Theme music begins:
“When I was young, my Dad used to say,
‘Son, we’re all going to die one day.
Why don’t you take a little time to do some good along the way …
Take a little time …
(music fades going into chorus.)
Gregor (low voiceover, speaking intimately into a microphone): Welcome to the Old Rockers podcast
Del: Hey Kids … What time is it?
Gregor: It’s time for the Old Rockers podcast.
Del: Yessir, the podcast where a couple of broken down used-to-bees come to terms with the fact that they never-weres. Actually that’s changed somewhat in my mind since last week’s program when a genuine history professor and cultural theorist suggested that Gregor and I might be part of something bigger. That was an interesting session that we had with Darryl Piccus, a high school classmate of ours who has actually made something of himself.
Gregor: Humbling, wasn’t it, to see that guy carrying the same briefcase but grown-up with grey hair actually saying intelligent things.
Del: I have something to confess. I actually tried a peanut butter and pickle sandwich a la Darryl. It was good. It’s going to be a regular part of my late night arsenal. Who are we talking to today, Gregor?
Gregor: Someone whose name might strike fear in you, Del, Police Chief Bucky Loblaw of the Emerald County Sheriff’s Department whose jurisdiction included the commune where you spent a couple of lost decades.
Del: Naw-ww, not a problem. I never had a problem with Bucky. My mission back in those days was to be friendly with everyone, and– above all– to stay below the radar screen. He knows me as Billy Mann, however, which is the name and identity I was using back them.
Gregor: Give us a little background on this.
Del: It was 1969. I was wrapping up my three-year stint in the Marines, and about to return stateside. I was totally disgusted with the war, my country, and myself. One of my best friends had just committed suicide. I didn’t want to do that, but I did want to make the world go away.
Gregor: How old were you?
Del: Twenty one.
Gregor: The obvious question is … why not just come back to Providence? Cassandra and I were there. And the Cranston Boys. We could have even started back up with the band.
Del: I especially didn’t want to come back to Providence. You remember how it was for returning Vets in those days? You and Cassandra were still in college, my mother had left town … talk about rubbing my nose in my own failure. New, I want a blank sheet of paper, so I switched identities with Billy Mann, this poor bastard who died somewhere in the jungle, and headed to hippie heaven.
Gregor: Well, that transitions us … somewhat awkwardly, I might add … to one of two guests that we have today Police Chief Bucky Loblaw of the Emerald County Sheriff’s Department. Welcome Chief Loblaw.
[Man appears on monitor. He has crewcut grey hair and is overweight.]
Bucky: Thanks for having me. I’m 14 years retired now, so just call me Bucky.
Del: Hey, Bucky, howyadoin’? What are you up to these days?
Bucky: I got a little place on Clear Lake. I spend a lot of time on my deck watching ducks, but I like fishing, too.
Del: I’d say you haven’t changed, but the Chief Loblaw I remember was lean and mean, and your hair was black. Still with the crewcut, though.
Bucky: Somethings never change. I can still recognize you, even with the grey hair.
Gregor: Excuse me for interrupting, but I was expecting some tension here. You two seem to actually like each other.
Bucky: We go back a long way, me and Billy.
Gregor: Tell us what the scene was like. This would have been the early ’70s, right.
Bucky: Right. A lot of longhairs started showing up in the late Sixties, but initially they were down in Mendocino County. By the early ’70s, we were seeing more of them in Emerald County. They’d get their hands on a piece of property and start building these crazy little shacks. There were a lot of people coming and going. Initially locals didn’t like it, so if fell to us to harrass the freaks and make them feel unwelcome.
Del: The dope things was a big divide.
Bucky: That’s right. Marijuana carried big penalties back then, especially if you got caught dealing. But it was kind of a game of cops and robbers, or cops and hippies. We’d try and catch them, and they’d try to fool us, but the reality was, no one was really getting hurt by any of this. If someone wanted to get stoned and run around naked, there wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it. Or even wanted to.
Del: That’s right. As the Seventies wore on the locals became more used to us and us to them. Plus, if we had kids, they started going to the local schools and that broke down more barriers.
Gregor: So when Del, or Billy as you knew him, calls himself an “outlaw,” that’s not really how you thought of him.
Bucky: To me, Billy was a kid with long hair and a bandana who worked as a carpenter and who played the guitar. When we learned that he served time in ‘Nam, that made him ok in our book.
Gregor: The fact that he had a false identity and paid no taxes and had no driver’s license didn’t matter to you.
Bucky: I didn’t know a lot of that stuff. Living below the radar screen is not a crime in Emerald County. A lot of regular folk did that. It’s still pretty much on the frontier there. Now, if someone rubbed my nose in the identity thing, I would have had to take that seriously.
Del: I had to be careful not to break any laws or doing anything to draw attention to myself. Then, Officer Loblaw would have been forced to take action.
Gregor: So what changed? Why did you eventually leave for Vermont.
Del: The scene started changing in the ’80s. Bucky can tell you more about this.
Bucky: Billy’s right. The original back-to-the-landers settled in and made their peace with the locals. Like he said, their kids were in the schools, a lot of them had jobs in the community, each side was adapting to the other. What changed was the dope.
