.
"Hey! What happened to my car's engine? I tried to start it but it seized up!" Mabel the hostess gasped as she came back inside.
"Mabel, I can explain," Peter gulped.
Mabel soon caught sight of Davy covered in engine oil amongst other things
"You ruined my car and baptized another customer? That's your fifth one this week! You're fired! Get out while you still can under your own power!" Mabel fumed as she picked up a rolling pin and started to give chase to Peter who grabbed Davy by the sleeve [who was able to grab his duffel bag in time].
"I didn't need that job! Being a waiter wasn't me," Peter explained as they stopped running several blocks later.
"And what is you?" Davy asked as they walked out as the sun set while the many neon advertisement signs of Times Square glowed anew.
"I want my name in lights like all these folks here on Times Square. All I have to do is find the right part and it'll happen," Peter sighed.
"Yeah, like all I have to do is find the right old man an' I'll have a dad," Davy sighed.
"So my dream is fame and your dream is family, huh?" Peter asked.
"Me mum's a great mum an' all but I'd like to have more than just her in the world really be happy to welcome me," Davy explained.
" I guess since I ruined your suit, it's only fair I let you crash in my flat tonight," Peter sighed.
"You're Peter Tork, right? The name's, Jones, Davy Jones," Davy proclaimed as he shook Peter's hand for the first time.
"Oh, you're a spy like 007, right? Cool!" Peter beamed as they started to walk down Broadway on the way to Peter's apartment.
