Monday, October 14, 2024

Last night I went to bed at 10pm, got up twice during the night, woke up briefly several more times, finally waking/getting up at 6:45.

Today is a holiday – Dia de la Raices.

Ugh, I forgot to move bagels from the freezer to the fridge so I’ll be having regular bread for my toast for breakfast.

I left the apt at 8am and found Smartfit nearly empty; I wish every day could be like this. After completing my workout I had a latte in Ganso y Castor and the park was nearly deserted. I could see in the distance that the peanut is still in the tree so I didn’t leave another.

I left at 10:15 and stopped at the little market but they had no milk, same with Ara so I guess it will have to wait until I can get to Exito this afternoon.

Teresa was quizzing me on two topics: 1) something to do with when we signed the Union Libre paper and 2) when did she add herself to my health insurance. We’ll discuss this further later.

I called the Cook County Clerk but of course the office is closed today, probably for Columbus Day or is it now Indigenous Peoples Day?

I talked to Maggie at the Chicago Tribune and the charges of $15.96-$2.94+$15.96 gives me a subscription until December 6, 2025 so I told her that I am okay with that but I’ll probably cancel it once it expires.

I left the apt about 1:30 and walked to the mall. I paid for our epm utility bill in Exito after a 20-minute wait in line. I went into Home Center where I purchased an 8V LED bulb for 18mil. In Claro I found the cashier where I pay our cellphone bills to be closed. The girl was probably out to lunch so I figured I’d come back later. I went down to Urbania where I had a latte for a couple hours. When I left, I went upstairs and after waiting in a short line I paid our Claro bills. In Exito I purchased 2 bags of milk. Outside, in the new location outside Exito’s no longer used middle entrance, I immediately caught a taxi back to the apt.

I cleaned the light fixture, which was filthy, and put in the new bulb and we can have light again.

I checked Pronto Notary Public and they are closed today also.

I watched the news on CNN and MSNBC.

 

IN HONOR OF IKEA

More Bob Burford

 It was circa 1960, give or take, and I was working my first real job at Western Union in Tucson. My first assignment was in Hammond, Indiana (telegrapher, phone operator), transferred to Holland, Michigan (delivery clerk), and recruited into sales in Detroit, all inside my first year with the company. I escaped from Detroit in the middle of winter and headed for the warmer climes of Tucson.

It was fairly late at night when in walked a tall, sophisticated-looking gent; not sloppy drunk, but certainly had been drinking. He wanted to sit down in the lobby and compose a telegram so I handed him a pad of blank forms and motioned for him to take a seat. He would write for a while, then get up and stroll over to the counter. Assuming he needed some assistance, I asked him if I could help him. Nope. He just wanted to talk ... about everything in general, actually, but specifically, to air his grievances about whoever he was writing about. 

He finally finished it, brought it up to the counter, and asked me to proofread it for him. Which I did. It was a perfect opportunity for me to rib him a bit, needle him, critique his copy. But that would have to wait until I got to know him better. Then everything was fair game – and I think he enjoyed it.

His name was Westbrook Pegler, a legendary syndicated newspaper columnist who had a reputation for hating everything and everyone. He was so far right-wing even the John Birch Society expelled him. The telegram was filed as a night letter, a class of telegram specifically designed for long wordy telegrams for overnight transmission to be delivered sometime the next morning. No rush. I assume he was in Tucson on vacation. So, for the duration of his stay, I would chat with him every night while he wrote out his column for the following day. 

After a short while our familiarity with one another developed a fairly common and open friendship ... to the point that one night when he entered the office, I asked, “So who’s tonight’s target for your toxic tripe and drivel?” I was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t seem to be offended at all. As I proofread his copy, I would mumble snide, digging remarks along the way. One evening he challenged me to write his column for him. “You think this is easy? You should try it sometime. You’d see.”

So, having nothing better to do, I spent the rest of that night writing a column for him. At that time the Defense Department was spending trillions of dollars building and installing missiles in silos all over the southwestern deserts. Some of the men working on these missile sites would come in to wire huge amounts of money back home to their wives. They were paid small fortunes. And rightly so. Working in the desert, miles away from civilization, sweltering daytime temperatures well over 100 and nighttime temperatures below freezing. So I wrote a column for him damning everyone who had anything to do with the government in general and the missile program in particular. That, of course, would include JFK, “that bleeding-heart liberal Catholic.” He had a debate with himself about whether or not to include the word “Catholic” in the story. He finally decided to leave it in. That led me to think he’s probably Catholic.  

