Return to site

A Treasure Found

 

- A NONFICTION SHORT STORY -

A Lasting Remembrance

Frank Adamucci, Jr.

7/16/16

Because it was in a locked cabinet I had thought for sure it would be out of my price range, but it was so amazing to spot John Rechy’s “Numbers” in a Long Beach junk store I just had to get a closer look. No offense to this second hand shop, but I don’t think they knew the worth of what they had, they just knew it was a first edition. That was probably why it in the glass case with worn Uncle Wigglys and those new faux old classic fiction collections with marbled end papers and gold edges that look good on bookshelves but no one ever bothers to read.

With the help of a clear plastic sleeve the original jacket had survived without a tear since 1968. On the cover is a photo in grainy black and white and captures the author casually standing, but really posing, in tight jeans and a shirt with rolled sleeves opened at the very start of his hard pecs, bad-boy style, to show off his muscles and advertise his wares. His eyes look right at the reader and his smile is both friendly and dangerous, a sexy stance.

I opened the book and the inscription made it even more magical. In John Rechy’s own hand it read: “For Frank Adamucci, With my very Best Wishes. Sincerely, John Rechy, El Paso, Texas, July 17, 1968, I hope you will continue to like what I write.” Rechy’s first book, City of Night, was published in 1963 and is a fictional account of a gay hustler’s transient life in Los Angeles, New York, San Francisco and New Orleans. “Numbers,” his second novel, follows an aging hustler with the need to feel desired which he equates with self-worth. And because he had signed this book, that I now held in my hands, back in his own hometown of El Paso it made it all the more intriguing.

I didn’t have enough on me and rushed out to my car hoping that I could find enough parking meter change lying around to make the purchase. When I got back the clerk was so cool, I told him I was going to give him a lot of quarters, but he just took the bills that I had and gave me a great discount.

Walking back to my car I realized to my horror that I didn’t have my car key on me. I checked all of my pockets. I must have lost my key somewhere between my car to the shop. I had been so excited to make my purchase I must have dropped it in my haste. I didn’t want to freak-out just yet and deliberately made myself walk in a steady pace. A half block away, to my relief, I could see the key stuck in my car door. I had never done that before. I had been so eager to buy this book I had forgotten to take the key out of the door.

Frank Adamucci, Jr., was born on July 23, 1946 and was just 22 years old when “Numbers” was first published. Perhaps he bought the book as a birthday gift to himself or it could have been a gift from the author. What percentage of men were openly gay in 1968? I’m guessing only the most heroic men were out and I hope that Mr. Adamucci was one of them and that he had known a great life and a great love.

Frank’s father was a real estate developer and self-made millionaire. He was a co-owner of the Rickshaw Inn in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, and on August 29, 1965, he was gunned down in a botched robbery attempt or some say it was a mob hit. The Rickshaw Inn has its own Wikipedia page explaining the killing and the trial of the three men convicted.

Mr. Adamucci died in Margate, New Jersey at the age of 64 on November 29, 2010. He was an avid book collector and I believe he was the one who put the plastic cover on the book jacket. He lived in New Jersey all of his life and I don’t know how this book made its way to the West Coast. Families can be so uneducated about the possessions of others and they might have thrown things out in a hurry or had a quick sale after he died. Maybe he gave it to someone who didn’t give the book its deserved sentimental value or a visitor “stole it off the shelf of a rich guy who wouldn’t miss it”.

Besides finding the book in excellent condition with a great inscription from the author, there is a small portrait of John Rechy on the back inner jacket by the artist Don Bachardy. I never got to meet Christopher Isherwood, but I’ve known Don since the 1980s and since I am just a custodian of this very special book I asked him if he would please sign it for me and he agreed.

Although I never met Frank Adamucci, Jr. having his book is a little bit like knowing him. And Mr. Rechy will sign this book again after forty-eight years!