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ā€œIt’s Amyā€.

The ā€œcharmā€ā€”of that particular line—had ā€œgrabbedā€ Grandpa! To the point, that he would announce (over and over again)—to Jason—that, ā€œIf I’d have seen that show… before your mother was ever born… she’d be Amy Rutkowski! Not Sheila! I wish to hell… that I’d have had a second daughter! You can damn well bet… what her name would’ve been.ā€

Years later, Our Hero felt that he must’ve made some kind of subliminal promise, to himself—and, probably, to his grandfather—to name a daughter of his, ā€œAmyā€. And ā€œNumber-Three Daughterā€ seemed the ideal candidate, to fulfill that ā€œpromiseā€. But, his spouse had other ideas!

Just before Christmas, of 1944, the couple had had a chance to see a live production, of Franz Lehar’s melodic operetta, The Merry Widow. When the soprano had stepped forward, to sing the very-beautiful ballad, Vilia, it brought streaming, back to Valerie—with the thunder, of a hailstorm—the fact, that her husband-to-be had, so recently, recited that same lyric to her!

He’d surprised her—substantially! When he’d proposed to her, he’d called the words, ā€œMy love… and my brideā€, into play! He’d called her that, then!

He’d repeated the line—often—over the, then-still-short, duration, of their marriage.

Once having seen the song sung, professionally, on stage, Valerie had became totally overwhelmed, with emotion! There had been all those many additional times—when Jason had sung the line, to her. The, unexpected-no-longer, the always-charming, exercise, from her spouse—plus now having seen, and heard, the melody rendered, so beautifully, on stage—had made for truly ā€œmagicā€ moments, within her! Had made for a flood—of ā€œmagnificentā€ moments! For ā€œawesomely-reveredā€ moments! For ā€œtruly-memorableā€ moments!

Therefore, the newest addition to the Rutkowski clan came to be named—Vilia! A unanimous decision! As they sayā€”ā€œWhat else?ā€!

The proud couple did have a bit of a problem, however! It came—believe it or not—from Father Benjamin! This all transpired—when it had come time, to baptize the little girl. In those days, the Catholic Church had required babies, to be named after a saint! And Vilia—seemed to not qualify!

However, after having been subjected to an incredibly-massive (and a continuing, never-ending) vocal tornado (also known as ā€œimploringā€) by the parents—as well as a goodly amount, of further, almost-tear-filled, ā€œimploringā€, from his, long-time, parishioners, ā€œAunt Susanā€ and ā€œUncle Ericā€ā€”(the priest’s own, well-thought-out, term, for all the unexpected, and highly-frustrating, confrontations, was ā€œharanguingā€), the good pastor had finally given in! Had come—to the ā€œlogicalā€ conclusion that, ā€œThere must be a Saint Vilia, up there… somewhere!ā€.

There had been, of course, other significant occurrences—in the lives of the Rutkowskis. In varying degrees of seriousness.

Anthony Keene had been arrested—three hours after ā€œJames Rootā€ had broken the, unexpectedly-volatile, story! Had ā€œinformed the worldā€, of the massive amount of graft, and corruption, in which the man had been involved. ā€œThe guy was fanny deepā€ā€”as ascertained, by Marjorie Cullenbine, the receptionist (and resident philosopher) at WXXD.

Actually, what Our Hero had disclosed had been ā€œbut a mere tip of the corrupt icebergā€ā€”once, two months later, the entire scandal had, at long last, washed out! Almost a dozen ā€œheads had rolledā€ā€”before the massive investigation had been completed! Vastly important ā€œheadsā€!

The entire scenario, fortunately, was not without beneficial consequences, for the former ā€œJimmy Rootā€. He’d been—20 days later—officially renamed ā€œJames Rootā€! This, of course, was in ā€œproper deferenceā€, to his new—his, now-dynamic—image!

He’d begun to spend more and more of his—on-air, record-playing, time—interspersing his reporting, on the Keene story! The scandalous saga had, obviously, continued to unfold. Each day seemed to bring some, often-startling, brand new, dimension—to the, rapidly-unfolding, ā€œdocumentaryā€!

As soon as the State Police—and a number of, ā€œhigher upā€, financial examiners, from Lansing,—had gotten involved, they’d begun to really unravel a, till-then-unprecedented, totally-unethical, ā€œorgani-zationā€! An, outside-the-law, unit—which was deeply involved, in what, over the years, would become known, as money laundering. They’d been, pretty much, ā€œpioneersā€ā€”in the fast-developing, unconscionable, ā€œindustryā€!

Not too many had heard that term bandied about, in the mid-forties. But, this, law-breaking, highly-corrupt, outfit had firmly-established, unprincipled, tentacles—that, shockingly, had reached into cities, and/or counties, in such locations, as Cleveland, Toledo, Fort Wayne and Indianapolis! None of those enterprises, however, had achieved the ā€œsuccessā€ā€”that the, ā€œmore-efficientā€, Detroit operation had reached!

Two-and-a-half-weeks into ā€œThe Keene Campaignā€, ā€œJames Rootā€ was taken off his afternoon/evening radio ā€œgigā€! That had been a surprise—to Our Hero! He was given a dashing, new, highly-publicized, 15-minute ā€œspotlightā€ā€”on weekdays, at high noon!

With the, rapidly-succeeding, brand-new, assignment—which had totally astonished Jason—had come much new responsibility! It may not sound like it—but, 15 minutes is a monumental hole to fill! Day after day—week upon week! Especially, when the station had, originally, only three one-minute commercials sold, for the new, ā€œvibrantā€, spot. The station would be required—to sustain a goodly portion, of the ā€œcontroversialā€ show. At the beginning, that is.

The ā€œrising starā€ wasn’t completely aware of it, at the time, but—as his show had become more and more popular (although not spectacularly so, for the first four or five months)—the station would, eventually, double that sparse sponsorship time. They could have—as time had gone by—sold twice that amount of time.

But, Mr. Garback had felt that such ā€œgross commercialismā€ would—eventually—diminish the show’s impact. ā€œThe image, of the program… is of vital importance,ā€ he’d stated—numerous times.

Our Hero had agreed. An important factor: He would find that ā€œdigging up newsworthy stuffā€ was not as difficult, as he’d first imagined! For one thing, the Keene situation had become ā€œthe gift that never stopped givingā€ā€”and it, as noted, had continued, for months!

But, there were, also, other stories popping up. Almost on a daily basis. More than enough, most often—to provide ā€œample grist for the millā€! (Sometimes, more than enough ā€œgristā€!)

Not all the reportage was devoted to ā€œserious stuffā€. In 1945, the Tigers won the American League pennant—their first since 1935—after losing out, to the St. Louis Browns, on the heartbreaking final day, of the 1944 baseball season. This would wind up being the, usually-moribund, Browns’ only pennant—ever! They went on—to lose the World Series, to the cross-town Cardinals! Then, the financially-challenged club went on—to became The Baltimore Orioles—following the 1953 season.

The Tigers? They went on

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