Our teleprinters were kept loaded with large rolls of salmon-colored paper. That’s what I used for writing the column. Telegrams are all upper case. There’s no such thing as upper and lower case on any machine in the office. I’m guessing that the end product was eight to ten feet long. So, when Pegler came in the following night, again just a bit tipsy, I handed him my roll of salmon-colored paper. He began to unroll it and asked, “What the hell is this?” “Tripe and drivel!” I said. “Ten feet of toxic tripe and drivel!” 

He chuckled and began reading it on his way over to his usual seat in the lobby. He sat down and continued reading it, marking it with changes, corrections, insertions or deletions as he went along. When he was finished with it he rolled it back up and leaned on the counter. He asked me a few questions, kinda to expound on a few parts of the column. After making a couple of final changes, he then slapped the counter with it, handed it to me and said, “Thirty dash! File it!” (In the journalism/printing industry a thirty dash is a column-wide stylized dash that’s put at the end of an article indicating the end, or that’s all there is, or ain’t no more copy to follow. In manuscript it would simply be -30-)

That seemingly innocuous transaction caused unimaginable consternation with the powers that be. The manager of the office was a mousey little guy named Morlin. Wouldn’t say shit if he had a mouthful. Here’s copy for a paid telegram that obviously has been written on one of our printers loaded with a continuous roll of salmon-colored paper.

How did that happen? they wanted to know. So the following is a 30-second read condensed down from a 15-minute real-life exchange:

BOSS: Did you let someone use our printer? 

ME: Nope, I wrote it myself. 

BOSS: Where did you get the copy?

ME: I wrote the copy.

BOSS: No. Who wrote the copy for the column?

ME: I did.

BOSS: You wrote it?

ME: I did.

BOSS: Whose idea was that?

ME: Mine.

BOSS: The idea for the column was yours?

ME: It was.

BOSS: You composed the copy and then you sent it?

ME: Correct.

BOSS: Who authorized you to do that?

ME: Westbrook Pegler

BOSS: Westbrook Pegler read this?

ME: Of course he did. It’s his column.

BOSS: And he approved it to be sent?

ME: He did. All of the editorial marks on the copy are his. I made those changes and sent it off ... as per his instructions.

The 48 contiguous states are divided into five divisions. Morlin wanted to call the division manager of operations over our division, but he couldn’t come up with a rational reason to do so. “Exactly what are you going to tell him?” I asked. “You could tell him you have a problem but you don’t know what the problem is. That would make him proud.” What I had done had never been done before. There was nothing in our tariff book (our comprehensive all-inclusive bible) on the matter. He really didn’t like what I had done but he couldn’t find a reason to support his thinking. I hadn’t done anything bad, just uniquely unorthodox. So Morlin really had no option but to just let the subject drop, much to his dismay.

For the rest of my time in that office, every time my path crossed Morlin’s, he would divert his eyes and give me a very wide berth. However, that situation wasn’t to last that long since, unbeknownst to me, in a few months I would receive orders to report to Santa Monica as manager of that office. 

I learned in the four years with that company that I did not belong in corporate America.

Sunday, October 13, 2024

Last night I went to bed at 10pm, got up once at 4am, finally waking/getting up at 6:30.

We have two small lights over our dining room table. One has flickered on the past couple weeks but today it’s off permanently. There is another light on the wall and it wouldn’t come on today. At least I was able to easily remove that one and it’s a 9V bulb.

I was balancing my checking account and I see the Chicago Tribune charged me twice for $15.96 plus a credit of $2.94 so I guess I’ll be calling them again.

It was fun watching the Chicago Bears dominate the Jacksonville Jaguars 35-16. I’m not eating peanuts this morning though.

Teresa wants me to take her out for lunch. She knows the place but she can’t explain where it is. It turned into 20 questions and finally I figured out it’s the restaurant (unknow name) next to Valentina’s bakery in Complex Los Balsos.

We left the apt at 12:30 and took a Didi to Complex Los Balsos unfortunately the restaurant was closed – in fact it looked like the entire mall was closed. We asked the driver to take us to El Correo in Provenza and I gave him another 10mil with no problem.

