Another Man Done Gone

On his album, I'm Everything I Ever Loved, Martin Mull mentions The Great Folk Scare of the 60s. I confess to being a casualty of that era. I was about 4 years-old when I heard the first Kingston Trio album. Over the years, exposure to Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Ramblin' Jack Elliot and ultimately Bob Dylan followed.

At 13 armed with an old nylon six-string and Bob Dylan with Three Magic Chords, I began my life-long dalliance with the guitar. I'd sit in the library listening to recordings of Leadbelly, The Carter Family and others exploring America's folk music.

But, the times they were a'changin'. The British Invasion ushered in a new age. Dylan went electric; Roger McGuinn and Gene Clark formed the Byrds; a jug band from San Francisco became the Grateful Dead. Despite this, the festering folk virus replicated inside my psyche. It remains to this day. The impetus of this nostalgic, musical rambling is the recent passing of John Renbourn.

In 1968, I discovered English folk music through the band, Pentangle. The interplay of Renbourn and Bert Jansch's guitars infatuated me. That same year, I entered Bishop Eustace Preparatory School being reluctantly dragged into a classical education. One of the first assignments was the Middle English poem, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Against all my stubbornness, I enjoyed it.  Reading this chivalric romance while listening to Pentangle brought the story to life.

When I found out the band's name came from the symbol on Gawain's shield a serendipitous epiphany occurred. Maybe I could use this schooling to my advantage, or at least to the consternation
of those around me. Thus two life-long passions ignited: playing the guitar and exasperating others. Never trust a prankster!

My restless, musical wanderings took me into psychedelia, rockabilly, the blues, jazz, but the love of folk music never waned. I'd listen to Sun Ra's Atlantis, followed by Renbourn's Sir John Alot of Merrie Englandes Musyk Thyng and ye Grene Knyghte. Seemingly contradictory, my multifarious mind had no problem accommodating both styles.

John Renbourn could play the medeaval lilt of The Lady and The Unicorn and follow it with an acoustic guitar rendering of the Charlie Mingus jazz standard, Good Bye Pork Pie Hat. His eclectic approach to music spoke to me.

With the passing of another great musician, the celestial orchestra expands. His music will echo through the ether; Requiescat in Pace John. As ever BB

"Another man done gone down on the county farm. Another man done gone." - Traditional folk song

Musing Marketplace

The following were ideas that never came to fruition as complete blogs. Consider this musing a garage sale of ideas.

I have received many comments on the volume of my speaking voice. What can I say, I am a loud  talker. Some attribute it to growing up in a large family, all of whom liked to talk. Others blame my size commenting that the echo from my chest cavity causes the stentorian tones. (Word geek trivia - this word comes from the Greek herald, Stentor, mentioned in Homer's Iliad, known for his loud voice.)

In actuality, I speak loudly so I can hear myself over the voices in my head. They never stop. "Do this.", "Do that.", "Make sure you have lots of quick lime and a shovel.", "You sure you left no fingerprints?", etc. In order for me to hear my own thoughts, I must speak loudly.

The other day an acquaintance sat next to me in a public house and
asked who I thought was the best guitar player. His question brought to mind the medieval query, "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" That question was never meant to be answered. Its purpose was to encourage discourse and sharpen rhetorical skills.

However, he truly expected an answer. Consider Doc Watson, John McLaughlin, Leo Kottke, Chet Atkins, Les Paul, Robert Fripp...I could go
on for pages. Music, like art, evokes personal feelings. It is not a contest in which one comes out on top. Music opens the soul. It offers a glimpse of the infinite beauty that we pursue, but can never achieve. To quote Robert Browning, "Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?"

On the subject of music, several times I've been asked why the songs I do don't sound like the original artists' versions. My early mentors taught me to make each song my own. Billie Holiday said it best, "If you copy, it means you're working without any real feeling. No two people on earth are alike, and it's got to be that way in music or it isn't music."

Anarchy is misunderstood. Many consider it a state of chaos and disorder. They think of anarchists as bomb throwing radicals. Few study to see what anarchy really is. People use anecdotal knowledge as an explanation. Anecdotes are not facts. The works of Proudhon, Chomsky and Zerzan are good starters, but who am I kidding. Their works read like the philosophical texts they are, and many find them pedantic. I enjoy this reading, but understand that most don't. Res Ipsa Loquitur.

Politics has become a battleground of polarities. Historian Shelby Foote blames the American Civil War on the failure of our political system to do what it was meant to do - create compromises. It's happening again today.  We have devolved into a country of discord. Polemics replace reason; insults replace argument. Right/left, conservative/liberal - terms have replaced ideas. We are more concerned with labels than results. Politicians masquerade as leaders. Polling data supersede judgement. 

