[AI synopsis: Just as Del and Greg think their story has ended, with a reconciliation after years apart, it begins again. A high school drama student wants to use their story for a local theatrical production; a video of their performance inspires a regional theatric company to reproduce it; a talent agent sees it and sees enormous commercial potential … and the rest is not history, but their-story. The Old Rockers are now a national – make it international – brand with their own podcast, But first …
Remember how Old Rockers: The Musical Journey of Grendel ended? Of course you don’t, but that’s why I am here. After a life connected by tenuous strands of music, the two old rockers, Gregor Brewster and Wendell “Del” Watson, find themselves unexpectedly thrust into the limelight as spokespersons for a generation of garage band/British Invasion wannabees. In their epilogue they tell (separately) how this unlikely event transpired. Watch it here: SB SM]
[Editor’s note: I think this is a cinematic masterpiece. If you don’t, then watch it again. SB SM]
Now, their story … what they describe as “a magnificent piece of garbage” … is told again in Old Rockers: The Podcast. Watch for it throughout September on Silverback Digest.
Any questions? Good, now watch The Epilogue. And, if you already have, watch it again!
Once I had a pretty girl.
Her name it doesn’t matter.
She went away with another guy.
Now, he won’t even look at her.
–Charles Westover writing as Del Shannon, 1962
It’s a complete story, as complete as any novel. There’s an introduction … then a first verse … a middle eight … a second verse … an instrumental, and, finally, a repeat of the second verse, and fade to the end. The entire journey takes exactly two minutes.
Here’s a summary of the story: There’s a man, not exactly a man, but a male of the species who has reached, only recently, sexual maturity, as evidenced by the fact that he is attracted to a female of the species. She is a “pretty” girl, not a fully sexual woman. This is a type commonly referred to as a “girl next door.”
We become aware of the passage of time. This aforementioned female of the species did not just show up. She’s not a recent transplant. She’s evolved. She, too, has recently passed from childhood into the world of reproduction. By implication, she’s farther along in the developmental process than the narrator, having reached a point where she is discriminating amongst available partners, settling on one named “Larry.”
The narrator refers to Larry as “another guy,” more of an equal than a superior. This is depicted by the use of a familiar first name, even using the more familiar, child-like tag rather than the more formal “Lawrence” or “Laurence” that would be appropriate in a different medium.
The girl, the pretty one, the one who lives next door who has captured the affection of the narrator, proves to be a lying, pernicious, scumbag of a bitch when she takes advantage of the trusting naivete of the narrator by abandoning him and, it is suggested, her adjacent domicile. Even worse, she avails herself to the new suitor for the purposes of reproduction, or even non-reproductive sexual pleasure. There’s no evidence of her motivation, nor are details of their union provided, other than the fact that once the mating procedure has occurred, the male partner loses his interest. The union, apparently, not based on deeper emotions of trust, compatibility, and common vision, but rather a more immediate satisfaction of horndog desires.
The post-coital reaction is telling. This is not the loving, nurturing reaction of mature individuals who have committed to the procreation not simply for the replication and recombination of their genes, but the future of the species. It is, rather, the casual, recreational sexual play characteristic of juvenile Homo sapiens. In the aftermath of the girding of his loins, the male is motivated not to repeat the experience, but, presumably, to seek a different sexual partner. Without explanation, he rejects his recent partner in favor of the uncertain future liaison with a different member of the species. The female is now partnerless and without prospects.
Significantly, the story is told in the past tense. Despite the passage of time, the pain from the wound is still fresh for the narrator. Rather than resenting his former rival, he now congratulates him for inflicting the same intense pain that he experienced. The bond between male members of the tribe is, thus, stronger and more nuanced than those of heterosexual couples. One almost senses the narrator’s bond with fellow warrior, Larry, is more lasting than the transitory relief of the loins provided by the female of the species.
Rock and roll, in its perfect expression, is the distillation of the human condition, with a special focus on the fluctuating influences of hormones and cultural mores within a specific period of time. The protagonists, Del and Gregor, are two-dimensional males … “guys” … who meet and bond at a critical conjuncture of American culture in the 1960s. They witness first-hand the impact of the cultural British Invasion at a time when America is in the throes of a post-Colonial debacle in Southeast Asia.
Like so many other late adolescent males, the form a bond, and they form a band. Theirs, named Grendel, is a co-mingling of their first names and becomes a canvas that permits the creation of the mural that becomes their lives. Their story, leavened by time, encompasses relationships, changing cultural values, and the idiosyncracies of individual species members. On one level their story, Old Rockers: The Musical Journey of Grendel, is the simple tale of two guys, not unlike our narrator and Larry. On a different level, and on a larger stage, however, their story is of generation, art, culture, and species. It’s a story that resonates nation- if not world-wide, and the two “guys” become symbols much larger than their realities.
Through no merit or actions of their own they find themselves thrust upon a global stage where every follicle of their being is subject to scrutiny. And, like every other Tom, Dick, and Asshole in today’s world they try to make sense off their fate through the examination of their own navels. Their lens is no longer exclusively music, but has broadened to include language and technology. They tell the same story over and over, old guys with dementia. They tell it through music, they tell it in print, they tell it through an eight episode, limited series on Netflix, they tell it on the Broadway stage, they tell it on social media platforms from Snapchat to TikTok, they tell it in 30 second and 60 second slots to sell everything from hemorrhoid creme to shares in assisted living developments, they tell it in a documentary for theatrical release.
And they tell it in their podcast, called, unsurprisingly, The Old Rockers Podcast. This is the transcript of that podcast.
Reference:
The Old Rockers Podcast: The Musical Journey of Grendel kicks off with Gregor Brewster and Del Watson reminiscing about their musical past. In this humorous podcast, they share stories from their youth, the impact of rock music, and personal experiences shaped by their upbringing. The episode reveals their contrasting backgrounds and sets the stage for a ten-part exploration of their journey.
The Old Rockers Podcast: The Musical Journey of Grendel
Episode 1– A Feral Summer in Jerusalem
Two seventy-something white males, wearing headphones and speaking into microphones, are seated facing each other on either side of an oblong table. Gregor Brewster is the more patrician of the two, with aquiline features and hair that behaves. He could have been a lawyer, and, in fact, was one and still is, although he went into semi-retirement almost a quarter-century ago when he decided not to make a run for the governorship of Rhode Island.
Wendell, “Del,” Watson is clearly of peasant stock, but in a pleasant way. Slightly shorter than Gregor, a little more bald, he exudes strength and good humor. He’s a wise guy and a provocateur. Despite their differences, the two men are completely comfortable in their intimate banter.
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 (interrupting, much higher energy) … where broken down, grizzled, garage band survivors retell the same old, unglamorous stories of being Beatle wannabees.
Gregor: I’m your host Gregor Brewster …
Del: … And I’m Del Watson. (Together) Together we’re Grendel. Where’s our musical journey going to take us today, Gregor?
Gregor: Ya nevah know. Ya nevah know. That’s actually the phrase that was tumbling around my head last night when I was fooling around on my acoustic Guild, probably on my third glass of wine, and I suddenly … I don’t know why … got sidetracked by that song Lies. Remember it?
Del: Shit, yeah … (sings a capella) Lies, lies, I can’t believe a word you say. We played that in Grendel, didn’t we? What was the name of that group? The Buckinghams?
Gregor: No, no, the Buckinghams were the Kind of a Drag guys. These were The Knickerbockers.
Del: How could I forget The Knickerbockers?
Gregor: A half-century of drinking and taking drugs will do that to you. (Both laugh.) Anyway, I’m not sure why that song popped into my head, but suddenly I wanted to play it, so I pull out my phone and say “Lies by the Knickerbockers,” and ten seconds later I’ve got the chords and lyrics in front of me. A few minutes after that I’m actually watching video of the Knickerbockers playing the original on YouTube.”
