Whereas most of the Roggebusches were born in Washington, D.C., our man Stephen Roggebusch, oldest child of Frank and one of the two oldest at 48 Broad (tied with adopted brother Dan), was born in Houston. How'd that happen, you might wonder? Well, about a year before he was born, in the spring of '67, Frank scored his PhD in economics from Johns Hopkins. Not fully aware of the various career paths available to him, he pursued the one gig he knew his degree would get him: An assistant professorship, which he found at Rice University. He taught there all of one year, from the fall of '67 through the spring of '68. Just before moving out there, his wife Mary broke the news that she was pregnant with their first child. Stephen was born the following March.
By the end of that one year at Rice, Frank had already had his fill of being a teacher. He'd eventually return to it thirteen years later. By the time 48 Broad takes place, he'll've been a professor at Temple University for five years. But that's later. Meantime, he had no desire to be a teacher after having been a student for ten years. He wanted to apply all that knowledge in the real world. And so back to Washington, D.C. they went, the young Roggebusch clan of three, Frank and Mary not even thirty. They settled in a neighborhood right down the street from Joanne and Marcus "Woody" Woods, the latter a reporter for one of the local network affiliates. They too had just had their first child: Daniel Woods, born in January of '68. Who could've predicted that Daniel and Stephen would end up the two oldest siblings at a three-story Victorian Queen Anne in South Jersey during the eighties? Not I. That's for sure.
It's suitable Stephen would have a hometown unique from the rest. I mean seriously. Houston. Talk about becoming the oddball of the family right out of the gate. It was perfect, though, as Stephen ultimately became the one with a world view far more unique than anyone else at 48 Broad. In this case "unique" is sort of a euphemism for weird.
Unlike his kid brother Jonathan, Stephen could actually remember when their parents were still married and their household was still nuclear. By the time Frank cheated on Mary with Joanne Woods, Jonathan wasn't even two yet. Stephen was five. While his memories of that time weren't crystal, he still had memories. He remembered Christmas at that house. He remembered his mother getting him a Flash Gordon figure. And The Thing costume his dad got him for Halloween. Frank had been Stephen's age when The Thing came out. Anyway, point being, Stephen remembered the brief time his parents were together. And as it does to everything else, hindsight sprayed the memory with gold paint. Paradoxically, what made Stephen most unique from the rest of his 48 Broad siblings was what made him most like his father: Stephen Roggebusch could nurse a grudge with the best of them. No joke, he could bathe in the same bitter juices for years on end. This, in turn, informed his unique point of view.
After his parents' divorce, his mom moved back down to North Fort Myers, Florida. She grew up there. Her parents and sisters were still in that area. Mary was reeling from Frank's divorcing her. As far as Frank was concerned, Mary was Count Dracula incarnate, and the only question he had regarding the divorce was what took him so long. For the rest of her life Mary would vilify both Frank and his new wife Joanne. Even after Frank divorced Joanne, the damage was done. Mary would lie to her sisters that Joanne had abandoned her kids. Whereas Jonathan bought a lot of that propaganda, Stephen didn't. And this cost him his relationship with her. Upon Stephen's high school graduation in the spring of 1986, he was all set to go to Temple University and major in music, with a girl on his arm he was almost certain to marry. But then, suddenly, the relationship was no more. No one was clear how it happened, but everyone knew Mary had something to do with it. Somehow, someway, from way down in the Deep South, she was able to ix-nay the relationship.
Just to hammer home the stark truth of "hell hath no fury," Mary didn't stop at ruining her son's relationship. She also pilfered the money from his college fund. Back when Frank and Mary divorced in '73, the agreement stipulated that Mary would take a percentage of the child support and alimony paid to her by Frank and deposit it in a college fund for both Stephen and Jonathan. But then during Stephen's senior year of high school, Frank discovered that in the more than ten years since the divorce, Mary had opened no such fund and had pocketed all the money for herself. To his dying day Frank would claim that he had never felt the kind of righteous indignation that he did upon that discovery. It was solved fairly quickly at least. One letter from Frank's lawyer to Mary's took care of it, but the damage was done. Mary had fucked over her two kids as a way of sticking it to their father.
