Category Archives: Shed a tear

Hail Satin

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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.

Other People’s Notes & Dreams

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Art of Noise, Peter Gunn is playing, and I am transported back to when I was a Friday night barback at Maxwell’s with Declan and Martha. Over 40 years ago. I remember Declan digging the Art of Noise cover featuring Duane Eddy. Those were happy, innocent days. I barbacked for about a year; eventually, my back was telling me it was time to stop.

The last time I saw Christine Kincaid was when I barbacked. She grew up down Riverview Avenue from me. Her father had quite a handsome Marlboro man friend who I could not stop looking at growing up. How I wanted to make love to him, me being 14 and him being in his 30s.

Christine loved Peter Frampton and saw him at Madison Square Garden the night before I did. She also saw the Sgt Pepper movie, which I still have never gotten around to. I have to admit I was embarrassed to be merely washing glasses and was stocking beers and was slightly relieved when she left with who I guessed was her boyfriend. Christine died shortly thereafter from ovarian cancer, I believe.

I enjoyed working with Declan and Martha and though it didn’t start there, my predilection for putting white powder up my nose, snowballed at that time. I had a crush on Martha. So beautiful and strong it seemed to me. I loved it when a customer would ask for a Coors beer, and Martha would reply that they do not serve fascist beer there.

As I said, my barback time was limited. I eventually worked more in the backroom as a DJ and a doorman. My brother Frank asked both Steve and Mary Fallon to keep an eye on me so that I wouldn’t misbehave or get into trouble. Little did he know…

My first night working at Maxwell’s, Mary Fallon sliced open her hand when cutting open a roll from Marie’s Bakery. That was my introduction. Eventually I became part of the family, collapsing in a heap after the bands had packed up and customers thrown onto the street. I was part of two separate sections, the front room and the back room. 40 years ago…

So Mike called me up yesterday. He was not around this weekend due to his new parole officer telling him to remain where he was. We texted and talked on the phone instead. Yesterday he called me after waking up from a nap. He was near tears after a dream that he had.

In the dream it was Mike and me and someone that wasn’t Bill. The other guy was black. In the dream I started singing angrily and fully ‘I Want to Know What Love Is’ by Foreigner. According to Mike, a woman started shouting I was going viral, a man told me he understood where I was coming from.

The viral woman was maternal and gave me a hug only a mother could give. I spent a few years at Right Track Recording with the gold record of Foreigner for I Want to Know What Love Is behind me. I knew it was there, but I only saw it when the day started. I rarely turned around to look at the wall. Now the disc, the wall, and Right Track Recording are gone.

Meanwhile at the fruit stand, with Marcus’ departure, a void is created. It’s odd him not being here. Jimmy Chile has been telling me tales out of school, how this one needs to be watched and not to trust that one while I am at it.

I’ve been here for a little over a year at the fruit stand. I am comfortable and perhaps I have forgotten that it can all be taken away from me in the blink of an eye. It seems a few of us received notes from Mark as he did his Irish Exit. I don’t know what other people’s notes have said and I choose to read Mark’s note to me as encouraging and a heads up of sorts.