The Capitol

I talk a lot about my family living with my great grandmother. We eventually moved out and into our own place.  Seems like we were moving around a lot, but always within walking distance from our previous dwelling.  My mom eventually reconnected with the love of her life, Mr. Frank, whom we met once or twice.   I guess Greg, Pat and I had never met anyone named Frank before, so we would call him Frankenstein.  He didn't seem to mind.

Mom had some great news for us. "We're moving."  "Again?"  This time we were moving far away.  It really wasn't that far away, but it was a long walk from our old house. 

This neighborhood was nice. It had trees. Some houses had little bushes and gardens in the front.   It really looked like paradise.   The best thing about this neighborhood was that "The Capitol Movie Theater" was around the corner.  Greg and I were beside ourselves.   We heard about the theater and couldn't wait to see it.

There were several movie theaters in the surrounding neighborhoods.   It was always fun to walk by the theaters to look at the posters and hope to see a monster or a gladiator. 

In our old neighborhood I remember someone taking me to see "13 Ghosts".  It was scary, but not as scary and bothersome as seeing "Night of the Living Dead".   

There were a few things that made this film "bothersome" for me.  

For one, they played "Time of the Season" by the Zombies before the movie.   Hearing that song in a beat-up old theater before this particular film was almost too much for me. 

The other thing that got to me was,  this was the first movie I had ever seen that had a black guy in it who was the hero. WOW!  Unbelievable.  And guess what happened to him at the end? I was stunned. I couldn't believe it.  I couldn't sleep for days. 

To heck with that raggedy old theater, we can now walk to "The Capitol", the best of all the local movie theaters.  Our mom agreed to let Greg and I walk around and explore. We went looking for "The Capitol".   This place was suppose to be around the corner.  We didn't see anything. We were walking all over the place, and practically ended up in our old neighborhood. We gave up and walked backed home.  Turns out the theater was exactly around the corner. However Greg and I were looking for something that resembled the White House.  A big white building with pillars. 

We were pretty disappointed to see a not so raggedy movie theater with a huge sign "The Capitol" right in front. 

But we got used to it.  Every weekend we'd walk there to see the new posters.

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The Capitol

Don't Lock The Door

I traveled on the road for two years with a hotel band.  I learned more in those two years than any time in my life.  For starters, I was required to be an extrovert. It was part of the job. This was not going to be easy for an introvert.  The band had to socialize during the breaks. Talking to people would keep them at their tables and when people are chatting with you they are likely to buy more drinks.   A failure to do this, would be reported back to your agent and could cost you a return gig.

I had a good teacher, Jerome.  Jerome had years of road experience. My two years on the road was less about music than it was about learning about life outside of my room in Philadelphia.   As I started to get comfortable with being a professional extrovert, I hit a few embarrassing moments.  Like the gig we had in the midwest somewhere. We arrived early to set up.   There were a couple of girls dancing together [Must socialize. Must socialize] , so I walked over and started dancing with them. A bouncer approached me, barked something at me, then proceeded to throw me out of the place.  Somebody in the band shouted "He's with the band!" The bouncer walked away muttering nasties. When I turned around those two girls were now dancing without a stitch on, or maybe a stitch.  They were naked.   I didn't know we were in a strip joint.   Embarrassing.     And to think, I couldn't blame alcohol.    

Jerome also taught me to hang on to hotel keys.  We'd save our room keys for every hotel we played in. If we were in a town and needed a place to stay, we'd check our keys  and call the appropriate hotel. 

"Hello, room 108 for Mr. Washington." 

"There's no one in the room by that name." 

"I'm sorry, I may have the wrong name. Someone ordered a pizza…"  

"There's no one staying in that room tonight."

"Sorry."

Once we got the green light, we'd enter the room and make ourselves at home. We only had to remember two things.

1. Make sure we leave before the maids came to clean the room.

2. Make sure to never lock the door.

If you oversleep and your door is locked, the maids will figure out something is wrong.  

This routine worked often, except for once in Williamsport, PA.

The bands hometown was Williamsport.  Since we often played in hotels in the area, hotel staff knew us well.

My brother Greg came to visit one weekend.  The band was playing at the Lycoming Hotel.   I really wasn't up for sharing a room, so I had a plan.

I gave Greg a hotel key (I had a few), and some instructions  "Get up and meet me in my room at 8am." "Don't locked the door."

Greg must have partied real hard that night because he came back to his room, locked the door and was out cold.

I got a call at 8:30am. I thought it was Greg. Nope. It's hotel security.  "We have a black man in custody. We think you might know him."

