Today: Sunny, high 35, winds NW at 5 to 10
Tonight: Steady, until 6:30 p.m. when unpredictability is predicted as Hurricane Brown is expected to move in from the East ... the Randallion is coming to the State Capitol to attend the 12th annual Millenium Rock Conference. Weather should deteriorate long into the night with sunset not expected until after 2:00 Sunday morning ... women and children should have already been hid but mothers "its not too late".
Tomorrow: Ham & Eggs or something like that is predicted at sunup which according to Baer's Farmer's Almanac is expected to occur round noon as this extremely unuusual weather pattern passes through. Clouds should develop and showers are expected in the early afternoon. High 44F. Winds SE at 10 to 20 mph. Chance of rain 80%. Chance of insane behavior 100% (also known as a dead mortal lock). Weather is expected to taper off towards normal but with Hurricane Brown one never knows.
Monday: Seasonal weather patterns
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Where I Live
Inadvertently I’m loading the Beer Wagon despite forgetting to hitch the Clydesdale. Its time – October 1977 – to introduce the newest member, number ten, of the 340 Club: Dave Petkosh. Dave was a friend of mine whom I attended one of the greatest concerts – Rush, KISS, and Blue Oyster Cult – just before the noble experiment began three years earlier. However, I don’t think Dave would have rolled the dice and moved in based on our friendship which, admittedly, was more of an acquaintance rather than any kind of long standing friendship. No, I knew Dave through City L, Tim Getzloff; he of the great March New York City adventure. What I neglected to mention was that back in May, a couple of months after the Big Apple, Tim had moved back to West King. Now, with the reigns securely tied … it makes sense. Welcome to the Monkey House Mr. Petkosh. The 340 Club was now five strong: Phil, Sil, City L, Dave and me.
If no one has anything to add; I’m gonna put a wrapper on 1977.
If no one has anything to add; I’m gonna put a wrapper on 1977.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
The Burning Bed or Clactu's Encore
Somewhere, I believe in one of Clactu’s poems, I figured out that the Bonnie Parker Band was in town on July 7th, 1977 at the Village Night Club. It turns out that the 7th is Phil’s birthday and he would have been 28 that night. Undoubtedly it was celebrated there and, further, there likely was a 340 on the following two days – Friday the 8th and Saturday the 9th. Unfortunately, by this time of the summer, Clack had moved out – albeit temporarily in his mind -and was straining hard to retain some semblance of normalcy. One day, shortly after that, he visited the 340 Club to reinforce his claim on his room. On this particular visit he brought his brother Phil and another guest into the house and they went up to his old room and were “partying” (which is a euphemism of course for smoking non-tobacco products). Well it must have been a pretty good party because after they left Sil came out of his room smelling something burning. Looking into Clack’s room he noticed that the mattress was smoldering and he poured water on it. Subsequently, not wanting to flirt with any lingering burn he took the whole mattress out the front door and deposited it on the sidewalk. Needless to say the next time he saw Chris he would have a stern lecture for him. Sadly, the men in white with the butterfly nets found Chris first and he never again lived at the 340 Club.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Constructions
Clacktu would often surprise me when I got home from work with a change in my bedroom's decor. He would usually take an existing picture/poster that was on the wall and add various items to it, whether it be pens,pencils,buttons or whatever he could find with nothing being off-limits.
These were called "Constructions" and usually had a theme. None that I can recall now. My posters of the four Beatles were his favorite targets. I assume he may have done some constructing in other rooms of the 340 but in my recollection my room was his favorite.
Sometimes with a little scotch tape and some imagination he could create a "Construction" from scratch.
It seems to me that Clacktu had ALWAYS lived at the Club even though in reality he was only there a few short months. Time frames during our decade on West King Street are very confusing in my mind, the tenure of our room-mates especially. It seems like we were all-together all the time even though there was some revolving doors involving Club residents. Hard to believe we crammed that many "good times" in ten short years.
These were called "Constructions" and usually had a theme. None that I can recall now. My posters of the four Beatles were his favorite targets. I assume he may have done some constructing in other rooms of the 340 but in my recollection my room was his favorite.
Sometimes with a little scotch tape and some imagination he could create a "Construction" from scratch.
It seems to me that Clacktu had ALWAYS lived at the Club even though in reality he was only there a few short months. Time frames during our decade on West King Street are very confusing in my mind, the tenure of our room-mates especially. It seems like we were all-together all the time even though there was some revolving doors involving Club residents. Hard to believe we crammed that many "good times" in ten short years.