Democrats and Republicans are two sides of the same coin. They have constructed a system to keep the power amongst themselves. It is rigged against any third party or independent candidate to make a change. Our government is dysfunctional and dishonest. Come to think of it, maybe some bomb-throwing radicals are just what the wild-eyed doctor ordered. As ever - BB

"What a field day for the heat, thousand people in the street. Singing songs and carrying signs, mostly say 'Hooray for our side!" - For What It's Worth - Stephan Stills

 

One Wit Whiz

The above is order-speak for a cheese steak with fried onions and Cheese Whiz at Pat's Steaks in Philly. Below is some history about the sandwich, and places to consider if you ever go on a cheese steak crawl through the City of Brotherly Love.

The two most famous establishments are Pat's and Geno's both
located at the intersection of 9th Street, Wharton Street and Passyunk Avenue. Many locals decry these places, but this is the corner where the sandwich started, so you have to try them.

Kristin and I will go to Philadelphia on a Saturday morning, visit the Italian Market on 9th Street and be back in Fells Point by 2pm. On one such trip we got there about 9am and had not eaten yet. Pat's is open 24-hours, so we decided to have cheese steaks for breakfast.

We ordered, sat outside, the only option, and proceeded to eat. Across from us were several neighborhood gentlemen enjoying morning pastries and coffee. They discussed sports and politics with a liberal sprinkling of foul language. Out of the side door came Frank Olivieri, Sr. Frank Jr. now runs Pat's, but his father is always there. He began to lambast these guys, "Hey, I got f@#kin' customers here. Watch your f@#kin' language damn it!" He then turned to us and said, "I'm sorry for these a**holes."

We basked in the irony of his berating them while using the same obscenities. The sheepish gentlemen apologized to us and proceeded to tell us about the Italian Market, gave directions and recommended places for the best fresh pasta, olives, cheeses, etc. I thanked them, not having the heart to explain that we go to the Italian Market often. We proceeded up 9th Street relishing the glow of South Philly local color.

Pat Olivieri with 2 of the Stooges

In 1930, Pat and Harry Olivieri started a hog dog cart at 9th and Passyunk. They picked that location because it was a trolly stop just blocks from the Italian Market insuring lots of traffic. One day, getting sick of eating hot dogs, they went to a local market for some chopped steak to grill with fried onions for their lunch. A regular saw it, asked for that, and the steak sandwich was born. A couple years later an employee, who the story goes put provolone on everything, added cheese. It wasn't until the early 60s that Cheese Whiz was introduced.

As an aficionado who has lived in many places, any cheese steak from Philly beats those from anywhere else. I once had a "cheese steak" in Iowa that was sliced roast beef with Havarti, raw peppers and onions on a hamburger roll. The Hindenburg disaster comes to mind, "Oh the humanity!" Just about every Philadelphia neighborhood has its favorite cheese steak place. Here are some of mine.
 
Gooey Looies -  several blocks south and east of Pat's & Geno's, it's a small place. I usually order and eat it in the car, or drive across Delaware Avenue (now Christopher Columbus Boulevard, but always Delaware Ave to me) and sit by the waterfront. It's huge, the onions are darker giving it a toasty flavor, loaded with American cheese, where the gooey in the name comes from, and a dollar cheaper than Pat's or Geno's.

Jim's Steaks - It has won Philadelphia Magazine's best cheese steak award several times. Located on South Street in the midst of several bars and clubs, I usually have this cheese steak at 2am after several libations. Great drunk food rivaling the cheese omelet and Italian sausage at the Melrose Diner. (Diner stories for another time)

Ishkabibbles - on South Street just down from Jim's, this was the first place I experienced a chicken cheese steak. Sacrilege to some, I find it a nice break from the standard Philly sandwich. They offer a unique drink, the Gremlin, a mixture of lemonade and grape drink. Also a good "after drinking on South Street" stop.

Tony Lukes -  the original is on East Oregon Avenue, several blocks south of Gooey Looies. Tony Lukes has expanded to include places in both the Link and Citizen Bank stadiums, Wildwood NJ, and even Bahrain. Their cheese steak is good, but try the Italian roast pork sandwich. It's the best in the city!

These are my rules concerning cheese steaks:
The cheese depends on my mood. I avoid American, except for Gooie Looies, and go with either Whiz or Provolone. Sometimes I'll go to Pat's and get one with Whiz and have Kristin go to Geno's and get one with Prov. We share getting a taste of both. This can be done at Jim's & Ishkabibble's too. A cheese steak must have fried onions, nothing else, not even condiments.  If you are having a cheese steak hoagie, then raw onions are acceptable. In fact I prefer raw onions on the hoagie. For the uninitiated, the cheese steak hoagie has lettuce and tomato. On these olive oil and/or a little mayo is acceptable also.