Teresa ordered a chicken dish with a baked potato on the side and a bottle of water while I ordered the steak pimienta and a baked potato with a limonada de coco and later a Coke with ice (to help put out the fire in my stomach).

I informed Teresa I have no game next Sunday (Bears’ bye week) so we decided we’ll go to Rionegro and have lunch in the restaurant/café Candilejas.

My steak was delicious and large and I still had 7 pieces remaining that I got to go.

The check came to 198,960 pesos ($47.25) and I paid for it with my debit card. Teresa wanted to walk for a while so I suggested we walk the 6 blocks to Pergamino #1, even though I was pretty sure it would be packed.

When we arrived there on calle 37 the street was closed off to traffic and they had lots of outside tables there so we had no problem getting an “inside” table.

Here we're facing the street.

I had a small latte and Teresa, eventually, ordered a large latte and a slice of red velvet cake. We left at 4:15, caught a Didi by D’Andre restaurant and returned to the apt.

Troyclough resigned our game in 50 moves, increasing my rating to 1575.

ONEIPAMETATO1452 resigned our game in 50 moves, increasing my rating to 1579.

I had the leftover steak for supper and it was just as delicious, although less spicy, as before.

 

IN HONOR OF IKEA

Saturday, October 12, 2024

Last night I went to bed at 10pm, got up once during the night, finally waking/getting up at 7:15.

Today is Columbus Day but here it will be celebrated Monday as Dia de la Raices.

 Left the apt at 8:20 and walked to Olivenza in Sao Paulo Plaza. Glenn arrived with Bianca 10 minutes later. It was busier than when we meet on Sundays so we didn’t get out usual table. He is in the process of having a root canal but it became a greater problem. When I told him about my envelope problem he recommended I call the county clerk for advice. I also need to know which of my 3 addresses they want on the envelope so I guess I’ll be giving them a call. He showed me a Bathroom Sink Drain Strainer on Amazon but later I found our drain is simply missing the screw on cap. Today I had a Caprese Omelette and a latte for about 50mil.

I left at 10:30, bought a head of lettuce in Carulla and stopped at Envios Market but they weren’t open. I asked at the nearby copy center about printing envelopes and the guy didn’t know what I was talking about so I guess they don’t. I stopped in Ara and bought Fab laundry detergent before returning to the apt.

After lunch I had an hour nap then I left the apt at 2:30 and walked to the park. I noticed a red squirrel in one of the smaller trees some distance from the park. The peanut was gone so I replaced it with another. At one point I saw the squirrel in the nearest tree but I didn’t see him in the tree where I put the peanut.

This guy in a belt and suspenders walked back and forth in front of the restaurant for 10-15 minutes. I don’t know what that was about.

The guy with the 4 dogs came by and they went nuts as usual but by the time I started this video they had mostly calmed down.

DOGS VIDEO (sorry, wouldn't download)

I saw Nigel take a seat about 20 feet in front of me and eat an ice cream cone. I didn’t bother him because I didn’t want to hear any more of his conspiracy theories.

I left at 5:30 and returned to the apt.

There was a knock on the door and it was the portero with our epm bill of 373,356 ($89).

For supper Teresa made blueberry pancakes topped with coconut gelato. 😊

I watched the news and read some of my Fauci book for the rest of the evening.

 

FUNNY

Bob Burford - Again

 One day I went to visit a client in South Bend, Indiana. I walked down the hallway to his studio and found when I arrived that he was on the phone. He saw me and motioned for me to come on in. As I stood in the middle of his studio I noticed a few books on a bookshelf. His bookends were stamped metal that made it possible to see most of the back cover of the end book.

The colors, the size, the design, everything about the book identified it as “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran. But something about it was off. I removed the book from the display and saw instantly what it was about the book that was “off.” Everything. It was a parody of “The Prophet” written by a group of lunatics who are in the business of doing such things. 

The book was “The Profit” by Kehlog Albran. The author’s bio was on the back cover: “The author, Kehlog Albran, was born and raised in the American Express Club in London.” I laughed my ass off. I don’t know why, but that whole thing just struck me as being really funny.

It was about an hour’s drive back to my office. On the drive back I thought of all of my friends who would get a kick out of that book. One of the saving graces of being engaged in the advertising / graphics industry is that all of the people you deal with have a great sense of humor, although somewhat warped as it may be. “The Profit” was a great fit for my clients.

