This is a true story. However, no names have been changed to protect the innocent--because nobody was innocent.  Besides—it took place in the 1920’s and everyone involved is already dead anyway.

 

Dora was a meek and mild-mannered child. This was true in part because that was just her nature and partly because Nell, Dora’s mother, was a no-nonsense kind of gal and she would not hesitate to wield a razor strap if Dora got out of line. Back then spanking was not illegal.  Nobody cared if you smacked a kid who misbehaved—or even if he hadn’t. My most reliable sources tell me that getting whipped with a razor strap is vastly different than getting a normal spanking. In fact, it may well border on being abused. But that's a different story.

 

You would think that a meek, mild-mannered child would stay out of trouble. But that's not always the case.  Bullies prey upon those who are perceived to be weaker than they. They seem to naturally possess this built in sonar that enables them to zero in on a victim from 100 yards away. And someone zeroed in on Dora.

 

Abigail came from one of the very few affluent families residing in east Akron. It was odd because in the mid 1920's most of the money lived on the west side of town. Still does. But again, that's a different story.

 

Now it wasn't enough that Abigail had more outfits than she could wear and so many toys she forgot she had them. It meant nothing to her that she had food to spare while to so many other children it was considered a treat if they had meat once a week. It didn’t matter that she received shiny packages with bows containing expensive gifts at Christmas time while other kids were lucky if they received a couple of pencils, a peppermint stick, and an orange in their stockings. None of these things satisfied Abigail. Only one thing brought her deep inner gratification--beating up other children--especially Dora.

 

Four times Abigail clobbered Dora just as she was leaving the school ground. After each trouncing, Dora arrived home with torn clothes and tear stains streaking her dirty face. Finally, Nell decided she'd seen enough. She threatened the whimpering Dora: "If you come home crying one more time I'm going to whip you." And Dora knew she meant it.

 

Panic struck the heart of poor Dora. The idea of contending with Abigail was terrifying. But the alternative--getting the razor strap--was unbearable.  So she began to plot.  I guess with the right inspiration, even a mouse can become a mobster.

 

Every day Abigail and Dora took the same route along East Market Street to and from school.  The sidewalks flourished with overgrown maple and pine trees and lofty green hedges that concealed driveways, creating many places for an assailant to hide.  Dora used this to her advantage.

 

It was Good Friday and all the girls would be wearing new Easter dresses to school-- if the family could afford one. Dora didn't have a new dress, but she just knew that Abigail would be parading around in hers trying to upstage all the other girls.  Nell had already been baking pies at the Cottage Lunch Restaurant for a good 3 hours now, so there was nobody to question her dressing in her dingiest play clothes on a school day.  She scoured the basement until she found a small pail and hid it in a brown paper sack along with her good school attire. She left earlier than usual, rushing to her stakeout. The red brick house at the intersection of Johns Avenue and East Market Street became her headquarters.

 

The west side of the yard along Johns Avenue was closed in by a 6 foot wooden fence, while the part of the yard facing East Market Street was shielded by a row of large hedges that were badly in need of trimming. Dora smiled when she saw that the previous night’s rain had produced a nice mud hole at the end of the hedgerow.  She squatted by a knothole in the fence and waited.

 

She had only been there a few minutes when suddenly a tall man wearing a tan trench coat and wide brimmed hat burst through the side door of the big brick house. Dora's heart pounded rapidly in her chest and she held her breath. If he looked to his left, she would be discovered. But the man stopped at the sidewalk, lit a cigarette, and strode down the street in the opposite direction. A long, slow sigh escaped Dora's lips.

 

Every few minutes Dora peeked through the knothole. Finally she saw Abigail coming down the sidewalk with 3 other girls. Sure enough, she was wearing a new dress-- a fancy, pink one that was fluffed out at the bottom and decorated with lace, pearls and ribbons. She twirled around on the sidewalk and giggled while the other girls admired it.

 

Dora grabbed the pail and dashed to the mud hole at the end of the fence. Dragging the pail through the murky puddle, Dora scraped up globs of mud and filthy water.  She sat perfectly still, listening, waiting, almost breathless, until just the right moment.  Abigail approached the end of the hedge, totally unaware of Dora's presence.  Just as Abigail stepped past the hedge, Dora sprang out of hiding, slinging her pail.  The muddy water slapped Abigail's face, dousing her hair and splattering all over her new dress.  Abigail fell backwards onto the ground as Dora landed on top of her.  Her companions stood wide-eyed and motionless as Abigail’s long, brown braids were nearly yanked from her head and as pretty pink pearls and lace flew every which way.  Abigail squirmed, screamed and kicked her legs trying to escape, but was unable to force Dora off of her. Tears rolled down Abigail's cheeks as Dora’s open palms struck her face.  

 

From somewhere behind Dora, a plop of mud splattered in Abigail's face.  Shocked, Dora turned to see one of Abigail's friends scooping up mud and laughing. “Get her, Dora!  Get her!” the other two cheered, clapping their hands and jumping up and down.  Another glob of mud sailed past Dora, only an inch from her head.  Dora stopped slugging and held Abigail down as the other 3 girls pitched grass and dirt.  The one-sided battle suddenly stopped when the school bell’s peal blasted from the tower.

 

Dora jumped up and dashed behind the fence to get her brown paper sack. An amused crowd had gathered across the street, laughing and pointing at Abigail as she struggled to pull herself off the ground. Her dress was unrecognizable, mud was clumped in her hair, and her stockings were ripped. Her left eye was blackened and dirt clung to her right ear.   Dora walked towards Abigail, leaning over the pick up her pail. As their eyes met briefly, Dora noticed a bloody tooth dangling from the left side of Abigail’s swollen, bloody lips. Their eyes met briefly, and then Dora started towards the school, leaving Abigail standing all alone.

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School was out for the summer. A three tiered white cake was set on a highly polished dark cherry table with 12 chairs placed around it. Abigail rested on the stiff, blue sofa in the parlor, waiting for more of her guests to arrive for her birthday party.  Her eye was no longer puffy, and her lip was healed. She rang a small, gold bell and a servant appeared. “Would you care for some tea?” the servant’s dry voice cracked.

 

“Yes, I think I would,” Dora said as she gazed at her reflection in the shiny silver tray, daintily taking one of the white porcelain cups. The girls sipped the steamy tea and giggled as the servant adjusted his vest and disappeared into the kitchen.

 

Dora and Abigail were nearly inseparable right up until high school when Dora met an interesting young fellow--a buddy of one of the boarders at Nell’s boarding house.  But that’s a different story.