Del: You know how many years of my life were wasted playing the same song over and over to get the lyrics right. Lifting up the record arm and rewinding the turntable by hand to listen for the one phrase you couldn’t quite get.
Gregor: How many collective teen-years were wasted try to figure out what Del Shannon was saying in the second line of the chorus of Runaway? “Imma walkin’ in the rain, something-something and I feel the pain.”
Del: “I always said it as “to the ball,” that doesn’t really make sense. Not that rock and roll has to always make sense … what’s that Neil Diamond song where he rhymes “No one there, not even the chair.”
Gregor: Keep focused, friend. If we get sidetracked on dumb lyrics, we’ll be there all night.
Del: For years I thought (sings) ‘Po-etry in motion’ was ‘O-a-tree in notion’ even though it didn’t make sense …
Gregor: Earth to Del, come back to the planet.
Del: (keeps singing) ‘O-a-tree in motion, walking by my side.” So what was Del saying if it wasn’t “to the ball?”
Gregor: For the record, it’s “tears are fallin.” He had to squeeze in an extra syllable. SWITCHING GEARS … however, we have a special show tonight, as we kick off this ten-episode journey on The Musical Journey of Grendel..
Del: Ten fucking episodes! Are we nuts? Or more specifically, are you nuts? Two teenage guys buy guitars, learn a few chords, start a band, make a lot of noise, don’t become famous. End of story! Are each of these episodes going to be about four seconds long?
Gregor: No, no, no. We’re going to tell the whole story which has spanned more than a half-century and witnessed profound changes in cultures, technologies, social, even sexual mores. There may not be any bank robberies, jewel thieves, secret agents, murders, or explosions. No explosive sex, aliens, or plots to destroy the planet …
Del: You’ve lost half our audience already. Do you remember the first time we met?
Gregor: I can’t say that I do. You started at Obediah in sixth grade, right? For listeners, Obediah Brown is a boys prep school in Providence, Rhode Island.
Del: I was fresh from a feral summer in Jerusalem …
Gregor: Whoa! Back up! … This is Episode 1. Listeners have no idea what you are talking about.
Del: My mother’s parents– my Gram and BopBop– had a home, actually a converted summer cottage, on Succotash Road in Jerusalem, Rhode Island.
Gregor: Stop again. I’ve lived in Rhode Island all my life, and I don’t know where Jerusalem is.
Del: Have you been to Galilee?
Gregor: Where the Block Island Ferry comes in? Yes.
Del: If you walk past the ferry to Salty Brine State Beach and you look across what looks to be a river but that is actually an inlet to Point Judith Pond, you’re looking at Jerusalem, and the houses you see are on Succotash Road. My mother dropped me off at my grandparent’s the day after school let out in June and picked me up on Labor Day. I lived all summer barefoot and in a bathing suit and spent the summer with a pack of friends.
Gregor: Did you know Salty Brine had only one leg? But that’s a story for another time. I love that part of the world. It’s all sand and salt water and that tall grass. What’s it called?
Del: Spartina.
Gregor: There are always seagulls squabbling, and bell buoys clanging, and the blast of the ferry horn.
Del: You’ve got it. So you can see why I wouldn’t be too happy about going back to Providence and my mother’s apartment for the first day of school. Especially when it was the first day of a new school with snobby rich kids and having to wear a coat and tie for the first time in life. I remember my mother tightening my tie, and I said I didn’t want to go to school with a bunch of “little dipshits” and she let me get way with swearing.
Gregor: Hey, I was one of those dipshits.
Del: The teacher, Mrs Coffin, just referred to us as “the new boys,” and she called us that all fucking year. She never bothered learning our individual names!
Gregor: Before you get too wound up, let’s take a quick break to mention that support for the Old Rockers podcast comes from Nordic River Cruises where simple luxury is simply unforgettable.
Del: Nordic is where the river never ends. Cruising the great waterways of Europe since 1954, Nordic is coming to the New World of North America with voyages planned for the Columbia and the Mighty Mississipp.
Gregor: A trip down the Mississippi is one I’d like to check off the ol’ bucket list. Before the break, you were in mid-rant about the very first time we met. I was a little dipshit and you were a new boy.
Del: That first morning lasted for an eternity, then a bell rang, and I could feel everyone stiffening in their seats. Then the old crone said, “We’ll start here after lunch. You may go,” and everyone bolted from their seats. I didn’t know what the hell was happening, but I followed the pack. Finally I asked a guy next to me what was going on. “Sports,” he said. In the middle of the day? I’ll take it!
Gregor: Was that in the Old Gym? Tell people what that was like.
Del: The Old Gym was a weathered, brick building that had always had an acoustic backdrop of squeaking sneakers. Hard surfaces everywhere. We clattered down a cement-floor locker room where a dark-hair, heavy-bearded man was seated at a table with a checklist and stacks of gym shorts and tee shirts.
Gregor: That would be Coach Zimino.
Del: Yeah. He blows this incredibly loud whistle and shouts “OK, quiet! Listen up ladies. Today you get your locker assignments, shorts and tee shirts. Tomorrow, bring your sneakers. Today we’ll run in street shoes. Line-up and shut-up!” After a summer at the beach with no rules other than the tides, this was completely disorienting.
Gregor: Coach Zimino was a real piece of work. Calling us “ladies” was his trademark.
Del: We changed and went out to the wooden track. You remember?
Gregor: I do. It was the outdoor banked oval. There were some red flags that marked rotten boards that had to be avoided. They tore it down a few years later, but as a little kid, getting to run on it was beyond cool. That’s where the varsity trained.
Del: We got divided into six teams and ran a relay race, each kid ran a full lap.
Gregor: Coach Z. would switch things around after each race. He’d take the fast guys from the winning teams and put them on the slowest. Nobody wanted Wally Ricci on their team.
Del: Coach blows his whistle and everyone races back to the locker room. Some kids took showers. No way I was going to do that. There was one kid who already had pubic hair! I hadn’t seen that or, frankly, given it much thought.
Gregor: McGowan was the first one to sprout. For some reason his hormones kicked in about a year before everyone elses.
Del: McGowan … he was a big deal in sixth grade. By the time we graduated, however, he was just another nobody.
Gregor: I haven’t thought about McGowan in fifty years.
Del: It was completely disorienting for me … squeaking sneakers, snapping towels, the showers, Coach Z. blowing his whistle and hustling us along. I’m getting dressed and about ready to go back to class when I realize I don’t know how to tie my tie. My mom tied it that morning and I hadn’t paid attention.
Gregor: You were to busy ranting about dipshits.
Del: I panicked, froze. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I pooped my pants in front of the entire class. Meanwhile, the coach is yelling “Hurry up, ladies!” Everyone’s running out the door back to class. And I’m paralyzed. You were the only one to notice.
Gregor: You weren’t the first new boy to have a tie problem.
Del: You took the tie, put it around your neck, tied a four-in-hand knot in about five seconds, loosened it so that you could slip it over your head, and handed it back, saying “You don’t have to untie it.” Then you ran off with the other kids.
Gregor: I have absolutely zero memory of that.
Del: And I remember it as if it were yesterday.
Gregor: Let’s take a quick break. This is the Old Rockers Podcast, the stories and tunes behind the musical journey of Grendel. Del … have you ever been on a cruise?
Del: Yes.
Gregor: Did you like it?
Del: No! I hated every minute of it.
Gregor: Hated it? And why’s that?