Greg was trying his best to not get Jerome or me involved, but his excuses were getting worse and worse.   "Where did you get that key?"  "From a friend." "Who?"  "I don't know."  "You got it from a friend you don't know?"  

Poor Greg, he was sticking to his story.    Stories like that were known to get a black man beat by the authorities in Philly.   

Fortunately he was in Williamsport. Fortunately because he was my brother, they let him off the hook.   We had to return every Lycoming Hotel key we had.  

Jerome was a better teacher than I.


Meet the teacher:
Jerome and I in Seaside, NJ

Food Fights

My wedding day was March 1st, 1986.   Not only will my mom be returning to Geneseo to attend the wedding, she's going to bring the whole family with her.  And she practically did.   They all traveled in a crowed van from Philly along with my cousin David who was driving a Pontiac Fiero, a sporty two seater. My brother was his passenger.  Like his father, David was a very good looking man, "light skinned" and wavy hair.

When my family was living with my great grandmother (I'll call her grandma),  we kids would constantly ask adults for some change. If my grandma were to give us anything at all, it would be a penny.  When David would visit, he would always get a nickel or a dime, or something silver.  We were jealous. We thought she was treating him better because he was lighter than the rest of us. No one considered that since we were living with my grandma, if she gave us silver coins everyday, she'd be bankrupted.  

David and my brother Greg were about the same age.  Sometimes something would set them off and they'd be ready to brawl and it always involved food. 
David doesn't eat pork.  One morning David was at the house for breakfast. Eggs, grits, bacon, toast and scrapple.   Nothing like the smell of bacon in the morning.  This particular morning, even David couldn't resist the smell.  There were only two pieces left. David gave in, he snatched them before Greg could get them. 

David was very happy. Greg was furious. "Man, you don't eat pork!!"  "I'm gonna kick your motha f_____ a**!" 
Taste buds can have an amazing effect on ones language.

They were at it. Have you ever seen someone get smacked with a piece of scrapple?

The day after the wedding was snowy and cold.  The family was traveling home on the Jersey Turnpike. They pulled into a truck-stop to have lunch. My mother had made everyone sandwiches.  Greg and David were the last in line. There were only two sandwiches left, a turkey ham sandwich and a cheese sandwich. Greg wasn't thrilled about a cheese sandwich and David insisted that he wanted some meat.  Greg was holding the turkey ham sandwich while they were arguing.  David snatched the turkey ham sandwich out of Greg's hands and started chowing down. 

David was very happy. Greg was furious.

This was a great day for the amish people at the truck-stop watching black people fight in a snowstorm.  

Eggs and Ethics

James Clark, that's a name that still gives me chills. We grade schoolers were all terrified of him. Funny, he was only known as James Clark, not James or Clark. We'd keep a quarter in our pocket just in case we'd run into him. He'd always come out of nowhere.

Me and one of my buddies were walking up 52nd street. What a nice day. Out of nowhere poofs James Clark. "You got any change?" "No." "Oh yeah, do some jumping jacks." I don't know what was more embarrassing, doing jumping jacks and jingling like a piggy bank or being a reject fitness spectacle in front a some school girls who were walking by. He'd take all the money and then "slide" you for lying (hit you in the head). Great, he's got ethics.

He also had great aim. Greg and I were going to the movies one afternoon, POOF! It's James Clark. "You got any change?" This time we ran. We stopped to see if he was still chasing us. I turned around to look and WHACK!!! I got smacked in the face with an egg. I think he was a half block away. Where the heck did he get an egg?

Grandma Could Have Been a Great Drummer

My younger brother lived with my grandparents for a while. Some weekends I would go to stay with my grandparents so we could play together. Greg's life was different than what I was used to. He was allowed to drink coffee. A kid drinking coffee, wow. My grandfather used to say "Coffee puts hair on your chest". I'd have to check to see if Greg actually has hair on his chest. I don't think so. We were also told that bacon comes from a monkey's tail. I'm not sure why he told us that one. Probably so we wouldn't want to eat up all the bacon. It didn't work.

Occasionally I would stay over on a week day. This was especially cool because my grandmother would let us stay home from school if we wanted. We'd stay home from school and play Greg's drums all morning. My grandparents lived in an apartment right above a doctors office. In the back of the apartment was a school (not the school we went to). One day we decided we would grab a few eggs from the refrigerator and throw them at the school kids through the apartment window. It was too much fun, we cleared a whole dozen eggs. "What happened to all my eggs!!!???" "Greg, Mick, you better tell me what happened to those g** d*** eggs!!???" There was a knock on the door. It was an officer from the school in the back of the house. "Eggs were seen flying from your window ma'am." My grandmother could have been a great drummer. She sure knew how to beat the hell out of two knuckle heads.