Starsky and Hutch Growing Pains

GROWING PAINS

The first in a trilogy about how Starsky became the man he is. (Written in August 2007)

Davey was the kind of sunny little kid that won over even the toughest hearts. His big deep blue eyes and his tousle of dark curls made him look a little like one of those kids in the popular movies of the forties – street-wise little tykes.  
He ran with the local kids and it was his generation that started to overcome the old divisions between the communities. The Irish kids and the Italian kids and the Jewish kids all played together a little more than their fathers had…but there were still distinctions to be seen. They had all fallen into the Melting Pot and come out as little Americans but they still had traditions in their families that distinguished them from one another. The Starsky family was as likely to eat lasagna or salami as it was to eat gefilte fish or chicken soup; but somehow Lily could never bring herself to cook a pork chop – and all his life Davey would hesitate over some dishes; he learned to love bacon – but held off from a ham sandwich; he'd choose chicken over pork in a Chinese restaurant…as he would say in later years…go figure.

The kids he played with were the kids from the block. Some of their fathers were involved in less-than-legal activities; a couple of others were cops with Davey's dad.  
The kids played cops and robbers using their fingers as guns. "Bang peow. You're dead"

The kids learned to ride bikes on the streets and to use the fire-hydrants as showers in the heat of the summer when the city streets got to be like ovens and outside was just a bit better than inside. In the winter they warmed themselves by the steam vents and ran around muffled up in caps and scarves and thick gloves.  
They came home with skinned knees and bleeding lips just like any other normal male child.  
They played their own rough version of baseball in the alleys and wrestled and fought.  
They knocked on doors and ran away and tied tin cans to the backs of the few cars that were owned in the neighborhood; one time Tony Marcetto stuck a balloon over a car's exhaust pipe and they roared with laughter, hugging their sides and collapsing against the steps of the stoop outside Tony's house, while the driver got out of his car to try to see what had happened.  
They learned to use the bus system and the metro (and they learned how to avoid buying a ticket) and as they got older they discovered the Bronx Zoo. They went with dads and older brothers to see the Dodgers play at Ebets Field and dream of being Pee Wee Reese.  
They went to the movies and went home to imitate their heroes – Brando and Dean; Bogart and Cagney and even Jimmy Stewart and his big white rabbit.

Sometimes it seemed to Mike and the other fathers that if there was any trouble to be found their kids would find it. At one time they came to an arrangement – he who caught the kids dealt out the punishment. But when Davey came home sobbing with red welts down the backs of his legs; Mike decided that from then on he'd deal with his kid his way. It wasn't always easy and he quickly found that spanking just made Davey more defiant…he reasoned with him and grounded him and that usually worked. The worst thing that could happen to Davey was to be deprived of chocolate – and his mom and grandmother both made chocolate cakes and cookies that he was ready to take risks for. When he literally got caught with his hand in the (forbidden) cookie jar, Mike made an exception to the spanking rule. His son refused to speak to anyone except Bubba Starsky for two days.  
He could be stubborn and infuriating; but most of the time he was a cheerful kid with an unexpected shy streak

Davey was ten and Eva was nearly four when Nicky was born. By now Davey was old enough to enjoy the idea of a sister that one day he would protect. Nicky was a different matter. Davey thought he was – pooey! stinky! yucky! and complained about being kept awake at night. As far as Davey was concerned the biggest problem was that he was going to have to share his room with Nicky.  
"Do I have to; he's a pain in the…" His father stopped him with a look.  
"It won't be for a while, Davey; not until he's old enough to sleep in another room."  
"Why can't Nicky share with Eva?"  
"Because…" Mike stopped. Where was the problem? He'd shared a room with his sister until he was thirteen and they moved to a bigger apartment. He looked at his stubborn eldest son. "Well I guess you have a point. As I said – we don't have to do anything yet and who knows what could happen."

What happened was that Mike was promoted from Sergeant to Lieutenant and with his rise they rented a bigger apartment. When the time came the three kids had their own rooms. They didn't move far; just along the block and so little changed in Davey's everyday life.

Davey was growing up fast. He started to wince when his mom called him Davey and only his beloved Bubba Starsky could get away with "Dov". Mike started to call him "Dave" and Lily soon followed suit. Nicky tried to call him Davey and got lammed for it. When Mike took "David!" to his room for a showdown all his son could say was "he asked for it."  
Eva called him anything she liked – Dave loved her too much to get mad with her.

As time went on the old gang started to drift apart; Dave spent most of his time with his two best friends – Mike Levosky and Stevie O'Connor. Stevie moved away after his dad left home and his mom had to go to the hospital for a long stay. Dave heard that Stevie had gone to a foster home. Mike was still there.

Dad had a strange attitude to Mike Levovsky. He was happy for Dave to be friends with the son of his own childhood friend – but Dave sensed that there was a problem. Like the problem with Uncle Joe.

Uncle Joe was an old friend of the family. He lived in a house a few blocks away and Mike and Dave were always welcome to play in its yard. Despite Dave's fear of heights they built a tree-house and spent hours up there being knights in King Arthur's Court or brave Sioux or even defending the Alamo. They never played cops and robbers. Dave's dad was a cop and Mike's dad…well Dave never had really known that story.

Uncle Joe ran a 'family business' and all the other 'families' in the neighborhood respected him. His word was law in the community that didn't always follow the same rules as the rest of the world. His ties with Dave's dad went back to their own childhoods as first generation kids of parents who spoke English with heavy accents - and preferred to stick to Yiddish – and who still followed the ways of 'the old country'.  
They had always been close and neither man was going to allow professional differences to overshadow a personal relationship. Once, and only once, Mike was forced to deal with one of Joe's men – but Joe had no hard feelings about it. Joe was not a man to believe in clairvoyants or reading the cards but once he had been to a fairground fortune-teller and she had told him two things that worried him. The first was something that he thought nobody outside his immediate family could ever know; the second was that one day he would have to protect the family of a close friend. A deep gut feeling told Joe that she meant the Starsky family.

