Leaving Home

BY MICHAEL GOTH

April 1968

Trax Records was a favorite hangout for high school and college aged students in the Rogers Park section of Chicago. Nicolette Dupree stopped in on most Tuesdays – new release day – after classes let out at Alexander Hamilton High school, where she was a senior.

As her home was only a few blocks from the high school, she walked home from school on most afternoons.

Trax was in a small strip mall along with a family owned bakery and drug store. Up until the previous February she had walked home from school with her best friend Alexandra. Two days after Valentine’s Day, Ally had dropped out of school and run away from home to join a hippie commune. One located in an abandoned and city condemned building near Chicago Stadium. 

It was now halfway through April and she had not heard from Alexandra – her closest friend of 10 years – since. 

As she entered the record store, she looked around, her eyes coming to rest on a lanky long-haired man in his early 20’s. Nicolette had spoken to him once or twice and had learned that he played the sax in a jazz fusion rock band popular in the city. The young musician often came into Trax to buy records – rock, jazz and some classical – and handout flyers advertising up-coming shows by his band. 

As she walked further into the store, Nicolette was greeted by a salesclerk, a young woman not too much older than herself. The young girl was dressed in tie dyed shirt and high-rise jeans with fringe bottoms. In a white sweater and black skirt, Nicolette suddenly felt overdressed. She gave a warm smile to the Trax associate, who had helped her in the past and who she believed was named Angela.

It had been late the previous year that she and Ally had come into Trax and her best friend had bought The Piper at the Gates of Dawn by Pink Floyd. The previous summer Ally had been obsessed with The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Nicolette had loved Pepper too, but Ally had started smoking pot, believing it would heighten her connection to the music. 

She knew that Ally had always had emotional problems. She had reminded Nicolette of the character of Lisa Shilling in the novel Lisa, Bright and Dark. On some days, Ally was fun loving and full of laughter, while others she was cut off and distant, lost in her own world.

In October, Ally’s older brother Bobby – who she had worshipped – had been killed in Vietnam near Khe Sanh by a Viet Cong sniper while his platoon had been on patrol. Bobby had died instantly, and his C.O. had blown the V.C. out of the tree to his own death.

Ally had not been able to deal with the pain that had been eating her up like a ruthless cancer. What had made matters worse was that in their own sorrow, Ally’s parents seemed to have essentially forgotten that their daughter was even alive. To Nicolette it frequently seemed that Alexandra’s parents had blamed her for living while Bobby had died.

Ally’s only solace had been through music, her only escape, drugs. With The Piper at the Gates of Dawn on constant play, Ally had started dropping acid near the Christmas holiday and had slowly begun to lose her grip on reality. 

Nicolette walked over to the new release wall where recently released albums and ones that remained bestsellers were located. Albums that included Magical Mystery Tour by The Beatles, Disraeli Gears by Cream, After Bathing at Baxters by Jefferson Airplane, and Bob Dylan’s John Wesley Harding. She already had Magical Mystery Tour and John Wesley Harding and wasn’t interested in the others as she didn’t much care for hard rock. 

After scanning the shelves several times, she found the album that she had come in looking for… Horizontal by The Bee Gees. While getting ready for school that morning, she’d heard the album’s latest single “And the Sun Will Shine” on the radio and had finally made up her mind to buy the album’s latest single, “And the Sun Will Shine”. Besides for the music itself, Barry Gibb was easy on the eyes. With the obvious exception of Paul McCartney, Barry was probably the sexiest man in rock n’ roll.

Pulling strawberry blonde hair back behind her shoulders, she looked at the track listing on the L.P.’s back cover. Besides “And the Sun Will Shine” there was the previous two singles “World” and “Massachusetts,” the later a sizable hit late the previous year. 

She took the album and walked over to the check-out counter, and the salesgirl who had greeted her earlier, came back behind the counter. 

“Find everything okay?” smiled the clerk, who’s Trax name badge identified her as Angela. Nicolette had thought so.

“Yeah, thanks for asking,” Nicolette handed her album over to Angela.

“Oh, good choice,” Angela smiled. “I love ‘Massachusetts,’ ‘And the Sun Will Shine’ is good too.” 

“Me too,” said Nicolette. “When I was getting ready for school this morning, I heard ‘And the Sun Will Shine’ on the radio. Honestly, I’ve been thinking of buying the album for a while now since I liked their first album so much.” 

“Okey-Doke, your total will be $3.49. Oops, I forgot to hit total. Make that $3.76.” 

