The Cult of Bachelorhood

My on-and-off life as a bachelor existed at several Lancaster county sites, one of which was a short stint at the 340 West King Street residence. Before "The Club", I had digs on East Orange St. (1968-69) and later (just around the corner) on 33 North Lime (early 70's)It was on North Lime that a cult of bachelorhood first emerged at which several Lancaster Catholic alum notables partied such as Tim Getzloff, Dave Harnish, Pete Ricker, Bob Novochek (RIP), and Butchie Binder. Jethro Tull, Traffic, the Who, and others were enjoyed with quarts-upon-quarts of good ole F & S (Furman and Schmidt). What were they? Three quarts for $1.25?

Some years later in the late 70's when I lived out in the country outside Mount Joy, after finding my belongings out on the porch one summer, another divorcee took me in for a couple months out in Penryn, only to realize he preferred the solitary life and so suggested I find another place to "winter". Then, just in the nick of time, Mr. Tim (Getzloff) announced that the former Occupant of the second floor, first room on the right, had stripped a gear and his room was now vacant. In moved DaveP for the winter. It is because I only stayed there for a season that many 340 Club alum don't recognize my name.

This short stay at the Club nevertheless scorched several memories on my brain"
1) The still smoldering matress in the alley below my room when I moved in.
2) A Christmas sleep-over with my 3-year old daughter Ligeia, while a holiday party ensued below.
3) The introduction to the scary side of urban bachelor culture to well-bred young ladies.
4) The always occupied ,first floor, front room, which served as TV and living room.
5) The darkest, most toxic kitchen I've ever seen.
6) A total absence of memory of the bathroom.
7) The sound of Tee making "gaming noises" hour after hour in the top floor headquarters.

After leaving The 340 Club in the Spring, I found other digs out in the northern Lancaster County countryside and lived there for about 10-12 years, serving once a gain as a refuge for another host of buddies. Many close calls, but "trouble" was avoided. Looking back on it now, I'm still amazed.

Today, decades and several lives later, I'm back living in rural Lancaster County, finally happily married and still teaching English after almost 40 years. But, every time I drive down West King into the city, I make a silent, mental genuflection---Eyes, right! But, dare I look? Is it still there? Does it look the same? What ghosts haunt those rooms? Is the kitchen still toxic? When I take friends and family on driving-around tours of Lancaster, I think that 340 must strike them most, give them pause. What they think I cannot say. But, I never leave out this drive-by.

Many people see adult bachelorhood as arrested development, an extended adolescence, a self-indulgence, a failure of sorts, or worse. (I remember when the nuns called it a "vocation". What ever happened to that view? Do nuns still say that?) But, call it what you want. A cult, an aternative lifestyle, men-in-groups, am unconscious choice, a state of mind, Hotel California. No, it's not always depraved or not always ennnobling; it's almost always a bit of both.

Zappa said that nostalgia is a waste of the mind, but I think he just didn't live long enough to realize that it isn't.

The Last Pile (ver 1.1)

When my mother died on August 29, 1989 I was living with Phil. I was 38 and had lived in the Delta House since leaving home in September 1974. I did it backwards; I graduated from college and then moved into the frat house. Whether the address was 328 or 340 West King Street, 72 Howard Avenue (the Outpost of Humanity), briefly back home, back to 340 and 338 West King Street, and finally, surprisingly the longest consistent address, 48 Seymour Street, directly connected to a tavern, with my consummate roomie, Phil. The total was 15 years of sleep deprivation, fast foods, pretty ladies, cold pizza, beer, rock ‘n roll, little if any responsibility, chasing both the dream and the nightmare. Suddenly, with two phone calls my life changed forever. My sister called me one morning at work to tell me my mom had suffered a fatal heart attack in Pittsburgh while visiting her sister, my Aunt. An ex-girl friend called the following week to let me know that she was pregnant with my child. It was time to leave the frat house.

I was alive; I had not overdosed, nor died in a fiery crash, nor lost my job, nor had my body betrayed me (yet), no warrants had been served on me, I beat my DUI (after all, I was an innocent man), I had avoided the altar despite knowing more than a few well qualified young ladies. All of these happy circumstances were but for the grace of God or fate and most certainly not due to any personal course of action. However, there are two specific escapes of which I am more grateful for than others – I never became a smoker. Clearly I had demonstrated myself as a weak glutton who followed his desires more than common sense or duty. I probably lit less than a dozen cigarettes in those years and never finished a single one of them. Given that both parents and my only sibling smoked like chimneys (Lucky Strikes in my parent’s case) I thank the Lord daily for this happenstance. The other habit that gratefully I never took up was recreational drugs. I truly remember buying a young woman a dime bag in the early 70s for her birthday but have absolutely no recollection of ever purchasing so much as a single narcotic pill or tab after that gift. Consequently, when the mad days on West King Street were in full effect I was usually oblivious to drug use and in my own beer induced stupor. Having said that, I never turned down a joint, a hit, a pill or a line. My participation was limited by the code of the lost boys that every now and then it was your turn to buy, share or chip in.

That having been said I present my version of The Last Pile:

Late one, Friday (or Saturday), at Zangari South (after the 340 daze, likely around 1986) probably just before 1:00 a.m. I was drinking my Pabst at the bar with Coach, and other 340 Clubbers, street hockey players, b-girls, and junkies. Typically, I’d be drinking beer as if prohibition started the next day with an eye on the door desiring #134 to walk through the door. Coach, meanwhile, would be sitting there likely down the bar after having taken a berating from me for his far left politics. Others, Jeff Hull, the Future’s Bright would be down at the other end of the bar having taken a similar berating for their right wing views. I did a lot of berating and another thing that I escaped during my tenure in the Animal House was a good ass whipping. Lord knows, I deserved a few but I digress. Coach, by his own admission, was in possession of an 8-ball, was desperately looking for a place to party in private. Now, I must interject the bartender into the picture – Phil. Unlike my stance which was my drug of choice was the nectar of the Gods; Phil had evolved into pretty much an anti-drug stance based in part on some very negative familial experience. If Coach waited till the bar closed he knew that my roomie, the bartender, and my roommate (i.e. the homeowner’s son), would frown upon someone laying out lines in his home. So, Coach asked me if I wanted to go next door (to my & Phil’s house) and party. [NOTE: Coach tells it that I invited him over to watch a movie. Obviously, one of us is wrong... That’s why this is my version.] I saw the situation for what it was and grabbed a six pack and Coach & I went to my home which was next door and, contrary to PLCB regulations, could be accessed through the interior of the bar.

As coach states, he “thought this would also be a great place to get away from a few of my eager friends who wanted to party and with my party goods. I (Coach) just got an eight ball which usually last me to early dawn … I dumped the eight ball onto the mirror which was about 5 or 6 inches in length and laid out two lines the length of the mirror.” Here is where Coach and I again differ. In my mind at this point he did one of the lines, offered me the other, left the mirror and went to the bathroom. I simply took him up on the invitation and inhaled one of the lines on the reflecting surface. I then grabbed a Pabst and returned my attention to the “movie.” Meanwhile, coach comes bouncing down the stairs vibrant and ready to go and sits down in front of the mirror. Again, I turn the story back to Coach: “I looked at the mirror and saw only the one line left! Tee did the entire pile i.e. the eight ball! I glared at Tee and said, WTF?” I looked at Coach, not realizing what I had done, and said: “what’s wrong Coach, you told me to do a line”? I had mistakenly scarfed up poor Coach’s supplies for the night in one breath. Until reading Coach’s description I never fully grasped his lack of belief in my version. It was simply a mistake, quite hilarious to me and to Phil whenever he found out about it.

Coach and I both concur that he didn’t stick around “movie” or not. Phil came home at 2 and we likely had a couple of beers and called it a night. For obvious reasons Coach never turned me on again.