More 340 Times with Clacktu
Clacktu has memories of sitting on the floor in Kooky’s (that would be Phil's) room with a quart of beer or a joint and watching silently as Phil played APBA (I don’t recall Phil playing much solo APBA but perhaps he did in the days before the ZSABL) or (and this is my guess) recorded street hockey statistics. I remember Phil seated at a card table and incessantly keeping beautiful statistics of the Chestnut Street hockey team. Even today, he sits at his desk at 48 Seymour and, just as incessantly, keeps beautiful ZSABL statistics. It is almost he founded the ZSABL to replace his passion for keeping street hockey statistics. It is an admirable trait.
Another memory of Clack’s occurred shortly after the accident with Thomas Thomas. He and I were drinking upstairs, perhaps April 29 or 30 (OR May 6 or 7), when there came a rapping on the front door. I went down and answered the knock. It was Bob Smallwood, a friend of mine who I knew through Jan Maher-Ackerman (a local playwright whom he was dating at the time). Bob was a little hyper, intelligent, well read, "born to soon" and a nice guy. He joined us upstairs – in Phil’s room per Clack’s memory (I don't believe Phil was present) drinking and perhaps enjoying some contraband. I believe we were playing music and I know it was loud. Well, in between records Chris & I both produced – from where I dunno – kazoos and began to serenade each other and particularly poor Kazzooless Bob. It quickly went downhill from there with Chris & me becoming more and more in Bob’s face and becoming louder and louder. I know Chris thought Bob strange. I know Bob had to consider Chris very strange (after all this was their first meeting). Eventually Smallwood, unable to calm or silence us beat a retreat downstairs and out the front door from whence he came. Chris & I put down the kazoos and increased the pace of our drinking. Neither one of us noticing how hot it was getting. Eventually, an angry Sil had to come and confront us: “which one of you idiots turned the heat up? ... It’s up to 100 degrees for cryin’ out loud and it is 70 degrees outside.” Sil went down and turned the heat off and went back to his room. Chris & I paused long enough to realize that apparently, for some reason, angered at his unsought Kazoo Koncert, Bob Smallwood had turned the 340 heat on & up in retaliation.
A few weeks later, I had the male lead in an off Prince Street Play called
"Fragging”. It was written by the aforementioned Ms. Maher-Ackerman. Chris came, as a good roomie, in support of my acting debut. Bob Smallwood attended in support of his lady friend. Naturally, despite lacking a kazoo, Chris confronted Smallwood about the heater. Bob got a little defensive and told Chris he was getting “heavy”. Whereupon, one of them, Smallwood I believe whipped out some contraband and the pair lit up in the small theatre. Now, this was before the play and the theater was empty. Still they got reprimanded by the crew for not asking first. That was the end of the Kazoo cum Heater Incident.
Among Clack’s other memories are Phil tossing clothes away or somehow conveying to Chris that he no longer wanted this tee shirt or that tee shirt. While Phil has no memory – clear or otherwise – of this ritual; Chris does. He called it Kooky’s Rummage Sale and insists it happened more than once and that he got good mileage out of Phil’s hand me downs.
... and then, just as fast as he arrived in January; Clack was gone. Supposedly going home for summer break ... he certainly did not plan on going crazy ... However soon after departing the 340 Club in June or July he had another breakdown or occurrence and soon found himself in padded lodgings.
Another memory of Clack’s occurred shortly after the accident with Thomas Thomas. He and I were drinking upstairs, perhaps April 29 or 30 (OR May 6 or 7), when there came a rapping on the front door. I went down and answered the knock. It was Bob Smallwood, a friend of mine who I knew through Jan Maher-Ackerman (a local playwright whom he was dating at the time). Bob was a little hyper, intelligent, well read, "born to soon" and a nice guy. He joined us upstairs – in Phil’s room per Clack’s memory (I don't believe Phil was present) drinking and perhaps enjoying some contraband. I believe we were playing music and I know it was loud. Well, in between records Chris & I both produced – from where I dunno – kazoos and began to serenade each other and particularly poor Kazzooless Bob. It quickly went downhill from there with Chris & me becoming more and more in Bob’s face and becoming louder and louder. I know Chris thought Bob strange. I know Bob had to consider Chris very strange (after all this was their first meeting). Eventually Smallwood, unable to calm or silence us beat a retreat downstairs and out the front door from whence he came. Chris & I put down the kazoos and increased the pace of our drinking. Neither one of us noticing how hot it was getting. Eventually, an angry Sil had to come and confront us: “which one of you idiots turned the heat up? ... It’s up to 100 degrees for cryin’ out loud and it is 70 degrees outside.” Sil went down and turned the heat off and went back to his room. Chris & I paused long enough to realize that apparently, for some reason, angered at his unsought Kazoo Koncert, Bob Smallwood had turned the 340 heat on & up in retaliation.
