Coupla Current Day Drunks - II

Saturday, March 22, 2008 – On to Lancaster see The Sharks. Checked in at the Brunswick (Two Stars and ranked 28th of 36 hotels on Travelocity’s list and over rated it turned out). No hot water, clock unplugged, no phone and the TV clicker didn’t work. After complaining about those four issues, they explained how to make the phone & hot water work and gave me a new clicker. I was back downstairs in a flash as the only item that worked was the clock that I plugged in. On to the new room – clicker works, hot water works, phone works, and so did the clock AFTER I HAD TO PLUG IT IN!!!

Warm up beers at the House of Pizza a rowdy bar on Chestnut Street. I assumed since the new police station was built right next to it that it would have cleaned up its act. Next thing you know a woman was getting thrown out – unfortunately it was the woman who had just bought me two beers and a pitcher. Oh well. Bye hon. An old biker friend bought me a beer also and I bought one for myself (and a mixed drink for him). His name was J.W. Murphy and he was an hombre in his day. The only other person that I knew in there was Lancaster’s version of Calobe Jackson, octogenarian City Council President Nelson Polite.

After making sure my drunken lady friend got to her car safely – I offered to drive her home but she maintained she was fine – I strolled through the outline of the now demolished Buchanan Lounge, an old topless bar in the 340 era, and through the parking lot and into – after I think a $12 cover – Lancaster’s oldest nite club: The Village.

As I entered the club my eyes first caught an old guy in a wheelchair. Only one leg; as a diabetic it was a message to me. It turned out to be a stronger message when I recognized the old man – it was Mitch; a 340 Club resident in the end times of the first rendition. Phil & I wondered about his whereabouts and there he was big as life (big as one can be in a wheel chair), drinking, smoking, screaming: “CRAZEE.” That was one of his nicknames for me and one of mine for him as I responded in kind: CRAZEE.” It was good to see him; it was sad to see him in such a state. He is on dialysis twice a week and will lose his second leg if not his life first. However, as an old Sharks roadie the reaper wouldn’t be getting him tonight, and he continued to drink and smoke (a pack a day). Sadly, he had not heard about Kenny, the only 340 Club resident no longer with us (suicide) and Mitch asked about Phil, Seal (the way he pronounced Sil), the guy who took the air baths (that’d be Chris), and lastly the guy who grew the buds (City L apparently had some horticulture going on that I wasn’t too aware of). Sam Lugar, of the Sharks, acknowledged Mitch from stage and everybody gave him much love. I’m quite certain the reaper will be delayed by several months whenever the Lord sends him just because of this night. Mitch stayed for a set.

The next maniac to greet me was the King of the Abby table – Ralphie Baker. “Tee, Tee, good to see you; Phil said you’d be here”. I don’t know if Ralph ever did speed or still does but I do know he never needed it. Ralphie is always revved and tonight he was wound as much as I had ever seen him. After all it was 10 o’clock and two sets of rock ‘n roll loomed ahead of us. I grabbed a beer from the always friendly and professional Gus Photis and dashed after Ralph.

Around the bar we went in search of cheeseburgers; alas, they are no longer sold at the Village they were the best burgers outside of Speed’s in Lancaster in the day (they are matched, today, in Harrisburg by the Jackson House). [btw, we bee bloggin’ now]. While the cheeseburgers were gone the next landmark wasn’t – there she stood taking orders, giving orders, always smiling – Bobbie. Our favorite waitress, now seventy, was still on the job. After a complete circum navigation of the bar, Ralph brought me to where Chip Ream, a good friend and longtime and current Shark roadie, used to be standing (before our manic trip around the bar). However, it was not wasted since there was Art Moshos’ wife who I got a nice hug from. Next thing you know there was this swarthy looking guy across the table asking where my Crawford shirt was. I shook his hand and my mind raced to identify. Obviously, I’m no Sherlock cuz it was ol’ Arty himself, who at 46 could scare the tuffest longshoreman in Philly on that look alone. It turns out he is raising a pitcher – now 13 – and if the kid can adopt that look (to go with the heater) he will do just fine. I had a great time with Art, Ralph and Mitch. Got to see Chip; said hello to Sam (of the Sharks).

After Gus fired them (and us, the fans) up, The Sharks took the stage and played most of their signature cover tunes of the 80s, plus a few originals including one song featuring Ian – son of Sam – on guitar. The lineup was a familiar one featuring Dougie Phillips (on drums), Mark on organ, Stevie Zero on guitar, Shea Quinn on bass & vocals and, of course, the showman, Sam Lugar on guitar & vocals. Dougie – in my book is the founder; Shea, for me the new kid; although in many ways it was his night cuz it was his first night back after a serious ass whipping he took last November.

Among other folks that I recognized were some guy named Gene who attended a few 340s in the day and Stan Caterbone (brother of Steve who owned The Sweet & Hot Spot in early 328 Club days; later rechristened under new ownership as The Betwixt & Between in 340 Club days) and finally – feeling no pain (and he never did) – Davy Horn. However, after Mitch, Ralph, Arty & Chip; the most 340 person there was a lovely lass, Suzanne, who used to date the “Clone.” The Clone was a Bonnie Parker roadie named Steve Noonan (for the record) who later worked for a Christian rock group – Stryper – and, Suzanne tells me, on at least one occasion for “the greatest Rock ‘n Roll band in the world – the Rolling Stones.” In any case Suzanne and I had a nice conversation about 340 Club days and I hope she – and dare I wish for the Clone – will attend the June 7th reunion.

At the start of the 2nd set I had enuff beers in me to feel comfortable with Ralph down in what he called “the mosh pit” right in front of the stage. The Sharks began the set with “I fought the Law” and “Police on my back” before jamming into perhaps my favorite Shark cover (another Clash tune) “Clampdown.” After those three I bid Ralph adieu and retreated to the safety of Arty’s table where we had a good time talking baseball and women. “Dancing with Myself” saw most of the guys doing just that. Soon, they had to take Ralph out … around 1:15. He had set too fast a pace even for him. He made a grand exit though much to the amusement of me and Art.

I ran across the parking lot to the House of Pizza – the potential of sexy sisters winning out of The Shark’s wrap up. However, it was last call at that place and no unpaired chicks so it was a mad dash back to The Village to make last call there. Not until after the obligatory and rowdy & loud (my lady Beverly said my voice was not normal the next day) demand for an encore from The Sharks. Needless to say, as planned, The Sharks acceded to the demands of the audience with a medley of covers – “You Really Got Me”, “Honky Tonk Women (is that for you Tee? Screamed Arty), “Dock of the Bay” and more that are lost to my 13th beer. After it – and since Sammy mentioned the Brunswick – I purchased a six pack (like always in the 340 days) so as not to be empty handed at the party. Chip told me, no that was just stage talk. No after party, at least not at the Brunswick. So it was up to the room by myself and a six pack. Five of the beers are now perched in my fridge; the 6th was found opened and hardly touched the next morning before Easter Mass at St. Mary’s.

I suppose this Easter was not unlike the 1981 Easter that I chronicled earlier today. On that note Happy Easter to all.

This one's for you Coach!