There, but for the grace of God …

The last Pile

One evening as Zangari bar was closing, Tee invited me over to where Phil and he were living on Seymore St, to watch a movie. I don’t remember what it was, but we both were eager to watch this which was to start around 1:30 am. I thought this would also be a great place to get away from a few of my eager friends who wanted to party and with my party goods. What better place then Phil and Tee’s place, as neither party with drugs. I just got an eight ball which usually last me to early dawn, so I thought I would watch the movie, and then go meet a friend for some early morning fun and partying. I dumped the eight ball onto the mirror which was about 5 or 6 inches in length and laid out two lines the length of the mirror, and took one and offered the mirror to Tee. Too my surprise, he took it, did it and then handed me the mirror back. I looked at the mirror and saw only the one line left! Tee did the entire pile i.e. the eight ball! I glared at Tee and said, WTF? Tee looked at me so surprised and said “what’s wrong Coach, wasn’t I suppose to do the pile”? At first I thought he was bull shitting me and I was pissed. He told me that he mistakenly took it, not knowing which to take. I didn’t believe him but as then as I thought about him not doing drugs, I calmed down and accepted his defense. I don’t recall any of the conversation after that and after my 2 lines were gone, I started to feel tired, looked at my empty mirror, and got up to head home (I never did see the end of the movie). Tee who still seemed un-affected by the eighth said, “Coach, why are you leaving, the movie is just getting interesting”. I sighed, and went home to crash. I don’t recall a Sat evening that I crashed this “early”, during all of my partying years. To the very end of my party days, I never handed a mirror to Tee or any other non drugie. Hmmm, I wonder why :)

The 3rd Day of 340

Phil joined myself, Sil and Jimmy Shay in October 1975 and simultaneously I grew up just a little by gaining full-time employment. I have worked a full-time job ever since.

Soon it was back to three when Jimmy moved on with his girlfriend if my memory is working. If you were on West King Street from 1974-84, on an average day 2.64 of the three of us where there. I'm a numbers man I can't help it.

Throughout 1976, the Bicentennial, it was the three of us and it was an eventful year full of common interests and events - Olympics, All-Star, APBA Convention, Lenny Lane, a Presidential election, as well as the Bi-Centennial itself.

We expanded back to 4 in January when Chris Joyce moved in. Chris' tenure began a wild period - not blaming Chris just describing the atmosphere - at the 340 Club. Chris was there for a single semester but clearly his impact is still felt.

Tim Getzloff, a 328 Club veteran, returned in May 1977 paving the way for the Club, after Chris departure, to take in a marriage refugee Dave Petkosh that October. Mr. Petkosh, a school teacher and young parent (albeit older than Phil who became the second oldest in 340 history), moved into 340 seeking respit and, I like to think, found some during his short stay. He was gone in early 1978. Presently, Dave is feverishly trying, even as I type, to master the Blogger technology ladder in order to post. It will be worth the wait.

Dave's departure, perhaps a testimony to his rationality, once again put some strain on the household. The next two guys in knew no boundaries. Up till now, with arguably an exception or two, the residents of 340 were largely a sanctuary for middle/upper middle class, Catholic, college or some college, beer swillers, just finding their footing with that other gender type of guys. Enter a pair of Crazees - first Mitch Herr; followed closely by the late Gilt. According to my records/memory, Kenny's entrance was the last straw for Sil. It was nothing personal between them; the madness was simply too much. I certainly couldn't handle Mitch & Kenny but my reaction was not to abandon ship but rather to push the pedal. So Sil was not dealing with those two crazies but three. Phil usually a rock of stability also couldn't help being drug along with the vibrations coming from the adjacent rooms. It was now when the landlord finally had enough and issued a few pontificating epistles.

Kenny fouled out after just a couple of months. He remained an active member of course but no longer occupied a bed or had to feel guilty about not paying rent. Mitch, also committed his 5th foul as reported by Phil earlier in this Blog. Both of them were gone by autumn.

In between there departures I was gone ... as a firt time homeowner on the fault line between the Bloody 7th and the Gentry. A fault line that has not moved a whit in the thirty years since my move. Jimmy Shay was my first roomie. The amazing Ron Botzum next; and the randallion cat, the lizard king, the one and only Randy Brown was my next roommate in a small, 1 1/2 story home, that became known as The Outpost of Humanity.

That left Tim & Phil. A friend of mine and street hockey teammate of Phil's Dean Staherski signed on the Titanic for the maiden voyage but ... it was interrupted. As Phil has reported earlier; first Tim, then Dean and finally Phil - the Birdman of 340 - had to leave the trash and varmint friendly 340. Before '78 came to an end, Mr. Kratzert was looking for new tenants and West King Street was devoid of us for the first time in over four years.

Poet Laureate

This poem purports to have been written around Phil’s birthday (“it was Kookie’s birthday”) and given that Chris’ principal time at 340 was 1977; I place the evening described as July 7, 1977. I believe Sil was the sober Mexican peasant. Mitch was Mitch. I am the Walrus and apparently I musta wormed. I believe this was the evening that I wore a Dashiki and, for some reason, destroyed it on the dance floor. In any case, I present the following poem from the Poet Laureate of the 340 Club:

 

B.P. – “the cheapest way to get your motor running”

By Christopher E. Joyce

 

Last week there came to town an event,

Called the Bonnie Parker Band,

They came and put upon all Lancaster,

The spell of Rock’s command.

 

Sweet Bonnie is all rocks queen glitter

She’d scream and jump and shout.

And make you listen to her songs

And get your ya ya’s out.

 

The music was that of precision so

Crisp and loud and clear.

And I felt no alcohol confusion

Drinking water instead of beer

 

Mitch was drunk and it was Kookie’s

Birthday the atmosphere was pleasant

And in the midst of all this mania

Danced a sober Mexican peasant

 

When Bonnie’s old and out of rock

When her instruments all rust,

She’ll remember of all things that night,

She danced with the walrus

 

Everyone who was there would gladly

go back for more.

Rumor has it in Ocean City,

That there’s a lady ashore.

 

Where Are They Know: Batman & Robin

You are looking at structures directly across from the 328 Club. On the left is Gary's Pro Shop, 331 West King Street. If you need golf bags, clubs, balls or even instruction; that would be the place to go. Bowling stuff also. I suspect pool cues and the like. Gary loved us. He never said much but he loved us nonetheless. to the right of 331 is a duplex 329-327. I never really knew much about 327. An old gentlemanly guy named Alfred lived there. Quiet. Kept to himself, a butler type. However, as nondescript as 329 looked, and it was nodescripter then than now, behind that door lie the Bat Cave. Of course, it was the lair of a pair known as Batman (real name unknown, could of been Bruce Wayne but I really don't know. We called him Butch when he was not scampering across roof tops making West King Street safe for democracy) and Robin (Wes Blessing, contrary to what you thought you knew in those old DC comix). I think Wes was a Vietnam vet. Both of them had left over half of their brain cells at previous addresses so they fit right in. They rocked. They were fixtures on their porch. Drinking and trying to score some contraband. On a good night they came to the 340 and graced us with their presence.

I looked up Wes Blessing in the Lancaster phone book. A nice young lady answered and said I had the wrong number. I didn't disturb her world any more than that. IF ANYONE KNOWS THE WHEREABOUTS OF BATMAN & ROBIN. BUTCH & WES. PLEASE BRING THEM TO THE KNIGHTS ON JUNE 7TH.

The 2nd Day of 340

It is early August, 1975; our lease with Mr. Martin at 328 is up at the end of the month. Woe is us. Us is Sil, City L and me. One day as we lay around (NOTE: similar scene later depicted in National Lampoon’s Animal House for which we got no royalties) in comes Sil breathless and excited. He opened up the paper to the want ads and there it was.

