Easter, Springtime, Cars!

Although the weather hasn't figured it out yet, we're about two weeks into spring here on good old Long Island, with Easter Sunday just a few days away. And even though there's a threat of one more little hit of snow tonight, I can tell that winter's grip is gone, and before you know it, we'll be enjoying going outdoors without having to bundle up like Nanook of The North!
Of course, this is the time of year those of us who are 'car guys' start to get the itch to get out and 'cruise' with the old cars, going to club meets, car nights at local restaurants, and taking the classics out on the road for a nice long spin.
For me, Easter Sunday is always the start of the season. Oh, I might take the Yellowfish out for a short ride before that day, get it all cleaned up and shiny, make sure the gas tank is full and everything is working (or at least trying to work), so that it's all ready for the debut event, the Garden City Chamber of Commerce Easter Car Show and Parade.
This one's sort of special to me, all of you know that I grew up in Garden City, and worked there for many years. Even though it's been 14 years since I decided to change careers, I still have ties to the community, and plenty of great memories from the time spent there. So taking the old car over to the old "A&S" parking lot, and hanging around there for a couple of hours is pretty fun. I think the Village used to put a limit on the number of cars that they'd let the Chamber register for this event, since it does take a pretty good amount of work, time, and resources to manage it, but the last couple of years, boy, there sure seem to be an awful lot of cars there! And all kinds of cars too, from Model T's, Packards, lots of early cars; plenty of 40's and 50's American cars, Chevy's, Fords, Mercury's, Cadillacs, the really great looking, big chrome bumper cars - not my thing, but I can sure appreciate them. And of course, plenty of Corvettes, Mustangs, GTO's, and the rest of the great 60's muscle cars, as well as the more 'pedestrian' rides, Darts, Valiants, etc.
And you can enjoy yourself just strolling along checking out all the cars, or stop and chat with the owners, we all love talking about our rides, where we got 'em, why we like the particular model, what we've done to them, past cars we've had. It isn't hard to get a typical 'car guy' to open up!
There's usually some entertainment going on, maybe a banjo group, or someone playing guitar and singing. Food carts roll along, offering up hot dogs, pretzels, sodas, etc., and a lot of the shops are open, so you can pick up something to eat there. it's a fun morning, from about 10 am until 12:45 pm or so, when the fun really begins.
Around 12:45, you hear the wonderful sound of engines firing up, as we all get ready for the parade portion of the day. At 1 pm, the Police open up the north exit of the parking lot, and the several hundred cars start pulling out single file in what ends up being a verrrrrry long parade line! Out to Franklin Ave. we go, turning south towards the middle of town; the sidewalks are lined with spectators, in some places 8 or 10 people deep - this is a CROWD! Kids in strollers, seniors in lawn chairs, people with pooch dogs sitting on the curb, all with smiles on their faces as these great old cars roll down the street, turning the clock back to a day when their appearance was commonplace. Many of us bring bags of lollipops and candy with us, and toss them out to the kids along the route, who scramble excitedly to scoop up the loot.
Down Franklin Avenue we go, past Stewart Avenue, to Seventh Street, where the sidewalks are REALLY crowded! My God, it's like the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade! They're jammed from curb to storefront, shoulder to shoulder, not a vacant 'space' anywhere on the sidewalk. Kids on shoulders of parents, cameras everywhere capturing the great old rides, people shouting and cheering when they see an old favorite, maybe a ride they once wished they could have, but never got to own. 
About halfway down the street, I remember what my buddy Mike McCormack, who worked with me at the Garden City Pool a lifetime ago, once said. We were at the GC Homecoming parade, and he turned to me and said, 'You know, for such an upscale, kind of snooty town, you look at this homecoming parade, and it could be Dubuque Iowa for all you'd know. It's Mom and Dad and their kids walking up "main street" in anytown USA'.
That always registered with me, because way back when I was just a kid, Garden City DID seem like 'anytown USA'; everyone knew everyone else, and regardless of whether your parents were rich, or struggling to hang on, when it came to stuff like Little League parades, the Memorial Day parade and fair, and yes, homecoming, it sure looked and felt a lot like it was just a nondescript small town someplace out in the midwest.
And during the Easter car parade, that feeling is palpable - it's like the whole damn Village turned out for no reason other than 'everyone will be there'.
Up Seventh Street we go, west towards the Library and GC Hotel, crowds all along the sidewalk. Then we cross over Hilton Avenue, and .......it's over. As quickly as we were into the crowds at the start of the parade, we're out of them. Couple of GC Police directing traffic, maybe a few old cars that had problems during the parade on the side of the road, but that's it, all done and gone for another year. Total time driving the route? Probably 10 to 15 minutes at most. What it felt like? A couple of hours. Just pure fun, smiles and laughter, all the rotten little issues of life gone for a brief period; escape for a while. And the knowledge that this parade was just the first in a spring and summer long series of rides, 'cruise nights', and trips in our old cars. which are, in their own unique way, sort of time machines that transport us to places we've been, that flood us with memories of our past days, and which give us the hope that each spring brings that the coming months will be as warm and as sweet as they were when we were kids.
See you Sunday in GC!

