February 29, 1984

John, who had been at 340II/338 since the beginning of the 2nd coming three years earlier and his lady, Sue (the 16th and final member of the previously all male bachelor pad) finally decided to leave and get married and set up a household on Lafayette Street where they remain to this day.

Sil & his wife met at 328 so the 340 Club is 2 for 2 on marriages!

On February 29 (does that mean they've only been gone six years), 1984 the young couple fled the 338 and made their move. That meant, for the final months, Sil & I would be the only inhabitants of the large house.

As you will note, I have almost no memory of these last four months.

The 45s

I spent all day selecting, cataloguing and ordering the musical selections for next week's affair. I hope and trust my roomie Randy shows up next Saturday with proper equipment. Stay tuned. Here are the groups one record each except for four groups (can you guess which?):

Archie Bell, Bar Kays, Barry McGuire, Beatles, Blues Brothers, Bobby Vinton, Bachman-Turner Overdrive, Buffalo Springfield, Creedence Clearwate Revival, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Engelbert Humperdink, Four Tops, James & Bobby Purify, James Brown, John Fred & the Playboy Band, Kim Carnes, KISS, Link Wray & the Wraymen, Manfred Mann, Marvin Gaye, Napoleon XiV, Otis Redding, Percy Sledge, Queen, Rare Earth, Rolling Stones, Sam & Dave, Sam the Sham, Sly & the Family Stone, Styx, Supremes, Sweet, The: Beach Boys, Capitols, Clash, Crazy World of Arthur Brown, Doors, Human Beinz, Kinks, Magnificient Men, McCoys, Moody Blues, Righteous Brothers, Shangri- Las, Sharks, Shaynes, Toys, Troggs, Vapors, Tommy James & the Shondells, Wilson Pickett … and in reserve: Aerosmith, Alice Cooper, Bay City Rollers, Devo, Grand Funk Railroad, Heart, Janis Joplin,Led Zeppelin, Mitch Ryder & the Detroit Wheels, Mott Hoople, Paul Revere & the Raiders, Police, Rod Stewart, Swinging Medallions, The: Animals, Jackson 5, Temptations, Who, Thin Lizzie, and Young Rascals.

Next order of business: the souvenier program, PowerPoint, and preparing the Archival Exhibit. Oh yeah, getting the Bear ready. Hopefully, Phil will sell some tickets. I need to give the Knights a number on Thursday.

Mitch Ryder, Godfather of Detroit Rock

A popular juke box favorite – Mitch Ryder offers these three covers, never before heard anywhere, especially for the 340 Club







And one of his from the juke

Back in the day



Later

1983

JAN –
FEB – Groundhog sees shadow
MAR –
APR – 340 Club moves to 338 West King Street; Life Goes On
MAY –
JUN – Mayor Morris visits 340 Club
JUL – Leo, Sixers, Summit Bowl, Sally Ride in space
AUG – Benigno Aquino Assasinated in Phillipines
SEP –
OCT – Birds/Phils, 237 Marines killed in Beirut, Grenada invaded
NOV – Phil departs
DEC – Times Square w 103

1983 was in the book
President Ronnie Raygunz
Governor Dick Thornburgh
Mayor Art Morris
CPI – 99.6
U.R. – 9.6%
Life exp – 74.6
Violent crime – 51.8
World Population – 4.69B
U.S. Population – 233.8M
Best Picture Oscar – Gandhi
Ted’s # 111

NCAA BK – North Carolina State 54-52 over Houston
Indy 500 –
NBA – Philadelphia Seventy-Sixers sweep LA
NHL – New York Islanders sweep Edmonton Oilers
MLB – Baltimore Orioles over Philadelphia Phillies in 5
Horse of Year –
Hvwt Champ –
NCAA F – Miami, 11-1
NFL (1/84)

Where are they now: Randy?

Randy Brown: 340 Club II Match 1981-August 1981

I don't know ... however he is scheduled to spin records at the 340 Club reunion and I have spent the day selecting 81 45 rpm records to make the trip. Lemmee tell ya they are classics. However I have no clue as to Randy's whereabouts and no solid phone number.

In typical 340 fashion this one's going right down to the wire ...

From the Mighty 340 Club Juke Box

Okay, this is tough youTube song ... so many covers ... many of them quite excellent but I wanted the original ... found a few but couldn't get passed this revival version ... haunting ... it could be Randy, Kenny, Dreamo, Jack, Bosco, or any number of us, past, present or future ... it is a 1988 concert in a prison before a couple hundred inmates ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nql4Bk-Xp7Q

another one about the night we will hold the reunion

Collage V

Woody's final photographic memoirs shows a grainy picture of Chip and Sheryl Z. on the 340 stoop at the top and on the bottom a blowup of a previously published pic of Sam getting some beauty sleep.

Collage IV

Woody's fourth submission show a "radiant" Sue DiGiacomo in the two top pictures.In the middle is Scott, the aforementioned Zangari South employee who met the police at the door during the July 4th,1983 extravaganza. To his right is another shot of Woody's beans/chili and on the bottom is the "SUB" in its formative stages.