Home, for rent

five bdr, bth, LR, DR, K, yard

$250 monthly

340 West King Street, Lancaster

I called the landlord, G.H. Kratzert, the very next day and the rest, as they say, was history. City L went his own way but later returned to the most sought after address in Lancaster. Sil & I were joined by Jimmy Shay, a paver with Sil and the three of us continued the noble experience in habitation that would take the name of the new address.

Where Are They Now: Kenny

Kenny Giltner: 340 Club I May 1979-July 1978

Kenny is in the next stage. Whether he is enjoying his eternal reward or a two year old repeating Earth 201 I dunno. Clearly he is in the next stage. Hopefully he is aware of us and the reunion but more likely we are of little consequence.

His departure from this world was premature and self induced. He is pictured here with Coach in happier times.

Curator's Corner

This is the 38 from 338 which was removed by me upon the final evacuation from West King Street in June 1984. Not sure if I lost the other three ... I think I might have either broke it or failed to remove it from the door.

It will be part of the archival exhibit at the reunion on June 7th.

Remember When

As we enter the homestretch, just 11 days until the 340 Re-Union,I will deviate from "structure" and present a picture from the past. The year is 1970, I worked as a camp counselor at a location right before the late Martic Forge Hotel, run by the Lancaster Jewish Community Center, known as Camp Taemoh,which is "At Home" spelled backwards.


As most people know I always wear some type of cap, mostly to protect me from the elements or more correctly to hide the fact that I have lost most of my hair. This is proof that I was not always afflicted with male pattern baldness as the pic below depicts a full head of hair although signs of a receeding hairline can be seen.


The young camp attendee is Nathan Pease,fraternal twin of Jeremy, these two were my favorites during that summer. Notice the Peace Button on my shirt, I guess I wasn't always a Conservative Republican. My "charges" were an all male group of 5 and 6 year old kids. Keeping them occupied during the dog days of summer was quite a chore. Once I decided to have a scavenger hunt so I made list of things I wanted the kids to collect the night before work. When I presented the papers the next day I was informed,to my chagrin, by one of them. "We can't read yet", so I had to hastily draw the appropiate objects.
We had field trips to both the Philly Zoo and Hershey Park and after a series of lectures by my superiors on keeping the kids from being separated from the group, I borrowed my mother's clothes line and made a series of knots,spaced apart, and made each child grab hold of one with me in the lead and my Junior Counselor at the rear.
We didn't lose a kid unlike my fellow counselors who had older child groups.
This age of innocence picture precedes the West King Street days by only a few years.

I love LA, I love LA

Bonnie Parker at CBGBs ... mid 80s

No, this is not about me in la la land, but a trip to see Bonnie Parker band at CBGB’s, NY, NY with several 340 inhabitants. This story was previously mentioned, but I have a few notes to add to this unforgettable trip. Kenny was the driver with the van. Phil, Tee, one of Tee’s “sisters”(not sure which number) and one other(I forgot; drugs are b..a..d)

I only remember certain events so if you’re looking for an orderly, coherent story, well, skip to another blog. I remember as we headed into the big apple, Tee asking the sister he brought to appease him and/or all of us (I’m not sure). I remember her saying no, and the next that I recall, Tee kicked her out of the van on 42nd street (where else!). Kenny stops in middle of the city at a red light, stands outside the van near the pedestrian crossing and pees. I don’t recall anyone even caring that walked by, hey, its NY.

We arrive at the CBGB’s which I hadn’t visited for about a year and walking in I noticed a few changes. On the left side of the entrance were the tables and most at the tables were gay, smoking the herb and no one was drinking. On the right side was the bar, and I noticed we could have our choice of seats, there was no one at the bar nor did I see anyone in the club drinking!. We sat down at the bar but there was no bartender for about 15 minutes. During our wait, a huge bull dyke covered with black leather and spikes coming out of every joint of her body walked up to Kenny and wanted to take him outside and beat the crap out of him! Kenny laughed and refused but she continued to harass him until she got bored.

After a few drinks, Phil asked me to escort him to the bathroom, which was down stairs. We walked past the small “stage” or platform, and went down this corridor which consisted of several small rooms with torn curtains and a broken chair in each room. Each room was occupied and each person had a belt or strap around their arm as they prepared for their next fix. As you go down the stairs, you notice there are two bathrooms of which both doors were broken off their hinges and lying on the floor. It didn’t seem to matter which room to use, but Phil selected the “men’s” room, I guess as I didn’t see a sign. Phil didn’t make it to the urinal before a tall, thin long hair young man started rapping to Phil with more then a casual friendliness and interest and saying hey ho, let’s go! Ok he didn’t say that but it was…Joey Ramone and I swear he was hitting on Phil! I laughed as Phil seemed to move a lot quicker heading up the stairs and back to the bar.

Finally I noticed Bonnie Parker walking toward us but didn’t seem as if she recognized us. Since we came to see her, and we were all avid fans of the band, I expected a better reception. After all she party at the 340 and we knew her for several years. As she approached us, I noticed she seemed to be more zoned out then normal, in fact, she didn’t know who we were at first when we said hi to her. I guess she may have been coming from one of the smaller rooms in the back!

I guess they played well, I don’t remember as I was kinda zoned out and only remember we were headed down the middle of the street for Mc Donald’s around 3am and Phil was singing, yes singing, and LOUDLY, the song “I love LA”. When I told him we may get killed singing that in NY, I and noted I was not packing a heater. Phil swore at me and said that he couldn’t believe that I would come to NY without proper protection.

I recall a minor disagreement over sleeping arrangements inside the van, but I was too wasted to remember or care at that time. Perhaps, one of you can add what the tiff was about. I know Tee either left the van or Phil threw him out!

Around 5am, we woke as there was a lot of noise around the van. I think they were either going to tow the van away since we parked in a no parking zone or maybe it was the garbage truck trying to dump us in. We took off trying to find our way back to the ferry. I remember later, we were in this line of traffic and not moving for some time. Phil saw a guy walking by the van and asked the New Yorker for “directions”. Phil said do you know what road we get on to get to the ferry? In a typical New York congenial response, he said; your in the line for the ferry, you fking asehole! I love NY….

12 Days of 340

On the 1st day of 340 ...

September 21, 1974 - the 328 Club is founded by Tim, Tee, Dan, Sil and City L. Harold T.F. Martin, landlord.

Where are they now: Jose

Jose de Jesus was a refugee from the Outpost of Humanity who followed to the second coming of the 340. He was a great sports fan, Bonnie Parker fan, and hound dog. One time, on a whim, me an Jose took off after the work day to go to a bar - in Manhattan - and returned to make it to work the next day. Jose was a fixture at all weekend events, parties and sporting extravaganzas.

Last time I saw him he had settled into family life with a career and all. I'd love to find him over the next 12 days.

Meanwhile, readers, lurkers, posters and 340 Club members - 1) if you have a suggestion for a Where Are They Now post (or anything else for that matter) please send a comment to the blog or an e-mail to me or Phil., and; 2) if you see Jose please let him know about the bash.

Trivia: 100-103

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:
100) What was the name of City L’s (and my) friend who used to work with him at K & W Tire Company?

101) What fire company did Kenny Giltner used to hang out at before finding it more fun at the 340 Club?

102) In what fashion did Kenny sit down on a couch? CLUE: it is a four letter word

103) At what bar did I have a short-lived stint as a bartender in the 328 Club days?

Last Week’s Questions:
97) How many West King Street "residents" tended bar at Zangari's South? 4 or 5 (Phil, Sil, Dan, Dean and, perhaps, an occasional guest appearance by R.E.)