Del: The cruise ship nickel and dimed us on everything. They advertised this low price and it turns out that’s for an interior stateroom that is like the Black Hole of Calcutta. There were days when we saw nothing but water. When we did stop at a port it was only for a few hours They served up mediocrity, but lots of it. Ever go to one of those all-you-can-eat midnight buffets?
Gregor (interrupts melodically): I hear you, man. On Nordic River Cruises, every room comes with a view.
Del (continuing rant): You want a glass of wine? That’s extra. You want to check your email? That’s extra …
Gregor: Not on Nordic River Cruises! Every meal comes with complimentary beer and wine, and there’s never a charge for WiFi.
Del: You have to get dressed up for dinner to be seated at a table with bible-thumpers and a schlocky artist whose half-assed paintings just happen to be on sale in the gallery …
Gregor: No art sales, no jewelry sales, no casinos, and no formal “dinners with the captain” on Nordic River Cruises. No endless days at sea, no seasickness, no all-you-can-eat midnight buffets of the most mediocre food ever, just non-stop comfort winding along Europe’s most pictuesque waterways. Simple luxury, simply unforgettable.
Del: You know what? I’m going to try one of those Nordic River Cruises, and you can come with us! Join Gregor and I on a special Old Rockers cruise of the Danube this coming August as we cruise from Budapest to Odessa, joined by the Monkees tribute band The Great Apes. Are we going to join them onstage, Gregor?
Gregor: Call me a Daydream Believer, but there are always a surprises on a Nordic River Cruise. But good surprises.
Del: Just remember to play loud, play fast, and (both) GET THE HELL OFF THE STAGE!
Gregor: We’ve got a very special guest today. So special that we’ve kept it as a surprise for you.
Del: Who is it?
Gregor: You’re going to love this … the perfect guest to kick off our series
Del: Who is it?
Gregor: … someone who really knows the story of Grendel …
Del: Quit teasing me! Who the fuck is it?
Gregor: Your Mom.
Del: Trudy?
Gregor: Coming to us live from Venice Beach, Florida.
Del: (imitating Cary Grant) Trudy! Trudy! Trudy!
Gregor: (singing Hey Jude) Trudy-Trudy, TrudyTrudyTrudyTrudy!
It is a telephone interview, via Zoom. Trudy Blanchard, formerly Watson, appears on a monitor, She wears large sunglasses and a bandana. She is 87 years old, but is trim, alert, and clearly cares about her appearance.
Del (subdued): Hi Mom.
Trudy: Hello, Wendell! How they hangin’?
Del: Trudy, it’s really annoying when you try to appear much younger than you are.
Trudy: You’re as young as you feel.
Gregor: Hi Trudy. I think you’re looking great. What’s happening in Venice Beach these day?
Trudy: It’s just day after shitty day in this boring paradise. I drink my coffee while looking out at the canal where the Great Blue Heron is fishing and the mullet are jumping and the pelicans are flying in formation. At 10 our walking group meets on the beach, and we start looking for shark’s teeth.
Del: What’s the count up to now?
Trudy: Last time I counted it was 823, and I found a few more recently. After lunch we continue the world’s longest running Mah Jong tournament. Then, after a late afternoon break it’s time for cocktails and the early bird dinner. In the evening we watch a lot of old movies. What’s it like in Vermont today?
Del: It’s beyond miserable. There’s something falling from the sky that we call UFC, which stands for Unidentifiable Frozen Crud. It’s somewhere between rain, sleet, and snow, and this is March! We’re supposed to be seeing daffodils.
Trudy: Oh dear. Our daffodils have already gone by. Wouldn’t you rather be poking through the sand, looking for shark’s teeth?
Gregor: Enough of the mindless banter. Trudy, today you are the guest star on the podcast of two legendary old rockers. Let me start off with a question. Why did you let us call you “Trudy” when everything else about life back then seemed so uptight and formal? I couldn’t imagine calling my parents by their first names.
Trudy: As I remember your parents were real rods-up-the-ass people. I guess it’s because I really wanted to be a kid much more than I wanted to be a grown-up. Don’t forget. I was only 17 when I had Wendell, and I had to do a lot of growing up in a very short time. Wendell’s father was never a factor, and my parents helped as much as they could. They didn’t have a lot of extra money, but they were very generous when it came to sharing their house on Succotash Road in Jerusalem. I planted Wendell there every summer, and that provided some continuity and security in his life, something I couldn’t do. For me it was always paycheck to paycheck.
Gregor: How did the job at Obediah Brown come about?
Trudy: Complete happenstance. I was working at a temp agency. My secretarial skills were good and my people skills were good. I came to the school to fill in for a gal on pregnancy leave, and while I was there a full-time opening came up in the alumni affairs and development office. I applied for it and got it. I didn’t even know that free tuition at the school was one of the benefits. But that Obediah Brown was a life changer for Wendell.
Gregor: What got Del started on the guitar?
Trudy: I’m really fuzzy on that one. One year he came back from the beach and could play the guitar. I think he was around 14 or 15.
Del: It was your Dad, BopBop, who got me started. I was 14, and still hanging around with same group of kids, but things had changed. Hormones had kicked in, so guys were more interested in things like bodybuilding, poker, and cars, and cigarettes. Some kids had summer jobs. Plus, they all went to high school together, while I went to this snooty boys’ school, so different relationships had developed. The magic of the Lost Boys was gone.
For the first time ever in the summer, I had a lot of time on my hands. BopBop had a nylon-stringed guitar, and he started teaching me some chords and scales. He also told me that women went wild for guitarists, and that was vaguely of interest. “It worked for Elvis. So, I played the guitar a lot, At the end of the summer he bought me that red Stella guitar. It was used and cost $15.
Gregor: That’s the guitar you had when we first played together.
Trudy: How did you get started, Gregor?
Gregor: It was all my older sister, Debbie. She was 17 and kind of into that bohemian, beatnik thing. Remember Maynard G. Krebs on The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis? She was into folk music, and the Newport Folk Festival was becoming a thing. She had her driver’s license, but my folks were very reluctant to let her go, but they finally agreed on the condition that she bring me along, kind of as an escort, but also as a reminder to be responsible. All day long there were these informal workshops and performances with Delta bluesmen and the up-and-coming young folkies. Pete Seeger was the unofficial king, but Joan Baez was the princess and Bob Dylan her anointed prince. You’d see these performers just wandering the grounds. They weren’t like the pop stars you’d see on Bandstand. They didn’t have slicked back hair and fancy clothes. They looked pretty much like the rest of us.
It didn’t take me long to get hooked. Pretty soon I was pilfering my sister’s record collection and whining about getting a guitar. My parents, being my parents, immediately bought me a Gibson and lined me up with lessons. I hated the teacher, but he showed me a lot of the basics, and it wasn’t hard to learn the folk songs like Michael Row Your Boat Ashore that were becoming popular.
Trudy: All I know is that one day Gregor’s showing up at our apartment with his guitar, which was fine with me.
Gregor: There’s a backstory here.
Del: Yeah, Gregor and I were always friendly, but we weren’t really what you’d call “friends.” He was in all the honors classes, while I was with the mere mortals. Plus, he was a big shot on the football and basketball teams, while I ran track, mostly so that I could hide. The only place we overlapped was on the baseball field.
Gregor: I was a pitcher and Del was the catcher. During a game I got a little wild and walked a few guys. The Coach yells at Del to go out to the mound to calm me down, but he comes out and says “I hear you play the guitar,” I say “Yeah, I fool around some,” and he says “You wanna get together sometime?” and I say, “Yeah.”
Del: And that, ladies and gentlemen, was a pivotable moment in rock and roll history!
Gregor: And let the record show that I struck out the next three batters in a row!
