The Schnitz
THE SCHNITZ
It was a night of many firsts.
—BEANIE ROSEN’S JOURNAL
July 4, 1976
Crowds cheered coast to coast as fireworks exploded in night skies and tall ships sailed down the Hudson River to celebrate not just the two hundredth birthday of the United States, but an even more perfect union: the joining of Dr. and Mrs. Spitz.
Miriam Rosen walked down the aisle in an ivory gown with a fascinator veil, her wavy red hair cascading to her shoulders, while Beanie—stretched, flattened, girdled, and much less puffy—stood proudly by her side. Though the ceremony was brief, the reception was opulent as the upwardly mobile crowd celebrated the Dr. and new Mrs. Spitz while eating hors d’oeuvres of mini blintzes, latkes, and caviar, and waited for the seated dinner to begin.
Beanie, standing near a carving station, looked pretty not only in her mother’s eyes, but also in the eyes of one pockmarked seventeen-year-old boy standing across the room near the Tiki Bar.
“Joel Schnitzer’s checking you out,” said Beanie’s new stepsister Esther, gesturing toward the boy. “He’s Rabbi Schnitzer’s nephew. He always helps at big events.”
“Oh,” said Beanie, looking over, then quickly looking away. Holy shit, she thought. Joel Schnitzer was in fact checking her out. And that made her nervous.
“He goes to Sinai,” Esther reminded. “He’s a senior.”
Beanie glanced over at him again.
He’s creepy, she decided. That was her catchphrase for anyone or anything a little off. And instinct told her that Joel Schnitzer, while perfectly presentable in his three-piece, wide-lapelled, powder-blue leisure suit, was definitely off.
He was also headed her way.
“Have fun,” Esther said with a conspiratorial smile, making Beanie wonder if she had arranged this whole thing.
“Hiya,” Joel said, looking her up and down. “Joel Schnitzer, but you can call me ‘.’ Everyone does.”
She nodded.
“You go to Sinai.”
Again, she nodded.
“Junior?”
“Next year,” she said.
Somewhere in the background, the expensive eight-piece wedding band that Miriam had hired instead of a DJ—no one south of the Boulevard hires a DJ—began playing Chicago’s “25 or 6 to 4.”
“Wanna dance?” he asked.
Her heart was pumping double-time. Beanie wasn’t sure if it was from the diet pills or his question. No boy had ever asked her to dance.
She hid her nerves best she could and shrugged nonchalantly. “Okay.”
They walked into the dining room adorned with twinkly lights and pink and white peony centerpieces. navigated Beanie through the fifteen round tables of ten surrounding an almost empty dance floor.
“I lead the youth group choir at Temple Beth Torah,” he shouted proudly to her as he moved to the song.
“You should hear our ‘Dayenu’” he joked, raising his eyebrows and tapping an imaginary cigar à la Groucho Marx. While half of her was nauseated by this senior who somehow thought his temple choir duties were cool or funny, the other half couldn’t help but notice him studying her body, lusting fiercely, obviously. Her A-line dress, coupled with her girdle and push-up bra, put her ample breasts on display. She watched Joel watch them.
And that made her feel powerful.
And pretty.
And wanted.
It was a sort of game, albeit a dangerous one, and she decided she’d play for a while. Never before had anyone lusted after her.
Other couples joined them on the dance floor as the band began playing their rendition of “My Love” by Wings. pulled her toward him. It was her first slow dance.
It would be the first of many events that night at the Sportsmen’s Lodge.
She could feel his ardor on her leg, pressing against her. Ardor—that’s what they called it in Once Is Not Enough and the other racy books Beanie had found hidden behind other books on Miriam’s bookshelves. But beyond those books, Beanie had no reference nor experience. She knew about sex, of course, in a biological way, and had talked about it generically with friends, but she had never seen nor felt an actual penis pressed against her, which simultaneously excited and repulsed her.
“Let’s get outta here,” said , his voice thick with lust and urgency.