A few weeks later, I had the male lead in an off Prince Street Play called
"Fragging”. It was written by the aforementioned Ms. Maher-Ackerman. Chris came, as a good roomie, in support of my acting debut. Bob Smallwood attended in support of his lady friend. Naturally, despite lacking a kazoo, Chris confronted Smallwood about the heater. Bob got a little defensive and told Chris he was getting “heavy”. Whereupon, one of them, Smallwood I believe whipped out some contraband and the pair lit up in the small theatre. Now, this was before the play and the theater was empty. Still they got reprimanded by the crew for not asking first. That was the end of the Kazoo cum Heater Incident.
Among Clack’s other memories are Phil tossing clothes away or somehow conveying to Chris that he no longer wanted this tee shirt or that tee shirt. While Phil has no memory – clear or otherwise – of this ritual; Chris does. He called it Kooky’s Rummage Sale and insists it happened more than once and that he got good mileage out of Phil’s hand me downs.
... and then, just as fast as he arrived in January; Clack was gone. Supposedly going home for summer break ... he certainly did not plan on going crazy ... However soon after departing the 340 Club in June or July he had another breakdown or occurrence and soon found himself in padded lodgings.
From the Poet Laureate: April 26th (Director’s Cut)
First, the poem – April 26th - as it appeared on January 2nd in From the Poet Laureate:
Woke up, got out of bed, heard a voice, thought it was Ted,
Am I going beserk, or is the Walrus now dead?
He blew his mind out in a car, he didn't notice it till morning,
Let it come as no surprise was he given sufficient warning?
Cause he was hit hard by a Christian who was simply conforming.
It turns out that the above poem which was accurately copied from a typewriter written transcript done by me, likely in the early 80s, is simply wrong. Here is the same poem taken from the original source document written, in pencil, by the poet himself:
Woke up, got of bed, heard a voice, thought it was Ted
Am I going berserk, or is the walrus now dead?
He blew his arm out in a car; he didn’t notice it till morning.
Let it come as no surprise was he given sufficient warning?
Cause he was hit hard by a Christian
Who was simply conforming
To the decadence of alcohol
And now immaterial mourning
The key differences -
1. I transcribed blew his arm out as blew his mind out ... having listened to two many Beatles rescords
2. Both of us mispelled berserk; which I corrected using spellcheck in the revised (but no longer original with this spelling revision)
3. My version as presented on January 2nd was only 5 or 6 lines depending on how you broke it up; it turned out two additional lines were on the back of the penciled original
4. Lastly, I wanted to connect the dots contained in the poem and today's blogpost. It turned out it provides great perspective of the morning after from Chris' point of view: he wakes up, is hungover, feeling guilty?, he thinks he hears my voice, but was I killed?, turns out it was just an arm injury, minor enuff that I really did not notice till the next day, the rest of the poem is harder to explain other than the born again claim of the other driver, the root cause alcohol … both the conforming and mourning references can be understood by only one mind … that’s why he is the Poet Laureate
Woke up, got out of bed, heard a voice, thought it was Ted,
Am I going beserk, or is the Walrus now dead?
He blew his mind out in a car, he didn't notice it till morning,
Let it come as no surprise was he given sufficient warning?
Cause he was hit hard by a Christian who was simply conforming.
It turns out that the above poem which was accurately copied from a typewriter written transcript done by me, likely in the early 80s, is simply wrong. Here is the same poem taken from the original source document written, in pencil, by the poet himself:
Woke up, got of bed, heard a voice, thought it was Ted
Am I going berserk, or is the walrus now dead?
He blew his arm out in a car; he didn’t notice it till morning.
Let it come as no surprise was he given sufficient warning?
Cause he was hit hard by a Christian
Who was simply conforming
To the decadence of alcohol
And now immaterial mourning
The key differences -
1. I transcribed blew his arm out as blew his mind out ... having listened to two many Beatles rescords
2. Both of us mispelled berserk; which I corrected using spellcheck in the revised (but no longer original with this spelling revision)
3. My version as presented on January 2nd was only 5 or 6 lines depending on how you broke it up; it turned out two additional lines were on the back of the penciled original
4. Lastly, I wanted to connect the dots contained in the poem and today's blogpost. It turned out it provides great perspective of the morning after from Chris' point of view: he wakes up, is hungover, feeling guilty?, he thinks he hears my voice, but was I killed?, turns out it was just an arm injury, minor enuff that I really did not notice till the next day, the rest of the poem is harder to explain other than the born again claim of the other driver, the root cause alcohol … both the conforming and mourning references can be understood by only one mind … that’s why he is the Poet Laureate
April 25, 1977
It was a Monday and Chris got off work at 9 at the Ganser Library in Millersville. He likely got to Cassidy’s at about 9:30. Obviously I have no memory of who was there (Phil? Woody? Dicky?); I dunno. I also don’t remember if he stopped and got me at 340 or was I already there at Cassidy's. Let’s assume he picked me up. Now, from 9:30 to 1:00 am I would estimate to have drunk about 14 beers. According to my consultant at my DUI trial in 1989 (Not guilty, of course) I would have left Cassidy’s at 0.19% Blood Alcohol Content. Chris, assuming he drank as much, would have been a little higher based on his lesser body weight. I paid $500 for the consultant so I assume his numbers and my math are at least a good estimate. In any case I don’t recall Chris being drunk but he certainly was “legally intoxicated.”