Joe and his wife couldn't have kids; they didn't know why and they put it behind them. Joe had two favorite kids, Mike Levovsky and Davey Starsky. They were much the same age and their fathers had grown up with Joe. Joe had held both boys on his knee at their Brith and he watched over them. They were welcome to come and play in his backyard and to run riot around his house. He treated them when their parents couldn't always afford to, and he made sure that neither of them missed out on parades and fairs. As far as the two little boys were concerned he was 'Uncle Joe' and they knew that they would be able to turn to him whatever happened.

They were in seventh grade and Dave was getting reputation for trouble in school.  
He was stubborn and he got bored easily. As long as he liked the class there was no problem but if he didn't like it, at best he switched off and at worst he walked out. The exception was math. He loved math in all its forms. And he got bored when the class was held up for an explanation to one of the slower kids. One day he exploded.  
"Hey dummy; teacher explained twice already; get your ass in gear!"  
Dave's ass was stinging when he left the principal's office. That turned him against the teacher. He did his work and as soon as he'd finished he'd walk out of the class. After the third walk-out no-one even tried to stop him. Mike and Lily sat in the Principal's office and listened to the litany of their son's 'walk-outs';  
"I should suspend him Mr. Starsky; but look…" The principal held out Dave's math papers – straight As! Mike winked at his wife and said to the Principal, "I guess that proves something; but I can't think what."  
In other classes Dave did anything from OK to "D". He fooled around in English class and turned out to be a great mimic; history, he decided, was stories and as for geography; he could find his way around the city – what more did he need to know?  
He loved sport…given the opportunity he could be found practicing his shots at the hoop or just running round and round the track. He liked drawing and the art teacher encouraged him. He paid attention in shop too and he started to make models at home. Truth was that he and the other kids were mostly interested in the new girl in the class – but by the time their hormones had really kicked into gear Sharman had moved on.

He made his way in school and survived. That's what he was doing out in the streets too. It wasn't easy being a cop's kid in the neighborhood they lived in. He bloodied a few noses – and came home with black eyes and split lips. But somehow he was protected…Uncle Joe was always there.

Then things started to get really tough. Bubba Starsky insisted that her grandson must be Bar Mitzvah and to his horror she ruled that "in English, it isn't for real". So Dave started attending Sunday school to learn his Hebrew and read the portion of the Torah that would fall on the Saturday after his thirteenth birthday.  
He settled into a routine. Sunday morning he went to Hebrew class then Joe took him to the deli. One day they watched a group of old men sitting around the table fingering photographs and weeping. Dave asked Joe what they were talking about. "The old country." Later he would learn that these 'old' men were the same age as his father – but their families hadn't left the 'old country' when his grandparents' generation had done so. They had lived through the horrors of the war that Dave's dad had gone to fight. He didn't ask again.

The big day arrived and Dave, dressed in his new suit, stood tying his tie.  
Bubba Starsky presented him with a beautifully embroidered velvet pouch containing his new yarmulke and a prayer shawl. "The pouch and the shawl were your grandfather's (God rest his soul) and I want you to have them darling."  
There was also a silver ring in the pouch. "It was my father's; now it's yours"

It fitted his middle finger and he vowed that even if he got it stuck one day on his pinky, he'd never stop wearing it.

His dad walked with him to the Temple.  
"Nervous?"  
"No!"  
"David…."  
"Well Ok sure I am – in fact I'm trying not to shit my pants!"  
His dad grinned at him. "Me too."

Somehow he made it; he didn't fluff his lines – well he didn't think he had anyhow. His dad and his uncles and Joe were all called to read their parts too and Dave stood amongst them feeling strangely different. Officially he was now a man – he counted in the synagogue; _but I'm still a kid!_  
He could feel his mom and his grandmother watching him proudly.  
He noticed the tension on the way to the hall where they were going to celebrate. Dad's colleagues were in uniform and lined the short walk from the Synagogue to the hall; dad told him that it was his 'guard of honor' – but somehow Dave didn't believe him. All through the evening he noticed that Joe was giving quiet orders and that the cops came and went. It was time for the speeches. Dave rose to his feet and swallowed hard. A couple of days ago he'd started croaking uncontrollably; he'd made it through the ceremony in the same voice but he could feel the tell-tale tickle in his throat again.  
_Hey come on God, give me a break!_

"Ladles and Jellyspoons…." He paused while the audience laughed and ignored his mom's horrified gaze. His dad was chortling under his breath – they'd prepared this one.  
"Ladies and Gentlemen; today I became a man……." He thanked his family and the Rabbi and everyone else and sat down gratefully, blushing to the roots of his dark hair that his mom had insisted be cut short for the occasion. He turned to say something to his mom and his voice went totally out of control again.

Life went on as normal even if his voice was playing games with him.  
He went through what seemed like months of misery when every time he opened his mouth he didn't know what would happen. Then one day his little boy's voice disappeared and he spoke with a low voice that would win over women's hearts with no trouble at all. His dad joked about teaching him to shave.  
He was lucky – acne passed him by, but he did get a few zits.

Life went on. School finished and the summer was a time for fireworks and day-trips to Coney Island and even Atlantic City. Dave hung out with his friends and got into scrapes and had a good time…but he could tell that something was wrong somewhere.