This will be the final 'winter' post on the blog. Heck, we've had more than our share of 'winter' here on Long Island, and since we've finally lost most of the remaining white crap today, it's definitely time to move on to blog posts about car shows, rock and roll shows, and food!
But today, I want to post the sequel to my last blog, the one about tossing snowballs at moving objects.
When last we left our intrepid heroes, they were posting themselves in one of a few prime locations to hit cars, trucks, buses, and even trains with snowballs. As we got older, and some would say more inventive, a small group of us decided we wanted to reduce or eliminate the possibility of being chased by an aggravated motorist out of the activity.
In high school, I hung around with three or four kids who were bright; really bright. All good students, good grades, and sort of early techno geeks. These guys were into electronic gadgets, home photo developing and printing, all sorts of cool stuff. Very interesting to talk with, and to watch them come up with various schemes. The kind of guys that would get you to thinking that you were glad they were on the side of law and order!
So one night, it's me, Brendan Kirby, Steve Langfelder, Don Monsees, and maybe Jon Allen, all standing on the hill by Colonial Avenue and Tanners Pond Road, tossing snowballs at cars. Don, who wasn't wild about actually throwing the snowballs, is standing near the bottom of the hill by Tanners Pond Road, and he's watching the cars approach the firing zone, then watching them drive past to make sure they don't turn up into the back streets and circle around behind us. But it's cold, and the trains and cars are noisy, and the rest of us can't clearly hear him from where we're standing. It was a good idea, but it needed improvement. And the guys sure figured out how to improve things!
A few days later, we're all in New York City. We used to hop the LIRR on the weekend, I think it was about .90c one way to NYC from the station near our house. We'd drag our cameras with us, take the subway down to lower Manhattan, and wander around the army surplus shops, used clothing shops, and other businesses that lined the streets back before the World Trade Center caused the area to be cleaned up.
So we're walking around, and Kirby spots a set of WWII field telephones in one of these shops, two hand sets, and a spool of a couple hundred feet of wire, for about $3. He twists our arms, we all chip in and buy the things, and he tells us that he's come up with a 'foolproof' system for hitting cars with snowballs and not being chased/caught. Of course, we're all curious, but he won't tell us anything more. So we finish our scrounging, we all bought a few silly things, like metal ammo boxes, which were waterproof, and great for holding tools, and I think a couple of used military jackets, the light ones; they were really in style back then. Over the next week or so, things went on as usual, school during the day, delivering newspapers after school, and goofing around after dinner, which usually included wandering up to 7-11 and hanging out there with a slurpee or if it was cold, a hot chocolate; maybe going to Kirby's house and running his electric trains (which took up his entire basement); or really pushing it and going up to Burger King for a shake.
We'd all pretty much forgotten about those silly field telephones we'd bought, until one day, when the forecast was for snow, and Kirby says 'when we're ready to do the snowball thing again, I've got a foolproof plan, there's no way we're gonna get chased or caught'. He wouldn't say anything else, just that he'd worked out some sort of early warning system for the drivers who'd want to chase us. So we pretty much let it go, we get the snow, a pretty good one, if I recall, and after a day or so, we're all itching to start throwing at cars again. So we plan to meet up at Kirby's house after dinner one night, and head over to the hill on Colonial to throw. We all meet up, and off we go, with Kirby carrying a small canvas bag, with the field telephones in it. Down the road, up the hill, and before we can even start making snowballs, Kirby tells us his 'foolproof' plan. Seems he's taken the wire that came with the field phones, and run it along the fence that lined the sump, with one end down at the bottom of the hill, and the other up at the top. Using the fence as a common, he wired one phone into the wire at the bottom, and one at the top, and lo and behold, the darn things worked! We could talk back and forth from the bottom of the hill to the top! The grand plan, it seemed, was that Don, who wasn't much of a thrower, would sit behind a large scotch pine tree at the bottom of the hill with one phone, and Kirby would be on the other phone at the top of the hill. The idea being that Don would call out when a car was coming, what kind of car, and could then give us good warning if the car stopped or went around to catch us from behind. Brilliant! A snowball thrower's early warning system! Foolproof!
And off we go. Don settles into a big pine tree, you probably couldn't see him in broad daylight; at night, no way! And we head up the hill, pack up a bunch of snowballs, and get Brendan on the phone to Don. Here comes the first car, Don tells Brendan, "it's a chevy, hit it!" So the rest of us pelt the hell out of it! Car keeps going, doesn't stop, doesn't turn, and we figure we are just so smart! Heck, nobody's smart like this, we're 'foolproof'! This goes on for maybe 10, 15 minutes, one or two cars turned to try and come up behind us, but with Don warning us, by the time the car got to where we'd been, there wasn't anything, or anyone, left.
We happily kept hitting cars, having a blast, then Don says "It's a Ford, hit it!" We pelt the car, and suddenly Don says "Oh SH** It's a COP!" Yeah, the 'foolproof' system just hit the wall. Don, it turns out, couldn't tell a bright white GC Police car, with big red 'gumball' lights on top, and a big 'chiquita banana' sticker on the doors, apart from your joe average car!
Somehow, we scrambled like crazy, each of us going our own way, figuring the cop could only spend so much time trying to chase us, and really, as a practical matter, could only pick one of us to go after. I hopped the fence to the sump, and got down into the sump, where you couldn't be seen from the street. Kirby climbed up into a scotch pine and stayed there, hidden by the thick needles. Langfelder cut through backyards until he felt he was far enough away from us, then popped out on to Tanners Pond and began slowly and casually strolling home. The cop kept circling around the blocks in the neighborhood, shining his floodlight all over, looking for us. I worked my way down to the park that was adjacent to the sump, hopped the fence into the park, and cut through to the end of my block. I once again hopped the fence, and like Langfelder, just walked nice and slowly up the street towards my house. Suddenly, a car came up from behind me - the cop! He slowed down, rolled his window down and said "Hey kid, come here". Haltingly I walked over to his car, stuck my face in and said, in my sweetest, most innocent little voice, 'yes officer'? 'Where are you going'? he demanded. Not being one to want to lie to a police officer, I said, 'home' - that's where I really was going. He asked where I lived, I told him, then asked what I'd been doing in the park; he had seen me walking through it! I told him I'd been at a friend's house, and was just cutting through on my way home. He looked at me and said, 'yeah, you were cutting through all right; you wouldn't be one of the wiseguys who was throwing snowballs at cars a few minutes back would you"? Again, in my most innocent tone, "oh no, officer, not me, no". And then, he did a very smart thing. He asked to feel my gloves. Yeah, they were wet from the snowballs. "Gloves are a little wet tonight, aren't they"? I gave some weak excuse about having tripped and fallen, and 'maybe I threw a couple of snowballs at streetlights tonight'. He gave me a look that said it all - he knew. And then he said, 'DON'T DO IT AGAIN.' Rolled up his window, and off he went.
So the first high tech 'foolproof' snowball early warning system came to a fast, inglorious end. We used the phones once or twice more, but never with the same cockiness that we had before that first night. There were other 'high tech' gizmos that our little group came up with, like the car battery powered go-kart that Kirby built, the auto radios that we bought at the junkyard and then modified to use in our bedrooms, little remote control on/off and volume controls that we built for our bedroom televisions, and they were all pretty cool. But nothing was as cool, in it's sick and twisted way, as that snowball warning system; true genius!
That's it for the winter posts, in two weeks, it's the Easter Parade and Car Show in Garden City, Tommy and I will be there with the Yellowfish, and that will start off the sping blog season. Stay tuned, plenty more nonsense ahead!