As we headed home from Cassidy’s; an 8 block trip I got hungry for a Rendezvous cheese steak as I often did. I encouraged Chris to go down a one way alley to get to the Vous quicker. It turned to be a mistake. When we came to the intersection in the middle of the block (i.e. by the Rendezvous parking lot) we were struck by a car driven by Thomas Thomas. I believe he had a stop sign but, even if so, he stopped and looked for appropriate traffic. Unfortunately, headed in the wrong direction, we were not appropriate and not expected and Thomas Thomas plowed right into the passenger side of Chris’ car totaling it. Thanks be to God (with an assist to Captain Frederick Pabst); I escaped without a scratch. I did have some pain in my right shoulder area the next morning as I suppose I shoulda had another Blue Ribbon or two when I got home that evening.
The police came and took the necessary information however they did not take Chris downtown for a breathalyzer. The car stayed in the Vous lot until the wrecker came the next day. After removing an old beat up basketball from the vehicle, Chris & I walked home the remaining couple of blocks to 340. Chris dribbling the ball sometimes hitting me with a pass to get us home quicker. Once reaching the 340, without any announcement, Chris moved to the white line in the middle of the street and simply let go of the basketball (we be blogging’ now) and watched it roll. It cleared Mulberry without causing another accident – 2:00 am traffic – and ended up in the trough of West King Street in front of Johnny’s Tavern or thereabouts. Never to be seen again.
The next day I reported to work at 8:30 as usual and, as my name was not in the small article that appeared in the paper (soon to appear in a Curator’s Corner); I underwent no grilling in the office. I have no further knowledge of Thomas Thomas, other than his claim to be born again, but his name was in the paper. Not sure if anyone questioned why a man of his claim was out and about in the wee hours. However, Chris did get questioned. As he reported to class the next day one of his teachers who read the small article that identified Chris as having caused a two vehicle accident at 1:00 a.m. was dumbfounded and wanted to know what on earth Chris was doing out at such an hour.
Tonight’s Poet Laureate post will reprise the poem Chris wrote about the event entitled April 26th.
As we headed home from Cassidy’s; an 8 block trip I got hungry for a Rendezvous cheese steak as I often did. I encouraged Chris to go down a one way alley to get to the Vous quicker. It turned to be a mistake. When we came to the intersection in the middle of the block (i.e. by the Rendezvous parking lot) we were struck by a car driven by Thomas Thomas. I believe he had a stop sign but, even if so, he stopped and looked for appropriate traffic. Unfortunately, headed in the wrong direction, we were not appropriate and not expected and Thomas Thomas plowed right into the passenger side of Chris’ car totaling it. Thanks be to God (with an assist to Captain Frederick Pabst); I escaped without a scratch. I did have some pain in my right shoulder area the next morning as I suppose I shoulda had another Blue Ribbon or two when I got home that evening.
The police came and took the necessary information however they did not take Chris downtown for a breathalyzer. The car stayed in the Vous lot until the wrecker came the next day. After removing an old beat up basketball from the vehicle, Chris & I walked home the remaining couple of blocks to 340. Chris dribbling the ball sometimes hitting me with a pass to get us home quicker. Once reaching the 340, without any announcement, Chris moved to the white line in the middle of the street and simply let go of the basketball (we be blogging’ now) and watched it roll. It cleared Mulberry without causing another accident – 2:00 am traffic – and ended up in the trough of West King Street in front of Johnny’s Tavern or thereabouts. Never to be seen again.
The next day I reported to work at 8:30 as usual and, as my name was not in the small article that appeared in the paper (soon to appear in a Curator’s Corner); I underwent no grilling in the office. I have no further knowledge of Thomas Thomas, other than his claim to be born again, but his name was in the paper. Not sure if anyone questioned why a man of his claim was out and about in the wee hours. However, Chris did get questioned. As he reported to class the next day one of his teachers who read the small article that identified Chris as having caused a two vehicle accident at 1:00 a.m. was dumbfounded and wanted to know what on earth Chris was doing out at such an hour.
Tonight’s Poet Laureate post will reprise the poem Chris wrote about the event entitled April 26th.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
March 20, 1977 [4:00am-9:00am]
It had been a whirlwind weekend so far … St. Pat’s crawling, Tim Kelly’ party, getting laid for my birthday, Friday night madness, sightseeing in Manhattan, Saturday night making Friday night appear tame and now – a stone sober Jack Kelly wanting to show City L and me another part of New York.