Nicolette handed Angela a $5 bill and the salesclerk handed her back $1.74. 

“Would you like your receipt in the bag?”

“Sure, that would be great.” 

Angela handed Nicolette a Trax bag, the girls exchanged goodbyes, and Nicolette walked out of the store – and into a commotion.

About 20 feet up the street, a Volkswagen Beetle was pulling up to the curb with a squad car – cherries flashing – right behind it.

Two beefy looking members of the Chicago Police Department climbed out of the squad car, and walked over to the Beetle, hands on their service revolvers. To Nicolette it appeared as if the officers were looking for trouble. By the looks of the half a dozen young people gathered around, they were thinking the same thing. 

A man and woman – somewhere in their early 20s – got out of the passenger and driver sides of the car. The officer near the passenger side pushed the young woman onto the park lawn and ordered her in no uncertain terms not to move, causing Nicolette and those around her to gasp. 

Though she was too far away to clearly make out the words, Nicolette thought she heard the officer on the driver’s side of the car tell the young man to join his friend (probably his girlfriend) on the lawn. He did as he was told without argument. 

The police officers began to search the car… the glovebox, under the seats, between the seats. She suspected they were looking for drugs. One of the officers pulled the keys from the ignition and with an angry look on his face, walked back to the trunk, opened it and began to rummage through its contents. Again, finding nothing. 

With a look of uncontrolled anger and hatred on their faces, the officers grabbed the young couple, threw them up against the side of the car and began to frisk them violently. Still not finding the drugs they were hoping for, one of the officers tossed the keys into the grass, then both walked back to the squad car, got in and drove away. 

“So much for civil liberties,” said a young man dressed in a monk’s robe that she had not noticed before. 

“I sure hope they are okay,” said Nicolette shaking her heads sadly. 

The robed man walked over to the Beetle and asked the young couple if they were okay. Once they got back into their Volkswagen and drove away, he walked back to where Nicolette was standing. All the other spectators had returned to their previous business. “They seem okay, if a little shaken.” 

“That’s good,” said Nicolette. “Thanks for checking on them.” 

“Seeing whether people are all right or not is one of the things that I do. I’m sure that you are wondering why I’m dressed the way that I am.” 

“Yeah, the thought crossed my mind,” she smiled.

“Well then, let me start out by introducing myself. I’m John.” 

“I’m Nicolette,” the teenager shook John’s hand. “Nicolette Dupree.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Nicolette. I’m a member of a commune.” 

“Oh,” said Nicolette sadly, thinking of Ally.

“Why would that make you sad?” said John. “By the look on your face, it looks as if you don’t approve.” 

“Two months ago,” she said sadly, “My best friend, Alexandra, dropped out of school and ran away from home to join a hippie commune.” 

“I’m sorry,” said John kindly. “I really am sorry to hear that. I’m not a member of that sort of commune though.” 

“What type is it?” asked Nicolette with curiosity. 

“To answer that,” said John, “first, I must ask if you know who St. Francis of Assisi is?” 

“Of course,” said Nicolette. “My family is Catholic. We go to St. Nicholas.” 

“I know it well. In our commune, or as we call it, our Franciscan Order, we try to help the community in any way that we can. We live a quite simple life, based on the teachings of St. Francis. We spend part of our day in prayer and meditation. We also grow our own food. We often grow more food than we could ever possibly need, so we donate it to local churches, liked St. Nicholas, to help the community, by giving to the hungry.”

John sighed sadly before continuing. “As you are no doubt aware, the world is turning upside down even as we speak. The ongoing war in Vietnam, rioting across the nation, racial tension. We try to provide spiritual guidance to those who need it. We believe that we offer the community a direction away from hate, violence and fear.”

“It certainly needs it,” she replied. 

“Wouldn’t you like to see all the nations of the world – including our own – just put away their dreadful weapons of destruction. And wouldn’t it not be a beautiful day if everyone answered with, ‘Okay’?”

“Yes, it would.” 

“That’s our goal,” said John kindly. “Well, young lady, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I would like to give you something though.” 

John reached into one of the deep pockets of his robe and took out a booklet, which he handed to Nicolette. She recognized the picture on the booklet cover of robed St. Francis preaching to a flock of birds. 

“This is just a little bit about St. Francis and our community.”

“Thank you.” 

“I hope that you have a blessed evening.” 

“You too,” said Nicolette kindly. 

***

It took her around 10 minutes to get home. Once inside the house, she walked into the kitchen and placed her bag and purse on a chair at the kitchen table. Her mother, Maggie, who was chopping celery near the stove, smiled over at her.