So, by the time I reached the office, I had developed a need for two dozen books to be passed out to friends.

My call to the bookstore was answered by the owner himself, a tall, very prim and proper, way too serious, stick-up-his-ass man of about 60. Thin moustache. Severe looking black plastic and wire-framed glasses. A man completely devoid of a personality. 

“May I help you?” he asked. |

”Yes, sir. I’d like to order some books.”

“Some books?” he asked, with stress on the “some.”

“Yes, sir. I need 24 copies of ‘The Profit’ by Kehlog Albran.”

“You do mean Kahlil Gibran,” he said, his superior intellect dripping off of every syllable.

“No, sir. I do not. I mean Kehlog Albran, author of ‘The Profit,’ P-R-O-F-I-T.”

“Kahlil Gibran wrote ‘The Prophet,’ P-R-O-P-H-E-T” he said.

“Yes sir, I’m very much aware of that and if you order that, you’ll have to eat them because I sure as hell don’t want them. I want 24 copies of ‘The Profit’ spelled P-R-O-F-I-T by a guy named Kehlog K-E-H-L-O-G Albran A-L-B-R-A-N.”

“Sir,” he says, “I’m afraid you are simply confused. There is no such book.”

“Sir,” sez I, “I am NOT confused. Just about an hour ago I had that book in my hands. That’s exactly how I know that I want it. Because I held it, scanned it, read parts of it. Here’s an idea: How about looking in your catalog and see if you find it? Eh?”

“Please hold.” ... [click] ... 

[silence] ...

It was a large bookstore with two vintage semi-circular customer service counters, one about 12 to15 feet inside the front door and the other much deeper into the bowels of the store. This, of course, was light-years before the age of computers. The store’s catalog was about eight inches deep, designed such that individual pages could be removed and replaced with updated pages. That book was kept on the service counter nearest the front door. And that’s where the man was headed while he had me on “hold.”

The man eventually picked up the phone and asked me to wait while he checked the catalog – obviously a complete waste of time for this illiterate moron he had on “hold” on the phone. I could hear the guy breathing and I could hear him thumbing through the book’s pages. He stopped and started reading aloud the listings from the top of a page that, he assumed, would take him right past where “The Profit” would be listed. 

“Blah blah blah ... one-second pause ... blah blah blah ... one-second pause ... blah blah blah ... a much longer pause ... SONOFABITCH!!” It came out as a very loud whisper. This from a man who wouldn’t say shit if he had a mouthful. There it was. Right where it should be. 

[Silence]

“Am I to assume you found it?” I asked. 

“Yes sir, I see it listed here.” he said, hating every second of this.

“Just to make sure,” I said, “maybe you should read the title and author’s name to me.”

And so he did: “The Profit P-R-O-F-I-T by Kehlog K-E-H-L-O-G Albran A-L-B-R-A-N.”

Don’tcha just love it when things happen right?

He took my order for two dozen copies of the book. I had to wait a few days for the books to arrive. Then one day I got a call telling me that the books were in and I could pick them up at my convenience. When I went to pick up the books, I was somewhat surprised that he was taking care of it himself instead of assigning the task to one of the clerks. So I asked him if he had read the book. He said he had not. He lied, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, he watched me as I removed from the box the top copy of the book. It was quite obvious that it had been read. I stood the book up on the counter and it fanned its pages open, just as you would expect from a book that had been read. “Hmmm” said I as I put the book back in the box. And off I went.

I don’t recall what the books cost me, but I would guess that it wasn’t much more than two or three dollars. I just looked on eBay and found that a paperback copy of the book can be had for around $40.00. While at it, I also found this comment in a review of the book:

“‘The Profit’ gleefully jabs at Gibran's blind spot, showing no mercy. The humor is broad, the satire unrelenting and the illustrations a hoot. It is as inexcusably dumb as Gibran's writing is unreliably self-important.”

So I passed these books out to my friends and clients. That was years ago and they’re still using quotes from the book: “Yeah, well, you haven’t talked to my donkey.” That means nothing to you but if you heard that after reading the book, you’d be laughing your ass off. Because it’s funny. You would also have learned that, “Tuesday is the strangest day of the week.” To hear unhinged comments like that being inserted into a serious project planning meeting around the conference table makes it all worthwhile.

Life is good.