Now what do you do if you're Stephen? You're the older of the two and so whatever your embittered mom tries to do to her kids, you're first in line. But at the same time, as the first-born, you're expected to set a model of behavior and comportment. It's a lot of pressure. But your mom's just fucked you over. Sure, your dad teaches at Temple, which has the free tuition perk (helluva perk!), but it's the principle of the thing. Plus, your mom made you dump the love of your life.
Just because Stephen didn't buy his mom's propaganda about Joanne Woods didn't spare Joanne from some of his bitterness. If you read the post on Jonathan, you already know that during Frank's marriage to Joanne, they were living in the D.C. suburb of Kensington while Stephen and Jonathan lived in North Fort Myers with Mary. During the summers they'd go up to Kensington. Frank worked during the week, of course, which meant Joanne had two more kids to deal with in addition to the three from her first marriage whom Frank had adopted. And then of course our main man Barry was born in August of '76. A laugh a minute on Soward Drive, boys and girls.
Now depending on who you talk to, Joanne mistreated Stephen. The latter would always claim that, even decades later. Mistreated him how? Well. Right. How indeed. He was always a bit nebulous on the specifics, but suffice it to say those Kensington summers left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth that never went away. Joanne became yet one more person Stephen considered an enemy. After moving to 48 Broad, he never missed an opportunity to insult her in some way, shape, or form. One time he and Barry were watching one of the Star Wars movies in the family room. Stephen related this one time when Joanne had taken all the boys to the theater to see the first Star Wars. I'm sorry, I mean, when she took them to see Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope. Barry existed but was still far too little to go to the movies, so he was at home with Madori, the Indian teenager who lived in the same cul-de-sac and often babysat him. The way Stephen told it to Barry, all the boys were rowdy and causing a ruckus in the theater, embarrassing Joanne and annoying the shit out of everyone else. Joanne lost her cool and threatened to take them all home if they couldn't keep a lid on it. When Barry asked why their father hadn't gone too, Stephen didn't say it was because he'd been at work but instead said: "Because he's not that stupid! He's not stupid enough to bring a whole bunch of little kids to a movie theater!" You might think Barry would say something back after having his mother insulted to his face, but he was too taken aback by the outburst.
In addition to his ultra-sensitivity and grudge nursing, Stephen also inherited his father's slow metabolism. His whole life Frank's weight was like a roller coaster ride. For Stephen it was exactly the same. During his prepubescent years, he was a slim guy like Jonathan. But as puberty approached, he not only grew vertically but horizontally as well. Around 1980 or so, when he was twelve, he was one fat little bugger. Fatter than his father. Frank was never all-out fat in a John Candy sense, but he always had that gut. A good twenty or thirty pounds of extra heft that his daily jogs did nothing to shed. Stephen carried around more weight than his father, percentage wise, commensurate with the ideal weight for someone of his age and height. So it didn't just show in the gut. It showed everywhere. That couldn't have helped his awkward relationship to food. Dan and Louis never missed a chance to needle him about it. Dan in particular could be positively brutal. They'd be having dinner, right? A steak, say. And Dan would be like, "Hey Steve, want my fat?" Everyone would crack up. And Stephen would never, ever forget it. From thereon out he made it his mission in life to find an opportunity to punch Dan out. He never did. Like his father, he was far too passive-aggressive to take anyone on directly. He talked a good talk, don't get me wrong. Again, like his father, he wasn't afraid to speak his mind. But when the kitchen got really hot, it was sayonara. I should say by the time 48 Broad takes place, Stephen was once again slim, while our man Bawrence Barney claimed the "most overweight at 48 Broad" mantle.