School started again and the work got a little tougher – and to Dave's mind more boring. He continued his pattern of working at what he found interesting and doing the minimum to avoid flunking for the rest…sometimes he flunked.  
Some families celebrated Christmas, some celebrated Hanukah and the period just melted into one blur of 'holidays' for most of the kids in the neighborhood. Eva asked the questions that the youngest child traditionally asks at the Hanukah meal and he was proud to answer some of them. Next year Nicky would be old enough to take the part.

The New Year brought heavy falls of snow and Dave and the other kids built snowmen and pelted each other with snowballs. One morning Dave and the others went down to the street to find that the snowman they had built the day before had been deliberately wrecked. They thought no more about it – and decided to take their revenge on the snowman some other kids had made around the block.  
Winter turned to Spring; Spring turned to Summer….

A New York childhood…

…a Brooklyn murder.

Throughout his life Dave would always remember that day in detail.

He would remember screaming at Nicky to hurry up with his cereal or they'd be late again.  
He would remember how he'd tried to tie Megan Murphy's braids to the back of her chair in history class.  
He would remember being the fastest kid on the track that day.  
He would remember running up the stairs to the apartment and dumping his books in his room.  
He would remember that Eva was getting excited about a new doll.  
He would remember his mom coming into his room holding Nicky by the hand. "Dave sweetheart, I forgot to buy milk; run down to the store and get some before they close."  
He would remember thinking that he wanted to finish this math first but the store would close soon.  
He would remember seeing his dad turn off the street and start to walk towards him from the other end of the alley.  
He would remember the two men get out of the car and the way the car sped off.  
He would remember seeing the glint of cold blue steel in their hands.  
He would remember hiding behind the trash can in case they saw him.  
He would remember that his mouth opened but his throat froze.  
He would remember the sound of the shot as it rang out in the momentary silence that happens sometimes even in busy cities.  
He would remember his father lying…dying…in a pool of blood.  
He would remember his mother standing moaning in shock, Nicky on her hip and Eva hiding her face in her skirts.  
He would remember Joe's hand on his shoulder and his voice asking "You saw didn't you?"  
He would remember the day his father was killed for the rest of his life.

He would try not to remember the faces.  
He would try not to remember the fear.  
He would try not to remember his mother's helpless misery.  
He would try not to remember sitting Shiva as the man of the family.  
He would try not to remember the funeral.  
He would try not to remember the blazing silent anger that ate him from the inside.

He would try…but he couldn't stop the memories.  
He would try…but he couldn't stop the tears.  
He would try…but he couldn't stop the anger.  
All his life, he would go on trying.

When Joe saw his best friend's body in the alley he knew that he hadn't managed to protect him. He vowed that he would always be there for Mike's family.  
He stood by Davey and put a hand on the kid's shoulder. The kid was shaking and the bottle of milk that he'd been sent to buy lay smashed at his feet; the milk was running into the same gutter as Mike's blood and the obscene pink tide flowed to a storm-drain.

Joe knew.  
He knew who was behind this and he knew why.  
He knew that Davey had seen them; but he didn't know if they had seen him.  
He knew that Davey was in danger.  
He knew he had to get the kid out of danger or Lily would be struck by another tragedy.

He put his arm around the boy's shoulder and pulled him close. He stroked the wild curls and whispered "You saw?" He felt Davey nod.  
He pulled him closer. "We'll talk later. Come on; your mom needs us."

Joe sat with the family while they kept Shiva. His wife Annie cooked for them and the women from the block took Nicky and Eva to play with their kids and to sleep over in their apartments.  
Dave stayed beside his mother…and Uncle Joe.  
He stood between Joe and his mom at the funeral. He held his mom's hand to give her strength. His left hand crept into Joe's big paw seeking reassurance. He felt Joe squeeze his hand then withdrew it to wipe away the tears.  
He watched the Rabbi cut the edge of momma's black jacket.  
He stood still and silent as the Rabbi slashed his own lapel.  
He stayed by the grave while Joe guided mom back to the car. He stared at the dirt on the coffin and wrapped his arms around his waist in a gesture to hug himself – to hold himself together. Joe came back for him and he allowed himself to be led to the car. He put his head on his mom's lap and sobbed all the way back to the apartment.  
Next year he'd come and put a stone on his dad's grave. Next year, and every year for as long as he lived…or so he vowed.

Dave didn't go back to school. Every time he left the apartment his mother seemed to panic. He felt sick when he went into the alley and found every roundabout route to go to the store.  
He had a feeling people were watching him…and that was scary. He was becoming more and more withdrawn except for fierce outbursts of anger that he usually aimed at nothing in particular. His best friend stood by helplessly one day as Dave systematically destroyed the tree house that they had spent so much time building.  
Dave's frenzied destruction scared him and he no longer knew who to turn to for help. It was hard for Dave to call his friend by his name…Mike.

The nightmares started a couple of weeks later. Lily would run into the bedroom to soothe her son who was screaming into the darkness.  
"Dad! Look out!"  
Screaming the words that had stuck in his throat that fateful evening. Sometimes he walked in his sleep. Lily found him asleep in the bath-tub or on the sofa and once she found him curled up on the table in the kitchen, one thumb in his mouth the other hand twirling a curl. She knew that he needed help, but had no idea where to turn. She tried to speak to him about it; but the expression in his deep blue eyes frightened her and his tears broke her heart.