98) At 340 II what type of sports equipment was permanently set up in the dining room? a ping pong table

99) What 340 member had the sobriquet of "Wong Lee”? Steve Graybill

You’re traveling to another dimension; your next stop is the Kennyzone:

One morning Kenny and I started to get “ready” for an AC/DC concert in Phil. The group was to come on at 7pm with a warm up band, which I don’t remember. We drank and party all day waiting for 5 pm to start our drive to Phila. By the time 5 pm came, I must say we were ‘ready’. When we got to the Spectrum parking lot, I noticed it was 8;30 pm! AC/DC had started well over an hour ago, and neither of us knew what happen to the time. We walked inside the spectrum and of course there was almost no one in the hallways and the concert doors were shut. Kenny had brought a mirror for added partying. The mirror, not just any mirror, Kenny took it off the hinges from his bathroom medicine cabinet; you know the ones about a foot and a half long and a foot wide. Other then the ushers, the two of us walked down this empty hallway, with Kenny carrying this huge mirror under his arm! We entered the concert and Angus Young was jamming from one end of the stage to the other with his famous strut. The band was playing “problem child”, hmmm. We had no idea where were our seats were but we did find two seats right up front and sat down. Kenny started to dump some “Lady” onto the mirror to help us enjoy the remainder of the concert. The lights were off except for the lights on stage and Kenny was complaining he couldn’t see to get our Lady ready. I tried to hold matches but for the partying Kenny was preparing, we didn’t have enough matches in the entire arena. Along came two people with food and drinks and said you guys are in our seats. Kenny said sure, just need a minute and asked them if they had a light. Their party spirit did not seem as congenial as ours and they left for the usher. When the young usher approached us and said you must leave, Kenny immediately said sure, move that flashlight over the mirror here, so I can see. The usher did so while Kenny performed two lines from one end to the other end of the mirror, for each of us. After we finished, the usher showed us where our seats were. At the end of the “second” song, all the lights went on and the band said good night! After the encore, we strolled to the parking lot realizing we seemed to have missed most of the concert and of course had no idea where we parked. We got home just in time for last call! For weeks, Kenny and I tried to recall what we did or went that it took us over 3 hours to get there and over 6 hours to get home. Of course, now I know, we were in the Kennyzone.

Where are they now? Coach

Don Kuhns aka "Coach" frequent guest of 340 club

Moved to Anaheim, CA in 2000. Worked as rocket scientist for Boeing on the Delta IV rocket, Program manager for Power Systems at L-3 Comm on the USS Virgina nuclear submarine and now with Hamilton Sundstrand, as program manager, working on rockets and space launch platforms for various space instrumentation. I continue to keep in touch with various friends and member of the 340 club and also what is happening to my home town, Lancaster.

The above was submitted by the Coach of the Year himself. Subsequently he sent a two word slogan that I will repeat here. I was and always will be a Democrat. Coach was too but, more so than I, he was a liberal Democrat. Praise the Lord he still is. The slogan:

GO OBAMA

Where Are the 340 pets? Champ

In a word dead but that is like saying its 2008 as pets do not have long life spans. They are in our life like angels to provide temporal comfort.

Here is a litany of the 340 Club menagerie:

Champ - I first met Officer Longacre when he stopped me and Neal Mitten when we were in search of food after a long all-nighter on the eve of a Catholic High-Manheim Township scrimmage in August 1973. I ran a stop sign somewhere in the vicinity of the old APBA Game Company on Eastman Avenue. Turns out the Manor Township line must stretch that close to the City and Terry Longacre pulled me over. I forget whether I got a ticket; obviously I remember that I did not get a DUI and Neal and I - after a stop at Duncan Donuts - made it to the scrimmage. A few months later - or pehaps dropping his name saved me from the ticket - Timmy Bucher, Class f '69 LCHS, joined the Township police force. He and Terry got to be friends and when Terry had a dog he couldn't keep; him & Timmy saw that it got to a good home - the 328 Club. At the 328, Champ had a nice back yard to shit in, five fellas to play with, very loving neighbors that never could never quite finish their steak dinners, and a wide set of stairs to scamper up and down. While the officers gave Champ to me; in truth he was as much City L's. Champs favorite things to do at 328 were to eat, to play with Dan around the heating grille, to romp, to lean on people, and to play with his fleas. Champ had a lot of tiny pets and one of the most endearing sites was after the move to 340, perhaps on the day of the move, he, Sil and City L were leaning out of 340 windows laughing as they watched old Harold leave the 328 scratching like a madman. He had the place fumigated a couple of days later.

After we left 328 Champ spent a little time at 340 but he mostly lived at my parents house with his girlfriend Shitdog (aka Candy). I would go out and walk him from time to time but not like City L (aka Tim). Tim remained loyal and loving to Champ for the rest of the dog's life. My parents had Champ put to sleep later in his life when he had pretty much tore his backside up playing with his pet fleas.

Hoppity Hooper - hopefully his (hers?) story will appear later when Sil tells it. Hoppity is pictured above on Sil's bed at 328. Or it might be Dan's bed cuz he took the picture.

Scarlet - ditto for City L. Although I have some Scarlet dtories.

Sylvester - ditto for John & Sue. And some Sylvester stories so if I don't here from Sil, Slick, John or Sue I will fill in the blanks.

Up on the Roof Top

As Phil mentioned earlier, when Mr. Kratzert asked us to move from 340 to 338 in April 2003 I took the shortest route between the two structures – I went over the North Pole; over the roof.

In 1979 when I left 340 I to the Outpost of Humanity I was forced to use a vehicle. As I recall I had a small Chevy Chevette at the time. However, as Phil alluded too we had so few pieces of furniture I think it took me two or three trips in my car packed with clothes, records, books, APBA supplies, and stuff. It is likely that Jimmy Shay – my old and new roomie – borrowed a truck and we might have made one trip with a lamp, a chest of drawers, and maybe a chair. There was no bed; we all existed with mattresses on the floor. My signature maneuver in this first move was to toss, throw, and drop all my unbreakables (mostly clothes) out of the 3rd floor window and on to the West King Street sidewalk. I would then go down and collect them and put them in my car. I’m certain even Mrs. Garman had to be amused.

Well, as we left our beloved keystone address (328-340-340-338, get it?) I needed to once again have a signature maneuver. Tossing stuff out the window only to drag them back up to the third floor of the neighboring and attached structure made no sense. However it certainly gave me the insight as to what needed to be done. The way, clearly, was out the rear window of the 340 over the 52 inches of roof and into the back window of the 338.

By 1983 I maybe had two chests of drawers but still no box spring. I remember taking very little down and up the steps. Almost everything went out the window. In this way, Phil, Sil, John & Sue had a clearer path to move.

Although we had no way of knowing it at the time, particularly since Phil & I were negotiating with Mr. Kratzert to purchase the 338, the five of us had only 9 months together remaining and even the longest tenured residents of West King Street – Sil & I – were within 15 months of closing down the Club forever. Perhaps I shouldn’t say forever; the Third Coming has a nice ring to it.

Inventory (of future artifacts)

2008 340 Club Membership Cards (149, less ticket sales ... would love to sell out)

340 Club Keg Man Buttons (1, but more are being manufactured even as we speak and will be given to all who attend the 340 Club reunion)

"I survived the 340 Club in 1978 and 2008" Button (1, but more will be available for $3 each)

Souvenier Program (under development)

PowerPoint Presentation (under development)

Artifact Exhibit (the curator is hard at work)

80 45 RPM Records are being assembled by Greil Marcus, with Randy, Phil & I.

Is Sil in Europe on assignment?