Like many others at 48 Broad, Stephen's chief consolation was music. Amazing, really, how musical that household was during the eighties. Especially considering how, a century earlier, the house had been a music school. See my post on Bunny Stringfellow for more on that. Like his father, Stephen's taste was jazz. Among his favorite artists was Chuck Mangione. Also like a lot of the 48 Broaders, Stephen played an instrument, in his case the trumpet. He was in his high school marching band and would play in Temple University's marching band during his one year there.
While his relationship to music was sound, Stephen's relationship to Barry was complicated. His relationship to everyone inevitably become complicated because he was prone to take everything so hard. But Barry's the hero of 48 Broad so I'll use him to help illustrate Stephen. As I said in the post on Jonathan, it was thanks to Barry's mom that Frank divorced Stephen and Jonathan's mother Mary. Barry represented the reason Stephen and Jonathan didn't get to experience Leave It to Beaver. Most people don't nowadays, but that doesn't seem to help when it happens to you. So like Jonathan, Stephen may have subconsciously had it in for Barry because of what the little bed wetter represented. Unlike Jonathan, Stephen actually remembered what it was like to be a family unit, so he knew what he was missing. Stephen never out and out kicked Barry's ass the way Jonathan did. So you've got to give him that. But that passive aggression I mentioned earlier more than compensated. He would, for instance, lead with a card during a family game of Oh Hell! that he knew would mess up Barry. Or he'd tell Barry one of his favorite movies was on TV when it wasn't. Stuff like that. And he loved mocking Barry's first and middle name. That never got old. He'd go "Bawrence Barney!" in a mock angry way like Frank would sometimes do, in a very angry way, when Barry did something wrong. He also liked giving Barry the middle finger behind his back. And lifting up one forearm while using the other hand to rub his bicep, a casual "fuck you." To be fair, most of the kids at 48 Broad would make a face or a gesture behind your back if they were sore at you. Boys will be boys, right? Stephen, however, made it an art form, as he did with passive aggression in general.
On the other hand, he and Barry were comrades-in-arms with the grocery shopping. Every Wednesday after school they'd take Frank's Dodge Caravan to the Super Fresh in Lumberton and stock up. They'd each get a cart and fill 'er up. With seven boys in the house, most of what they got would be junk food. They'd usually head out to the store just as Frank was going out for his jog. Just before taking off, decked out in his Redskins windbreaker and Temple U. shorts, he'd give them a wad of cash. The tab would generally be north of two hundred bucks. This is 1986 bucks, mind you.
Stephen and Barry also threw the football back and forth sometimes, especially in the fall during football season. One thing neither of them would forget was when Stephen, stewing over something one of his science teachers said to him three years earlier, threw a tight spiral way over Barry's head, across Buttonwood Street and straight through someone's living room window. Speaking of autumn, they would sometimes co-handle the leaf raking duty.
Indeed, despite everything, Stephen got along better with Barry than he did anyone else. Because of that, Stephen was the one who caught onto there being a ghost on the third floor. No, he never did find out it was the ghost of a thirteen-year-old violin prodigy. Only Barry could actually see and communicate with her because that's the way Bunny wanted it. Yet, while she could escape the eyes of everyone else, Bunny couldn't always escape their ears. One Saturday night, during an Oh Hell! game, Stephen excused himself to get the pair of glasses he left in Barry's room earlier that day when they were playing with Gorbie, the family Lhasa Apso. He heard something as he approached the doorway. It sounded like someone turning pages. It was, in fact. Bunny was perusing the score for Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D major (opus 61). It was one of the four pieces she'd been mulling over for her end-of-year recital. She died before she could make a decision. And there on the third floor, almost a hundred years later, she still couldn't decide. Stephen decided he didn't really need his glasses and hurried back downstairs.