Joe sat on the edge of the bed and put a friendly arm around Dave's shoulder.  
"Tell me what you saw."  
"I don't know."  
"Yes you do...you'll never forget."  
"I saw dad come into the alley. I saw them get out of the car…"  
"Did you see the car?" Joe knew Davey well enough – the kid loved anything with a motor and wheels.  
"Looked like a Caddie…it was gray and had white-walls."  
"Go on."  
"They followed him and I thought they'd see me so I hid behind the trash can…"  
He started to tremble and tears rolled out of his big blue eyes that had permanent red rims since the shooting. "I tried to shout to him…but my throat just froze…I couldn't…"  
"Maybe it's best you didn't – maybe they don't know that you saw them."  
"And maybe they do."  
"Stay close to Mikey when you're out. I'll make sure that you don't get into any trouble."  
Joe left him to try to pull his mind back from the alley.

He'd maybe got it out of his system a little by talking to Joe, but the anger was still there. It grew inside him, eating at his heart and soul and turning him from the affable mischievous boy who won over the hardest heart with his big blue eyes into a tornado of rage. In his anger he returned to the frustrated temper tantrums of his childhood; if something didn't go right he flared. Even his modeling suffered. One day he was working on the propeller of a model plane – it was going to be birthday gift for Nicky; the blade of his modeling knife was not as sharp as it should be and the delicate balsa wood split irreparably; Lily heard his scream of fury and opened the bedroom door in time to see him fling the plane out of the window. He flung himself on the bed and screamed into his pillow. She sat beside him and stoked his hair.  
"Oh Davey my poor child; when you get like this nobody can reach you." She sat in silence until the storm passed.

He was jumpy too. There were plenty of old cars on the streets in their neighborhood and if one of them backfired Dave seemed to freeze on the spot. On July the Fourth he refused to leave his room and when the fireworks started his mother heard him screaming.  
The nightmares changed around that time too. He told no-one about them.

One day he came home and told his mom that he was pretty sure someone had followed him home from school. When he told her that it wasn't the first time she knew that Joe had been right all along. Davey was in danger, and like every mother in the world her instinct was to protect her young.

Lily and Joe sat at the kitchen table. The younger kids were in bed and Davey was in his room making yet another model airplane.  
"He's in real danger Lily. I'm doing my best but I can't do any more. They know he was in the alley."  
"But they don't know what he saw, Joe."  
"It doesn't matter. They know he was in the alley; so they know he could have seen their faces. That's all that matters. If they think he saw them, they think he can identify them."  
"What did he tell you?"  
"He saw them but didn't know who they were. He saw the car…you know Davey and cars! When he told me about the car I knew who it was. I'm trying to deal with it; but I can't protect Davey any more."  
"What am I going to do? Where can he go"  
"Rosa."  
"I don't have enough…I…"  
"I'll pay for his ticket. The quicker he's out of danger the better. I'll arrange it tomorrow."

The train pulled out of Grand Central Station and David slid down into his seat and stared blankly at the comic books that his mom had bought from him. He couldn't bear to watch as she faded from view but he knew that she was still waving and blowing him kisses. He was fighting back the tears. Tears of fear; tears of anger. He knew that the decision was the right one – but he was still only a kid and he loved his mom more than anyone else in the world. He was her first-born, her eldest son; it was his duty to be there at her side now that his dad was gone; and it was his duty to stay alive. He was worried about how she was going to handle Nicky. If he had stayed home he would have been the one to keep him under control – god knows he'd already done it a couple of times since dad died. Mom hadn't the heart to spank the kids and Nicky played it for every thing he could. One day David had cracked and he shoved his little brother into his bedroom.  
"You stay there until I say you can come out." He left Nicky there until after supper time; then brought him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "You want to eat this – you go apologize to momma." The smaller boy had meekly gone to his mom and apologized for his behavior; David watched from the kitchen door, munching on the sandwich. He grinned. "Your dinner's in the oven – you'd better eat it."

And who was going to be there to protect Eva; his little sister. He knew that Nicky would always put himself first and kid sisters need a brother to protect them sometimes. His distress got the better of him and he pulled his cap down over his face to hide the hot tears.

The train rumbled on into the night. David had read all of the Captain Marvel stories and the Superman ones too. He started on a Dick Tracey but it made him think of his dad and soon the words and pictures blurred as his eyes filled with tears again.  
It took three days for the train to cross the country. David tried to be interested in the scenery that flashed by his window – but to a city kid once you'd seen one endless stretch of prairie you'd seen 'em all. A few of the towns looked like sets from the cowboy movies that he loved to go to on a Saturday afternoon; but that just made him feel homesick again.

The train carried on through prairies and more High Noon towns. David ate little and only really left his seat to go to the toilet. He closed himself off from the other people around him. He knew from what Joe had said on the platform that the Conductor was keeping a (very) special eye on him. He tried to lose himself in the comics; Superman and Captain Marvel and Batman all seemed the same to him; dummies who wore their underwear outside their pants!  
He stared out of the window fighting to keep the ready tears from pouring down his face. He'd gotten to the stage where he was terrified of crying – in case he could never stop again.  
The train rattled on, the wheels played out their steady rhythm and David's mind picked it up.  
"Will I ever go back? Will I ever go back?  
Will it ever be safe? Will it ever be safe?"

He slept, his head pressed against the window.  
He slept curled up in a tight ball on the seat.  
He slept and tried not to dream.  
But the dream was always there. No matter where he went; no matter how safe he might be; the phantoms would always hover in the back of his mind. David would be haunted all his life by the sound of a single shot ringing out in the night.

He was still half-asleep when the Conductor started singing out the end of the line."Los Angeles. Los Angeles. End of the line folks."  
The sun was shining through the window and David found it hard to believe that this same sun had already risen on his mom (although he was willing to believe that it wasn't as hot back home!). He reached up and pulled his bag off the rack above his head and shuffled between a fat old lady and a guy who looked like a brush salesman, until they got to the door.  
The California sun hit him straight in the eyes. He remembered his grandmother's worries. "He has blue eyes; blue eyes are always more sensitive." And his father's patient voice "Momma, his eyes are dark blue…don't worry so."  
But his Bubba Starsky was right (wasn't she always?) and he had always been light sensitive. It took him a little longer than other people to adjust from shadow to bright light and vice versa. Not that he'd ever let it bother him – not even let anyone notice.  
He blinked and started to scan the crowd of meeters and greeters that were swarming towards the train and merging with the passengers as they climbed out of the cars.