With all of the snow we’ve had lately here on good old Long Island, as I’ve been driving around, I have noticed that one formerly widespread winter activity seems to have disappeared; throwing snowballs at cars!
When we were kids, hitting a moving target with a snowball provided all kinds of fun. First off, it was a bit of a challenge to hit a moving vehicle, especially if you were some distance from the roadway. Second, if you hit a good sized truck, you’d get a very satisfying ‘thump’ sound, particularly if the truck was empty. And third, there was always the possibility that the operator of the vehicle you’d hit might take umbrage, sometimes severe umbrage, and actually try to chase and catch you, either by stopping and pursuing you on foot, or with their vehicle.
All of these were, it seemed to my friends and I, proper reason to stand on the little mound by the New Hyde Park Road LIRR grade crossing and take our shots at the many tractor trailers, Schenck buses, and various other cars and trucks that would pass by us.
That particular location was choice because it provided you a bit of protection against being chased too often. Standing on the hill on the south side of the railroad tracks, you’d pelt the northbound traffic as it crossed the tracks. The lack of space on the side of New Hyde Park road (which is four narrow lanes, no parking nor standing on either side) prevented people from stopping on that road to chase us. There wasn’t much chance for a bus or tractor trailer to turn around once they’d crossed the tracks either, so it was a fairly ‘secure’ spot for us. Of course, occasionally you’d annoy someone so much that they’d drive up to Jericho Turnpike, make three right turns, then a left, and come back southbound on New Hyde Park road to give chase. Fortunately, we all pretty much knew one brand and model car from another, and we’d always note what we’d just hit; blue Buick Electra; red Ford Fairlane; black Dodge Polara. If we saw the exact same color and model heading south, we’d just boogie on out of there, sometimes running along the railroad right of way until we could duck into one of our yards that were next to the tracks. Then we’d casually stroll over to one of our houses and hang out for a bit until we figured the motorist had grown tired of looking for us.
Of course, while we were standing there by the railroad tracks, pelting cars, trucks, and buses with snowballs, we’d also take our shots at the LIRR trains as well. They weren’t as much fun to hit, as they were so big they were easy targets, and they didn’t make that nice deep, hollow ‘thump’ sound like a truck or bus did. But, we’d toss at the engines and the cars.
Now, I should say, we were always careful to try not to hit windows; even at that age, we realized that was not a bright idea. Of course, occasionally a snowball would get away, and we’d get a windshield or side window. Coincidentally, those seemed to be the cars whose drivers would chase us the most!

