Hail Satin

Another Monday. Yesterday was yet another washout of a Sunday. The rain ended at some point last night when the sun had set. Mike was over and that was fun. Some in depth soul searching conversation occured. I also helped him with his laundry. I washed, he hung out to dry.

I had a dream before waking. I was walking to Maxwell’s and ran into Maurice Menares on the sidewalk outside. We both went in and things were just as they were 36 years ago. I lingered at the front bar for a minute before heading into the kitchen looking for Steve Fallon who was jokingly trying not to be found. He was talking to Maurice by the shelves where things were settled and sweated.

Then I found Julio at the back bar using a new type of register which was supposed to be cutting edge, or at least that is what Julio told me. The alarm went off soon after that and I stumbled out of bed before the sun had arisen. Lucifer bearer of light was a bit tardy this morning.

It’s Columbus Day or more succinctly, Indigenous Peoples Day. That makes more sense. It was was a plot line on the Sopranos back in the day. The indignity of the Italian Americans, upset that Christopher Columbus was vilified for his crimes against humanity. I was brought up being taught that Columbus was a hero when in actuality he was a genocidal maniac with the backing of the Spanish monarchy as well as the blessing of the Roman Catholic Church.

I saw a show at the Brooklyn Academy of Music in the 1980s with my brother Frank that had a segment about Columbus discovering the new world. It was possibly the first time I came across that line of thought, that Columbus was a bad guy. Years later, reading Howard Zinn, it was set in stone, at least in my mind.

Listening to the Slits right now. I think Dave Bell turned me onto them. Jimmy Chile heard a bit of them for the first time and liked what he heard. It reminded me of Laszlo Papp, or more specifically a girl he used to like; in what sense, I do not know but he was somewhat smitten. I think her name was Nanette, or it might have been Babette.

She was probably my age but far more worldly than me. She lived in Fort Lee with her parents, or one of her parents. She danced like Ari Up and showed me how to skank like I was in Madness. There was something about her though; perhaps a piece of the puzzle was missing. I thought she was intimidating but harmless and I was very much an innocent, if not a wimp that Laszlo tolerated, probably like the DeNunzio brothers took Laszlo under their shoulders when they were in the Feelies.

When I started working at Maxwell’s I was a barback that took over the Friday night gig working alongside Declan and Martha. Keith DeNunzio had the barback position before me. I recall giving him a ride home to Rutherford and he may have said something untoward about my brother Frank. I told Frank about it and whatever friendship Frank might have had with Keith DeNunzio evaporated. Keith called me out on it.

Laszlo was the best man at Keith’s marriage to a woman named Kim. I met them years before Maxwell’s. Kim was good friends with my Weehawken roommate William and stayed with us for a spell in the 90’s after living abroad. Other friends of mine didn’t like her but she seemed fine to me. Those other friends of mine were quite judgemental, it was all very high school.

I do have a nice memory from the summer of 1980. I was hanging out with Laszlo, Keith & Kim at Laszlo’s parent’s house. It was a beautiful summer night and the four of us went across Market St to a field and spent time, past midnight being silly and kicking a soccer ball back & forth. It was lovely and innocent.

I think I got home around 3:00 AM and was greeted by the back of my father’s hand across my 17 year old face, cursing me for staying out so late. Yes it was late, but it was such a magic night. Time flew by. No drinks, no drugs (at least not for me) just wonderfulness that came crashing down due to my father’s foul temper.

Keith and Kim divorced and Kim moved to Spain. Keith remarried to someone and I think he’s a dad. I got along with the other DeNunzio brother though it’s fleeting in that once small circle of Maxwell’s people.

All Over the Place

46 years ago, while working for Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, I was sent to work in Moonachie. Perry Dedovich and I were assigned to clean out a warehouse, working under the supervision of Paul Lo Presti and his partner in embezzlement, Dave Manzo. The warehouse was mostly empty to begin, but there was a lot of dust and debris left behind.

We would take some blue substance and throw it atop the dust so that the dust wouldn’t create clouds. The blue substance was probably toxic but it was 1980 and no one knew any better. We would meet at the book warehouse in Saddle Brook, and get in a dilapidated van for the drive to Moonachie.

Perry and I were major fans of the Beatles and word on the street was that John Lennon was back in the studio after staying out of the recording business for about 5 years. And on top of that the band backing John Lennon was Cheap Trick and that seemed exciting. I believe when we were driving back to Saddle Brook we heard (Just Like) Starting Over for the first time. It was pleasant, not much of an edge to it.

It didn’t sound like Cheap Trick but we didn’t know anything back then. When the single became available I duly went out and bought it. It was a fun, out of the ordinary experience working with Perry under the watchful count of the money eyes of Lo Presti and Manzo.

A little over a year later they would be fired after the embezzlement was found out. Apparently it had been going on for a number of years. John McKenna, John Vasicek, Larry Ioli, Tony Grega and Harold Wind were some of the familiar names I knew since my brothers worked there as well as my Mother.

Mom worked with Mary Lynch who was not a nice person after all and until then, she thought Mary Lynch was a friend. They all benefited from the embezzlement and they were all caught and dismissed, luckily without any charges being filed.

Life was simpler then. Ignorance is bliss and I was certainly blissful. AIDS hadn’t made itself known yet so that part of my life was relatively carefree.

In today’s world, Bill is getting ready to hit the road once again, for. Number of days that bleed in weeks. He should be back by Halloween but who knows? Mike is looking to move in while Bill is on the road, but that depends on his availability and the phantom parole officer.

The parole officer calls and says don’t make any plans and so plans are dismissed or shuffled around

Time is slow at my little fruit stand. It is not busy at all and so time just crawls past. And it is a Friday which slows things down immensely. I’m not complaining. I was busy enough all week so this quietude is welcomed, just not as appreciated as it should be.

Hurricane Isias is expected and put the kibosh on the Sunday bike ride.

Photo is of a turnstile jumper