Off we went descending into the subway station at a ferocious pace making sure Andi wasn’t going to catch us. Back to Manhattan. Upon getting off the train Jack took us across the way and unto another subway. It was late/early and there were few people on the train. Soon, near Columbus Circle, all the white people got off. Next thing we know – we were in Harlem. Now, years later I visited the historic African-American neighborhood but even to this day I have yet to do it justice. However, on that night/morning, at that time, drunk/weary; it was not where we wanted to be. City L and I finally convince Accu Jack of that although he kept insisting he could get us laid. Across the station and back on the next subway south, City L drifted to sleep as the train sped back downtown. The brief respite was broken by the screeching of the airbrakes and in City L’s case by my listless body slamming against his as the train came to a stop. We were reinvigorated and bounced up the steps into daylight in Manhattan. Breakfast woulda been a good idea but the madman – Accu Jack – had alternative ideas. Soon he was hailing a cab; engaging in conversation with the driver and hailing another cab. My memory is Jack had three or four of the liveries lined up none of which were going to gain our fare. He was merely inquiring of the drivers where three gentlemen could find some professional women at this time of night/morning. One of cabbies must have told him what he wanted to hear because he was excitedly off in another direction with City L and me trailing. I wish I could tell you where we were – my best guess would be around 59th Street on the West side – but I have no clue. Soon an attractive Black female was in conversation with Jack and the four of us – with a new tour guide – were off to a seedy shack of a structure. Once inside it didn’t get any more inviting. Believe me, seedy is a complement. There were two, rather large, gentlemen in the place who looked like they were rejected for the Otis Day scene (“May we dance with your dates?”) in Animal House. There was one other female. Jack expressed disinterest in the wares; after all he was showing us a good time. City L and I went off to a couple of spartan rooms with our dates.
My new lady friend and I negotiated, I truly think it was $20 or less, and soon I was enjoying her prowess in oral stimulation over a rubber. There was no bed or couch but rather this act of love took place on a hard wood bench with a nice clean sheet over top. First time for everything. In the next room, City L’s negotiations were seemingly a little trickier and his Madame, apparently unwilling to wait for City L’s best offer, grabbed a $10 and left the room. Next thing you know there was a commotion in the vestibule and Accu, City L and the professional woman were no longer negotiating. Apparently, at no time did we pose a threat to the women because the two large men sat like Buddha’s while the spat went on. Back out into the street we went and off to breakfast it was. We had gone a couple of blocks when City L noticed that his wallet was lighter than it had been. Lesson learned.
We went back to Jack’s in Queens gathered our belongings & Andi and headed back to Penn Station and to quiet old Lancaster town. It certainly was one of my more memorable birthdays.
Off we went descending into the subway station at a ferocious pace making sure Andi wasn’t going to catch us. Back to Manhattan. Upon getting off the train Jack took us across the way and unto another subway. It was late/early and there were few people on the train. Soon, near Columbus Circle, all the white people got off. Next thing we know – we were in Harlem. Now, years later I visited the historic African-American neighborhood but even to this day I have yet to do it justice. However, on that night/morning, at that time, drunk/weary; it was not where we wanted to be. City L and I finally convince Accu Jack of that although he kept insisting he could get us laid. Across the station and back on the next subway south, City L drifted to sleep as the train sped back downtown. The brief respite was broken by the screeching of the airbrakes and in City L’s case by my listless body slamming against his as the train came to a stop. We were reinvigorated and bounced up the steps into daylight in Manhattan. Breakfast woulda been a good idea but the madman – Accu Jack – had alternative ideas. Soon he was hailing a cab; engaging in conversation with the driver and hailing another cab. My memory is Jack had three or four of the liveries lined up none of which were going to gain our fare. He was merely inquiring of the drivers where three gentlemen could find some professional women at this time of night/morning. One of cabbies must have told him what he wanted to hear because he was excitedly off in another direction with City L and me trailing. I wish I could tell you where we were – my best guess would be around 59th Street on the West side – but I have no clue. Soon an attractive Black female was in conversation with Jack and the four of us – with a new tour guide – were off to a seedy shack of a structure. Once inside it didn’t get any more inviting. Believe me, seedy is a complement. There were two, rather large, gentlemen in the place who looked like they were rejected for the Otis Day scene (“May we dance with your dates?”) in Animal House. There was one other female. Jack expressed disinterest in the wares; after all he was showing us a good time. City L and I went off to a couple of spartan rooms with our dates.