It was with Gorbie that Stephen showed his softest side. Gorbie was probably the one sentient being in the entire household against whom Stephen never held a grudge. He'd let Gorbie sleep in his bed during the winter. One dreary morning on football Sunday, during the winter just before 48 Broad takes place, Stephen woke up to find Gorbie chewing on his electric blanket. The furry little nut had already gotten through to the wires. Every few seconds he'd chew too deeply into a wire and give himself a little jolt. And then he'd start chewing again until getting shocked again. Perhaps some dogs have better short-term memory than others. Gorbie wasn't one of them. Stephen laughed so hard he almost fell out of bed. Stephen also walked Gorbie more than anyone else. Sometimes Barry would go with him.
Let us not forget the mohawk episode. Or I should say, the reverse mohawk episode. Usually they'd take Gorbie to the vet for a flea bath and haircut. It was supposed to be a monthly thing, but structure was something that could elude 48 Broad at times, the chore chalkboard in the kitchen notwithstanding. Anyway, when it was time for another trip, Stephen said they could save money if he trimmed Gorbie's hair and gave him the bath. He didn't really care about saving his dad and stepmom money. What he didn't tell them was that he always felt terrible when Gorbie went to the vet. Gorbie was terrified of the place. So Stephen bought some flea shampoo and clippers. It was a bloody disaster. Gorbie, like most small animals, was terrified of clippers. Stephen had to grip that pooch's collar like it was the last thing on Earth. Gorbie trembled and shook and whimpered and did everything he could to get the hell out of Dodge. Stephen jerked the pooch toward him a bit too hard, about which he'd feel guilty later, and tried again. Gorbie threw a tantrum and made Stephen crop off that central part. Disgusted, Stephen finally let go of Gorbie...who now had a reverse mohawk. Jonathan never let him live that down.
Ah yes, the ongoing saga of Stephen and Jonathan. They hated each other. They always hated each other. When it started and why was rhetorical and irrelevant. If you were to ask them if there was ever a time when they could abide each other's presence, they'd draw a blank. Frank eventually developed a theory. After the divorce, he and Stephen developed a decent rapport. That may have been because, as I've outlined throughout this post, he and his first-born were personality twins. Stephen also looked a lot like Frank, I should also mention that. Now Jonathan? He looked more like Mary. And he bonded with her much more than Stephen ever did, or could. That's all Frank could come up with. It was simply a clash of personalities diametrically opposed to each other. Viewed a certain way, Stephen and Jonathan were Frank and Mary all over again, with all the resultant drama that implies.
Exhibit A: The library lot brawl wherein Stephan and Jonathan had a fight that spanned a football field. Literally. One of the pastimes for the kids at 48 Broad was heading the three or so blocks north on Buttonwood to play football on the huge field behind the Mount Holly Library. Tackle, mind you. None o' that touch shit. Stephen and Jonathan, as you would guess, were usually on opposing teams. While most of the time they could make it through a whole game without any physical altercations (arguments, on the other hand, were a given), on one particular occasion they didn't even make it to the kickoff. They always did a coin toss to see who'd get the ball first, as they do in real football. Jonathan was supposed to call it in the air, but he decided to wait until the coin landed with tails up to say tails. He swore he hadn't been looking at it when it landed and had meant to say tails all along. While the others lightly busted his chops, only Stephen, not surprisingly, became indignant. Alexander, who had no reason to be partisan to either side, said it did indeed look to him that Jonathan had simply forgotten to make the call and did say tails without looking at the coin. His objectivity pretty much ended it right there, but that didn't make Stephen feel any better. As they began the trek to opposite ends of the field, Stephen said, "Let the PUSSIES have it!" And on the word "PUSSIES" he slapped Jonathan square on his back.
As if expecting it, Jonathan spun around and threw a punch at Stephen's shoulder. Stephen returned the gesture in kind. The other five Roggebusch kids stood rooted to the side of the field by the path leading to Buttonwood, transfixed at the sight of Stephen and Jonathan throwing punches and slaps while literally making a circuit around the entire field. Barry would never forget it. He would especially remember that first slap by Stephen, and the image of them on the other side of the field, under that huge tree which, during games, was the unofficial sideline, since beyond that were more trees leading to the back of the library itself. As with most of their fights, there was no clear winner.