“Hi, Mom.” Nicolette gave her mother Maggie a kiss on the cheek.

“How was school?” she asked her. 

“Okay,” said the teenager without much enthusiasm. 

School had not been the same since Ally had dropped out. Nicolette had other friends, of course, but it just wasn’t the same without her best friend of a decade. 

“Where’s Fahlin?” Fahlin was Nicolette’s 12-yeaer old sister.

“She’s over at Anna’s house. She went their straight after school. I told her to be home by 5.” 

“What’s for dinner? I couldn’t help but notice you cutting up celery.” 

“Oh, you couldn’t help but notice, huh,” said Maggie jokingly. 

“Do you need any help?” 

“No, I should be okay. I’m making barbecue beef for dinner.”

“Fahlin doesn’t like Sloppy Joes,” Nicolette smirked.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t decide what to make for dinner based on Fahlin’s eating habits.” 

“She’s at that picky eating stage. She’ll grow out of it.” Nicolette held back a yawn. “I’m going to lie down for a bit.” 

Maggie stopped chopping, wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned to face her daughter with concern. “Are you okay?” 

“As okay as I can be, Mom. It’s only been two months.” 

“I don’t mean just about Alexandra,” said Maggie siting down at the kitchen table across from her daughter. “Is there something else bothering you? Something happen at school?”

Nicolette thought for a moment. “When I was coming out of Trax, the police were pulling over two young people in a Beetle. The officers were physically abusive towards both, and gave the car a once over looking for something… probably drugs. When they didn’t find the drugs, they became even more abusive. Both physically and verbally.” 

Maggie shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry about that. That was uncalled for.” Maggie was thoughtful for a minute before continuing. “Nicolette, I know that there are bad cops in Chicago. You must remember though that there are really good ones too. Don’t let incidents like what you witnessed this afternoon color your perspective of all police officers. Many of them are caring, kind human beings who like to help people and put their lives at risk to keep the rest of us safe.” 

“I haven’t,” said Nicolette, unsure if she really believed it.

 Maggie stood up and walked back over to continue dinner preparation. Nicolette got up from the table, went over and gave her mother a hug. Maggie smiled, hugged her daughter and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m going to lie down for a while.” 

“Okay. I will let you know when dinner is ready.” 

Nicolette took her purse and Trax bag and went to the bedroom that she shared with Fahlin. She kicked off her shoes and lied down on the bed. She was asleep within moments. She dreamed of Ally, drugged out, living in an abandoned building with other drug addicts. 

***

She awoke to her sister staring at her, a mischievous look on Fahlin’s face. 

“What are you looking at?” asked Nicolette smiling. 

“Not sure,” said Fahlin jokingly. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” 

“Brat,” exclaimed Nicolette in mock surprise, picking up a pillow and tossing it at Fahlin, who rolled over on her back giggling. 

Nicolette looked at her watch. It was 5:23. “Did you just get home?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Just curious. Mom said you’d be home at 5:00.” 

“I was actually five minutes late.” 

“Did Mom say anything?” 

“About being five minutes late?” 

“No, about you being an idiot. Yes, about being five minutes late.” 

“She didn’t say anything. I don’t think she noticed.” 

“She noticed,” Nicolette giggled. “How much do you want to bet that she has you do the dishes tonight?” 

“Oh, I hope not!”

With the sound of a knock on their bedroom door, Nicolette and Fahlin looked in that direction and saw their mother standing in the doorway. 

“Dinner, ladies,” said Maggie.

“Do I have to?” whined Fahlin. 

“Yes, you do,” Maggie said sternly. “This isn’t a restaurant, Fahlin. You’ll eat what is being served.” 

“Come on,” said Nicolette to her sister. “It’s not like she makes us eat liver.” 

“Liver is tomorrow,” said Maggie matter of fact. 

“Gross, oh gross,” exclaimed Fahlin.

“Seriously?” Nicolette asked, surprised.

“No, not seriously,” Maggie smirked. “Now, let’s eat before it gets cold.” 

The girls got up from their separate beds, Nicolette slipped her shoes back on and then she and Fahlin followed Maggie to the kitchen. Their father, Jim, a six-foot-tall man with the reddish hair that both his daughters had inherited, was at the table reading the Chicago Tribune.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, kissing her father in the cheek before taking her place at the table. 

“Hello,” smiled Jim.

‘Hi, Daddy,” Fahlin also kissed her father on the cheek and then sat down at the table.