Collage III

Woody's third collage shows George Z. and Phil, alongside the 338 in the top left, to the right is a conked out Sam "Space" Wickersham after a hard day of being one of the 338 chef's. Middle left appears to be a different party day at the Club, not the Summit Bowl, judging by the cold-weather clothing with Sam on the left pointing out instructions to who appears to be Tommy Roschel on the right. The middle right pic shows Tee and Phil sitting at the Club's bar.Bottom left is a pot of Woody's baked beans or chili. and the bottom right is Dawn Jackson and Tee.

Collage II

Woody K. submitted these pictures of the "SUB", taken in the 338 Club's kitchen. Notice in the bottom two pics the sign that reads,
"Pabst,Quality since 1844" and the SUB itself being supported by a case of John Em's Straub Beer.

The 5th Day of 340

After 2 ½ years of Exodus negotiations to bring the gang back to West King Street began in earnest in January 1981. Mr. Kratzert, apparently, was desperately in need of good solid tenants and we were on the market for some crappy housing. The 340 had faded away in ’78 with poor Phil the lone refugee in the final days. Now, the intrepid group of West King Street interlopers included me, Phil plus two new residents – Randy Brown & John Emswiler. I had known Phil & John since high school and had met Randy during the initial 340 go round and he had been a roomie in the outpost.

We inked a lease, effective March 1, 1981 and automatically renewing every month, and moved in late February. We were back.

Collage # 1

Woody K. said he had some pictures of our West King Street days. Unfortunately time has not been kind to them and they seem to be permanently stuck in a photo album.
Woody then took the entire album page and scanned them and sent them to me. Here is the first exhibit.
In the upper left is Sam Wickersham with George Zangari peaking his head out in the rear. They are admiring their handi-work on the gigantic sub, assembled in honor of the so called Summit Bowl, the WFL Championship. To the right of that pic is a relaxed George Z. With the obligatory case of Pabst in the background.The next pic on the left is Sam and George again. Beside that is Woody K, himself. Note the well conditioned athletic bodies. The final pic below is Super Sports Sunday, aka Scott Myers. Donning his Philadelphia Star cap. In the lower right is the left elbow of # 99 which can only mean it belongs to Desi Deeter.

The 4th Day of 340

On the 4^th day of the 340 Club the sun set. As Phil evacuated the 340 Club in late November 1978, I suppose we all thought that civilization, manners, and decorum would disappear forever from that West King Street neighborhood. For a while it appeared such thoughts were correct. A new year dawned and then past … 1979 …1980 (heck, the Phillies even a World Series but still 340 remained shuttered) …but then again, as 1981 began the clouds began to break up … few noticed the rainbow emanating from that certain residence just four blocks from the center of town … it arched triumphantly announcing something but there were no Isaiah’s to tell us precisely what was happening, no John the Baptist to show the way … little did Mrs. Garman understand but the second coming was at hand … (cue: the Pops; ready the cannons; play the 1812 overture) … the long winter of our discontent was finally coming to an end … it was a new dawn … morning in Amerika … izzat the Gilt on the 340 rooftop?

DISCLAIMER

Clearly this Blog – the “virtual” 340 Club – is now just as out of control as the “actual” 340 Club

JULY,4th,'83

This faded archive reads;
Actor being resident/person in control of property. Did have a party w/loud music and loud people. This constituted a noise disturbance which extended more than two property lines.- On complaint/condition observed by Off's. Actor advised prior.




With the 25th Anniversary of this event coming up I will relate what I remember of it. It was obviously July 4th,Independence Day, and the patriotic guys and gals of West King Street decided to celebrate with a party. Kenny "The Gilt" Giltner was up on the roof of the 338 Club, shooting off bottle rockets. One misfired and landed under a passing car but there was no damage. The music and adult beverages were flowing freely.

Apparently some neighbors,probably non-Americans, must have called the police. Some of Lancaster's Finest then appeared at the Club and told us to tone it down. Well of course we did,for a few minutes anyway. The party continued.

The next thing I remember, an employee of Zangari's South's kitchen,named Scott,came up to my bedroom and woke me up. It was about 6:00 AM or whenever the sun rose that day. He said there was a policeman at the door and he wanted to see me. I hastily stumbled out of bed,probably already dressed and went downstairs. The front door was blocked by the Mighty 340 Juke Box hanging out on the stoop,laying on its side with the music blasting full force. I hurdled over it to greet the officer but I could not hear what he was saying due to the music. I clumsily endeavored to find the volume control but to no avail, either the machine didn't function well on its side or my blurry eyes couldn't focus on it so I went back inside and pulled the plug.


The Officer said we had been warned before and now we were being charged with a Noise Ordinance Violation. There was no valid reason to argue with the Juke Box being outside the Club and playing at full throttle. I signed for the citation. Tee I believe was in Pittsburgh that weekend and I could not disagree when he said the fine was my responsibilty since he wasn't there. I think it was $35.

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