Another great spot for hitting cars was at the dead end at the east side of Colonial Avenue. This was another sort of a ‘hill’, which, at the end of the street, was a grassy area that sloped down towards Tanners Pond Road. Tanners Pond was a pretty busy road, but since it went under the LIRR tracks via a very narrow bridge at its north end, it didn’t get many trucks or buses. Still, it was a great spot, there were a lot of cars that came down Tanners Pond every day, so you didn’t have to wait long for your next target. Like the spot on New Hyde Park Road, you’d also sometimes get chased. Tanners Pond is a pretty wide road, and so there was nothing preventing a motorist from stopping their car, getting out, and chasing you. If that happened, you’d just have to hope you hadn’t hit a car with a fast runner driving it! Clever drivers could also just make a right on Fenimore Avenue, then another right on Kenmore Road, and they’d be right at the dead end cul de sac of Colonial Avenue. In that case, they’d come in from behind you, and could occasionally surprise you. Eventually, we figured out that if one of us stood down at the bottom of the hill, we could watch the cars going south on Tanners Pond, and if one that we’d hit made the right on Fenimore, we’d hotfoot it out of there before they could get to the cul de sac.
Of course, we threw snowballs at lots of stationery objects as well. Mailboxes, trees, street signs – anything and everything was a target in those days. We especially liked throwing them at the old streetlights we had in our neighborhood. These things were about 10 feet high, and were topped with a very thick, milky colored plastic fixture. They made a nice sound when you hit them, and eventually we all got pretty good at not just hitting the light fixture, but most of us could nail the approximately six inch diameter pole from a pretty good distance. To this day, I’m convinced that in addition to being out on the playground playing stickball, softball, baseball, catch, ‘error’, and all the other games we played with a ball, the snowball throwing just made my arm better and more accurate. And to this day, at least once each winter, I go outside, pack up a nice baseball sized snowball, and take aim at the street light pole next door. And, I’m happy to say, most times, I nail that thing with no more than two or three throws!
Which brings me back to my original thought, what happened to all the kids who threw snowballs at cars? I haven’t had a snowball tossed at me for several years now, and I rarely even see kids throwing snowballs at anything, including each other, these days. Of course, these days, with the thin, cheap ‘metal’ that a lot of cars are made of, hitting one with a nice, well packed snowball might actually put a ding in the metal. In that case, I have a feeling that the driver might just chase you until they actually caught you!

Well now, it's been a while since I posted, and I need to do a little catch up, I guess. Now that we're heading into better weather, I'll be back out on the road a bit more, and the posts will pick up. In the meantime, here's one that answers a question that my sister Ginny posed to me a week or so ago; "When did you start hating snow so much? When you were a kid, you loved it".
Okay, fair enough. Like most kids, yeah, I did love snow - mostly though, because if we got enough of it, there would be no school; and after about sixth grade, I hated school about as much as I now hate winter and snow!
But I started thinking about it a little, and tried to remember when I first realized that snow is just a miserable substance, and I think I've got a good idea of when the light went on.
From the time I was 10 or 11, I wanted a newspaper route. I really liked the idea of having some money coming in each week, and I thought delivering papers would be an okay way of getting it. Of course, it didn't hurt that I'd become friendly with the kids who delivered the papers in our neighborhood, both the Long Island Press, and Newsday, and they had told me that it was a pretty good gig.They must have made an impression, because all these years later, I can remember their names; Don Mattson delivered the Press, and Joe Billmeyer was the Newsday carrier. Joe lived a couple of blocks away, on Homestead avenue, and he used to play baseball with us from time to time, so I was a little more friendly with him. When I got old enough to have a route (I think you had to be 12), I asked both Joe and Don how to get one. Joe told me that he was going to give up his route, since he was now in High School, and he did a lot of after school activities, which would interfere with delivering Newsday. So, he put a word in for me with his Manager, a nice guy named, believe it or not, Mr. Whiffie. I filled in the application, and one day, Mr. Whiffie took Mom and I to the School Administration Building to get my 'working papers' (Mom didn't drive).  Couple of days later, and I got the word, I had my paper route!