Jim folded his paper and placed it on the table. “How was school?” 

“Okay,” said Fahlin. “In Social Studies we read about Frederick Douglas. Do you know who he is, Daddy?” 

“Yes, of course. He was a slave on a southern plantation.” 

Maggie smiled over at the stove, while stirring the barbecue beef. “You know, Fahlin, your father and I went to school too.” 

“Yeah, but that was a long time ago,” said Fahlin. “Daddy, why were black people slaves?” 

“Not all of them were,” said Jim. “Too many though.” 

“Why?” 

“They didn’t have any rights,” said Nicolette. “They were considered as ‘less than human.’ Something that hasn’t changed a whole lot.” 

Jim was thoughtful for a moment before continuing. “I think there’s been some change. Not enough, I agree, but some change.” 

“Not anywhere near enough,” said Nicolette. “Two weeks ago, I was walking home from school and a colored man was walking on the opposite side of the street. A cop car pulled over, the officers got out of the car and started to frisk the man for no reason other then the color of his skin.” 

“Your mother said that you had a similar experience this afternoon,” said Jim sympathetically. 

“Yeah, I did. It was two young people.” 

“There is a lot of tension between young people and the police because of the war protests.” 

“That doesn’t make it right.” 

“I wasn’t implying that it was,” said Jim.

Nicolette sighed. “Many of the protests that the police break-up with violent force are peaceful.” 

“That’s true,” nodded Jim. “Others are not though. And when going into a crowded situation, how does a police officer know that a peaceful demonstration won’t turn into a violent one?” 

“Dad, it sounds like you are defending a police force that turns to violence,” said Nicolette sadly.

“No, I’m not. Not at all. I’m just asking you to look at a situation from two different perspectives. Much of the conflict in this country right now is that no one appears to be able to see something beyond their own perspective. Nicolette, you are going to learn that life is seldom black and white. There is a lot of gray.” 

***

After dinner, Nicolette went back to her bedroom to play her new record. First though she kicked off her shoes, sat cross legged on her bed and began to read through the booklet on St. Francis and the community that John belonged to. She was drawn into what she read. 

For the next week, she became preoccupied with the teachings of St. Francis of Assisi and found comfort in the idea of a community based on love and shared idealism. 

Upon high school graduation, she planned to attend the University of Illinois in Chicago to study child psychology. She still wanted that, but she had also begun to hunger for some spiritual fulfillment on a level that she could receive just attending Mass once a week. Something to make sense of the war, the racial tension and Ally’s descent into madness. On Friday, she made two phone calls, then asked to speak to her parents in the living room after dinner. Fahlin went into the master bedroom to watch Star Trek on her parents small black and white television set. 

Jim and Maggie sat down on the couch and Nicolette took a chair facing them. “I would like the two of you to see something.” She handed her parents the booklet on St. Francis. “They day the two kids were pulled over and harassed by the cops, there was a man named John there. He’s part of this community.” 

“I’m not sure I understand,” said Maggie, confused. 

“I called the admissions office at UIC this afternoon. My scholarship can be deferred for a year. I could start in the fall of ’69.” 

“Why not this fall?” Jim was equally confused. 

“At dinner, about a week ago, you were talking about perspective, Dad. The truth is, when Ally ran away, I lost any sense of perspective. Her brother Bobby being killed in Vietnam, what it did to her, the violence I see and hear about every day. I feel lost.” She wiped tears from her eyes. 

Nicolette composed herself for a moment before continuing. “When I was reading about St. Francis, it’s like I found some answers, and some peace of mind. In July, I am going to join that community for a year. Then next year I’ll go to college.”

“Would you be allowed to even leave the commune,” asked Maggie with concern. 

“Of course, Mom. It’s not a cult. I can leave whenever I want.” 

“Aren’t you just doing the same thing Alexandra did?” Jim frowned.

“No, I’m not. Ally dropped out to lose herself. I want to find myself, and as I said, it’s not a cult. I can leave any time I wish. I still have every intention of going to college. Please, trust me.”

A few moments passed then Jim said, “If that’s what you want. You have our blessing.” 

“We support your decision,” said Maggie.  

Nicolette hugged both her parents, each of whom embraced her in return.

***Nicolette Dupree joined the Community of St. Francis on August 28^th. The same day a riot broke out between demonstrators and members of the Chicago Police Department in Grant Park, near the headquarters of the Democratic Nation Convention. She prayed, meditated and lived off the land, eating food she had grown herself. She found happiness and peace. In July 1969, she moved back home and one month later began college.