Historical Fiction
Date Published: 07-01-2025
Publisher: Sunbury Press, Inc.
Pressured by his pregnant wife to finish his novel or take a secure job at a prestigious ad agency, Ben must also navigate the era’s class divisions and antisemitism. His best friend’s elite world clashes with his working-class South Philly roots and Jewish identity.
Temptation, ambition, and loyalty collide—especially when Ilene, a captivating classmate, threatens to unravel his carefully balanced life. As the Phillies’ Whiz Kids chase a pennant, Ben’s own reckoning builds to a climax, culminating in a surprising decision that redefines his future.
Co-written with David S. Burcat, Joel Burcat’s late father, Whiz Kid is a deeply American story of resilience, legacy, and the true cost of following one’s heart.
Chapter 7
The lights in the Solomon house were
dimmed, the table in the storeroom was cleared, and the noise of the family and
festivities had finally died down. Ben worked especially hard to help Manny and
Leah, and was particularly attentive to Debby, hoping to get back into the
family’s good graces. He did not leave the table after dinner as he had done in
recent seders with the family. Ben
even sat through Manny’s incantation of the conclusion of the Passover seder for almost an hour after the
dinner, even though he hardly had a clue what Manny was chanting. Ben hummed
along with Manny and Uncle Haim.
When it was over, Ben worked the hardest
of all the guests to clear the storeroom to get ready for Sunday night’s seder. He made sure he was the last one
to say goodbye to the guests and to walk them to their homes or cars.
Finally, Debby and Ben were alone in their
room. Debby had already turned off the light on her nightstand and laid on her
back watching Ben comb his freshly washed hair. She had hardly said a word to
him the entire evening, although Ben had chirped away merrily as though nothing
untoward had occurred.
“Debby, I was thinking maybe when the
semester is over we would go to the shore, Atlantic City, maybe Ventnor. What
do you think?”
She let the question hover in the air for
a long moment. Finally, she replied, “It’s only April. It’s still freezing
outside and you’re thinking about the beach?”
“No, Hon, I’m just thinking of fun things
we can do before the baby comes along and changes everything.”
“You think I don’t think about that?” replied Debby. “I’m scared to death that
you’re going to graduate from college, I’m going to have a baby, and you’re not
going to have a job. How are we going to afford all the things we’ll need? Did
it occur to you that we’re going to have to pay for the hospital? Food?
Clothing? I want you to get a steady job. I’m tired of living with my parents.
How do you think that’s going to be when we have a baby? What, we’re going to
have a crib in the bedroom I grew up in with Pop and Mom down the hall?”
Ben started to interrupt and thought
better of it.
“You’re the one who wants to pursue this
dream of writing a novel, but right now I don’t see how that’s going to pay the
bills. How are we going to afford anything while you’re sitting at my little
desk over there tapping away on your typewriter? How exactly are we going to
take care of ourselves, the baby, while you write this book?”
“Wait a minute, this probably isn’t the
best time to have this conversation. It’s late, you’re tired, you’ve been sick
all day—”
“Nice of you to finally notice that—”
“I told you, I apologize. What did you
want me to do? Call you on my Dick Tracy Two-Way Wrist Radio? Stan just showed
up at work tonight. He didn’t realize it was Passover, he wanted to take us both out. I messed up and didn’t realize
what time it was, the time just got away from me. I’m sorry. Again.” Ben sat on
the bed next to Debby and put his hand on her shoulder. She sat up, pulling
away from his grasp.
Debby spoke quietly but evenly. “Look, I
won’t be able to work for at least a little while after the baby is born. We
can’t make my parents raise a baby while I work as a receptionist and you play
on your typewriter. We’re going to need an income, a real income, and your job
driving the elevator up and down at the Moffitt Building isn’t going to cut
it.”
Ben looked at the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m
sorry, I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Okay, look, let’s make a deal. I told you that
Stan has been after me to join him at his father’s ad agency. Frankly, I think
he’s saying this because he still feels he owes me after Okinawa. Maybe because
he knows I’m a much better writer than he is. Anyway, he thinks his father will
hire me, but I’m not so sure. His father’s firm has never hired anyone Jewish
and I doubt his old man will start doing so now just because Stan tells him he
wants to even things up with his war buddy. I’m not planning on hiding what I
am even though I don’t really go in for all this religion stuff. I’m sure
Ledyard will figure it out soon enough. Anyway, I’ll tell Stan that I’ll
interview, but if I get any interest in this book from a publisher, I want to
finish it and go from there.”
“So what’s the deal? You’ll interview with
Mr. Ledyard and somehow or another put them on hold while you finish the book?
No way. They won’t agree to that, not while there are thousands of other vets
and college men looking for a job. Also, I can’t wait forever for you to get a
job. I want a deadline. A date. If you don’t get a book deal by a date, then
you either take a job with Mr. Ledyard or look somewhere else and take that.”
Debby’s eyes were smoldering and her brow had furrowed.
“Well, that could take a while, I have no
control over it. There are a lot of guys writing books. I’m not the only one. I
may have to wait just to hear from a publisher or agent. I don’t have anything
yet that’s remotely publishable. Ask Professor Chesterfield.”
“I don’t care. I need to know that my baby
is going to have a father with a real job and a home. At the very least, an
apartment. If you’re going to be a writer, that’s fine, but you have to earn a
living wage at it. If you’re going to work for an ad agency, that’s fine, too.
The baby is due on October 15th. By October 1st I want you to either have
something in writing from a publisher saying you’ve got a deal or you go to
work for Mr. Ledyard. That’s it. No extensions. No negotiations. I can’t have
this baby not knowing where I’m going to live or whether we’ll be mooching off
my parents forever.” Debby rolled over and looked at the wall.
The conversation was over. Ben stood and
walked around the bed to the window. He pulled down one of the slats and looked
onto Seventh Street, below. It was dark and quiet. After a moment, he parted
the covers and got in bed. He put his arm around his wife and held her. He
wondered when he would feel the baby. He could tell that Debby was softly
crying and held her tightly until she fell asleep.
When Debby’s breathing was slow and deep,
Ben rolled on his back and put his hands behind his head. He had about four
months to finish Penn, write something decent, and get it into the hands of a
publisher or agent. If he was going to have a chance at a response by October,
that meant he had to write something credible by maybe July. Sooner was better,
but he wasn’t even sure he was capable of finishing the book. Once he started
working at Phipps & Ledyard, or anywhere else, between a baby and the job,
there would be precious little time to write. Debby’s deadline was nearly
unachievable. He lay in bed a long time staring at the ceiling until he drifted
off into a fitful night’s sleep.
David S. Burcat was a Navy corpsman in World War II, a graduate of University of Pennsylvania (English Literature and Dentistry), and a proud son of Camden NJ and his adopted town of Philadelphia. He worked in advertising in the 1950s before returning to Penn to study dentistry. He wrote Match Point, the novella within the novel, in about 1950. He died in 1998. Whiz Kid- A Novel is his first published book. Dave was the father of co-author, Joel Burcat.
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