Now, back in those days, Newsday did not publish on Sunday, it was Monday - Saturday only, and it cost .5c per day. So a week's worth of papers cost the subscriber .30c, quite a bargain by today's costs! As the delivery boy, we were paid .1c for each daily paper we delivered, so for each subscriber, we earned .6c per week. When I took the route over, it had 52 subscribers, so I was making about $3 per week, plus tips. Back then, tips were anywhere from .5c to .25c per week. Tips varied, based on how well you delivered the papers, in terms of time you got them to the people, to where you left them, etc., but on a typical week, I was making about $9 - $10.
I started delivering papers in the fall, probably in late September, and for most of the fall, it wasn't too bad. I had a basket on the front of my bicycle, attached to the handlebars, and two baskets on either side of the back wheel. I could pretty comfortably carry up to about 70 thick papers (which were usually Thursday, which was when all the sales ads were printed). And you could make pretty good time getting the route done, especially if you 'flipped' (threw) the papers. Newsday's policy was that they preferred the carriers to put the papers in the mailbox, or on the doorstep (dooring, we called it), but if you could get your customers to agree, you could flip the papers. We all wanted to flip them, because it cut the time it took to do the route substantially.
All went well into the late fall, I was making (and spending) decent money, and I had increased the number of subscribers since I took the route over. All was good.
And then, it happened. Snow. Lots of snow. Several storms in quick succession left the roads and sidewalks coated with a thick bed of white. And the newspapers had to be delivered, they never took a day off, so you couldn't take a day off. And that's when I began to really hate snow.
You ever try to peddle a 26 inch Ross Bicycle, loaded with maybe 60 newspapers, through six inches of snow? Or maneuver it through a couple of inches of slush and ice? How about having to climb over and through huge piles of snow just to reach the stoops of your customers? On the bike.....off the bike....on the bike....off the bike....YUCK! And back then, the 'stylish' outerwear for us hip kids was a heavy wool Navy "pea" coat. As warm as those coats were, they had a couple of issues when it snowed. First, the wool was so rough, as opposed as to those nice smooth nylon jackets, it caught and held every flake that hit it. After about 10 minutes, you looked like you'd been dipped in an egg wash, then in a dish of flour; you'd be white from top to bottom! Then, as the snow sat on your coat, it would begin to melt, and wick it's way to the inside of your coat, thus causing your sweater, shirt, or whatever you had on under the coat to get soaking wet. So you'd end up after about 20 minutes or so soaking wet, pushing a heavy bicycle through the snow, your feet freezing up, your fingers coming close to frostbite, trudging over un-shoveled walks to put papers by the doors. The attraction of having a paper route faded quickly in lousy weather.
One time, we had so much snow, I tied a big plastic wash basket to a sled, and pulled the damn thing around the neighborhood, instead of struggling with the bicycle. Not a lot better, especially since the silly thing fell over several times, causing the papers to fall out into the snow.
And, of course, your local newspaper kid was a convenient and easy target for snowball throwers. Young kids, older kids, they'd all toss 'em at you, knowing you really couldn't stop and fire back, 'cause you had to finish your route. Nothing better than going up a walkway, dropping the paper on the stoop, then about halfway back to the sidewalk, getting pelted with half a dozen hard formed snowballs!
Try to collect your money, and make change, with frozen fingers; remember, we dealt mostly with nickels, dimes, and the occasional quarter. Easily dropped, easily lost in the snow. Hell, even if you could make the change and get the account up to date, when you tried to enter it in your cash book, your pen would be frozen and wouldn't write!
Yeah, I'm convinced now, it was all those years of delivering papers that really turned me against the cold and snow. When we were kids, taking our sleds to the Country Club and riding up and down the slopes for hours on end was fun, and I did that as much as I could. And yeah, running through Norris Playground, throwing snowballs back and forth with my buddies, standing on the hill by the LIRR grade crossing at NHP Road and hitting trains, buses, and trucks with snowballs, that was all fun. But once I had to 'work' in the bad weather, when being out in it wasn't so much voluntary, that's when the fun stopped.
And so, Ginny, and all of you who wonder how I came to hate the white crap so much, there you go. I'm pretty sure that dragging those papers around in it was the genesis of my hatred.
Now, as I sit watching yet another 8+ inches fall, I must ask, where the hell is the nice weather?