Trudy: All I know is that it didn’t take long for you guys to start sounding pretty good, and I loved you guys being at the apartment. It was joyful noise.
Gregor: That’s lucky, because it didn’t work at all at my house. I had ditched my guitar teacher, because he was pushing me towards jazz. My dad didn’t like the music we were playing, and mom was always asking us to play some schlocky Perry Como song. Before long I just left my guitar at your place.
Trudy: I remember the first time you played in public at the Tete a Tete coffee house.
Del: Do you remember what we wore?
Gregor: Oh gawd … I do.
Del: We wore black turtlenecks … with neckties! And we folded the turtleneck over the tie. We were so cool.
Gregor: Remember what we played?
Del: Not sure that I do, but I guarantee it only used the chords C-Am-F-G.
Gregor: We played a Kingston Trio tune called Take Her Out of Pity. Have you listened to that song lately?
Del: Not for the last 50 years or so.
Gregor: I listened to it on YouTube the other day, and you’d get crucified if you sang a song with lyrics like that today.
Del: Dirty?
Gregor: No, so sexist and patriarchal and exploitive, and about a dozen other things that are now considered offensive. The other thing I notice is that the Kingston Trio claim author credit for what is clearly a traditional tavern song.
Del: Probably still collecting publishing royalties on that bit of thievery.
Gregor: Couldn’t get away with that today. Things change.
Del: Change is the only constant in life.
Trudy: And as you boys wax philosophical, I am reminded that there is beach with sharks’ teeth with my name on it.
Gregor: One more thing, there was a snafu at our high school graduation. Do you remember that?
Trudy: Oh yes …
Gregor: Care to tell us a little more about that.
Trudy: Actually, I wasn’t there.
Del: Unfortunately, I was. Where were you, by the way?
Trudy: I was on a date.
Del: And the date was more important to you than your son’s high school graduation?
Trudy: Truthfully, yes. You seemed to be in a good place–graduating from a good school, in a band, good friends like Gregor, heading off to college in the fall. My life had been a struggle since I was seventeen and became pregnant with you. I worked full-time, had no social life, no support, and pretty soon I wouldn’t even have you.
Del: So where were you, on the date, that is.
Trudy: Lincoln Downs.
Del: The race track?
Gregor: Back to the graduation. Do you remember what happened?
Trudy: Yes, Wendell got his diploma, so he thought, but when he opened it to take a look, it was blank with a note to see the principal. It seems that even though Wendell had a full scholarship, there was an unpaid bill for supplies, sports equipment, field trips, etc. And I had let this slide for a long time. I was always juggling expenses and robbing Peter to pay Paul, and I figured that since I was an employee of the school that this wouldn’t be an issue.
Del: But this time Paul wanted his dough.
Trudy: Yup, but luckily Gregor’s Dad saved the day, by quietly ponying up the money. I always intended to repay it, but by the time I finally could afford it, he said he had already been paid. He not only saved the day for Wendell, but he probably saved my job as well.
Gregor: My dad always liked Del. And he liked you, too, but that’s another story. We’ll let you get back to the beach, Trudy. Thanks for sharing all the memories. (Trudy signs off.)
Del: What’s the ‘other story’?
Gregor: Your mom was a really attractive lady. I think that’s the development office hired her to go out to lunch with these old alums. She’d flirt with them, and pretty soon they’d be breaking out the checkbook. I remember my folks talking about your mom. My mom called her “the tart from the development office.” She was not happy that my dad bailed out your mom.
Del: You don’t want to know what Trudy called her. Hey … Do you remember the one time we almost got into a fight.
Gregor: Fight? No way.
Del: Yeah, you made a comment about my mom having a “great set of knockers.”
Gregor: Well … if it looks like a duck, and walks like a duck and quacks … ?
Del: Yes, she did have a great set of knockers, but I didn’t want to hear it from my best friend.
Gregor: Ok, I won’t talk about her knockers, but she’s still a very attractive lady. Who was the washed up rock star who said “The best thing about getting older is that the young babes look just as good, but the old ones just keep looking better.”
Del: “Amen, brother. Just don’t be talking about my mom’s knockers.
Reference:
Episode 2– The Legend of Billy Cranston
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 (interrupting, much higher energy) … where 60 years of male friendship are held together by the connective tissue of music, as two old guys dredge up stories from their misspent youth.
Gregor: Why are you so hard on us?
Del: Because there are so many others who worked harder than we did, had more talent, and are more deserving of the fame and fortune than was handed to us.
Gregor: Who ever told you that life was fair? This is about much more than music and merit. This is about time and nature and art and love …
Del: I thought it was about two guys who once played in an obscure band called Grendel. I’m your host Del Watson.
Gregor: It’s about their journey… and I’m Gregor Brewster and (together) … together we are Grendel. Do you remember where you were on February 9, 1964?
Del: Why would I remember that?
Gregor: Maybe this will help … (sings from All My Loving) Close your eyes, and I’ll kiss you.
Del: Ah yes, a Sunday night. The Beatles on Ed Sullivan. Sundays were always a big TV night for Trudy. We’d watch, was it Get Smart? … or maybe Car 54, Where are you? One of those.
Greg: Then, afterwards, it was always Boom-bada-boom-bada-bada, Bonanza!
Del: Hoss, Adam, and Little Joe. I remember seeing you in the school hallway the next morning after The Beatles and we said, almost at the same time, “We’re starting a band.” But that was a little easier said than done.
Greggor: For starters, there were only two of us. And we played folk songs on acoustic guitars.
Del: Even more importantly … what’s the first thing you do when you start a band? You’ve got to come up with a name. Initially we were going to be The Uniks, but then someone told us what the meaning of that was. Then there was Lug Nuts.
Gregor: Yeah, we had a logo that turned out to be some kind of Nazi war symbol. Then we came up with Fourplay, even though at that point we were Twoplay. Finally, we settled on The Usurpers.
Del: Neither of us knew what it meant, but we thought it sounded cool. Now, all we needed was a drummer, a bass guitar, and someone who could sing. We played a little with a guy a year behind us … what was his name?
Gregor: Rosenthal. Artie Rosenthal.
Del: He was terrible, but he had a nice drum set and a big rec room, and parents who didn’t object to noise. After about two practices Gregor and I decided to move on from him, but then his parents hired someone to paint “The Usurpers” on his bass drum.
Gregor: It looked great, but the kid was hopeless. So, we kicked him out of the group. At least you and I thought we kicked him out. Rosenthal became a lawyer and he lived in Providence, so I’d run into him every now and again, and he swears that we never said anything to him. The next thing he knew we were in another band, and he was stuck with “The Usurpers” on his drum set. Said he never played after that.
Del: Little chickenshits! We went back to being a twosome and tried writing some songs together. Remember You’re Going to Miss Me When I’m Gone?
Gregor: It should have been called You’re Going to Forget Me Before I Go!
Del: Your dad even drew up legal papers for us to split all songwriting credit and royalties equally, just like Lennon/McCartney.
Gregor: Trudy came up with “Grendel” as a mash-up of Gregor and Wendell. All we needed now was … the rest of a band.
Del: A kid in our class, Robert Moran was a day student who lived in Cranston, said there were some guys in his neighborhood who were also trying to start a band.
Gregor: He always wanted to be called “Robert” because someone in the hallway or locker room would start singing (sings, Del joins in) Bob, bob, bob, bob moran …(repeats) Bob Moran, oh take my hand, you’ve got rockin’ and a-rollin’ stompin and a screaming, Bob Moran. (they laugh in finishing).
Del: Yet another footnote in the history of rock and roll. Anyway Bob talked to these guys. They all went to Cranston East High School, and they said they were willing to meet us. So we went. There were four of them. Joey was their drummer. He was really good and had started the band. They had Ollie on bass.