Friday, October 11, 2024

Last night I went to bed at 10pm, got up once during the night, finally waking/getting up at 6:15.

I completed my -10# routine in Smartfit then went to Los Portenos where I had a latte. I checked the tree and there is still a peanut there. It’s obviously been rained on as it appears all the salt has worn off. I think I figured out how to obtain an envelope to mail my vote to Chicago. I’m going to make a #10 envelope out of the 8 ½” x 11” page that it’s printed on but first I need to buy a straight edge ruler (Dollar City?). But I’m going to meet Glenn for breakfast tomorrow and we’ll see what he thinks. I left at 10:30, looked for a ruler in the copy store (didn’t see one) and returned to the apt.

Teresa returned at 11:30 and informed me she tried to get into IKEA but there was a long line. Also, she’d like us to go to Santafe mall after lunch so she can exchange something in Zara.  I quickly agreed mainly because I need to look in Dollar City for a ruler.

We left at 2:30 and took a Didi to Santafe mall. While Teresa went to Zara to exchange something, I went upstairs to Dollar City looking for a ruler. I saw a pack of 3 plastic rulers for 4mil, but I don’t need 3. I found a single metal ruler with a cork back for 7mil which looks perfect for my purposes. I bought it then took the elevator down to the first floor and I took a seat in Valentina’s café. I ordered a latte and a pistachio cookie. Teresa arrived about an hour later and reported that all of Zara’s clothes are ugly. 😊 She ordered a latte and a pastry with cream cheese. The total bill came to 72,100 pesos. We left at 5:30 and returned to the apt by taxi.

The rest of the evening I watched the news and read some more of my Fauci book.

 

FUNNY

Thursday, October 10, 2024

Last night I went to bed at 10pm, got up once during the night, finally waking/getting up at 6:30.

I watched some news of Hurricane Milton and it looks like things aren’t as bad as they could have been.

I received a couple emails from my reader in Tampa which I posted to my blog. Good to hear that he’s okay.

I checked Cine Colombia but there isn’t anything new I want to see. Interesting that It Ends with Us (6.5) has been playing here since August 15^th.

I left the apt at 9:15, replaced the missing peanut in the crook of the same tree and took a seat in Los Portenos. I continued my endgame study while having a latte. I saw a red squirrel but he was aways away from my tree.

Teresa called at 11:15 as I was leaving and asked me to stop in Ara and buy a specific brand of rice. No problem and the short line went quickly with 2 cashiers available.

I completed my Cook County ballot online. Now I have to print and mail it.

I left the apt at 2:15 and walked to the mall. I ran into Marta, Wilson’s girlfriend, as I was entering Exito and we exchanged hellos. I printed my election pages in Auros for 6 mil. (I don’t know why they would include 3 empty pages.) My pages included an “envelope” so I asked if they can print envelopes but was told, “no”. I’m going to have to ask Nebraskja for advice.

I withdrew 2,000,000 pesos and recycled a pill bottle.

As I entered the mall I saw these stickers on the floor:

At the bottom of the escalator, I found this IKEA guy ready to give directions:

I went up to Linea Estetica where I bought another container of Cetaphil skin cream for 105,000 pesos.

I continued down the hall and found this entrance to Ikea:

The place is a huge maze, with something like 20 stations to walk through. I finally found the cafeteria which was certainly different. There was a line so I decided not to stay there for coffee. I had to walk through a few more stations to the exit. When I came out I had no idea where I was – some basement level. I did find this interesting sign outside a store:

I took the escalator up and came out on the 2^nd floor across the aisle from where I entered.

I went to Urbania where I had a latte while continuing with my endgame book. I had seen a number of people today wearing Colombia jerseys so I assumed there was a match today.

Some years ago, I met a gringo named Bob Burford (with his son Carlos) who had just moved here. He wasn’t interested in starting a friendship – I think because I didn’t have his interest in music but I  came across this post today on Facebook (long post ahead) that my readers might find interesting:

“It was toward the end of 1969 when I left The Washington Post and went to Las Vegas. I really didn’t have much of an idea what I was getting myself into. It was with some trepidation since I had heard that in Vegas they’ll chew you up and spit you out without so much as a second thought. Contrast that with my existence in Washington, D.C. I thoroughly enjoyed the people I worked with at the Washington Post. I was fortunate enough to get to study with the renowned guitarist Charlie Byrd who, in turn, introduced me to legendary Maestro John Marlow at American University, after whom the John Marlow Society is named.