From the Mighty 340 Juke Box

The Golden Age of Music Television

The List: 1983

During the last complete year on West King Street, a dozen young ladies got lucky at the 340 Club… I met 100 at the VIP, simply the greatest pick up bar in the midstate (luckily for me it was long closed by the time I moved to Harrisburg near the turn of the century), later in life 100 became a crackhead and there was nothing I could do for her … I met 101 at the Fairmont House and we continued to see each other for a decade or so … 102 was on her way to Holland (if ya know what I mean) when Randy introduced us … I don think I dissuaded her but she took a bath in front of me and I sullied her after I dried her off … 103 was a decade younger chronologically and much bolder … met her at the Village and we did it in her tub on our first date, in a Gap changing room, on a miniature golf course hole, an AMTRAK train, at a bar – literally, at the bar not in a booth – in Philly, and on the roof of the 340 Club! she was spunky and bold & actually opened my mail, checked the numbers I had dialed in Harrisburg and called 100 in a threatening fashion (maybe that is what drove 100 to become a crackhead) … ya had to love her boldness … we spent 12/31/83 together in Times Square just when it was changing from a free, place to collect and party to a pay to enter, behave yourself, place not to party like it is today … 104 another one night stand from the VIP … met 105 at Faces, a nice attempt at a classy, City style club in the old King Douglas Hotel … 106 ditto; as she was a waitress at Faces … 107 local, I forget where we met; we were a number until she tired of my act … 108 was from the projeks of Franklin Terrace; her baby daddy was a professional boxer, needless today we were undercover in more ways than one …109 was another VIP girl with whom I went to NYC on our first date … 110 another local girl which were becoming more difficult to pull since my lack of seriousness was no secret ... 111, was different though, she was still in high school when we met and I saw her for many years … we started off as tutor/pupil, with me tutoring her in math … we progressed to Biology with her doing as much teaching as I … somewhere late in 1983 the list pictured above was the last one ever updated by my roomie Phil.

Bye Bye Phillie

In the late fall of 1983 Phil finally yielded to familial, personal and job responsibilities and moved out of the 340 Club (338 West King Street) and to a house next to the family business where he remains to this day almost 25 years later. This left John & Sue, Sil and me at the 340 as 1983 came to an end.

Death of the Ogre

#74 was taking care of business early in the morning of June 9, 1982 when Phil yelled up from the second floor that I had a phone call. I detached myself from the nubile lass and made way to the second floor telephone. It was my mom; my dad was dead.

I had been at my parents house the night before watching the Los Angeles Lakers defeat the Philadelphia 76ers 114-104 to capture the 81-82 NBA World Championship. It was the last time I was with my father while he was alive. The game ended round 11 or so and I ventured in from their suburban home the three short miles to the 340 Club.

Somewhere between here and there; most likely in response to call from #74 in which she claimed she had an itch that needed scratching; I hooked up with my young lady friend.

Upon receiving the news from my mom, I showered. Took #74 home. Went to work and quickly took leave to arrange for the burial of my pop. My dad was a card carrying member of the 340 Club having paid a dollar for card #80.

Spectacular Opportunity - Sell Program Ads

1/4 page ads in the 340 Club program are available for the low low price of $25 ... this is unbelievable considering perhaps, 52 people may actually read the program ... plus if you sell an ad you will receive a $5 discount off your 340 Club ticket price.

Another opportunity exists to buy a patron line in the program for $10 ... or for $15 you will get a program line and $5 off your 340 Club ticket price.

Contact me NOW!!! papabell@aol.com

Where are They Now: the landlords

Harold "the fuck" Martin - landlord to Timmy (S--foot), Tee, Dan, Sil and Tim (City L)at 328 West King Street ... his worst trait was maintaining the house in a habitable condition ... his best trait was literally telling us we didn't need to pay rent until he put the house in a habitable condition

George Kratzert - beloved landlord at 340 twice and 338 ... fought me personally, in court, after the demise of the clubs but the decsion is lost in the County court records ... invited to the reunion as special guest numero uno ... I've promised him that I've matured

Mrs. Bety Garman - phantom land lord of 342, I believe, who routinely had Mr. Kratzert's ear concerning her version of our antics

I suspect HTF and Mrs. Garman have made aquaintences with their maker but, again, Mr. Kratzert is on the Most Wanted list right after Sil, Slick, RE, Jimmy, and Dean.

Poet Laureate

Its a better world with this legal document not implemented. Tonight's feature is not one of Chris' poems but rather his last will. From 31 years ago I present:

First Draft of My Last Will and Testament

1. All clothes to be sold at rummage, proceeds to Ted & Kookie 50-50
2. Quilt - Sue Dutt
3. Poems - Tee (The WEB - Timmy)
4. Radio - Bob Smallwood
5. Rug - Sil
6. Trash in Room - C.I.A.
7. All of my love through death - Bonnie Parker
8. Car - Thomas THomas
9. Albums - to be held in rememberence of moratoriums
10.Books - Posterity
11.My Dead Body - after cremation - ashes to be spread over Mecca

by Christopher E. Joyce

Where Are They Now? Dave Ream

This is a new feature on the blog. I need reader suggestions, post 340 bios, anecdotes and the like. Tonight's initial submission comes from Coach.

Dave Ream - Dreamo, El Reamo

Dave was a winger on the Chestnut Street Hockey team; brother of Steve "Chip" Ream.
Last known whereabouts was he was living in Pequea with wife and kids. He was running triathlon and appeared to have mellowed. One disclaimer, per Coach, this info is ten years old. His present whereabouts are parts unknown.

I expect Phil, Chip or someone will have an update and we will change this page accordingly.

Circa,Late West King Street Era, (I think)

This was taken at Zangari's South,from left to right its me,wearing the USFL's Tampa Bay Bandit hat,Woody with his signature can of Pabst,Wild Bill Anderson making the devil horns,Doug "The Hammer" Knicely,bane of all radio sports talk shows and Sam "Space" Wickersham,whose eyes reveal all.


This was taken at my parents house as we were obviously enroute to a Halloween Party. Left to right is Woody,me,Cousin Jimmy Z. with Sam in the lower right.

Eels,since we are on the subject

This is undeniable proof that Uncle Don was at the tournament,as he is seen lying next to Terry Groff at the motel. His MIA during the contests are still being investigated

Bobby Rife,on the left was the designated player the Coach sent out to deliver a message to Craig Rice as explained by the Coach of the Year in a previous post. Desi Deeter is on his right.


Coach and team Captain Ron Bilski hold up the Championship Trophy while a slim and trim Jimmy Zangari looks on with Bobby Rife in the background.

The Coach raises his arm in triumph as the "Gilt" hoisted young Jason Zangari on his shoulders.


Coach is indicating what place the Eels of Death finished in the tourny in a celebration at Zangari's South with Keith Musser at a nearby table.

Not Really Curators Corner

338 and 340 stoops are captured together in this picture.














Tonights, Curator's Corner is shamelessly promotional. You want the following things -

2008 340 Club - $20 which guarantees you admission to the June 7th reunion, copy of the souvenier program, attendance at the debut of the 340 PowerPont, free 340 Keg Man button, raffles, dj, special guests and more. Oh yeah and beer.

340 Club Tee Shirt - $10 ... order and pay at reunion but if you e-mail me (papabell@aol.com) with your intent to purchase and size it would be appreciated.

340 Club Survival Button - $3 per; available at reunion

See Phil for tickets, e-mail me sizes of tee shirts, bring cash to reunion for buttons

EELS of Death; From the Coach's view:

From the Coach’s view:

I knew this tournament was going to be something special. From the preplanning, the many fans driving the long distance to Bel Mont, eating a piece of eel before we arrived for “good luck”, and we had our own security group, which of course included T. We had 36 cases of beer just to get there and all of the contraband needed in case we need to stay an extra week or so(list is too long for this blog), and our mascot, Jerry the live Eel.. We had one MIA from security that never made it to the games; Uncle Don. Last seen, I don’t remember!


I remember arriving at the Bel Mont sports arena where the Pittsburg Coach, Mark Madden, met me and said: “Coach; I want to show you something inside”. He took me to a giant trophy case, which was over 6 foot high and at least 5 ft wide, and was completely filled with trophies. In the middle of the case was a space that he had cleared and he told me that was the spot to place the trophy after his team beat the Eels. This seemed to add a personal touch to this tournament, one that motivated me more then any other game or tournament. I wanted to make sure the EELS took it from him.