Gregor: He was horrible. Funny-looking and the rhythm of a coughing spasm. Billy on guitar. He didn’t play that well, but he was good-looking and had a great voice. And Geoff who played, get this, accordion.
Del: The first thing he played was (sings) Lady of Spain I adore you, pull down your pants I’ll explore you. I borrowed that line years later when I wrote (sings) Oh Gloria, is there more of ya, to explor-i-a.
Gregor: Well, this has been a nice trip down memory lane, but we have to remember that we have a guest today, and he’s patiently waiting for us.
Del: Coming to you live from San Miguel de Allende, Mexico … the one, the only, the Man, the legend … Billy Cranston. Hola, buenos dias, amigo.
Billy is the same vintage as Gregor and Del, but has an impressively droopy white mustache. He is wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. He speaks in a low melodic voice.
Billy: More correctly “Buenas tardes,” since it’s afternoon. How’re you boys doin’?
Gregor: We’re in a studio in Vermont, I’m guessing it’s about sixty degrees colder here than there. It’s good to see you, man. You’re looking good.
Billy: Good to see you, too, but I can’t really say you’re looking good. Del, you look like someone dragged you behind a Jeep for the last forty years. (laughs, so do Gregor and Del)
Del: Ouch! I see time hasn’t mellowed you. How are you getting along with the senoritas down there.
Billy: There’s no shortage of widows and divorcees down here. They all have two things in common. They have lots of money and they most definitely don’t want to get involved with a musician, not seriously anyway. The good news side of that is that they don’t mind at all getting unseriously involved with a gi-tar player and they usually pick-up the check.
Gregor: I can see why you like it down there. You gigging much?
Billy: I’ve got two regular gigs at restaurants that keep me in margaritas and cerveza and we have an informal group of old rockers that meets at El Centro de la ciudad.
Gregor: What’s that?
Billy: City center. There’s a beautiful plaza there with shade and benches. Not surprisingly, a number of decent musicians have drifted into SMA, so there are plenty of people who just like to jam. You guys would fit right in.
Del: Sounds like my kind of scene. Gregor and I were just reminiscing about the first time we met. Give us your take on the earliest days.
Billy: It was in Joey’s garage. His parents let him keep his drums set up there. We didn’t know what to expect with you guys. Robert Moran set up the meeting, and he wasn’t the coolest guy around, so we were expecting a couple of dorks. In that sense, you didn’t disappoint us.
Gregor: (laughs) Hey … did you always call him “Robert?”
Billy: (smiles slowly, then sings) Bob-bob-bob-bob-bob Moran. (everyone joins in for several seconds)
Del: Bob Moran … whatever happened to him?
Billy: Murdered. In a parking garage. About ten years after high school. Somewhere in New York City, I think.
Del: Holy shit! New York was a nasty place in the 70s. Sounds like a story I don’t want to hear. Do you remember the first song we played?
Billy: (sings a guitar riff) …
Del: I know the song was I’ve Had It but I don’t remember who did it.
Billy: I’ll ask my phone.
Gregor: Cell phones work in Mexico?
Billy: Americans are so ignorant about Mexico. Their history is much richer and more complex. The United States looks like a giant strip mall by comparison. The Bell Notes.
Gregor: The immortal Bell Notes. So, if we were such dorks, why did you let us in the band?
Billy: Joey and I really wanted to be in a real band. We tried to get Geoff to ditch the accordion and get one of those electric keyboards like Mike Smith in the Dave Clark Five had, but he wouldn’t do it. Geoff was good, but in a church organist kind of way. He was really not a rocker at heart. And Ollie? There just wasn’t a word to describe him other than disaster. After a few practices Joey and I decided to throw our lots in with you two.
Del: The problem was … now we had a line-up that was a drummer and three guitarists. Tell folks how we solved that situation.
Billy: We handled it (pauses) the manly way.
Del: Forthright, with compassion and sensitivity … the manly way.
Billy: Yes, the manly way. Joey told Ollie that he didn’t have to keep hauling his guitar and amp into and out of the garage. He could just leave it there. Then, the four of us got together and started playing. Gregor was the strongest on guitar so he was lead. I was the weakest, but I didn’t want the challenge of learning a new instrument.
Del: So I was nominated to play bass, something I wasn’t thrilled with, but that’s what worked best for the band.
Billy: We practiced without Ollie a few times. In true manly fashion no one talked to him directly. Eventually and inevitably, he heard about it from someone else. I think it was Robert Moran. He came to a practice and banged on the door for us to open up. But did we? No-o-o-o … we did the manly thing and snuck back into the house, left by the back door, and peeled out in Joey’s car.
Del: Not my proudest moment, but I remember the four of us laughing hysterically at the time.
Billy: Eventually he calmed down, then Del rubbed salt in the wound by offering to buy his bass and amp for about a quarter of what he had paid for it.
Del: And he took it! Said musicians were sissies and he didn’t want to be one.
Gregor: “Cowards” or “chickenshits” would also have been appropriate word choices. And what became of Ollie?
Billy: He’s dead, too. Motorcycle crash. The story was that he drove a bike about as well as he played the bass.
Gregor: Remind me not to ask you about any other common acquaintances. Stick around. We’ve got to sell something then we can reboot our conversation. If you’re just joining us our guest today is Billy Cranston, one of the original members of Grendel and a recent electee to the Rhode Island Music Hall of Fame.
Del: Congratulations on that, Brother. Richly deserved.
Billy: Muchas gracias mes amigos.
Del: Support for this broadcast is provided for by Lester Martin Wealth Management, where we think about the future so you don’t have to. Gregor, back when we started Grendel, did you ever think that we would wind up being shills for a giant financial institution?
Gregor: I sure did. Clearly remember when I was trying to figure out how the hell the lead guitarist for the Kinks got his guitar to sound like that on You Really Got Me? I knew right then that some day you and I would be advising retirees on how to manage their financial assets. How about you?
Del: Damn straight! I think it was during those years when I was living off-the-grid on the commune in the Emerald Triangle in the 70s when I said to myself “Wendell” (I use my full name when I’m having a serious discussion with myself) … “Some day you’ll be too old to be banging nails and selling weed to make ends meet. You should set yourself up with an outfit like Lester Martin Wealth Management to make sure you are provided for in your dotage. It’s not to early to start planning for your future with a certified CFP.
Gregor: And a CFP is …?
Del: A Certified Financial Planner, you dope. And you know why you should work with a certified CFP? Because a CFP is a fiduciary. You know what a fiduciary is?
Gregor: I’m a lawyer, remember? Of course I do.
Del: Well, I didn’t have a clue so I’m going to tell you what I learned. A fiduciary is paid to act in your best interests. They’re not like brokers looking to sell you a product that earns them the highest commission. Those people are just used car salesmen wearing ties.
Gregor: … and driving BMWs. What kind of car do you want your fiduciary to drive?
Del: They can drive BMWs, but at least I know that they earned their money by doing what is best for me, not by by hoodwinking me into investing the latest shiny spoon that makes them the most money.
Gregor: The CFPs at Lester Martin are trained listening specialists. They don’t talk at you, they listen to understand what you want for your financial future, and they will develop a plan for getting there. They think about your financial future so that you can think about how Dave Davies got his guitar to sound like that on the instrumental in You Really Got Me. Let’s get back to our show.
Del: Our guest today is Billy Cranston, one of the original members of Grendel, the band that took Rhode Island by storm in the late 1960s. Billy joins us live via the miracle of modern technology from San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.
Billy: You know I’ve got a CFP fiduciary from Lester Martin.
Del: You’re joking … Really?