My new lady friend and I negotiated, I truly think it was $20 or less, and soon I was enjoying her prowess in oral stimulation over a rubber. There was no bed or couch but rather this act of love took place on a hard wood bench with a nice clean sheet over top. First time for everything. In the next room, City L’s negotiations were seemingly a little trickier and his Madame, apparently unwilling to wait for City L’s best offer, grabbed a $10 and left the room. Next thing you know there was a commotion in the vestibule and Accu, City L and the professional woman were no longer negotiating. Apparently, at no time did we pose a threat to the women because the two large men sat like Buddha’s while the spat went on. Back out into the street we went and off to breakfast it was. We had gone a couple of blocks when City L noticed that his wallet was lighter than it had been. Lesson learned.
We went back to Jack’s in Queens gathered our belongings & Andi and headed back to Penn Station and to quiet old Lancaster town. It certainly was one of my more memorable birthdays.
March 17-19, 1977
Forgive me if I fail to do justice to one of the greatest escapades that I’ve ever been involved in. However, I’m not sure that even Hemmingway could adequately describe what it must have been like to have City L, Accu Jack and myself on the loose at daybreak in Manhattan. As with most stories I will begin at the beginning.
City L aka Tim Getzloff, a 328 Club resident and future 340 Clubber, was in New York City at a college newspaper conference. Since he obviously needed legal representation I had made arrangements to join him in the Big Apple on Friday afternoon, the 18th. Accu Jack Kelly who had accompanied me on my 1975 and ’76 St. Pat’s Pub Crawls had taken employment in New York as a maître’d at a popular French bistro – The Magic Pan. We would be meeting Jack on Saturday.
After arising on the feast day I went in to work at City Hall and gave the taxpayers their moneys worth. I then took a leisurely walk home, beginning at the Swamp Fox, stopping for some green beer at several places (Kramers, Soldners, Johnny's)on my way home. Tim Kelly, Accu Jack’s brother, was having a St Pat’s party and being it was just around the corner from the 340 I was planning on attending. It turned out to be a great party and as the luck of the Irish would have it I awakened on Friday morning in a strange bed in the arms of a lovely damsel (#25). After the obligatory politesse I adjourned to the AMTRAK station to catch the New York train.
Upon arriving in NYC it was off to the journalism convention to meet City L. It is here where for some reason my memory gets a little hazy. I’ll give you my best recollection and seek input/critique from both of the other two witnesses (and who knows maybe a 3rd). I believe Tim was busy at the conference and I likely entertained myself in Fear City that evening. From the looks of the photo the hotel room was quite a party in its own right.
On Saturday, after checking out of the hotel and saying good bye to the conference, City L, myself, and Andi Schreiber – a co-ed member of the Millersville State College 4th estate (you may recall Andi has already appeared in this blog in that crazy ad libbed play which chronologically speaking likely occurred after this trip) – were off to see some sights. Accu Jack joined us and played the role of tour guide. We went up to the top of the World Trade Center. Andi dutifully taking pictures. It is a very recent memory – i.e. Andi even being there – but someone had to take the pictures and since they don’t seem particularly posed (as if we passed a camera to a bystander) that provided reinforcement to my belief that she was present. At some point Jack departed to go to work at The Magic Pan and the three of us were off to paint some of the big city. We visited a few watering holes in Gotham, Toots Shors, dinner at The Magic Pan, the Monkey Bar at the Elysees, and finally we took in some comedy at Catch a Rising Star where if I’m not mistaken – something I ate must have disagreed with me – I took sick in the women’s room. Needless to say we were asked to leave. Now it was onto a subway and out of Manhattan. We got to Jack’s a bit before he did and his sister was a great host. Making sure that we were able to replenish our liquids after a tough night on the town. Tim, Andi & I were likely eyeing up sleeping spaces with tired eyes and may have actually slipped off to sleep when … the door opened and a madman leaped in … it was Accu … now off work and full of fire. Get up! Let’s go! Unlike Tim & I Jack had spent the night working and now he wanted to unwind and he had two visitors from Lancaster to do it with. It didn’t take us long to throw some water on our face and get ready to hit the streets again. First we needed to deter – successfully – Andi from thinking she was coming with. This was a men only trip. It was still dark but the Fat Female Rooster was warming up.
City L aka Tim Getzloff, a 328 Club resident and future 340 Clubber, was in New York City at a college newspaper conference. Since he obviously needed legal representation I had made arrangements to join him in the Big Apple on Friday afternoon, the 18th. Accu Jack Kelly who had accompanied me on my 1975 and ’76 St. Pat’s Pub Crawls had taken employment in New York as a maître’d at a popular French bistro – The Magic Pan. We would be meeting Jack on Saturday.
After arising on the feast day I went in to work at City Hall and gave the taxpayers their moneys worth. I then took a leisurely walk home, beginning at the Swamp Fox, stopping for some green beer at several places (Kramers, Soldners, Johnny's)on my way home. Tim Kelly, Accu Jack’s brother, was having a St Pat’s party and being it was just around the corner from the 340 I was planning on attending. It turned out to be a great party and as the luck of the Irish would have it I awakened on Friday morning in a strange bed in the arms of a lovely damsel (#25). After the obligatory politesse I adjourned to the AMTRAK station to catch the New York train.