If you go down to the shore it's a sub not a hoagie. I consider the shore anywhere from Long Beach Island to Cape May, anything above LBI is North Jersey and doesn't count. The two best places are White House Subs in Atlantic City and Sack O'Subs. Sack O' has several locations. I've only been to the ones in Ventnor and Ocean City, NJ. Both are equally good. If you visit those, ignore the cheese steak and get the cheese steak sub. As ever - BB

"If you're associated with the Philadelphia media or town, you look for negatives. I don't know if there's something about their upbringing or they have too many hoagies, or too much cream cheese." - Mike Schmidt, Philadelphia Phillies' Hall of Fame 3rd baseman.

Philadelphia Story

Not the play, nor the movie, but some musings about the town in which I was born. I love it's quirkiness and panache. Founded by Quakers, full of blue bloods, yet Philly emanates a blue collar ethos. I hope the following vignettes bring to light some of the eccentricities that I love about my birthplace.

Philadelphia embraces its museums: the Museum of Art, the Norman Rockwell Museum, the Franklin Institute, to name a few. My attraction leans to the more bizarre. 

The Mutter Museum of the College of Physicians includes a collection of over 130 skulls, sections of Albert Einstein's brain, about 1,300 wet specimens of body parts, cysts and tumors in fluid...not the place for those with weak constitutions especially after lunch.

The Mummers Museum, not to be confused with the above, celebrates Philly's tradition of mummery. Mummers have marched through the town since the mid-17th century.  The first official parade was 1901. The Comics, Fancies, Fancy Brigades and String Bands parade every New Year's Day in a noisy, cold, endless procession. Not understood by out-of-towners, which could explain why it is dear to this Philadelphian.

The Rodin Museum is one of the most comprehensive collections of the French sculptor outside of Paris. Not as off-beat as the above, I only mention it here because when I was about 10, my father took me there. I was very excited to visit a museum dedicated to the Japanese sci-fi monster, Rodan. What did I know about the artist, Auguste Rodin. Guess I wasn't much of a thinker!

Philadelphia loves public art. The Liberty Bell, Billy Penn, the
LOVE statue. Then there's the clothespin. Directly across the street from City Hall was a bar where, incidentally, my great uncle, Jim, bartended for 40 years...ah digression. The bar was demolished. In its place for America's Bicentennial, the city wanted a sculpture. The commission went to Claes Oldenburg who constructed a 45-foot steel clothespin.

The city residents were outraged; how could the administration waste money this way; it's an eyesore and an embarrassment to the city. In 1984, newly elected mayor, Wilson Goode announced he would have the clothespin removed. The city residents were outraged; how could the administration do this; it's our clothespin and we love it. The clothespin still stands at Centre Square.

Philly has over 600 murals. In 1986, the city began the Mural Arts Program to fight graffiti in a positive way. Murals exist all over town. My favorite is on the corner of 3rd and South St. There sits Jon's Bar & Grill, but in 1902, it was the house where Louis Fineberg was born. Better known as Larry Fine of the Three Stooges, the owner decided to celebrate the birth of this great comedian by putting his image on the outside wall of his bar.

The only museum about the Stooges, the Stoogeum, is close by in Ambler, PA. But since it's not in the city proper, I only mention it as an aside. At least it's not in Niagara Falls. Niagara Falls...slowly I turn, step by step, inch by inch...as ever BB

"The streets are safe in Philadelphia; it's only the people who make them unsafe." - Frank Rizzo, chief of police of Philadelphia 1967-71, mayor 1972-80





Just a few of the Philly's magnificent murals:

These Are A Few

of my favorite things.

Martin D-18

Elvis with a D-18

In the summer of 1974, I was perusing albums at the Sam Goody in the Echelon Mall in Voorhees, NJ when I spied my baby. Back in those days, Sam Goody had several levels of store. This one offered only low-end stereo and discount guitars.

The manager explained that the regional center sent him the Martin in error. It came with no paperwork and no case. Bureaucratic logic determined that since no paperwork existed sending it back would cause more problems. So among the Teiscos and Hondos, sat this Martin D-18.

Throughout that summer, whenever possible I would visit the store and play this holy grail. Either my incessant visits to play the guitar, or the manager's desire to rid himself of this albatross, caused an offer to be tendered. The guitar listed for $750. Since it had no paperwork from Martin, he quoted $400. My liquid assets combined with items taken to a local pawnshop provided the means to purchase the guitar.

Despite a Passport Scotch bottle through the soundboard in 1985, scratches, and sundry other issues, I play this baby everyday and at all my gigs. It is still my favorite guitar to play.

Jujyfruits
I cannot resist these wine gum candies. Wine gum is the confectioners term for a firm, corn starch,
gum drop like candy without a sugar coating. There are Swedish fish, gummy bears, Dots, etc., but in my eyes, they all dim in comparison to Jujyfruits.