Billy: We’ve got a close, personal relationship? I call him “Douche” for short.
Del: Walked right into that one, didn’t I?
Billy: He asked me to make a list of my assets, so I gave him a list that said “30 jars of coins and a stack of one dollar bills about an inch high.
Del: (laughing) What do estimate as the total?
Billy: Gotta be in the triple digits!
Del: A triple-digit man! You forgot to include the guitars.
Billy: Got plenty of those, but I need to keep ‘em all.
Gregor: Sorry to interrupt the playful banter, gentleman, but we’ve got a story to tell. Billy, you’ve told about the origins of Grendel? Did we really take Rhode Island “by storm.”
Billy: Whoever said that is an extremely poor judge of weather. Luckily we were early to the band scene so we got a lot of college gigs right away. It was all cover stuff, most of it British Invasion, but also American R&B. We’d play Louie, Louie two or three times a night. If we ran short of material we’d play What’d I Say which we could stretch out to 10-15 minutes. Mostly we played fraternities, which was fortunate, because it meant the crowd was half drunk by the time we arrived and fully drunk by the end of the first set.
Del: As long as you played loud and fast, you were all right.
Gregor: We were lucky not to be electrocuted there was so much spilled beer on the floor by the time we were packing up the equipment.
Billy: As people started realizing that The Beatles were writing their own material, we thought we should do the same. Then you guys came up with No Remorse.
Gregor: Hold on. I know my name is on the record, but that one was 1000% Del.
Del: Why are you so dismissive? People thought it was pretty good.
Gregor: If, by “pretty good” you mean “derivative” and “moronic,” then I agree.
Billy: Hey, it’s rock and roll. It’s all about stealing.
Del: Billy, you might not have heard this, but after we’ve been playing No Remorse in the band for a couple of months, Gregor takes me aside … all serious and grown-up … and tells me that I’ve got to “stay within my experience” when writing original material. That’s why I came up with I Think I’m in Love next. (Billy starts laughing.)
Gregor: And I refused to play a song about masturbation. Still do.
Billy: (Still laughing) No one would have cared! The acoustics we so bad that nobody could understand the words to anything we played anyway. The Stones sang about girls having their periods and all kinds of things like that. I still think we should have played it. Song was hilarious.
Gregor: You can get away with suggestive, over-the-top material if you do it tastefully. That’s what I tried to do with Casserole Blues.
Billy: I’m gonna cream your spinach right between your legs? That’s tasteful?
Gregor: All right! All right! Point taken. How did the whole “Cranston” thing come about.
Billy: Joey and I lived in Cranston, and went to Cranston East High. In the early days of Grendel, you and Del had the habit of referring to us a “the Cranston boys” so we, mockingly, started referring to himself in the same way. Then, Joey started calling himself Joey Cranston and I became Billy Cranston.
Del: Kind of a Ramones thing.
Billy: Yeah, but years before the Ramones became a thing.
Del: Do you think they copied you?
Billy: It’s flattering to think so, but I doubt they ever heard of us. Then, after Del dropped his bombshell and Gregor went off to college, Joey and I were left holding our dicks, so to speak. We found another guitarist and a bass player, both from Cranston, so we called the group Cranston, not The Cranstons, but just Cranston.
Del: Like the band Boston?
Billy: Yeah, but years before Boston. Cranston, the band, lasted over ten years, but then the other guys all decided to get real jobs, but Joey and I kept performing as an acoustic duo. We toyed around with some new names, but everyone kept referring to us as “the guys from Cranston,” so we figured why fight it? We kept it going for another twenty years. In addition to some regular gigs at clubs and restaurants, we did birthday parties, weddings, bar mitzvahs, and Gregor even hired us to play at a bunch of political rallies when he was going to be governor.
Gregor: I hesitate to ask … is Joey still with us?
Billy: (laughs) Right after we both turned 50 Joey started saying “I’m too old for this shit” and he applied for disability with Social Security, claiming he couldn’t work any more because he was suffering from carpal tunnel syndrome. It never interfered with him playing gigs, but he kept saying “As soon as a I get my first check, I’m outta here. And as soon as he got his first check, he was.
Gregor: Where is he?
Billy: The Philippines. Married a Filipino lady and tells me he is living in paradise. Wants me to come visit.
Gregor: Why don’t you?
Billy: I need my Lester Martin fiduciary to figure out a way to make that stack of one dollar bills turn into thousand dollar bills.
Del: I had a funny thing happen a few years ago. I was cleaning chimneys here in Vermont, and I tried to remember what your real last name is. It’ll come to me, I thought, but it didn’t. I had some kind of mental block. I vaguely remember it being Irish, so I kept try every Irish name I could think of. Billy McGill, Billy O’Reilly, Billy Donahue, Billy O’Rourck … this kept on for months! Then, I’m up on another rooftop and it suddenly came to me …
Billy: Jones. I’m William Jones.
Gregor: We have to wrap this sucker up. William Jones, Billy Cranston … thank you both for joining us and great to see you, but I do have one final question. You were there from the very beginning. You stuck with your musical dreams. You’re the professional. You’ve paid your dues. Does it bother you to see Del and I, through no merit of our own, getting so much recognition for doing nothing while you, and many others like you, have been fighting the good fight?
Billy: Meaning, am I jealous of all the attention and money you are getting? Am I resentful for you having something handed to you on a silver platter, while I have some jars of coins and three ex-wives? Do I hate your fucking guts and shake my fist at an unjust god?
Gregor: Exactly.
Billy: No, man, because in Rhode Island I’m more famous than either of you, here in San Miguel, too. And I can have my pick of any widower or divorcee in town, as long as she’s over 70.
Gregor: Ladies and gentlemen … Rhode Island Music Hall of Famer, Billy Cranston.
Reference:
Episode 3— The Data Bitch
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 (interrupting, much higher energy) … where two undeserving old guys find fame and fortune at a time in life when they least expected it. I’m your host Del Watson. I want to take a second to speak directly out there to all the dudes, and a few chicks, who are equally or more deserving of having this platform that we have. Am I speaking for you, too, Gregor?
Gregor: A hundred per cent. Why us? Why do we have this national, and even international platform, to talk about music and our generation. Why do we get to talk to actual rock stars and celebrities when so many, like us, were just bumbling along in life not so many months ago.
Del: Yeah, why do we get paid by companies that make adult diapers and eyedrops and erectile dysfunction supplements to pretend we like their products, while others who are equally deserving go entirely unrecognized. It’s not like we were more talented …
Gregor: Yeah, or that we worked harder …
Del: Or that we were more original …
Gregor: Or that we had bigger dicks … (both are silent)
Del: Moving right along … you know what I was thinking about today? How ironic it is that vinyl is now the state of the art for record releases.
Gregor: I KNOW! We go through reel-to-reel, 8-tracks, cassettes, VCR, Beta, CD, DVD … and now the prestige release for new bands is on vinyl.
Del: We’re back in the day of Thomas Edison.
Gregor: Uh … he was the light bulb guy. I think you mean Alexander Graham Bell.
Del: Yeah the “Come here, Mr. Watson” guy. I was told that Watson was a distant relative of mine.
Gregor: Actually we do have bigger dicks.
Del: Speak for yourself, this is irrelevant.
Gregor: No, it’s true. I’ve seen yours.
Del: When?
Gregor: In the locker room, back at Obediah Brown.
Del: You realize … as you speak, your credibility, especially as a lawyer and ex-almost governor of Rhode Island, is going straight down the drain, and our special guest today is probably looking for a hole to crawl into.
Gregor: Actually, not true. Aforementioned special guest instructed me to be completely sophomoric in today’s introduction.
Del: Why would she do that?