He heard Aunt Rosa long before he saw her…and his heart skipped a beat; she sounded so much like his mom.  
"Davey! Davey darling; over here sweetheart!"  
He turned to see her waving and jumping up and down to attract his attention. Uncle Al was standing just behind her with a big grin on his face. David knew that they were going to get along just fine.  
She was all over him; holding his face between her hands, and kissing him on the forehead. Pushing him to arms' length and looking at him; "he's grown Al; he's grown since we last saw him!"  
"Of course he's grown Rosa, Nicky is what, four now? Sorry we couldn't make it to your Bar Mitzvah Dave, but your cousin's fell two weeks later and it just wasn't possible."  
David remembered his cousin and looked around for him. Al must have understood.  
"He's at school. We'll get you enrolled later in the week; give you time to find your feet; OK?"  
He nodded.  
Rosa was still gushing. "You're so like your dad…and like your mom too," she added quickly; even she realized how tactless that had been. But it was true. David was one of those people, if you saw him next to his father you'd say "the image of his dad"; but next to his mom he was her image too. He had his father's hair and eyes; but he had his mother's pretty mouth; a mouth that was beautiful on his mother and handsome on his already strong-featured face. Rosa went on, "you are going to be lady-killer Davey."  
She turned to Al. "Take his bag for him; are you tired Davey?"  
"Of course he's tired Rosa. He just spent three days on a train and ten minutes trying to keep up with you." He winked at his nephew as he spoke.

Uncle Al owned a used car lot and he took whichever car was nearest the exit when he needed to go somewhere. Today it was a '51 Cadillac. David froze for a second when he saw it…and in the back of his mind he heard a gunshot. Rosa noticed nothing – she was too busy giving him a running commentary on the sights of LA. Al noted the kid was withdrawn and decided to let him take his own time.

Rosa showed David his room. "I re-painted it for you Davey and we put a few things on the walls – you can add what you want to sweetheart. I know you'll soon have your collection like all boys do."  
He looked around the room. The bed had a blue cover on it and the drapes were the same blue. He had a bureau and a closet and a desk with a swan-neck lamp so he could do his homework. On the wall there was a trade poster of the new Ford Thunderbird and a pennant for the local baseball team. Dave resolved to replace it with the Dodgers pennant he had in his bag. His dad took him to Ebets Field as often as possible to see the team…he sniffed. Little could he imagine that in a couple of years his team would move to LA!  
Right now he had to deal with today. He put his bag on the bed and sighed. Rosa spoke gently.  
"I know it's hard Davey; take your time. We want you to feel at home. Sort out your stuff and then come to the kitchen – I made some chocolate chip cookies."  
The magic words made his eyes light up.  
Ten minutes later he had a heavy feeling in his gut…Aunt Rosa's cooking was not a patch on his mom's!  
Harvey was much the same age as Dave and Sam was eight so he didn't count. David thought it kind of funny that he thought like that about Sam but that Eva meant so much to him.  
Harvey knocked on Dave's bedroom door. Now that his cousin had come to stay Harvey was rooming with his older brother. That didn't bother him because his brother was much older and almost never home.  
"Dave, can I come in?"  
The door opened. "Sure you can; you know what my grandma would say?"  
"No."  
He did a perfect impersonation "'You can but the question is may you.' Don't worry its both the same to me." He let Harvey in. "I guess this is really your room, right?"  
"Yes, but it doesn't matter."  
"Hey, lookit, I hated the idea of having to share my room with Nicky; give me a while to settle and then maybe we can room together."  
It was a nice idea – part of Dave's natural generosity – but it never happened. Dave's nightmares never really left him; and his oldest cousin left home abruptly – so Harvey had his own room after all.

The two boys got on well. They got into all the usual scrapes to be expected of kids of their age. They smoked under the bleachers and played hooky when there was word that a movie was on location in the area. Dave was enrolled in Junior High and found himself in the same class as his cousin. Harvey was no scholar and Dave was only too happy to do his math assignments for him. Somehow they scratched through High School and started to go their separate ways. Harvey hung out with kids that worried Dave. He was drawn to them; but at the same time he was reluctant to get into trouble. His father's memory haunted him. He found an outlet for his energy by playing football and by the time he was a senior he had a jacket with a letter and a reputation with the cheer-leaders. He graduated High School more by luck than judgment and turned down the opportunity to try out for a college team. The thought of even the minimum studies that a jock was expected to follow was too much for him.

There were times when he became withdrawn and silent. When he ate his meals and retreated to his room without a word. Rosa and Al didn't know how to help him; but they did their best. When the boy woke in the night screaming because of his nightmares Al would be there with strong arms and a reassuring hug. He was sleep-walking again and it became a family joke that even Dave joined in with. "Good night – we'll find you in the morning." When Al found him asleep in a car on the lot he wondered whether the kid shouldn't see a shrink. But Dave had a shyness that made Al decide against expecting him to confide in someone he didn't know.

Dave's shyness amazed them. Rosa remembered the little boy who had hidden in his mother's skirts when she had first met him. She could recall his big blue eyes peeking out from the folds of Lily's new full-length imitation New Look skirt; the child was so cute. It took him a long time to make friends…he seemed to need to decide whether to let them into his world or not. But one thing was evident; if David took someone as a friend he would be fiercely loyal to that person. David took Harvey as a friend right from the start. He was ready to fight for his cousin – and Harvey got a few blooded noses for Dave's sake too. But other times Dave would wander off on his own and Harvey knew better than to follow him.