Gregor: How so?
Bucky: We, as law enforcement, pretty much made our peace with marijuana. We knew that the hippies on the communes were still growing it, but as they integrated with the community so did the marijuana. It was a part of the local economy. Most everyone was growing a little something, some for their own use, but maybe a little extra to sell. Need to fix the roof this year? Maybe grow a couple of extra plants. It was harmless stuff.
Del: The common enemy was the Internal Revenue Department.
Bucky (laughs): You got that straight! If things stayed like that things would have been fine, but we started seeing cocaine, then crack cocaine, then heroin, and then meth labs.
Del: The new characters showing up were bad news. We started seeing a lot of guns, too. Ironically, a lot of the potheads started being more on the side of the police than the newcomers. But everyone had to walk a fine line. Cassandra and I knew that eventually things were going to blow up, so we had to split.
Gregor: Bucky, do you remember Del (Billy) leaving.
Bucky: Not specifically, the first I became aware of it was when someone pointed out that his son was living with a different family in town. We questioned the kid, and the people he was living with, but no one was saying anything was wrong, so we just let it lie. I remember he was in a band that was popular in town, and that’s why he stayed behind.
Del: Jeru was ‘Sythia’s son, my stepson. He and his friends wanted to have a band, and I helped them get started. It was the most important thing in his life, and I could relate to that, so when his mother and I decided we had to split, we arranged for him to live in the home with one of the guys in his band. It was all on the up and up.
Bucky: And that’s what we found when we checked it out. You got out when the getting was good, Billy.
Del: That’s what I heard. Helicopter raids and machine guns … nasty stuff.
Bucky: That’s why I retired.
Gregor: We’re going to take a quick break, then we’ll be back with today’s second guest, who’s going to bring us all the way to the other coast. But thank you Bucky Loblaw for joining us on Old Rockers. Now you can get back to catching sunfish or whatever.
Bucky: I think I’ll just watch the ducks this morning. Thanks for having me.
Del: Who’s sponsoring Old Rockers this morning?
Gregor: I’ll tell you … do you remember the day you turned 50?
Del: I do. I was living on the commune and someone came up to me and said “You’ve got mail.” And the reason that I remember this is that I’m living under a false name, without any fixed address … I hadn’t received a piece of mail in decades, literally, and on the day I turned 50, there it was– an invitation to sign up for AARP.
Gregor: How did you respond to that?
Del: “Not well” would be an understatement. “Like a big, goddamn baby” would be more accurate.
Gregor: I was about the same. I was Attorney General at the time, and I generally tried maintaining the dignity of the office–
Del: Meaning walking around with a rod up your ass like your old man …
Gregor: I guess so. My assistant, Sheila had clued in everyone in the State House and had set up a little party in the cafeteria. Even the fucking Governor was there. There was black crepe paper and black balloons, then all these presents of things that you think a hilarious when someone else turns 50, but that are inappropriate when YOU turn 50. You know, adult diapers, Preparation-H …
Del: You mean the companies that sponsor this show?
Gregor: Ugh … (they both fall silent) … but, true confessions, these days one of the hightlights of the month is when the AARP Magazine arrives.
Del: You, too? ‘Sythia and I fight over who gets to see it first.
Gregor: Something about it … it makes me feel like I’m in good company when I see all these cool people who are as ancient as I am.
Del: I hear ya. Also, there are always picture of some 60 year old babe who wants to show what great shape she’s in so she poses in a bikini while talking about the benefits of smoothies.
Gregor: Last month I saw a pictures of Demi Moore wearing next-to-nothing while she talked about Tumeric or something. It’s like looking at what Playboy used to be. (They both laugh). Yeah … it’s come to this.
Del: But there are lots of great benefits to membership–discounts on hotel and rental card rates, insurance products, even cell phones.
Gregor: Don’t tell me you’ve got one of the phones with buttons so big you can push them with your elbows …
Del: And guess who will be appearing at the AARP National Convention in Reno, Nevada next October?
Gregor: Jimi Henrix?
Del: Better than that.
Gregor: Janis Joplin? Jim Morrison? Elvis? … put me out of my suspense!
Del: Why the Old Rockers themselves, joined by full roster of tribute bands including fake-AC/DC, fake-Metallica, fake-The Beatles, fake-Elvis, even fake-Nirvana.
Gregor: Jeez, are the Gen-Xers turning 50? Holy fuck.
Del: Don’t let it get you down, old timer. Just go out in a blaze of glory like our patron saint.
Gregor: Remind me … who was that?
Del: John Entwhistle, bass player of The Who, who did a few lines of coke just before he took the stage at age 59, even though he had a heart condition.
Gregor: Did he put on an epic show?
Del: No, he had a massive heart attack and died on the spot.
Gregor: Oh well. I think Dolly Parton said “I’d rather burn out than rust out.”
Del: And that lady is still going strong. There’s going to be a Dolly Look-alike competition at the AARP in Reno, too. We’ll see you there.
Gregor: AARP … the best fifty bucks you can spend this year. Join today.
