Ronnie Dee--That Girl

That Girl

Ronnie Dee

Back in my mid teens, after Babe and I drifted apart, I didn't do much dating for several years as my criminal activities took center stage and occupied most of my time. My friend Jack and his girlfriend, Shirley had also split and he graduated high school and enrolled in Bellarmine College and got a full time job working nights to pay for school. I didn't see much of him anymore either.

I began running around with a different group of guys who were more prone to trouble. It was more of a gang atmosphere than I had been accustomed to, but I adapted quickly.

I started hearing about Evangeline when I was in the eighth grade. As time went on, I heard more and more about her. The guys would talk about her in hushed tones, with wide eyes and salivating tongues. "Evangeline," they would say with wonder, "Boy, would I like to meet her."

"Yeah, sure you would."

It wasn't a constant, but every now and then, someone would say, "There was a party over at so and so's and Evangeline was there . . .blah, blah."

"No kidding," you might say, and a crowd would gather to hear the lascivious details, if any. This went on for five years. I never saw Evangeline, but I was kept apprised of her movements frequently, from party to party, from ballgame to ballgame, from dance to dance. She did not attend my school or live in my close neighborhood. I didn't know where she hung out. I certainly don't think she went to church. And she lived in a much faster lane than I did. I was wondering for a while if she was actually real, but I finally accepted the fact that she was indeed a real person.

The new gang with whom I was now running, certainly knew who she was. None of them went to my school, but she was often spoken of in our little clubhouse and my curiosity grew. Some of the guys knew who she was, but no one actually knew her.

I graduated in May of 1956, shortly after my seventeenth birthday, and I went to a party somewhere a few weeks after that. It was just a typical teenage party with a mass of kids running in and out of the house and making a lot of noise and loud music. I was just milling around yakking with a few people I knew, when I stepped out onto the patio to have a smoke, and standing six feet in front of me was . . . Evangeline.

I knew it was her instinctively. She was about my height with curly blond hair, lovely, fair skin and big brown eyes. She was wearing a short, sleeveless white dress. She was gorgeous. I knew it was her without her even telling me her name. I just knew; my toes were tingling.

She actually looked at me and said, "Hey there, you got another cigarette?"

Her voice was kind of deep and sexy and she looked right at me when speaking to me. She was slender and feminine, and had a surprisingly sweet face. I don't know why I was surprised, but I guess I had pictured her as being kind of tough looking. I was wrong there, but as sweet as she appeared, there was nothing demure about Evangeline. She looked to be about eighteen and when watching her with other girls, she was definitely the alpha.

I think I said, "Sure," or something like that and tried to contain my tremors when I handed her a smoke.

She said something about it being a crummy party, and I agreed. We snickered and chatted for about five minutes before she said, "Thanks for the smoke," and went inside

I hung around the patio for a few more minutes to allow the throbbing in my temples to subside and went in. I saw her saying something to a girl in passing and she left the room. She must have left the party then because I didn't see her anymore that night. I didn't tell anyone about my glorious encounter and I couldn't remember a thing I said, so I kept mum.

"Did you see Evangeline," was all anyone who wasn't there wanted to know.

"Naw, I don't think so," I told them, keeping our rendezvous a secret for some reason. I guess I didn't want to share our personal encounter with anyone else. She actually smoked one of my cigarettes. I knew that if one of these guys found out I knew her, I would never hear the end of it. So I spent several weeks with smug satisfaction, knowing something that they didn't.

I don't know why but after that first encounter, I started to see her around more often during the next year or so. Not a lot, but more often. I never saw her like, looking at me, but she would throw me a glance now and then. She just about always bummed a smoke at some point of the evening. I wasn't so nervous talking to her, now that the ice had been broken and I found out that I really liked her. She seemed aware of the world around her. She was intelligent, articulate, and I thought, a very nice girl. I don't think she ever knew my name, as our relationship was very casual, but I didn't care, I could honestly say that I knew Evangeline.

She said that she enjoyed talking to me because I wasn't as silly as most of the other guys. I was, of course, she just didn't know it and I didn't tell her. I never tried to ask her out or get her phone number or anything. I mean, I was more comfortable around her, but not that comfortable. I seriously began to think all of this bad reputation stuff was baloney. I had known other kids whose reps had been sullied and I was sure this was the case with Evangeline. I was hoping it was. At least, in my mind it was. But I must say, I could tell just by being around her a little while, that she was not your average angst ridden teenage girl. She had a noticeable air of confidence. She knew she was the Queen of the Hop.

But with all of the talk about her, I never met a guy who had actually dated her. All the guys knew about her, but none of them was personally acquainted with her. That fact, as much as anything, raised my suspicions about these tales portraying Evangeline as a sort of West Louisville demimondaine.

Maybe nobody that I knew had ever had any encounters with her because she didn't have anything to do with "silly" teenage boys. Now, maybe I was getting a little carried away, but it didn't matter for long because, like all good things, this too, came to an end.

I didn't know it for a good while. I knew that I hadn't seen her in a quite a while and then it was, I never saw her again. I didn't hear any scuttlebut or anything, she merely went away. Did she get married? Did she get pregX (I almost forgot, this was in the 1950's) Did she "go visit her aunt in France"? Or did she just get the heck out of Dodge?

No one knows. No one spoke of her anymore. Now maybe some of the other girls would get the attention they so richly deserved. She was here and then she was not. But the memory of her even helped me in later years. With the exception of the time when I was performing a lot and my confidence was very high, if I ever became shy around a girl for whatever reason, I would remind myself: "Why am I nervous about talking with this person? After all, that girl, Evangeline, preferred talking to me and smoking my cigarettes."