Film Noir
I won't go into the influence of German Expressionism, or the lighting and composition that give these movies their allure. But, when I stumble upon one of those films from the 40s-50s, no matter how far along the movie is, I must watch.

Like I discovered the blues of Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf through bands of the British Invasion, I discovered hard-boiled detective novels through these movies. Without them, I never would have read Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, James M. Cain who led me to Elmore Leonard and James Ellroy. Thanks to them, my vocabulary includes gams, gat, roscoe, yegger, gumshoe, butter & egg man, banging the gong and other colorful patois.

Baths
Nothing soothes the soul like a soak in a hot bath. No matter what situations
have caused me turmoil, be it mental or physical, a restorative bath is the answer. It cleanses both body and the soul.  As ever - BB

“Under the thinning fog the surf curled and creamed, almost without sound, like a thought trying to form itself on the edge of consciousness.” - Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep

Extra, Extra!

Before radio opened the door to instantaneous information, newspapers would produce an Extra. This special edition informed the masses about events that happened after the paper had been published, but were too important to wait until the next issue.

This extra to my blog concerns a very special event that occurred at Leadbetters Tavern, this past Saturday, January 17. Local musician and songwriter, Joe Scala, held the release party for his CD, Skin & Bones. The exceptional thing Joe did was invite several local musicians to open the show with their versions of his songs.

Those lucky enough to come out experienced a magical evening! I was honored to be included.

Leadbetters was packed. I would guess that about one-third of the audience were fellow players attending to give their support. One who just moved from Baltimore to Manhattan looked around, then turned to me and said, "This is what I miss. This place is like a musicians' clubhouse."

After such a fantastic Saturday, I felt impelled to write a brief piece thanking Joe for his generosity and complimenting him on this unique and clever idea for a CD Release Party.

Hopefully, the positive vibes generated on Saturday will keep that musician's clubhouse feeling going. As ever - BB

In place of the usual quote, I'm ending this blog with a link to Joe's website. You can purchase the CD there, and I strongly recommend it. 

 http://josephscala.com/

Vive La Difference!

I have always felt more attuned to the past. This affinity requires the legerdemain of avoiding nostalgia's deadfall. Looking back with rose-colored glasses leads to sentimentality and self-delusion. As humorist, Finley Peter Dunne said, "The past always looks better than it was. It's only pleasant because it isn't here."

Two unique characters from those thrilling days of yesteryear comprise the subject of my latest musing. Born in the ebbing of the 19th century and despite less than salubrious habits, they both lived into my lifetime.

Gambler, hustler and con man, Alvin Clarence Thomas, better known by the moniker, Titanic Thompson, spent his life making wagers, hustling golf and pool. The nickname arose after one of his bets. A by-stander asked, "Who is that guy?" The loser answered, "He's Titanic; he sinks everybody."

Natural athletic ability and extraordinary hand-eye coordination explained his skill at golf and pool. However, not all of his wagers were above board. Thompson would cheat and finagle to give himself
every advantage. My favorite one - days before he came into a town, he would move the sign giving the mileage to reach the city limits. When he got to town, he'd bet everyone he saw that the distance marker was incorrect. Of course he'd win. This would lead to more wagers and usually more losses for the locals.

The other subject is more familiar - Mae West. This dynamic female pushed the envelope of censorship, and in a era of male-domination controlled her life and career.  I first became aware of her through her movies. However, she didn't go to Hollywood until she was 40. By that time she had sang and danced on the New York stage and had written provocative, successful plays for almost 20 years.

The first play she wrote, directed and starred, was Sex. The play drew crowds, but got her arrested on vice charges. Her next play, Drag, focused on homosexuality, but the authorities closed it during rehearsals. She continued to write titillating works which thrilled audiences and upset the status quo. When asked if censorship bothered her, she laughed and said, "Not at all, it makes me money!"

On the set of her first film, Night after Night, she complained about her lines. The director let her improvise. That provided her first memorable movie quote. A hat-check girl says "Goodness what beautiful diamonds!" Mae's reponse, "Goodness had nothing to do with it, dearie." George Raft, star of the movie commented that West stole that scene and everything else except the movie cameras.

She challenged discrimination on all fronts. West moved into a plush apartment building in Hollywood. Her paramour at that time was William "Gorilla" Jones, an African-American boxer. Management barred Negroes, not uncommon in the 1930s. Mae proceeded to buy the complex and remove the ban. She owned it and lived there until her death in 1980 at 87.

Some examples of Mae's prowess:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FJS670okmZc

There is a shortage of true individuals like the aforementioned. Technology advances at warp speed, but uniqueness languishes. At times, I think we've transformed into a society of lemmings taking selfies of ourselves as we rush over the edge into oblivion. As ever - BB

"Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect." ~Mark Twain