Today I thought I'd share a few thoughts on one of my favorite subjects, Christmas music done by 'our' artists. As many of you know, each day for a couple of weeks leading up to Christmas, I post one of these tunes on Facebook. I try to hit some of the best and most fun songs, and a few that are a little more obscure but still bring a smile to my face.
Now, like most of us 'born in the 50's' kids, my sister and I heard plenty of Christmas music in our home during the holiday season. Dad and Mom had musical tastes that were, for the most part, pretty much mainstream for their generation. Dad loved big band music, he especially had a fondness for Gene Krupa (as Dad had played drums for a time), and Glenn Miller. Mom was a Lawrence Welk fan, along with our Grandmother and Aunt (who lived with us at the time), and she also loved the traditional carols as done by Bing Crosby, Johnny Mathis, and Dean Martin - whose show was really 'must see' tv in our house.
Ginny and I loved these songs as well, and we got to hear and sing them in school. I remember Miss Trutken (sp), the music teacher at Stratford School teaching us kids to sing "Silver Bells" when I was in maybe 5th grade. Some of the kids in class got to actually ring small bells during the song, and boy, that hooked me! To this day, that song is still one of my favorite Christmas songs.
So we listened to, and sang, the traditional songs - we even had a couple of Christmas songs on the player piano rolls that we played when our relatives came over. And every once in a while, we'd get a bunch of our friends together and wander through the neighborhood, ringing doorbells and assaulting the ears of our neighbors by 'going Christmas caroling'. Yeah, just what people getting ready for Christmas want; 8 to 10 kids standing in front of their door screaming "Jingle Bells" or "We Wiiiiiiish you a Merry Christmas" off key and at the top of their lungs!
And then, slowly, over time, there was a change. When I was about 10, Dad came home one day with a gift for me; a small, AM band Koyo transistor radio. It was green and tan, came with a 'leather' case which was perforated on the front where the speaker was, and included a 9 volt battery and an ear phone for private listening. I was thrilled! Like most kids of that age, I was instantly hooked, and radio became (and still is) a big part of my life. I spent countless hours running up and down the dial, listening to every station that the little 8 transistor circuit could pull in, learning what format each station played. It quickly became evident that the 'cool' kids listened to 3 stations; 570 WMCA (home of the 'good guys'), 770 WABC (home of the 'All Americans'), and 1010 WINS. Each of these stations played top 40 rock and roll, and man, back in '63, the music was really jumping! I remember distinctly when "My Boyfriend's Back" was running up the charts, you couldn't go more than 10 or 12 minutes without hearing it on one of those stations! And Dion, man, "Donna (the prima donna)", what a cool song that was! Some doo-wop mixed in, and these surfer kids, The Beach Boys, they sounded great also. The Crystals, Ronettes, all the great groups and their signature sounds, man, I walked around with that little radio glued to my ear for hours on end! One of my biggest challenges was to somehow acquire enough 9 volt batteries to keep the thing playing all day. Remember, this was way before 'alkaline' batteries hit the market, and a typical plain old 9 volt battery didn't last very long, especially when the radio was on for hours on end. That was alleviated a bit when Dad, who must have been really tired of my constantly whining that I 'need' a battery, brought home a combination battery charger/ac power source. You could put your dead or almost dead battery on this thing and it would sort of recharge it, and there was a wire coming out of the other end that you could use to power the radio while the battery charged. Of course, the thing had to be plugged in to an a/c outlet, so you couldn't wander around like you could when the radio was using the battery, but, still, it gave you some flexibility and reduced somewhat, the need for all those batteries.
The months roll on, and we go from summer to fall, tunes change, and we've got Randy & The Rainbows doing "Denise", Jan & Dean with "Surf City", Trini Lopez doing "If I Had a Hammer" - great stuff! And so many different styles of music! Right next to "Surfin' USA", you might hear Nat 'King' Cole's "Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer", then Rolf Harris with "Tie Me Kangaroo Down"! We really had it great, three stations playing all sorts of wonderful music, and while we really loved the rock, we learned to appreciate other styles as well.
Skip ahead to late fall, sometime after Thanksgiving. I'm sitting around my room one day after school, probably avoiding doing my homework while listening to the radio, and I hear an amazing sound. It takes me a minute, but I recognize the tune almost immediately - it's Santa Claus is Coming To Town - but man, does it sound DIFFERENT! It's got a major rock and roll backbeat, great drums and saxophone work - it's amazing! But who the heck is doing it? Yeah, on comes the DJ (probably 'Big' Dan Ingraham), who tells me it's The Cyrstals! A rock and roll group doing a Christmas song! And I'm hooked. Immediately. This is like way cool, it's a great, fun, traditional song, but with 'our' kind of tempo and rhythm! Over the next few days, one by one, I hear all the tracks of the now legendary "A Christmas Gift For You" album (mostly referred to as the Phil Spector Christmas Album). I hear The Ronettes doing "Sleigh Ride";  Bob B. Soxx & the Blue Jeans with "Here Comes Santa Claus", and the incredible voice of Darlene Love belting out "Marshmallow World", "White Christmas", and "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)". And I fall in love with each and every one of them! I spend the next several weeks scouring the radio dial listening for these songs - 570...770....1010...back and forth I'd spin the dial hoping to hear one of these new, and somewhat cool, songs. This spinning the dial back and forth by the way, was great practice for what was to come early in 1964, when all we kids wanted to hear was this new group from England, the one with the unusual hairstyles; you know who I'm talking about!
Anyway, Christmas comes and goes, and so does this great music. Until next year, when, around the same time, I hear one of those songs, and I'm again in love with it. Then, a couple of hours later, there's a different one - something called "Merry Christmas Baby", and I immediately recognize the group, it's The Beach Boys! And on and on it goes, 1965 brings "The Ventures Christmas Album", featuring what is possibly the silliest (and coolest) song ever, their version of "Sleigh Ride" (done to the tune of "Walk, Don't Run"). Then along come The Royal Guardsmen with "Snoopy's Christmas", and on and on it goes, songs that express my love of all things Christmas, done by artists that I can relate to, just as Mom and Dad relate to their favorite artists.
Through the years, my love for these songs has grown to the point where I can't wait to pop my Ventures "Christmas Joy" CD into the car's audio system, and listen to those silly, but lovingly done, songs, over and over. Booker T. & The MG's doing "Jingle Bells"? Love it. Frankie and The Four Seasons "Santa Claus is Coming To Town"? Ditto. Bobby Helms, Brenda Lee, all those great 50's artists doing their songs, "Jingle Bell Rock", "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree", Chuck Berry's "Run Rudolph Run" - love 'em all!
And, now, also, I really appreciate a lot of the artists Mom and Dad loved. Yeah, The Ventures "Sleigh Ride" makes me smile and laugh each and every time I hear it; so does the original by Leroy Anderson (and the Johnny Mathis version); I love The Drifters "White Christmas" - and also Bing Crosby's. And nobody, nobody, does "Let It Snow" like Dean Martin, a truly great entertainer.
My sons have heard more times than they care to, how important music has been to me, how it's accompanied me in my life's journey, through good times, and bad. How it's added to my happiest moments, comforted me in my saddest moments, and how a day gone by without some joyous music in it seems like a wasted day to me. I know I got my love of music from my family, from the way we gathered around our old player piano, to the way Lawrence Welk, Dean Martin, and all of the great musical/variety shows played on our television set night after night, week after week. And that little 8 transistor radio that Dad brought home so many years ago, a simple little gift that fed my love of music, and really changed the way I look at life. Seems a little important to remember and reflect on things like that at this time of year. So, go crank up your record player, your cassette player (you young kids, send me a note and I'll explain what those are), your CD player, your MP3 player, or whatever device you use to listen to music, enjoy the music that YOU cherish at this time of year, and do your best to pass your love of that music, of all music, along to others in your life. Merry Christmas to you all!