Upon arriving in NYC it was off to the journalism convention to meet City L. It is here where for some reason my memory gets a little hazy. I’ll give you my best recollection and seek input/critique from both of the other two witnesses (and who knows maybe a 3rd). I believe Tim was busy at the conference and I likely entertained myself in Fear City that evening. From the looks of the photo the hotel room was quite a party in its own right.
On Saturday, after checking out of the hotel and saying good bye to the conference, City L, myself, and Andi Schreiber – a co-ed member of the Millersville State College 4th estate (you may recall Andi has already appeared in this blog in that crazy ad libbed play which chronologically speaking likely occurred after this trip) – were off to see some sights. Accu Jack joined us and played the role of tour guide. We went up to the top of the World Trade Center. Andi dutifully taking pictures. It is a very recent memory – i.e. Andi even being there – but someone had to take the pictures and since they don’t seem particularly posed (as if we passed a camera to a bystander) that provided reinforcement to my belief that she was present. At some point Jack departed to go to work at The Magic Pan and the three of us were off to paint some of the big city. We visited a few watering holes in Gotham, Toots Shors, dinner at The Magic Pan, the Monkey Bar at the Elysees, and finally we took in some comedy at Catch a Rising Star where if I’m not mistaken – something I ate must have disagreed with me – I took sick in the women’s room. Needless to say we were asked to leave. Now it was onto a subway and out of Manhattan. We got to Jack’s a bit before he did and his sister was a great host. Making sure that we were able to replenish our liquids after a tough night on the town. Tim, Andi & I were likely eyeing up sleeping spaces with tired eyes and may have actually slipped off to sleep when … the door opened and a madman leaped in … it was Accu … now off work and full of fire. Get up! Let’s go! Unlike Tim & I Jack had spent the night working and now he wanted to unwind and he had two visitors from Lancaster to do it with. It didn’t take us long to throw some water on our face and get ready to hit the streets again. First we needed to deter – successfully – Andi from thinking she was coming with. This was a men only trip. It was still dark but the Fat Female Rooster was warming up.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Curators Corner - Five Hundred 45 RPM Records
There are over 500 singles in the Might 340 Club Juke Box collection.
It is from this catalogue that all songs will be selected to play at the reunion.Please submit dedications to this blog or to Tee, Phil or Randy. If you remember a particular song from the juke box and want to dedicate to Jimmy Zangari or the Creature from the Black Lagoon or HTF or whomever. Let us know.
January 12, 1977
Chris Joyce turns 24. He is a Millersville State College student and brother of Dan Joyce, an original 328 Club legacy member. He also is bipolar and was not unaccustomed to severe mood swings. So long as he took his lithium, by and large, he would be normal. Uh, perhaps that is not the right word. Let’s put it this way – with or without medication – he fit in real well with the 340 Club when he moved in on or about his 24th birthday.
As his brother Dan was the Red Fox; so Chris was the Black Fox (different milkmen? I dunno). In the blog he is referred to every Wednesday as the poet laureate of the 340 Club. Phil & I, and I suppose others, lovingly refer to him as Clacktu; a nickname derived from the character – Klaatu – in the 1951 sci-fi classic The Day the Earth Stood Still.
Chris remembers moving into the 340, likely at my invite as I have been Chris friend since round 1967 or so, with Bob Ulmer helping him and none of the usual gang of idiots lying around the sofas and floor offering any assistance. Before bringing belongings in they had to clean Chris’ room which had been unoccupied in the 17 months of the 340’s existence. Unoccupied did not mean empty but rather it meant an invitation to put junk in. Included amidst the junk was an HO train set up that would reappear in the basement of a future home as Beerville. One of the most valuable possessions brought into the 340 was a TV set that Chris’ sister had given him but it never worked at 340 (or anywhere else thereafter).
Chris was a great roomie, an additional drinking partner, and remains a good friend. He had his quirks, as we all did, I suppose most obvious among them was his proclivity for taking Airbaths. That is getting naked as if to go shower; standing on his head, by his side of house window, and taking in the free moving air. I suppose it was cleansing for the soul. More to come
As his brother Dan was the Red Fox; so Chris was the Black Fox (different milkmen? I dunno). In the blog he is referred to every Wednesday as the poet laureate of the 340 Club. Phil & I, and I suppose others, lovingly refer to him as Clacktu; a nickname derived from the character – Klaatu – in the 1951 sci-fi classic The Day the Earth Stood Still.