He got into trouble too. Other kids found a reason to pick on him…his Brooklyn accent, his fear of heights, whatever. Kids can be cruel.  
One day when he was about fifteen he was caught up in a fight; the odds were against him and he started to walk home wondering how to explain his bloody nose and bruised face to Aunt Rosa.  
He was aware that someone had been watching him and he soon found himself staring up into the friendly face of the guy who lived a couple of doors down the street. He was in uniform…a cop. Dave's heart missed a beat.  
"Looks to me like you need a little help here. Your dad should teach you how to fight."  
"My dad's dead." Dark blue eyes flashed defensively.  
The cop held out a hand.  
"John Blaine."  
"Dave Starsky. I live with my Uncle Al." He nodded towards the used car lot.  
Blaine smiled. "What about your dad?"  
"He was a cop, in New York."  
"I'd be happy to teach you how to handle yourself kid."  
"Thanks."  
Blaine took the kid under his wing. He taught him to fight (dirty and clean); he took him to the Police sports facility and encouraged him to run faster and further – working on his stamina and his speed.  
More important; Blaine was a cop and he understood. He listened quietly while Dave told him about the alley and patted the kid on the shoulder.  
"I'll be here if you need me, Dave. Any time."  
John's wife developed a soft spot for the boy too and he soon found a refuge from his aunt's culinary disasters. Dave began to see John as a surrogate father; although he was close to Uncle Al, he was uncomfortable with the company he kept sometimes.

Blaine was promoted and decided to move out to a suburb, Dave missed him; but somehow he knew that the older man would be there if he needed his help; whenever that might be.

No matter how hard he tried to put a brave face on it, the truth wouldn't go away. He missed his mom. He missed her love and her kisses…he even missed her nagging! Aunt Rosa reminded him of his mom and that hurt even more because sweet and kind as she was; no matter how much she made a big effort to treat him equally with Harvey; she wasn't his mom. When things went rough – and all teenage boys have rough times – he missed his mom. On his birthdays and on her birthdays too he felt the tears well up when they spoke on the 'phone.  
He called her every Friday; six o'clock sharp and if by six thirty LA time Lily hadn't had her call the 'phone would be ringing in the apartment and Rosa or Al would have to calm her and explain that Dave was at football practice or out on an errand. It hardly ever happened. When it did he was apologetic and miserable. "No mom…I didn't forget…it's just that…mom please…mom…_momma_…_mommy_!"

Dave had been living in LA for a couple of years when Al sprung the big surprise. Lily was coming to spend a week with them. For three days Dave was running around trying to work out what he could give his mom as a gift. Rosa found him brooding outside a storefront window; staring at the watches in the display stand.  
"You don't need to give her anything Davey. She loves you and seeing you will be the only gift she needs."  
He blew all his savings on the watch anyway and had to endure his mother's tears and hugs. But it was worth it. He loved her so much.

After Lily went back to New York he ran wild. He was missing for three days and Al finally turned to John Blaine for help.  
Blaine already had an idea where David might be. There were reports of a gang of kids hot-wiring cars and joy-riding them in the deserted streets of the Downtown area after the offices had closed and their employees had returned to their safe suburban homes.  
The next time a patrol car was called out to investigate an accident Blaine went along for the ride. They arrived to see a mid-sized sedan lying in its roof; one of the passengers was half out of the window and he wasn't moving. Two other kids were running towards another car. A third was running towards a side-street; John spotted the distinctive dark curls and yelled to the other cops to 'leave this one to me.' He caught up with Dave just as the boy was about to vault a low wall and run into an alley.

"David! Do you really want to go into that dark alley alone?"

John watched the kid freeze. It was a low shot but it worked. By the time Blaine was alongside of him, Dave's shoulders were heaving with the sobs he was trying to repress. Blaine put an arm around him. "I'm taking you in. I'm not going to book you – but you can watch your friends go down and decide if that is where you want to go too." Two hours later he took a chastened David back to his aunt and uncle. "He's learned his lesson, Al; don't be hard on him." Al was too sorry for the kid to be mad with him. He also had a certain admiration for David's spunk. He followed him to his room. "Dave, please, don't ever do that again…do you really want me to have to explain to your mom?" Two dark blue eyes glanced at him from under the dark curls…and a lop-sided grin spread across the boy's face. "No, I guess I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

The shock came two days later….Bobby Schneider didn't survive the crash.  
Dave turned in on himself becoming more and more withdrawn. He would disappear all day and when he came home the tell-tale smell of smoke hung on his clothes. Then one day he seemed to snap out of it and was the old joking, charming and totally infuriating Dave again.

He had a reputation with the girls. They fell for his deep blue eyes and his dark curls that he tried with little success to keep in the fashionable 'DA' style that he carefully sculpted every morning.  
He might not have enjoyed biology class but like every red-blooded teenage male he pricked up his ears when they got to the rabbit. He learned what he needed to know and put it to good use under the bleachers or in the back of a car in the drive-in. He was the cheerleaders' favorite when he was out on the field – and he had his pick of them after the game. He was careful and always made sure he had a supply of rubbers; he had no intention of being hauled in front of the marrying-judge with a shot-gun at his head.

His exploits on the field made him a hero to the younger kids who turned out to watch every game the school played. Dave was a quarterback who rarely got suckered; he could outrun most of the opposition and the memory of the one guy who got the better of him rankled for years to come.