Del: And tell them the Old Rockers sent you.
Gregor: Now we’re joined in the studio by another “finger” of the long arm of the law. It’s Constable August LaRock of Rochester County, Vermont. He joins us here in our studio.
Del: It’s Augie Doggie!
Augie: Hi Billy, or I guess I should be calling you “Del” now.
Del: You can call me whatever you want
Gregor: Well … Augie Doggie … you’re obviously familiar with the artist formerly known as Billy Mann.
Augie: Billy and me go back quite a ways. I first remember you from the Men’s Softball League. You were the short fielder for J&J Redemption Center.
Gregor: for the benefit of our listeners what’s a “short fielder?”
Augie: In slow pitch softball you play ten guys, four in the outfield. You can either play them three deep and one short or four across. In Billy’s case he was the “short fielder” because his dick was so short. (He and Del laugh.)
Gregor: Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, let’s keep in clean here. I gather your relationship wasn’t adversarial.
Augie: Oh, hell no. Not only did I get him out many times–
Del: My memory is more of taking you deep–
Augie: I was the pitcher for Bent’s Insurance, but Billy swept the chimney in my house many times, he was the DJ for the Volunteer Fire Department’s Greaser Sock Hop, and we’ve worked many a Rotary Chicken Barbecue together. I’m still trying to get him to reveal the ingredients of his Napalm Chicken sauce.
Del: Officer LaRock also has the distinction of being the policeman who is quoted in the lyrics of Mud Season Romance.(Recites)
Every year when the winter runs short,
all you bucks try to jump the high fence.
I see the same scene on all the back roads.
I’ll sure be happy when Mud Season ends.
Augie: They’ll put that on my tombstone.
Gregor: Did you actually say it?
Augie: My memory is that we were setting up for the Memorial Day Barbecue and just shooting the shit. I was still recovering from the most recent Mud Season when maple sap, male hormones, and beer are flowing freely, resulting in all kinds of creative mayhem.
Gregor: Was Del … Billy … the person in the song?
Augie: Oh, hell no. I never had any legal issues with Billy. I think I was just telling him war stories about Mud Season.
Del: You did tell me about finding a guy passed out in his truck and stuck in a ditch who swore there was a woman with him when he left the bar.
Augie: Yeah, guys say a lot of things. that doesn’t mean they are true. On Friday and Saturday nights, especially during Mud Season, we’ll hang out by the bar and if we see someone who is obviously impaired, we’ll follow them.
Gregor: To bust them?
Augie: Sometimes, but even more often to make sure they get home safely. Depends. Anyway, about a year after the Rotary barbecue, I heard Billy perform this song. Now that you two have gotten famous I actually get people asking me if I’m the cop in the song.
Gregor: So you’re famous, too. Were you ever suspicious of Billy?
Augie: Me, personally. No, Never. But my wife has a saying that used to describe Billy … “Still waters run deep, and dirty.” (laughs) But the only dirty side I ever saw of Billy was at then end of the day after cleaning chimneys.
Del: That can be nasty work, which I why no one wants to do it, and which is why I wanted to do it.
Augie: Billy’s always making music, and his wife ‘Sythia, who runs the local Co-op, is a peach. They fit right in to our little town.
Gregor: Were you shocked when you found out that Billy Mann was a fake identity?
Augie: Shocked? No, surprised? Yes. It was kind of like finding out that someone you know was married to someone else years ago. But I was in the service about the same time as Billy, so I could relate to that whole thing about being freaked out about Vietnam. The world was crazy back then. What DID freak me completely, however, was when the two of you became famous.
Gregor: And how did you find out about that?
Augie: My daughter was in the high school when they did the Old Rockers thing. Everyone in town knew about that and had fun with it. Then we read in the local paper about the play being performed in Rhode Island or wherever, then things went quiet and we never gave it another thought. UNTIL, that is, we heard you were going to be on the Conan Freakin’ O’Brien Show, and we couldn’t fucking believe it …
Gregor: Don’t worry we can bleep it out …
Augie: … and the whole fucking town watched it at Ruthie’s.
Del: (interjects) The local watering hole …
Augie: … and there you are, big as life.
Gregor: Yeah, I’m still pinching myself about that, too.
Augie: I still can’t believe it. I used to play softball with that guy.
Del: And “that guy” took you deep more than once.
Augie: Now that, I don’t remember, but you’re still here. You’re the same guy. Well, you’re Del, not Billy …
Del: And I still work the Rotary Chicken Barbeque with you …
Augie: … and your wife still runs the food co-op.
Del: … but I don’t sweep chimneys any more.
Augie: Big deal, I don’t arrest bad guys, either.
Del: So everything is the same, but completely different. There must be a life lesson here.
Gregor: And what do you think that is?
Augie: I dunno … still waters run deep and dirty? If you come to a fork in the road, take it?
Del: I dunno, either, but “I’ve seen the same scene on all the back roads …”
Augie: “I’ll sure be happy when Mud Season ends.”
Gregor: Amen, Brother. Thank you, August LaRock for being our guest today. It’s been real …
Augie: It’s been real for me, too. I’m just not sure real what!