Welcome back to the blog! It's been a busy few weeks, lots of interesting 'stuff' happening with the business, some short road trips, and a few nice evenings out, so it's 'catch up day' (as opposed to ketchup day) here in blogland. Here we go!

The Association at City Winery: Couple of weeks ago, Karen and I got the chance to see The Association in one of their somewhat rare NY appearances. It's been a while since we last saw them at Westbury - at least several years - and as happens with the oldies groups, there have been some personnel changes, due to retirements and passings. Most recently, Larry Ramos, who'd been with the band since the early days passed away. His spot was filled by his brother, Del Ramos, who has been in the band for many years. Long time members Jules Alexander and Jim Yester, along with Jordan Cole, son of original member Brian Cole, and drummer Bruce Pictor round up the current lineup.

After an opening act that was about as far different from The Association as you could imagine (a depressing 'suicide song' folksinger), the band hit the stage for a very solid hour and a half show. They ran through all the hits, and sounded very strong on all of them. Their instrument work was solid, and vocally they were very close to the sound of the original group. "Never My Love", "Along Comes Mary", "Windy", "Cherish", and my favorite "Everything That Touches You" "Six Man Band", "Goodbye Columbus" were all well done. A medley of 60's hits, and some album cuts rounded out a very impressive show.
City Winery is a great, smallish venue in Chelsea, great acoustics and sight lines, and a decent menu. Wonderful place to grab a burger or a flatbread pizza and see a show. Highly recommended for a reasonably priced night in Manhattan.

"Hot Autumn Nights" at Westbury: And the oldies just keep on coming! The Saturday before Thanksgiving found us at the NYCB Theater at Westbury for this annual show. We've seen all of these acts many times in the past, and a couple of them are ones that we really like to see whenever we get the chance, as they have a great catalog of hits, and always do a great show.
Opening the night were The Buckinghams, with original members Carl Giammerese and Nick Fortuna, who've been carrying the torch since the late 1990's. Along with long time member Bruce Soboroff, and newer members Dave Zane and Rocky Penn, they sounded great. Carl's voice is a little softer (and more on key) than original lead Dennis Tufano, and the songs sound damn close to the originals. 

Only thing I notice is that since they lost drummer Tom Schekel to Paul Revere & The Raiders a few years back, Rocky's drumming is more pedestrian than Tom's was; less rolls and staggered hits, which were kind of a trademark of their sound. Still, the hits sound great, and they got the crowd into the show early with a cover of Van Morrison's "Domino" and the sing along to "Susan". By the time they closed with "Kind Of A Drag", all was right in the theater.
Up next were "The Grass Roots", which I've put in parentheses, since the people on stage bore no resemblance to the real Grass Roots. As way of explanation, the Grass Roots were, much like The Monkees, a group assembled by the writers and producers of the songs they were given to perform. Through the years, over 50 musicians and singers have been in the group. Their most successful years, however, featured lead singer Rob Grill. 

The guys on stage this time were lead guitarist and vocalist Dusty Hanvey, keyboardist Larry Nelson (both of whom 'joined' in 1984), drummer Joe Dougherty ('joined' in 1990), and lead singer and bassist Mark Dawson ('joined' in 2008). Now, if you look at the chart history of this band, their last successful record was "Two Divided by Love" in 1971 - 13 years before Hanvey and Nelson started performing with Rob Grill.I understand that as individuals pass on, either new members have to be brought in to keep the music going, or we lose the ability to enjoy these acts 'live'. My issue is that when there are NO original members in the band, it isn't "The Grass Roots", it's "The Grass Roots Tribute", and should be advertised as such. These guys played the songs very well, Hanvey's backing vocals mirror the records pretty well, and Dawson has some vocal range as well. The hits sounded great, but you know, there are plenty of bar bands that can play "Midnight Confessions" and sound great as well. Time for these promoters to start being honest with us as to who's really on stage when we plunk down our money!
Up next, Herman's Hermits featuring Peter Noone. Now here we have a group where the original backing musicians have all passed on, but the lead singer is still going strong - VERY strong! Backed by a great band featuring Vance Brescia (of the legendary NY band The Mosquitos) on guitar, this is a real high energy group that recreates the fun and excitement of the original British Invasion acts. Peter reminds me of the late Davy Jones with his boundless energy and romps around the stage. He rarely stood still, and really had the crowd worked up during his set. 

The music was great, Peter's vocals are still strong, and overall, this might have been the best act of the night. With an amazing string of hit records, Peter and the guys could have stayed out on stage a lot longer than they did, they didn't get to all of their hits, but they did most of them, and did them well. We just noticed that Peter and the band are playing at BB King's in Manhattan on Feb. 6, and decided to go - yes, they're that much fun to see!
Closing the show was Tommy James and The Shondells. Tommy's been the headliner on these shows for a long time, and always closes the show. Unfortunately, there are only a few acts that could have followed Peter Noone that night, and Tommy isn't one of them. They started out well, with a great version of "Draggin The Line", but things bogged down quickly with a slow, acoustic version of "I Think We're Alone Now" which Tommy did as a tribute to the late Morris Levy, who owned Roulette Records, the label Tommy had all the hits on. It was done also to help promote Tommy's book and upcoming movie, "Me, The Music, & The Mob". 