The Canadians game was perhaps my greatest moment as a coach and the most fun. It was also what I consider to be one of my best coaching jobs. I thought the Canadian team was the best skilled team in the tournament. A team with semi pro hockey players, big, great stick handlers, and they all seemed to understand the game, and made very few positional mistakes. As was stated from a previous story, the Canadians would intentionally make a team wait for them; this makes players edgy waiting especially when the game should have already started. A great psychological factor that I wish I would have thought of. I watched each game they played, while the rest of the EELS players relaxed, tended wounds, or just got rest for the next game. Ok, that’s not true; they were all drinking the 36 cases of beer, which I should have been doing (damn Mark). Our game and some of our players would also be affected by the Canadian ploy of lateness. After our normal warm ups, the players gathered as the clock counted down to less then a minute to start. I noticed that the Canadian team was not even in the arena. I walked outside and saw them all sitting out there, laughing and one said do you think we should go in yet? They saw me and I laughed and said, it won’t really matter. I went inside and immediately went over to the ref and said I want you to make sure they get hit with a double game delay; they are just sitting out there intentionally being late. I went back to the other end of the arena where our team was and Fus came up and said to me; Coach, WTF, what’s going on, we need to get going now! I saw that he was really up tight and knew I had to do something to keep our minds off this psychological ploy. I ordered everyone onto the Canadian blue line, as we stood in a single file all across the line, I told them to start pounding their sticks when the Canadians came inside the rink. I remember Steve Delinger saying to me, “Coach this is going to be embarrassing if we lose”. I told him, don’t worry, we will not lose. As they entered they looked at us, and later I heard one say, these guys are really serious… a smile came to my face, Fus was calm down and their ploy backfired. We had the edge. I again ran over to the ref and said they are 5 minutes late; I want the penalty to be 5. We did get the power play and I immediately changed our starting line to our best scoring personnel and we went after them at a pace I hadn’t seen from the Eels all tournament. I guess I wasn’t the only one that wanted to win. Our fans were great and shouted “USA, USA, USA”. I am not sure who started the USA chant but I would guess T did or he was influential. The entire stands were filled for this game as we were both undefeated. Almost all of the fans were from the USA and chanted the same chant over and over. I felt like this was the Olympics. It was a great feeling.


As mentioned before, Craig Rice had signed up to play for the Eels several weeks before the tournament, with less then half hour from our leaving Lancaster, Craig called and said he wasn’t going to play for us and that he was going to play against us. We were now short a defenseman and ready to leave. This really peed me off and others. Thank goodness Tommy agreed to play and he played one of the best tournaments that I remember him playing. When I saw Rice out on the rink, I ask Bobby Riff to go over and slash Rice and tell him it was from me. Rife, seemed more then willing to carry out his Coach’s order, and I must say he performed quite well. After the slash, Rice looked over at me and I waived and laughed at him. For years, if he seen me at South, he would not look or talk too me. Of course after the game I shook hands with Coach Mark and mentioned he might want to reorganize the trophy case. Thank you Eels of Death.

More recollections in Pics

Pictures help stimulate my memory a tad. Here is the aforementioned Ralph Baker with his game face on agitating the "Coach of the Year". Ralph has the same "all ahead full" mentale whether its playing hockey,listening to his head-banging music or sleeping.





In a May 3rd post, Tee related the story of Woody, Head Coach of the Yalaha Yazz in the short lived Zangari's South APBA Football League, throwing his dice shaker,after a turnover, through one of the front windows of the 340 Club. After the glass shattered, Woody merely said, "I will fix it tomorrow" and continued the game.
He did show up but lacked the necessary tools or know-how to rectify the situation so Cousin George Zangari stepped up and did the dirty work. Here is a pic of George replacing the Yazz damage.





This is now four consecutive posts from me,counting the obligatory Trivia segment although I see Tee has one in "draft form" which will be posted in between my entries. Maybe all my memory cells have not been compromised by my choice of liquid intakes. Just a FYI,I never drank the water at the 340 Club.

Memory or Lack of

Sil and myself have been chided,in a friendly nature I assume, for a lack of recall for any events that transpired during the Clubs triumphant Second Coming. My problem is that the first and second comings all blend into one.. Personally I was amazed at the time frames Tee listed for each "resident's " tenure on West King Street.
To me Tee,Sil and City L. were always my roomies along with Kenny,Chris and Mitch. I have a hard time realizing how short a stay each of the latter three actually lived at the "Club". These facts are compounded by my living with City L. at Manor House Apartments and with Sil at Wabank.
When searching my memory banks for this week's trivia,the second question, which asks what kind of sports equipment was set up in the 340 dining room, I remembered Ralph Baker being a "star" at the "said" contraption. In fact,John "Mick" "Good Bud" Walton had the same setup in his home on Nevin Street in town where Ralph, attending a Chestnut Street party hosted by "Mick",displayed his abilities,but as Ralph is prone to do, over extended himself and crashed through the paneling in "Mick's" rec room. Luckily the 340 Club had no such luxury as paneling, just plaster walls so the damage was minimal when Ralph sprung into action.
SEE, I do have some recall of "stuff" that occured at the Club.

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:
97)How many West King Street "residents" tended bar at Zangari's South ?

98)At 340 II what type of sports equipment was permantley set up in the dining room ?

99)What 340 member had the sobriquet of "Wong Lee" ? ?




Last Weeks Q & A's
94) Who was George H. Kratzert’s lawyer? Hint: In 1976 he signed the petition to reinstate Lenny Lane as the Wheatland Inn’s piano player.
Michael Bull

95) What pair of good friends of the 340 lived at 342 under the landlordship of noise complainer Mrs. Betty Garman?
Dave Williams and Jeff Preston

96) What is the name of the restaurant now located at the former site of the Foresters Club?
La Costena

338 W.King Street

The 338 Club to the left of the 340 as seen earlier this year



Another pic of the 338


My most vivid memory of the "move" from 340 to 338 was Tee merely throwing all his belongings from one roof to another making it an easier transition than the rest of us who had to go down the 340 stairs and up the 338 steps. Of course being fairly young yet we were not burdened by bedroom furniture. Tee and I, and maybe Sil, only owned mattreses instead of a real bed complete with box springs and bed posts. This made a nomadic life style less rigorous whenever we moved.
Although the 340 was legendary the 338 Club had one feature that the former sorely lacked. There was a first floor bathroom an asset that was quite useful since our bladders always seemed to be in need of relief of certain potables.
I had my usual 2nd floor suite overlooking the bustling West King traffic/shenanigans with Tee on the 3rd floor.John and Sue in one room and Sil in the other.
My two favorite "events" of the 338 are of course the "Summit Bowl", so called by Woody (with Tee trying to verify that name) and the visit by some of the Red Rose City's finest which resulted in a noise ordinance citation. Woody says he has some pics of the so called Summit Bowl but has yet been unable to electronically post them. Both of these "happenings" will be covered in future posts.

Moving Day

Christopher Columbus discovered Amerika in 1492. I – I think it was me – discovered the 328 Club in 1974. As we wore out our welcome there; Sil, serendipitously, discovered the 340 Club. Him & I made the short move six doors up West King Street in August 1975. We had to evacuate the 340 in November 1978.

After giving the block time to recover Phil, Randy, John and I landed in what became known as “the second coming” in February/March 1981. After a couple of years, Mr. Kratzert – owner of both 340 and 338 – desired that we move from one to the other. Thus, breaking the record of moving only six doors away by only moving next door. Today, I think, Phil is going to post for the first time – not counting mandatory by weekly trivia assignments – since March 17th (not counting his May 3rd reprint on the Eels) concerning that move. I expect to do so also later in the day today. Phil (and Sil) just doesn’t remember much more about 340 than he already has shared. Not sure what caused the memory lapse. I know it couldn’t have been the beer; I’m blaming the water since Sil’s memory of that period also seems obliterated. More to follow.