One younger kid watched Dave play in admiration; he tried to hang around the football players as much as possible and soon won his place in their group by providing illicit beer and a steady supply of cigarettes that didn't cost as much as in the stores. He knew he'd never make the team – he was too skinny to make the grade, but he was already a hustler and the girls fell for him the same way that they fell for Dave. He quickly earned the nickname of 'Huggy' and he added 'The Bear' to make it sound tougher.  
He dropped out of school and out of sight not long after that; Dave's life was changing fast and he hardly noticed.

Al had taught the boys to drive as soon as their legs were long enough to reach the pedals. He also taught them how to keep a car tuned and do the basic maintenance on it (they taught themselves to hotwire).  
Dave took on a paper round and ran errands for the local store and scrimped and saved every nickel and dime that came his way. Both boys got the official tuition and the cost of a driver's license for their sixteenth birthdays; a couple of months later Dave laid his cash on the kitchen table and asked Al what he could afford. Al showed him a Mustang that had a low mileage.  
"It's cheap because it needs a little work but the engine's good. I'll send you down to a friend of mine; he'll repair the bodywork for you. I think you can afford it – if not some of my friends can give you work to pay for it." Dave bit his lip – he knew the kind of friends Al meant. Dave looked under the hood and couldn't see anything that he didn't know how to deal with  
Al took Dave to his friend's body shop and Benny introduced him to a young black man who was already making himself a reputation as a wizard at tuning and paint-work. Merle looked at the Mustang and at the kid holding the keys. "What color do you want it?"  
"I'll leave it up to you."  
Merle grinned. "OK kid; and seeing as you're Al's nephew, I'll do it as a favor…on one condition."  
"What's that?" the kid looked up at him with dark blue eyes that flashed cold for a second.  
"You send all your friends to Merle."  
Dave grinned. "I'll do that Merle; I promise."  
"Come back in a week."

Dave was determined not to be indebted to anyone – least of all any shady friend of Uncle Al. He resolved to pay Merle for the job and he took a job as a waiter in a local diner. He graduated to short-order cook and ended up eating some of his mistakes…anything was better than Aunt Rosa's weird concoctions.

Aunt Rosa had taken the idea of international cooking and turned it on its head. Not for her 'Hawaiian salad" with bits of cheese and lumps of canned pineapple. Long before Wolfgang Puck became the idol of Sunset Boulevard she was serving pizzas with baloney, shrimp and pineapple. Her curried chicken soup did more damage to the family's guts than good chicken soup was supposed to do. David had never imagined that anyone could do to pot-roast what his Aunt Rosa managed to do. No wonder he turned to diners and hot-dog stands!

The Mustang was under a tarp and Dave held his breath. Merle was a showman and he was playing this one out for all he could get.

"I tweaked the valves a little; but kid you'd already done everything that was needed there. I put a new exhaust pipe on too."  
Dave flashed him a dead-pan stare. "It didn't need a new exhaust!"  
"It didn't need one but man it _needed_ this one." Merle grinned as he lifted the edge of the tarp enough to reveal an oversized chrome pipe; "man this baby is going to sing for its supper."  
Dave grinned; he'd seen one of those pipes before – on a hotrod that his older cousin and his friends went around in.  
"Now I suppose you want to see the rest of Merle's magic."  
"I was wondering when you'd ask."  
Merle pulled off the tarp and the Mustang stood gleaming in the late afternoon sun. He'd painted it pale blue and put little stars along the sill-line and the wheel arches. Dave whistled. "Beeyooteeful." He exclaimed. He skipped over to the driver's door and opened it to admire the work inside. He had told Merle that he didn't want anything too flashy inside the car and the artist had taken him at his word. The seats were covered in black leather-look and the wheel had been given the same treatment. Merle had added a big rev-counter to the dashboard and that was all. Dave took his place and turned the key. The engine growled gently and he gunned it a couple of times to listen to the fine-tuned rhythm. He closed the door and winked at Merle.  
"Just great buddy; I'll be back every time I need a new set of wheels!"

The car added to his sex appeal – not that it needed any help. He loved them and left them and went his merry way.

He needed a job. Al had plenty of contacts…but he didn't want that kind of a job. He and Harvey drifted apart. Although he didn't know it, Dave was reproducing his father's pattern of ending up on the opposite side of the tracks from the kids he grew up with.

He took a job driving a cab. He drove the cab in the day and worked in the diner at night. He was saving up to be able to take an apartment of his own…he needed to spread his wings. The years drifted by…he turned down a job for a friend of Al who needed a good quick driver…the guy who took the job got five-to-ten in the County Jail.

He dated a girl for about a year…and ran fast when her mom started talking about 'conversion classes' and meeting the priest. He had a few other steady girls but nothing really made him feel that he had met the woman he wanted to make his life with. He had a vision of how happy his parents had been and he wanted the same – without the unhappy ending. He saw himself one day with two or three kids and a pretty wife and a steady job…but for the life of him he wasn't sure what that job would be. He was haunted by his father and how he had hero-worshiped him…and he heard the shot in the night over and over again.

Although he wasn't running with the kind of guys Harvey mixed with, he sometimes strayed a little close to the fine line between the law and crime. He was streetwise and would have made a great hustler if he'd wanted to. Just once he went out with Harvey to settle a dispute for Uncle Al.

The two cousins were alike; somehow a gene had worked its way through Lily's side of the family to give them a similar profile…and yet the Starsky genetics won on most counts. Harvey had light brown straight hair that contrasted with Dave's dark curls. Both boys had blue eyes but again Dave could put his gaze to better use. They set out that night to intimidate a bad payer.