Unfortunately, after the high energy that Peter brought to the stage, this ill timed song really killed the crowd. As he (finally) finished the tune, several folks yelled out "Do it like the record" - which seemed to throw Tommy for a loop. The rest of his set was, unfortunately,  nothing special, even though he did Hanky Panky, Crimson & Clover, and he threw in a 'proper' version of I Think We're Alone Now. We noticed that for some reason, the bass player and drummer had a particular shuffle type rhythm, which made all of the songs sound the same. Mony Mony couldn't even get the crowd up, and while we never leave early, as Tommy went 'round and 'round the stage shaking hands, we exited.
So, three pretty good acts and one disappointment. And a really surprising disappointment, as Tommy usually hammers the show closed with a great performance. Perhaps he was 'off' or a bit tired, but it wasn't the Tommy James we've come to expect.
That's more than enough for today, I'll try to catch you all up on the couple of short road trips I had over the past few weeks in the next day or two.

Today it's a straightforward review of a restaurant here on LI, so if you're not from the area, or not interested, you might want to skip this post.
There's a new Mexican place in town! Well, a new 'sort of Mexican' is probably a better way to put it. Escorza Mexican Restaurant opened up on Hempstead Turnpike in Levittown in September, replacing 'Siciliana', an Italian eatery which had been there for a couple of years. Karen and I waited until the 'B.Y.O.B.' sign had been taken out of the window and been replaced with a neon 'Corona' sign before going to Escorza.
The restaurant is nicely decorated, simple and  bright, with nice wood floors, glass top tables with Mexican serapes on them, and a few wall hangings, but nothing as gaudy as you can find in some Mexican restaurants.
Over came the waiter for our drink order, Karen had Sangria, I opted for a Negro Modela, a nice dark Mexican beer. Out came a small steel holder with a paper cone in it with red, green, and plain tortilla chips, and two small containers of salsa, one a bright green citrus based blend with a hint of banana, very mild, and the second, more of a green salsa verde, with a little hint of heat, but still mild.
The menu seems to be a little bit all over the place for a Mexican joint. Appetizers included fried Avacado, a couple of different nacho plates, a 'Mexican' shrimp cocktail - all pretty much standard Mexican fare. But, they also had fried calamari, which seemed out of place. They had a nice selection of salads on the menu, and of course, black bean soup, which we ordered and shared. Good call on the share, 'cause it was a big bowl;

The soup was very good, with a nice taste. It had bits of roasted red pepper in it, as well as onion and garlic. A bowl of this, along with a salad or a plate of nachos, would make a nice meal.
The entrees offered were a little odd, as there were probably just as many, or more, 'non-Mexican' entrees as there were typical Mexican ones. They offer burritos and tacos, flautas and fajitas, which you would expect. But, the also have things like a grilled pork chop served with broccoli rabe. A few seafood dishes, and a steak or two rounded things out.
Karen had the 'mixed' fajitas, which came with steak, chicken, shrimp, and the menu claimed, chorizo sausage; 

They came out sizzling nicely, but we noticed there was no chorizo, so we asked the waiter about that, and he said they didn't come with it. When we said the menu indicated they did, he very nicely, and happily, went to the kitchen and brought us out a bowl of the chorizo meat. The fajitas were pretty good, like most places, the veggies weren't cooked quite enough, and both the meat and the veggies hadn't been seasoned. I don't understand how every Mexican place we go to can make fajitas and not season them! There are plenty of good seasoning blends available that can really make this dish 'pop', but nobody seems to use them. Odd. And, they served the fajitas with soft corn tortillas - which is just wrong - so we asked for a couple of flour ones, and they were happy to oblige us. Karen enjoyed the fajitas, but said if she got them again, she'd ask that they cook the veggies more.
I got the Shrimp LaDiabla, which was described as 'shrimp in a smoky jalapeno tomato sauce' - sounded yummy, and it was!

Six jumbo shrimp, nicely cooked, in a thick, spicy sauce. The waiter asked if I wanted it spicy, and they made it just as I wanted it - hotter than medium, but not all the way to hotter than hell. The shrimp were plump and well cooked, not at all chewy or tough, and the sauce was great, especially when I mixed my rice in with it. Each dish was served with a side of Mexican rice and black beans;

As we were finishing, the owner came over and introduced himself, a very pleasant fellow. The wait staff was very good, friendly and helpful - no request was met with anything other than a smile and 'certainly'.
Price for the evening was good, the portion size was good, the quality and preparation was also good, and overall, we enjoyed ourselves.
I don't know that I'd go here if I wanted a typical American 'Mexican' dinner, full of various tortillas and red salsa - for that, Pancho Villa's or Mangoes would be a better choice. But we will definitely come back, there are enough things for us to try, and enjoy on the menu.