Ewww , she thought to herself. But she followed him.
brought her outside to the garden with the peacocks that Dr. Spitz had paid for—$20 per cock—and led her to a bench hidden in the corner. He played with her hair, then nibbled her ear. It tickled, and she reacted, indicating, he must have thought, that she wanted more.
But what she really wanted was to run back to the beautiful room where “Tie A Yellow Ribbon” wafted through the air, where people were laughing and dancing and probably being seated for dinner. Miriam had wanted two choices, filet or salmon. “All the best weddings give options,” she had said to Dr. Spitz, cuddling up to him. And though it was costly, the good doctor, as usual, yielded to his bride. “We should get back for dinner,” Beanie told . “I really want to try the meat.”
smiled. “ That can be arranged,” he said, as he popped a Certs into his mouth and found his way to hers.
Beanie’s first kiss was more like a tonsillectomy.
A lot of tongue, she thought empirically, as she tried her best to navigate the invasion of face, minty breath, and hands. It was too much. She tried to disengage, but was all over her in a kind of frenetic, desperate exploration that left her feeling overpowered, out of control. Neither romantic nor seductive, it was an assault.
Game over, she decided, pulling away.
“Hey!” gasped, surprised.
“Sorry,” Beanie said, “but they’re going to introduce Mom and Dr. Spitz.”
“You already know them,” he said jokingly, taking her hand and placing it directly onto his crotch. “Besides, I’m so fucking hard.”
She had never felt anything like that. Repulsed and frightened, she tried to pull away. “Let me go,” she said. But he held her. Tight.
“Come on,” he pleaded. “Just touch it.”
“No,” she said, louder this time, freeing her hand and shooting him daggers. This had gone too far. Much too far. She turned around, heading back inside.
“Can you just wait a minute? I was just messing with you. I don’t want you to be mad,” he pleaded.
“I’m not mad,” she lied.
“You’re a really good kisser,” he told her. “You really turn me on.”
Run, she thought. Just turn and leave. But she didn’t.
“Let me show you how much,” he whispered. She stood transfixed as he unzipped his pants. Even in the shadows she couldn’t miss his erect penis unleashed, like a jack-in-the-box, springing free with a buoyancy that suggested a life of its own.
She was astonished. Shocked.
He watched her watch him. “Touch it,” he whispered.
She shook her head, willing her feet to move, but they stayed right where they were.
“Okay, okay, I won’t ask again. I promise,” he said, reading her mind, trying to keep her close. “Just stay here,” he told her, “and watch me.” Slowly, he began stroking himself. “Like this, see?” he whispered. “Just like this.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off ’s erect penis.
Or his hand. Up and down. Up and down.
“You start at the bottom and go over the head… like this,” he said, offering a tutorial, then a shiver, which had an effect on her she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered as he continued jerking himself off.
“And your mouth,” he said, jerking harder, getting closer to climax. “Red, and moist… wrapped around my cock.”
Her face flushed, and he could see his words were having an effect.
“Do you like me to talk dirty?” he asked softly, studying her.
She stood transfixed, refusing to reveal how much she liked it.
He stroked faster now. Even the peacocks kept their distance.
“Do you ever touch yourself?” he asked.
And her face revealed the truth.
“I knew it,” he said, panting. “You rub your clit every night, don’t you?”
She was taken aback. Not because of the word, obscene in the way he had shortened it, but because somehow… somehow… he knew.
“Do it,” he commanded, reaching out for her. “Show me! Touch yourself!”
And, instantly, that snapped Beanie out of her momentary paralysis. She’d had enough. She’d seen enough. She was done. “You’re gross,” she said, leaving , haloed by the expensive purple lighting that Dr. Spitz had paid extra for, spread-eagled on the bench, to resolve his issue.
But that night in bed, ungirdled, she replayed the events over and over while slowly, methodically, resolving her own.
Joel Schnitzer’s penis would leave an indelible mark on the Fourth of July, the Sportsmen’s Lodge, and the blessed joining of Dr. and Mrs. Spitz. As both reference point and benchmark, it had opened the door to a world that Beanie was anxious to explore.