They two young men walked into the bar and went straight to the backroom where they knew there was an illicit game of poker being played.  
"Guy in here called Joe?" Dave's low steady voice not so much asked as demanded.  
A shabby little man with wire-rimmed glasses and straggly mustache looked around furtively; no-one answered. Dave winked at Harvey. "Looks like we found him." The two young men walked over to stand either side of the weasel in glasses. Harvey sat down on a chair beside him and Dave positioned himself on the table in front of Joe. He leaned forward and stared at his prey for a moment. Joe grinned around the place as if to say 'kid thinks he's tough'.  
Then Dave leaned forward and removed the other man's glasses, carefully folding the bars and handing them to Harvey. Joe looked more and more nervous…he thought for sure that if Dave had removed his glasses it was because he was going to hit him.  
"Hey listen guys…what is this?"  
The others in the room knew who had sent these two young toughs and shut up.  
"You owe a little money, Joe. You don't pay your bills." Dave smiled faintly as he spoke.  
"That's right Joe. You didn't pay your bill." Harvey was playing 'Little Sir Echo' to his cousin.  
"Let me explain a few things to you Joe." Dave continued.  
"When you get your car fixed it costs money. The parts, and the time and all. And Al, that's my uncle Al," he motioned to Harvey, "and his dad; well Al he has to pay his mechanic and he has to pay his bills for the parts. And you know what Joe? He also has to pay the payroll taxes and the other taxes on that money. Now, not unreasonably when my Uncle Al puts out a bill, he expects it to be paid so as he can pay his bills. Do you follow me?"  
Joe was mesmerized by the young man in front of him. He couldn't avoid his gaze.  
The gaze suddenly hardened. "Now Joe, it just so happens that my Uncle Al has to pay his bills right now. I'm here to explain to you why you should pay your bills. I'm not a violent guy, Joe. I manage to keep pretty cool – but Harvey here…well Harvey learned to box at school…and you know how it is Joe…Al's my uncle and I love him dearly – I'd do an errand for him any time, know what I mean…but Harvey well it's a bit more personal for Harvey…Al's his dad. Now I'm going to ask you really nicely to pay us the one hundred twenty five dollars you owe to Uncle Al and then I'm going to the bar to get myself a beer. And you can settle up with Harvey. OK?" He winked imperceptibly and there was a menace in that slight movement that made Joe turn to look at Harvey – who cracked his knuckles and grinned.  
Dave stood up and walked out of the room; turning in the doorway to wink once more at Joe.  
Driving back to Al's in Dave's Mustang the two cousins went back over it laughing.  
"Did you see the guy's face when you got up to leave, Dave? I thought he was going to piss his pants."  
"He paid up though didn't he?"  
"Yea; hey are you sure you don't want to work for Benny? I mean you have what he would call great powers of persuasion."  
"No, I'll help you out from time to time – but I can't …I just can't cross the line."  
His voice was distant and Harvey knew…

Bang! The shot rang out in the darkest part of Dave's brain.

The boys had been drinking alcohol long before they turned twenty-one. They knew where to get beer and that was enough for them. They'd take a few bottles and a couple of girls down to the beach near the pier and spend long summer evenings having a little fun. Life went on around them. They took little interest in what the politicians were doing – until they had the right to vote why should they care?  
Dave knew where he was the day Kennedy was shot, but he couldn't remember the girl's name.

Once they were old enough to hit the bars legally they started frequenting a place set up in a cellar somewhere near Pico. The skinny black kid who had worshiped Dave on the football field worked there and they occasionally gave him a hand behind the bar when the boss was away and the crowds got too much for one bartender.  
Dave occasionally did a little unofficial 'bouncing' making sure that trouble happened out on the sidewalk and not in the bar itself. One look from him and many a drunk sidled out of the place before he was thrown out.  
One time a rival 'family' tried to home in on Benny's patch and this bar was in the middle of the territory. Dave and Harvey were drinking and joking with 'The Bear' when the two toughs came in. They stood to one side and listened while the bar-owner was informed of his choices which were to either pay 'insurance' to their boss or to wish he had better straight insurance than he had right now. The two cousins knew that Benny didn't collect from this bar anyway. Dave stepped forward and positioned himself between the brawnier of the two toughs and the bar-owner.  
"Is there some kind of communication problem here Mac?" He seemed to exaggerate his native Bronx accent as he asked the question with an innocent stare.  
"No problem, kid keep your nose out from where it ain't welcome."  
Starsky turned to the bar-owner. "Is it my business Ted?"  
"It could be…you know Benny after all."  
The tough guy took a swing at Dave and caught him off balance; the younger man steadied himself against the bar and took a breath before ducking down as if he was about to tackle on the field and ramming his opponent hard in the gut with his head; he followed it with a quick left-right below the belt and his would-be assailant doubled up hissing in pain.  
As soon as he saw his cousin go into action Harvey tapped the other guy on the shoulder and chin met fist as he turned to see what was going on. Ted reached for the 'phone and called the cops and Harvey and Dave paid for their beers and left before any possible trouble came their way.  
When the cops asked the two men behind the bar what had happened they got blank stares. The two toughs were still too stunned to protest. The bar-owner was never bothered again.

And so life went on. Dave was gathering a useful little nest-egg together but he was still too unsettled to know where to build the nest. He yearned to be able to go back to New York and be near his mom; but common sense told him to stay where he was.  
He took an occasional assignment from Benny. He honed his pool-playing skills (and added to his savings the easy way) and he flitted from one girl to another like a bee in a flower garden.

Life was OK.

About a month after his twenty-second birthday he wished he had taken the tryout for the college team. He came home from his shift to find Rosa in tears staring at an envelope addressed to her nephew. Uncle Sam had invited him to the ball – and there was no refusing the invitation.

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