If you’re going to work as a musician in Vegas, you damn sure better be straight with the union. At least that’s the way it was then. All of the shows had live music at that time. That all changed rather quickly, however, when all of the venues started using canned music. 

So, at the top of my to-do list was get transferred in to the union. I climbed the stairs to the second floor where all of the offices were. The receptionist’s desk was at the head of the stairs. Her phone rang just as I approached her desk. She answered the phone and motioned for me to take a seat. I sat there listening to her end of the conversation. The guy on the other end of the line was needing a guitarist and she’s telling him that there’s no fewer than 200 guitarists in the city who are looking for work. But, because they can’t read, there were no jobs for them.

I’m thinking to myself, hey!!!! I’m a guitarist. I can read. I need a job. Apparently she heard me because she introduced the caller to me. The guy was Al Ramsey, a local contractor whose function was to furnish musicians for shows in three of the clubs. I think it were three, but it could have been more. 

The way it works: A headliner comes into town and typically brings with him his piano player who doubles as the arranger and conductor. He may or may not bring a bassist or a drummer. Very seldom do they bring a guitarist. Everyone else in the band are local guys working for Al Ramsey. Tourists watching the show assume all 25 guys on the stage are great pals with the headliner and tour all over the globe with him. It makes for some interesting interactions with the public wandering around the casino during the break between shows. But I digress.

On the phone talking with Al Ramsey, he’s telling me that to work as a guitarist for him I have to play everything that has strings on it. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but not that far off. “You play jazz guitar?” he asked. “I do.” “Can you play folk guitar?” “I can.” “Mandolin?” “Not a problem.” “How about a banjo. Can you play a banjo?” “I can.” I lied. The truth is in my entire life I have never been in the same room with a mandolin or banjo, must less touched or played one.

He really got locked in on the banjo bit. He stressed to me that he would be using me a lot on banjo. And he continued on and on with that. Finally, he told me to be at the big room (Blue Room? I can’t recall) at the Tropicana the next morning at 9:30. He didn’t tell me any of the particulars, like who I’ll be playing with, who I’m supposed to see, what kind of job it is. After my conversation with him on the phone, I was fully prepared to go buy a zither if that’s what the job called for. 

I concluded, based on his obsession with a banjo, that the job was going to be a banjo. So I went to a store that rented instruments and rented a banjo. Vegas has a couple of outfitters who can fix you up with virtually anything you might need to put on a show. While I was there I met Lionel Hampton. He had just arrived in Vegas from New Orleans and somehow the trunk containing his wardrobe got lost. So he was in the store to get everything he was going to need for his gig. 

 I spent the rest of the that day and all night long working on my banjo chops. I didn’t get so much as a nap. I was fairly confident that I could bluff my way through whatever I was going to be dealing with. So I packed up the banjo in its case and headed for the Tropicana. The musicians’ entrance was on the side of the building and opens up into the big room on the side of the theater seating. I walked in, banjo in hand, and found myself standing in the midst of The Four Freshmen and Si Zentner. Well, hell! I knew I wouldn’t be playing a banjo with The Four Freshmen. And there’s no chance in hell that Si Zentner will be using a banjo. 

(Si is a fixture from the big band era lasting through the 1950s. He’s a trombone player and is noted for having a really high-energy band. Lots of brass. You’ve heard him but you probably don’t know it. This gig at the Tropicana was his grand coming-out event with all new charts after a seven-year hiatus.)

So The Four Freshmen and Si were standing there looking back and forth between me, the banjo, and each other. The looks on their faces formed a collective question mark,like WTF??? I quickly introduced myself and explained that I had borrowed the banjo from a friend and didn’t feel all that comfortable leaving it in the car. Then I hustled out to get my guitar and amp. 

We played the 9:00, 11:00 and 1:00 o’clock shows, alternating with The Four Freshmen who played the 10:00, 12:00 and 2:00 o’clock shows. 

After the Freshmen’s last show everyone hung around to celebrate the their 21st anniversary. Twenty-one years before (1948) they had their first job (Pittsburgh maybe?). And got fired. The booze backstage was flowing freely, ankle deep. After I reached a point that I thought I should probably go home, it was already dawn and I had to make a rehearsal in less than five hours. 

