Roy’s second cousin by marriage, Wilbur Baruffa, was a television repairman. Wilbur was thirty-eight years old when he electrocuted himself and dropped dead on the spot in the back room of his garage repair shop in an alley between Topeka and Door Streets on Chicago’s West Side. Roy was fourteen at the time and his mother insisted, out of respect and affection for her cousin Gertrude, Wilbur’s widow, that Roy accompany her to the funeral. Roy had not exactly disliked Wilbur but neither had he enjoyed being around him during those few family gatherings Roy could not avoid attending.
Cousin Wilbur liked to corner Roy and other kids and tell them about his inventions, many of which, Wilbur was convinced, would soon be available to the public and earn him millions of dollars. One of his inventions was a fur and hide removal machine that would, Wilbur assured his listeners, expedite meat processing the world over. He had applied for a patent that had not yet been granted but he was already in negotiations, he claimed, with big companies such as Armour and Swift. The Evenizer, as Wilbur called his machine, would revolutionize the meatpacking business and put him on the cover of Time magazine. The Evenizer, along with a device a friend of his who supervised the hog pens at the Stockyards was experimenting with that Wilbur called the Snout Turner, were certain to secure his and Gertrude’s financial future.
Wilbur wore thick spectacles, he was short, stocky, and almost completely bald. He always wore a navy blue Eisenhower jacket with “Wilbur” sewn in gold thread over the left breast pocket. Wilbur was a constant explainer. If you were in his and Gertrude’s house he would guide you to the electrical sockets in their living room and dining room and explain how he had rewired or recircuited the original system in order to amplify the capacity of each. If you were unfortunate enough to be confined in his car with him he would explain how he had tinkered with the engine or the windshield wipers to improve their efficiency, some modification the manufacturer had not provided. It was the world according to Wilbur, who considered himself a genius, and his explanations, while informative, were anything but compelling. On the contrary, they were tedious and self-congratulatory; his manner was not merely tendentious, it bordered on fiendish.
Gertrude, however, was a kind, sweet-natured, patient person. Roy liked her and did not understand how she could have subjected herself to a lifetime with a mean bore like Wilbur. Roy had witnessed his meanness, as well. Wilbur had a short temper and once, in Roy’s presence, instantly became furious at the husband of a friend of Gertrude’s when the man dared to contradict Wilbur on a point during one of his explanations. Roy could not remember, if he even knew, what the disagreement had been about, only that Wilbur picked up a table lamp and was about to bring it down over the other man’s head when Roy’s Uncle Buck, his mother’s brother, stepped in and wrested the lamp away from him.
Wilbur wound up in jail after an incident that took place in public. He and Gertrude were at a restaurant in Racine, Wisconsin, where they had stopped on a Sunday afternoon, having driven up from Chicago. Wilbur liked to drive, to drive fast, often going in excess of eighty miles per hour on narrow two-lane country roads, passing or attempting to pass every vehicle ahead of him. Gertrude rarely complained to her husband about his risky driving habits, afraid that he would lose his temper and further endanger them. She mostly stared out of her passenger side window and hoped for the best.
At Gus and Essie’s Fine Country Dining in Racine, Wilbur was describing for his wife how a manufacturer had tried to renege on a contract, speaking louder and louder as he explained his having outwitted the miscreant and forced him to honor the commitment. A couple at a nearby table, an elderly man and his wife, were disturbed by Wilbur’s diatribe, so the man came over and asked Wilbur to please lower his voice. At first he did not comprehend what the man was requesting but when the older man persisted, Wilbur pushed him away. The man fell down and his wife left her chair and rushed to help him, as did a waitress who had been standing close by taking an order. Gertrude, also, stood up and came to the aid of the fallen man.
“Gertrude, get away!” shouted Wilbur.
When his wife failed to obey Wilbur’s order, he got up and grabbed one of her arms, twisting it violently. The waitress shoved Wilbur and he punched her in the face. Two local policemen who were dining in the restaurant came over, handcuffed Wilbur, and took him into custody. They marched him out of the restaurant and deposited him in the back seat of their patrol car. Gertrude attempted to stop them and explain the situation but one of them told her they had seen everything as it happened and to meet them at the station house, then drove away.
Since Wilbur was from out of state, he was ineligible for bail on a charge of felony assault. Gertrude hired a lawyer the next day who managed to get the charge reduced to disturbing the peace, a misdemeanor, and after Gertrude paid a substantial fine Wilbur was released. Gertrude thanked the judge for his understanding and he said, “I understand they got restaurants in Illinois, lady. Eat there.”
The elderly man whom Wilbur had knocked down was not seriously injured; thanks to Gertrude’s repeated apologies and offer to pay for any medical expenses, he did not sue for damages, nor did the waitress, with whom Gertrude made a private financial settlement. Along with his advice to Wilbur and Gertrude to avoid dining in Wisconsin, the judge suggested that Wilbur seek counselling to control his anger.
When Gertrude told Wilbur she thought that was a good idea, Wilbur said, “That old fool interrupted me. He should have known better.”
When he learned that Wilbur Baruffa had died due to self-inflicted electrocution, Roy asked his mother if she thought that he had been insane, and she said, “Everyone is at least a little bit insane, Roy. It’s just that in Wilbur’s case it showed.”
“What about his inventions, the Evenizer and the Snout Turner? Did he ever make any money off of them?”
“I doubt it. Gertrude told me that was a terrible disappointment for Wilbur, a profound humiliation that his brilliance went unacknowledged and unrewarded. He didn’t want to be remembered as just a television repairman.”
“I hate to say this, Mom, but I wish I’d never met Wilbur. Maybe in a few years I won’t remember him at all.”
