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.