On the way home I stopped at a Chevron station for gas. The guy wiped the dew off the windows, checked the oil and battery, etc. That was common at that time. I gave him my credit card and he dashed into the station. Meanwhile, I have the driver’s door open and I’m pushing out the little breezy window when the guy in the white Chevron uniform returned and stepped between the pumps, a little clipboard in hand, along with my credit card attached. Before handing it to me, he slammed the car door shut – a seemingly innocuous event that actually flipped my life upside down. My left hand wound up between the frame and the car door. The first knuckle on the middle finger of my left hand was flattened and about twice as wide as its neighboring knuckles. 

 

Notes:

Telephone answering service at that time was manned by actual human beings. Answering devices did not yet exist. So, every day Al’s people would call and leave a message telling me the where and when of my schedule the following morning. Every morning there was a rehearsal somewhere with someone. The purpose was to tape the rehearsal and give the tape and the job to a guitarist who couldn’t read but had big ears. Then he would give me a cut of his earnings. You probably wonder what happens if there’s a change in the show and the guitarist can’t read? That’s a fair question, but unrealistic. There is no such thing in Vegas as a surprise, notwithstanding the various video clips suggesting otherwise. When there’s a celebrity in the audience who’s recognized from the stage and is invited, seemingly impromptu, to come up on stage and sit in, there’s nothing spontaneous about it. It was well rehearsed that morning.

The strangest job I had in Vegas was actually two jobs in one. Vikki Carr was doing a show at one of the casinos (maybe the Sands?) I was playing three sets at the Tropicana. Between sets I would run down to the Sands and play real mellow, dreamy stretch chords for Vikki’s introduction. “Ladies and gentlemen, The Sands Hotel and Casino takes great pride in introducing to you the one and only Miss Vikki Carr!” or something like that. While that was going on I was playing some chords for her. I was on the set for a total of seven minutes. That’s when the first opportunity to get off the set came.

For what it’s worth, Vikki Carr was of Mexican heritage and without a doubt one of the most absolutely beautiful ladies I can recall ever seeing. She exuded class and beauty. 

Every evening I would call my answering service and retrieve my messages. One evening I made the call and could tell something wasn’t right. It was a feeling; something didn’t feel right. What came out of the manager’s mouth explained everything. The previous evening when I called for my messages, they somehow managed to overlook one. And they knew that was a colossal screw-up. It was, without any doubt, the most important message I could ever possibly get. The message was to be at rehearsal the next morning to rehearse the Frank Sinatra show. Sinatra almost always brought with him a guitarist, Al Viola or Tony Mottola. This was that rare occasion when he was going to use one of Al Ramsey’s Vegas guitarists. 

In case you may be wondering, Al always called three guitarists for every gig. The two guitarists I was hooked up with were named Dennis and Denny. Sounds kinda odd, but that’s the way it worked out for all of us. As it turned out, to play the three sets of a show in one night was kinda rare. Between the three of us, we covered all three sets. For instance, I may play the first set and take a pass on the second and third sets to free me up to go play another better paying gig.

As far as I know, Al Ramsey never ever needed a banjo player. I was never required to play anything other than my archtop jazz guitar. So, don’t ask me. I have no idea what all that banjo crap was all about. 

Nothing about living in Vegas is normal. The guy in the menswear department at Sears has a fistful of speed in his jacket pocket which he hands out fairly freely.

Al Ramsey became the director of entertainment at Caesar’s Palace.

I left Vegas and headed for San Francisco and the San Francisco Chronicle. That was at a time when the news business was honorable and ethical. Unlike the hacks we have today, the people who called themselves journalists were actually journalists who subscribed and adhered to the responsibilities and ethics of the profession. There were giants in the business who were revered household names.”

I left at 4:15 and checked out the pumpkins in Exito. I saw a lot of people watching the soccer match on a large screen TV. Colombia was losing 1-0 and it was in the 89^th minute so it was almost over.

Last week they removed the rain protection for people waiting for taxis and today they moved the taxi station near the middle entrance/exit (no longer used) for Exito. It’s actually a better location as now they can use the previous pickup location for people catching rides.

I gave Teresa a brief summary of my IKEA experience but informed her if she wanted to check it out, she would have to do it without me. I’m not waiting hours while she goes through every nook and cranny.

I watched President O’Bama’s speech in Pennsylvania.

 

FUNNY