We moved from 340 to 338 effective April 1, 1983.

The Golden Age of M TV

Summit

There are three National Drinking Days in the Unites States. Do you know them?

They are all in the winter. First, New Year’s Eve. Then, Super Bowl Sunday. Lastly, my birthday.
I suppose, in the case of my birthday, it might be Saint Patrick’s Day that we celebrate. We know they are National Drinking Days because when they fall on Sundays the Commonwealth permits full alcohol sales and in lent, if St Pat’s falls on a Friday you can eat meat. The establishment, typically, discourages abusive drinking (Wikipedia – see MADD, SADD, or fad) but on these three days they seem to go out of their way to encourage it (Irish Car Bombs, free cab rides home).The pertinent issue here is winter. The 340 Club was devoted to multiple season drinking.

After all, we coulda had our reunion in the winter.

And so it was in the summer of ’83, the last summer on King Street, that the 340 Club decided to create a 23 foot Italian Hoagie and celebrate the Philadelphia Stars magnificent season in the nascent United States Football League. Several of us went down to Philly to see some regular season games. The Stars were a great collection of Sean Landeta, Sam Mills, and fellow All-Time All-USFL stalwarts Kelvin Bryant, Irv Eatman, Bart Oates, William Fuller, and Pete Kugler, They were the Green Bay Packers of the USFL losing that first “Summit” Bowl before capturing the second two. The opponents in the inaugural title match were the Michigan Panthers led by the stirring pass/catch combo of Bobby Hebert and Anthony Carter.

The 340 Club chefs, led by Jimmy Zangari and Sam Wickersham, prepared a magnificent work of art in the form of a Philly Hoagie that stretched over two roms in the Club. Beer was the other ingredient. It is my memory that Leo R was gone from the hallowed Halls of 340 when Philly captured its 2nd MAJOR title of 1983.

1st USFL Summit Bowl (Woody insists this is what it was called, perhaps by us; I have yet to document such appellation)
July 17, 1983
Michigan Panthers 24
Philadelphia Stars 22

"THIS IS US!"

No offense Leo but …

Other than drinking our beer, eating Sam’s cheeseburgers, welching on debts and hanging on, maybe, a day or two too long the item that I will forever remember Leo (at 340) for was his catch phrase “This is Us!” It usually was in the context of the Philadelphia 76ers going “fo, fi, fo” on their way to their 2nd NBA title. As we watched the Sixers in the 340 living room everytime the Sixers rallied and streaked Leo would utter his phrase “this US!” I remember the key Sunday games versus the defending champion Los Angeles Lakers … in the May 22 opener the Sixers won by 6 which gave us Laker (read anti-Philly) fans hope. The expected stolen game never came as the Sixers won on Thursday by 10. Still, the following Sunday, May 29th, would provide the now homestanding Lakers with the spark to sweep the Sixers to come back to Philly in June up 3-2. Didn’t happen … that second Sunday found Moses, Dr. J, Mo, Andrew, Lloyd Free, Bobby and Billy the Kid beating the Lakers in Jack Kent Cooke’s fabulous Forum by 17 points. I think Leo uttered his phrase 8 times on the 22nd and another 17 times on the 29th. The final game, Tuesday, May 31st, was a formality – Philly 115, LA 107.

From the Poet Laureate

The 340 Club's Poet Laureate - Chris, Black Fox, Clactu - who lived on West King Street for all to brief a period in 1977 left behind a poetic legacy that is shared weejkly every Wednesday right here; further he is still producing new works and will recite his newest for all of us at the June 7th reunion. We are heading down the stretch now and here is what you can look forward to right here over the next three weeeks, after tonight, first the young Black Fox' Last Will, then his newest work written this year and lastly a barrage of vintage 1977 poetry fixated on Rock's Queen herself Bonnie Parker. So, sit back and enjoy. Here is tonight's entry:

Untitled by Christopher E. Joyce

And in the last night there was a dream
In the dream were three beings, all order, all taller, and all more firmly entrenched

Upon the uprooting they all spoke, one here, one there but in aware of everywhere
and one approaching a state on the periphery of everywhere

Their words were fumbled and could only make sense in music
There composite makes eyes spark of wishful works of wisdom, and Let it Be

Good Morning Mr. & Mrs. North & South Vietnam and all the Ships at Sea

There was an interloper at 340 West King Street in the late spring of 1983. He was a young man who went to Lancaster Catholic with me, Dan and R.E. and who certainly knew Phil & Sil by reputation if nothing else. He bumped into me in Harrisburg late the previous year and having stuffed my phone number into my pocket; in a time of need he decided to use it. He was in between jobs and seemingly on the way somewhere out of state. Before he could leave though he needed a place to stay to get his act together. Thus, Leo R. Smith came to the 340 Club.

Leo had graduated from Catholic High in June 1969 and opted to serve his country as a Marine grunt in Vietnam. If memory serves he achieved the rank of Lance Corporal and his field of duty was in an area that Leo loved – radio broadcasting. He was active in the radio broadcasting club in high school and his hero was a certain Howard Cosell. In Vietnam, Leo was a disc jockey not all that dissimilar from Adrian Kronauer (he of Good Morning Vietnam fame). Leo’s patented call was based not on Kronauer but rather a spin on Walther Winchell’s WWII cry of Good Morning Mr. & Mrs. North & South America and all the ships at sea, here’s the news … In Leo’s case it got him disciplined because unlike the Amerika’s his North & South neighbors were the combatants not allies.

I know Leo served his country honorably. My most vivid memory of Leo during his service period occurred on the evening of December 31, 1969. The great New Year’s Eve Party at Bucher’s. In my memory it was the night I met Sil & Phil (I know it was at Bucher’s where I met them; I’m not 100% sure it was that night); it definitely was a watershed night for all of us. The 60s were over. Our innocence was lost. We were drinking – just learning to drink and therefore not just drinking beer but Ripple, Thunderbird, Orange Drivers, Cherry vodka, Southern Comfort, and experimenting with the same cigarettes as Mick.

Tim Bucher’s mom made sure us young boys – we were 18 – did not drink and drive in a way that many, today, would frown upon. She made sure we did our drinking under adult supervision – hers – and, further, that we did not drive home if unsteady. Assisting her on that night was her oldest boy, like Leo a Vietnam vet, Tom Bucher, perhaps 8 years older than us. Maybe 26. An Air Force Major; perhaps a wartime full bird. I dunno.

I do know that with such chaperones – Mrs. B & Tom – it was, while stupendous, a relatively well-behaved party. Me and my future hitchhiking partner Joe Riley arrived early with no intention of leaving before the first day of the new year was half over. We were both packing pints of booze in the Malcolm position; where Alex Haley taught us the Malcolm X packed his heat.

Among the many highlights of this manhood dispensing event was one involving our servicemen. Leo retreated to the backyard for a quick piss and perhaps a bit of a smoke. Tom spying went out after to watch over him, bring him back to the nest, and just maintain order. “Leo get in here” barked the 26 year old airman. To which the young Marine responded: “I’m Lance Corporal Leo R. Smith, I’ll come in when I’m ready.”

At that point the man of the house bellowed back: “Colonel Tom Bucher … get in that house Corporal.” It was the first time that Leo had heard Tom’s rank so articulated and the young jarhead, with tail between his legs, darted in to the house and the party continued.

That wasn’t the last time that I saw Leo until his whirlwind stay on West King Street over 13 years later but it was one of them. While I had it soft, got my degree, relatively cushy job, splitting expenses four ways, and partying to my heart’s content; Leo had it pretty rough … there aren’t a lot of opportunities in broadcasting and life had not treated him kindly. His last job had been as a cabdriver and most of his friends held mortgages on what little Leo had to show. It was under those circumstances that Leo came a knockin’ on the 340 door.