Gregor: Because that’s what the data says.
Del: What are you talking about? What data?
Gregor: The marketing data (pauses) … numbnut! I just added that to, you know, juve it up a little bit. Do you think that these companies that support this show do it, because they think we are cute or, god forbid, that we’re good musicians? Don’t be naive. They conduct focus groups and do surveys. You know whenever you do anything online and then it pops up with a screen asking if you mind answering a few more questions? It’s all harvesting data, your data. And your data is like a road map that tells these companies’s data nerds how to get into your wallet.
Del: I think you’ve lost it.
Gregor: Let me try it differently … remember when you were sweeping chimneys?
Del: Not so long ago, actually.
Gregor: What’s the first thing you’d do?
Del: Check that the woodstove was actually cold. You’d be surprised how many people expect you to clean their chimneys while their stove is red hot.
Gregor: Exactly! That’s data you’re collecting. What next?
Del: Look at the ash?
Gregor: Why?
Del: It tells me what they’re burning, are they running it too hot or not hot enough, whether or not the flue is likely to be filled with flyash or lined with creosote?
Gregor: Data, data, data. Now you get it? Data is the new gold, the new crypto, the new non-fungible whatever.
Del: Stop. My heads hurts. I clean chimneys. I play rock and roll. I write songs about stupid things. What more do you want from me?
Gregor: The data tells us there are many more like you out there, and the companies that use that data want to sell shit to the people who get off on your fart jokes.
Del: I just want to get on to our guest, Gwen.
Gregor: I bet you’d like to get on to her.
Del: Stop it. What corporate genius is supporting today’s podcast?
Gregor: Today’s episode of Old Rockers is made possible by Doubblesse, the Essence of what makes a day great.
Del: I’ve never heard of it.
Gregor: You do if you watch the evening news.
Del: Not if I can help it. There’s too much bad stuff going on in the world. There are wars all over the place, climate catastrophes, school shootings, migrants streaming across the border, and complete morons in Congress.
Gregor: And a lot of people agree with you, Brother, and on the other hand, life’s not so bad. When’s the last time you missed a meal?
Del: Hardly. I could stand to lose a few pounds.
Gregor: You and a few million others. When was the last time you were cold at night.
Del: That’s why I have two woodstoves.
Gregor: My point is, your personal needs are taken care of. It’s the rest of the world that keeps you in turmoil, and that’s where Doubblesse can really help out. Once in the morning can keep you right for the rest of the day.
Del: You know … I hear their jingle all the time (sings) “Duh-blesssssssss, Duh-blesssssss.” Very soothing. And I’ve seen their logo, which looks kindof like a sleeping dollar sign …
Gregor: Yeah, that’s the “double-S” …
Del: But I still don’t know what the product is, or what the double-S stands for. Super Star? Summer Sizzlers? Sunday Savings?
Gregor: Stool Softener. You didn’t know that?
Del: (changing vocal to a pitchman) Doublesse, the essence of what makes a day great and proud sponsor of the Old Rockers podcast.
Gregor: We’re a bit out of sequence on Old Rockers. We’ve been telling the story of Grendel in chronological sequence, but today we’re going to flash forward to– not the ending, but to the present.
Del: This will help the listeners get a sneak preview into how Gregor and I went from being obscure old rockers to famous old rockers without doing anything. I’m proud to welcome our agent and friend, Gwen Saperstein.
(Saperstein appears on the monitor. She wears a business suit that is well-tailored. Her hair is sensibly short, blond but not-naturally so. She’s an attractive package.)
Hello, Gwen! I’d say you are looking great, but I’m not sure you’re allowed to say that these days.
Gwen: You can get away with “great” with me, but with everyone else it’s best just to dummy up. How are you boys?
Del: I feel great. I had the poop of the century this morning because I doubled up on my Doublesse.
Gregor: Just ignore him, Gwen. I want to dial back a few years ago when you first heard about us. Let me set the stage. After our meteoric beginning as pseudo-Beatles in mid-60s Providence, Del and I went our separate ways for many years. Decades, in fact.
Del: Although we always remained connected by the thinnest, yet strongest, musical strands.
Gregor: But eventually, we did find each other and actually started making some music again. Eventually, due to the intervention of an angel …
Del: An angel with pink hair who called himself Drama Dude …
Gregor: Thank you, Del. Due to the intervention of Drama Dude, our story was woven into a story that was staged at the Trinity Square Playhouse in Providence. Let me pass it over to you, Gwen.
Gwen: I was visiting my sister, who lives in Providence, who got tickets to a performance of the show, “Old Rockers” that she said was causing a pretty stir locally. So I went to see the show …
Del: And the rest is history. Blown away as she was by the charm of the lead characters and beguiled by their original music, she immediately saw their names in lights …
Gwen: (interrupting) Down, Rocky, easy boy, take a deep breath. I will admit, I enjoyed the show, it was fun. But I was taken even more by the audience reaction. There might be something here, I thought, so the next morning I put my team on it.
Del: … and then the rest is history.
Gwen: Slow down.
Gregor & Del: (sing) “baby, now you’re moving way too fast.” Gregor: Beatles song. Del: but not a Lennon McCartney tune. You were saying?
Gwen: The more we researched and the more we looked at the data, the more we realized we were seeing what is called a “population backwater.” What that is, in terms of a stream, when the main current flows by a rock or log, there is often a calm eddy that is left behind. In terms of data management these eddies or backwaters can be very valuable, because they represent underserved markets. If these markets can be defined and reached, they can be gold mines, especially if there is an “unfair advantage” involved.
Gregor: And, an unfair advantage is … ?
Gwen: An unfair advantage is something that you have that your competition is powerless to compete against. As a marketer that’s what I want to focus on and exploit the hell out of. That’s what builds a brand, and that’s what we’ve done with you.
Del: Back up a little bit … so you came to see the Old Rockers show at Trinity Square. Did you see an “unfair advantage” then?
Gwen: Absolutely I did, but an unfair advantage is worth nothing if there’s no market potential. That’s why the first thing I did the next morning was to call the office to do a data workup on the potential market. Everything at this point is data driven.
Gregor: And what you found was …?
Gwen: There are scads of you– old, mostly white guys, sitting on their asses, with control of billions of dollars in assets, with very little to spend it on. Their lives are, almost literally, on remote control, and they have nothing better than to do than to reflect on their glorious pasts as young warriors.
Del: Gwen, I’m so flattered that you consider us as representative of this glorious group. What did I hear .. old, fat, white.
Gwen: I didn’t say “fat,” but I could have. One of the potential sponsors that we’re pitching for your podcast is Ozmotic©, the weight control drug that everyone’s taking these days.
Gregor: You still haven’t told us our “unfair advantage.”
Del: Wait! Don’t. I’m keen to guess. I will start on ruling out our good looks or our oversized genitalia.
Gwen: You can rule out your juvenile humor, too.
Gregor: It’s got to be our music. Just by definition, we’re the only ones who could have written those songs. A song like “Casserole Blues” has unfair advantage written all over it.
Del: Yeah … “Pamela & Johnny”. Gotta be our music.
Gwen: Partially, it’s the music. The truth is there are literally hundreds of thousands of musicians out there who are talented as you two, and each one of those guys has written a bunch of songs, maybe not those exact songs, but not so very different. Let’s be honest, fellows. You could listen to Spotify for many months and hear a lot of music that is as good as yours.
Del: Gwen, its uplifting talking to you. Couldn’t you toss us a bone and tell us our animal magnetism is at least part of it.
Gwen (starts laughing, becomes almost uncontrollable)
Gregor: I guess we can cross “animal magnetism” off the list.