Chris remembers moving into the 340, likely at my invite as I have been Chris friend since round 1967 or so, with Bob Ulmer helping him and none of the usual gang of idiots lying around the sofas and floor offering any assistance. Before bringing belongings in they had to clean Chris’ room which had been unoccupied in the 17 months of the 340’s existence. Unoccupied did not mean empty but rather it meant an invitation to put junk in. Included amidst the junk was an HO train set up that would reappear in the basement of a future home as Beerville. One of the most valuable possessions brought into the 340 was a TV set that Chris’ sister had given him but it never worked at 340 (or anywhere else thereafter).
Chris was a great roomie, an additional drinking partner, and remains a good friend. He had his quirks, as we all did, I suppose most obvious among them was his proclivity for taking Airbaths. That is getting naked as if to go shower; standing on his head, by his side of house window, and taking in the free moving air. I suppose it was cleansing for the soul. More to come
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Trivia
There will be some trivia questions posed at the reunion in June. To help you prep for such an event from time to time questions will be posed here in the Blog so you can revive some old memories and rev up your response time. To that end here are a few questions:
THIS WEEK'S QUESTIONS: (41-45)
41) What was the name of the athletic store almost directly across the street from the 340 Club ?
42) What was a member of the 340 accused of doing at the laundromat down the street from the Club at a town meeting at the nearby Church and defended by 340 resident Sue Krimmell ?
43)The "Bat Cave" and "Sleepy Hollow" were locations in the 300 block of West King Street, who resided there ?
44)What two North Queen Street establishments did 340 resident "City L." work for ?
45)Who was the "Master of Sidewalk Driving" ?
Last Week's Q & A's
33. Who was our favorite waitress at the Wheatland Inn?
CAROLINE
34. What high school classmate of Sil's and Phil's was a nephew of the Wheatland's owner?
PAUL TRIMBLE
35. Who were the two barmaids at the Wheatland?
ALANA & ANNA
BONUS: Which one did Lenny spit on causing his suspension and temporarily halting his 1976 Presidential campaign. ALANA
36. What was the sandwhich of choice at the Wheatland Inn?
CSO - CHEESE STEAK (with) ONION
37. Who was Al Trimble's "gofer" at the Wheatland? BONUS: What bit of Lenny's was he a crucial player in?
SKEETS was the "gofer" and when Lenny played "Roll out the Barrell", Skeets would bring out a small keg and roll it around the bar making everybody lift their glass/bottle when he passed them.
38. Where was the longest distance telephone call from that Lenny Lane ever received while playing the piano at the Wheatland?
FROM MONTREAL'S OLYMPIC STADIUM
39. What was the name of the Mt. Carmel born piano player, not quite the immortal genius of Lenny Lane, who provided a reasonable facsimile at Wildwood in the early eighties? TWO CLUES: He would "tickle your toes" and he is playing Lancaster this October 15-16 with 1pm shows at the Host Resort.
CHARLIE PROSE
40. What was the name of Al Trimble's next bar after he sold the Wheatland Inn?
THE BLUE & GRAY
THIS WEEK'S QUESTIONS: (41-45)
41) What was the name of the athletic store almost directly across the street from the 340 Club ?
42) What was a member of the 340 accused of doing at the laundromat down the street from the Club at a town meeting at the nearby Church and defended by 340 resident Sue Krimmell ?
43)The "Bat Cave" and "Sleepy Hollow" were locations in the 300 block of West King Street, who resided there ?
44)What two North Queen Street establishments did 340 resident "City L." work for ?
45)Who was the "Master of Sidewalk Driving" ?
Last Week's Q & A's
33. Who was our favorite waitress at the Wheatland Inn?
CAROLINE
34. What high school classmate of Sil's and Phil's was a nephew of the Wheatland's owner?
PAUL TRIMBLE
35. Who were the two barmaids at the Wheatland?
ALANA & ANNA
BONUS: Which one did Lenny spit on causing his suspension and temporarily halting his 1976 Presidential campaign. ALANA
36. What was the sandwhich of choice at the Wheatland Inn?
CSO - CHEESE STEAK (with) ONION
37. Who was Al Trimble's "gofer" at the Wheatland? BONUS: What bit of Lenny's was he a crucial player in?
SKEETS was the "gofer" and when Lenny played "Roll out the Barrell", Skeets would bring out a small keg and roll it around the bar making everybody lift their glass/bottle when he passed them.
38. Where was the longest distance telephone call from that Lenny Lane ever received while playing the piano at the Wheatland?
FROM MONTREAL'S OLYMPIC STADIUM
39. What was the name of the Mt. Carmel born piano player, not quite the immortal genius of Lenny Lane, who provided a reasonable facsimile at Wildwood in the early eighties? TWO CLUES: He would "tickle your toes" and he is playing Lancaster this October 15-16 with 1pm shows at the Host Resort.
CHARLIE PROSE
40. What was the name of Al Trimble's next bar after he sold the Wheatland Inn?
THE BLUE & GRAY
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