Curator's Corner

Tee's only hockey trophy ...



for sevice on security detail and public relations on the Eels of Death

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 QUESIONS:
94) Who was George H. Kratzert’s lawyer? Hint: In 1976 he signed the petition to reinstate Lenny Lane as the Wheatland Inn’s piano player.
95) What pair of good friends of the 340 lived at 342 under the landlordship of noise complainer Mrs. Betty Garman?
96) What is the name of the restaurant now located at the former site of the Foresters Club?

LAST WEEK's QUESTIONS:
91)What jersey number did Kenny Giltner wear when playing for the Chestnut Street Hockey Club? Kenny wore #35

92)What did Bonnie Parker's lead guitarist,Richie Scarlett,often use in lieu of a pick for some guitar riffs during their Stones medley? Richie would take one of Billy from Philly's drumsticks and use it instead of a pick. It would get all "chewed" up sliding up and down the neck of the guitar. He would then toss it into the crowd ... I once got one but I can't find it.

93)How much did it cost you for two hard boiled eggs at Soldner's Tavern,down the street from the 340 Club? They were two for a quarter.

1982

1982
JAN – 1st Periodical 340 Club Reunion
FEB – Valentine’s Bash
MAR – Sheryl’s Birthday Party
APR –Falklands War Began, excellent TV removed from US involvement
MAY – Gato del Sol wins the Derby
JUN – Equal Rights Amendment fails, John Hinckley not guilty due to insanity
JUL – Intell poll declares 340 Club, third most popular nightclub in Lancaster County
AUG – absolutely nothing happened in the world
SEP – Princess Grace, dead, 52
OCT –Eels reign supreme
NOV – Phil was raped; Andropov ascended in USSR
DEC - Santa Claus, as always, treated the 340 Club resdienets and members very well
DEC – same five – Tee, Phil, John, Sue and Sil spent entire year at 340; the most stable year in Club history

1982 was in the book
President Ronnie Raygunz
Governor Dick Thornburgh
Mayor Art Morris
CPI – 96.5
U.R. –9.7%
Life exp – 74.5
Violent crime – 56.0
World Population –
U.S. Population – 231.6M
Best Picture Oscar – Chariots of Fire
Ted’s # 99

NCAA BK –
Indy 500 –
NBA – Lakers beat Sixers in 6; the Sixers owe us a bunch; debt will be paid soon
NHL – Islanders sweep Canucks
MLB – Cards beat Wallbangers in 7
Horse of Year –
Hvwt Champ –
NCAA F – no champion declared
NFL (1/83) -

The truth; Thunderbird Motor Lodge:

I read the article from T of our stay at the Thunderbird motor lodge (published 3/26/08) in which T lists 3 of the 5 that were staying in this room watched the trashing of the desk and reassembly (Chuck Daily and I were the other 2 at that time). T said in his story that I, Coach, had nothing to do with it. As I read your apology, reparation, and felt your “grief” to Phil and to the motel, I feel it is necessary to shed some truth and help you understand your statement “I still do not know why I did it”. Perhaps this may help:

We were all kicked back on the beds, consuming mass qty of beer and contraband, and we were all really peed off at the lack of performance by Chestnut Street. I recall cursing to you and Chuck about the game and the way “we” played. I grabbed my pants belt and swung it as hard as I could above my head and smashed the light and broke the bulb, causing a loud noise and some pyrotechnics. The glass was splattered all over the bed. You leaped up and started yelling and smashed the desk. Chuck then decided to help as I smiled, and watched one of the best trashing to a desk that I have seen, and of course, I had nothing to do with it...

I Got My MTV

First, one more reminder - HeBe GeeBees tonight - Shamrock Cafe, 9:30

Now, back to Music Television, I think these speak for themselves



Martha



Nina



PROMO

The List: 1982

86 I met this young lady at Zembie's in Harrisburg where I used to hold court on baseball trivia throughout the 80s. It was a great bar with the world's 3rd greatest bartender (behind Phil, mt roomie of Zangari South fame) and John the Bartender (also from Harrisburg who used to work the Cornet back in those days). I still have #86' phone number forever preserved in a book of baseball trivia.

87 A spectacular show band, The Gentleman & their Ladies, used to play the Library at Lancaster's Brunswick. #87 was their lead singer and she turned my nose the first night I heard her sing. A few weeks later I followed the act to Harrisburg where she was playing at the Marriott. Later, I went as far as Springfield, MA, to see her perform. I took Randy along on that trip.

88 #34 introduced me to this young lady. She was interesting. She referred to Whites as wickers and blacks as Blickers.

89 Another Harrisburger, pulled her out of the VIP, the greatest pick-up bar ever in Central PA. Later, #89 served the country in Desert Storm. She remains a neighbor of mine and is happily with the same man she was living with when we were a number. I must note that this young lady got more out of me in one day than anyone I have known before or since. If ya know what I mean.

90 As Phil already noted, the Eels were a spectacular hockey team that played together one time, one time only. Not only did "we" perform spectacularly in the rink but from the moment we commandeered the motel sign - changing "Welcome Elks Convention" to "Welcome Eels" - till we left Armstrong County we terrorized the countryside. One bar we went to turned out to be hosting a wedding party - the Pendleton's - and after triumphing in Saturday's contests we were in a festive mood. Well, I blended in nicely with the Pendleton's and pulled #90 away from that party and back to the motel. Me and roomy took turns sleeping in a car (or outside) while the other entertained their respective "dates."

91 Somehow I was spending more time in Harrisburg; six years before I began to work there and 15 years before I moved there. 86, 87, 89 were met in the burg. 62 was from the burg but I pulled her off an AMTRAK in Lancaster. 91was a hot little number from Brooklyn who I met on the dance floor under the pool at the downtown Holiday Inn. She came to the 340 on a couple of occasions.

92 was a rare example of someone who worked with me. She was as crazy as any woman that I have ever been with. She simply hated white folks and particularly white men. There were times when she would hardly speak to me or give me the time of day yet she would come to the third floor with me. No explain lust I suppose.

93 was a friend of my sister and perhaps the last white woman I was ever with

94 Another Harrisburger, another VIP score. A Buddhist upon whose altar I spilt some red wine. We’re still friends.

95 … known to Phil simply as “The Bulimic”. A couple of stories come to mind; one time she enjoyed stimulating me with her oral skills as I drove home from an Anita Ward concert in York. Another time I actually passed her next gentleman caller as I sheepishly snuck down her front steps.

96 see Love Quadrangle, Welcome to the Virtual 340 Club, May 6, 7:44 pm

97 I answered her personal ad in Philadelphia Magazine … she was very well to do and had a beautiful condominium in King-of-Prussia. After experiencing her, I never was able to eat peanut butter or honey the same way.

98 Other than vaguely remembering her … and seeing her name of Phil’s final list … I have no memory of her.

99 One of Randy’s ex’s … another white girl … surely this is the last.

From the Poet Laureate

Trivia by Christopher E. Joyce, the poet laureate of the 340 Club

Within a wall of heat and hurt, and wondering aloud ---
Does ignorance and decadence throughout the world abound
Does everything compete within themselves to break the strain
Of knowing or not knowing if they will come again.

Does everything that has an end also have a beginning
At which point there is no creation that begins its dimming
Like a flame that last and last and finally goes out
To never spark again anew of this there must be doubt

To understand the sense of death one must feel dead while living
To all the traits of men of whom cannot pursue loves giving
If there is a spirit within us as of now it is unknown
And pity those who try and find it by themselves alone
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Love is - being able to feel good with someone because they feel good.

If it's May 7th

June 7^th is only a month away … see Phil for tickets

Who is that Hebe?

Hebe is the cupbearer to the gods and the personification of youth ... the popular, local, Lancaster based rock band Hebe GeeBees is named after this Greek Goddess.

Come impress Randy on Friday with your knowledge of Greek Mythology.

May 9, 2008, Friday, The Shamrock Cafe, 9:30 p.m. ... be there!!!