Gwen: (getting herself composed) I’m sorry. You guys know I love you, professionally anyway, but I think it’s a riot how guys … not just you, but guys everywhere think that women are turned on by some overwhelming musk or visual stimulation. You are both nice, but the idea that I would be sexually attracted to you is … frankly … creepy.
Del: Creepy! Ouch.
Gregor: You know the French have a formula for determining “creepiness.”
Gwen: Is this true or just something you assume is true because you read it on the Internet.
Gregor: No, it’s true. To determine whether one partner is too old for the other, you take half the older partner’s age, divide it in half, and add seven. Using this criteria you fall easily within Del’s and my realm of possibilty.
Gwen: Using this formula I could be dating someone who’s only … (pauses to do mental calculation) … hm-m-m … interesting.
Del: OK, we give up. What’s our “unfair advantage?”
Gwen: It’s your backstory. Just run the data points … folk music, been there … Beatles, been there … Vietnam, been there … back-to-the-land, been there. But, not only were you there, you were there in a unique way. Lots of people went back-to-the-land, but how many did it by committing pseudocide and living under an assumed identity of a dead soldier while supporting yourself selling marijuana? How many people achieved success in the political arena, only to turn their back on it on the brink of stardom? And how many people maintained a friendship based on the thin, connective strand of music. Data, data, data, and more data. You, my friends, came straight from central casting as the marketer’s dream.
Gregor: Data … I bet at your office they call you “The Data Queen.”
Gwen: No. At my office they call me “The Data Bitch.”
Del: So, there’s really nothing remarkable or exceptional about Gregor and I. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
Gwen: Yes. But to your credit, however, at least you didn’t fuck things up.
Del: Fuck things up how?
Gwen: Suppose you were on the sex offender registry? Or were convicted of a felony? Or spoke with a stutter, or were just plain ugly. Any of these things would prevent a national advertiser from being associated with you. That’s why we invited you to our headquarters in New York. It was really an audition to see if you could pass muster on being presentable.
Del: Hey Gregor … good job on not being ugly.
Gregor: You too, for not having a speech impairment.
Gwen: Give yourselves credit. A lot of people would have failed this litmus test.
Del: This hasn’t been the most uplifting podcast we’ve ever done.
Gwen: Are you kidding? Things have never looked better for the Old Rockers franchise. Jimmy Fallon wants to perform with the two of you. It’s a long shot, but we’re talking with Joe Rogan. Dion has asked you to blurb his upcoming memoir. The Ozmotic© thing could be huge. The future is bright for the Old Rockers. Just don’t screw everything up by croaking on me.
Reference
(intro)
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: Welcome to the Old Rockers podcast …
Del: Where a couple of old, white dudes try to recapture some of the magic of their squandered youths.
Gregor: I’m your host, Gregor Brewster, and I am joined by my partner in crime, the one and only Del Watson. That was quite an eye-opening interview we had last week with our agent, Gwen Saperstein. What were your takeaways?
Del: That it’s all about data, timing, and luck, and that talent has little to nothing to do with success.
Gregor: That’s fortunate, because neither of us are especially talented.
Del: But we do have an “unfair advantage.”
Gregor: To use a technical marketing term, we have unfair advantage up-the-gazunk. Who’s our guest today, Del?
Del: A very special guest will be joining us here in the studio today, none other than the beautiful, wise, all-knowing and all-talented Cassandra Brewster, your lovely wife.
Gregor: I’m surprised we’re all here today, given the shit-show that’s going on outside.
Del: What? 16 inches of wet snow on March 30th is nothing.
Gregor: I have news for you. In Rhode Island this will be just a little rain. And all our roads are paved, not quagmires. You’re living in a Third World country, my friend.
Del: And gratefully so. It keeps the creeps out.
Gregor: It keeps progress out, too. I read that the population of Vermont is the same today as in 1826.
Del: Progress is oversold. It does as much harm as good. Hey, I have a question for you … when was the moment or what was the event when pop music crossed over from being entertainment to being “art.”
Gregor: Good question Would you care to define the difference?
Del: I’m not really the right person to define it, but I’ll give it my best shot. Pop music is like a craft. It’s slick, it’s catchy, the themes are not very deep, but it’s pleasant and fun. Art, on the other hand, has all the important aspects of Pop, but more importantly, it has roots that connects it to other realms of the culture. It has all the craft, but it’s got something extra … something that speaks at a different level.
Gregor: That’s about the most profound things I’ve ever heard you say.
Del: I won’t let it happen again.
Gregor: You’ll blow your image.
Del: Let’s introduce our guest. Cassandra, are you up to joining this verbal witfest?
Cassandra: I’ll try my best to keep up.
(Cassandra is trim, white-haired, and delicately lined. She has made no attempt to artificially delay the passage of time, nor has she needed to. She radiates good health, good aura, and good spirit. She is beautiful.)
Gregor: I met this lady when she was 17 and recently returned from a year studying in Menton, France. I was 18, and already a rock ‘n roll star. It was at the Quinnaponsett Country Club. We were both there with out respective families. Cassandra, were you intimidated at meeting a rock star?
Del: (starts laughing hysterically) I remember you calling me the next morning. You could barely put together a coherent sentence. Finally I gathered that you met a girl and that she was going to meet us at Scarborough Beach the next day. Cassandra, he was a babbling idiot. Give your take on this fateful happenstance.
Cassandra: First of all, I’m not exactly sure it was entirely happenstance. I could never get anyone to admit to anything, but I think there was an element of parental manipulation. But I didn’t object. Gregor was good-looking and nice, a bit tongue-tied, however.
Del: Plus, he had some amazing friends.
Cassandra: I didn’t know that until the next day.
Del: Tell us about … what was it? Menton?
Cassandra: It’s a small town on the French Riviera, just over the border from Italy. My parents insisted that I do there for my junior year in high school. I didn’t want any part of it, but they weren’t to be denied. I was pretty miserable for the first semester. Then the weirdest thing happened to me. (silence)
Del: Cassandra, you realize that silence is the death of a podcast …
Cassandra: I GREW BOOBS! By the time it was time to come home, I was a completely transformed individual. I dressed French, I ate French, I even spoke English with a French accent. Gawd!… I was so pretentious.
Gregor: It worked on us.
Cassandra: I wanted to show everyone how grown-up and sophisticated I was. You should have seen my father the first time he saw me in a bikini.
Del: You looked pretty damn good in a bikini.
Cassandra: And reading Le Petit Prince aloud at the beach? How ridiculous was that?
Gregor: You seem to forget that we were pretty damn full of ourselves at that time, too, being in a band, writing songs, wooing you. It added up to a heady summer.
Cassandra: So much fun! It was so much fun, the three of us!
Del: I don’t know how you chose between us?
Cassandra: I didn’t! You chose, and you inflicted your choice on us!
Del: Now’s a great time for a short break to hear from our proud sponsor of the Old Rockers Podcast.
Gregor: Gee, I’d kind of like to hear your response to Cassandra! (More silence) Ohhhh-kayyyyyy … moving right along. Today’s podcast is supported by Size Matters, the Little Yellow Pill that’s full of big surprises. How’s your love life, Del?
Del: None of your damn business.
Gregor: Of course it’s none of my damn business, but your happiness is my damn business, and I know that robust, virile Old Rockers like you and I are happiest when the groupies are lining up at the stage door.
Del: Whoever wrote this ad copy should be shot.
Gregor: It gets worse … You know, you’re not getting any younger, and—let’s be honest, neither is she–
Cassandra (interrupts): Stop! Why are men such cliches?
Gregor: You realize, I hope, that we didn’t write this ad copy.
Del: We’re just paid zillions of dollars to read it. Supposedly, this is what appeals to the target audience.
Cassandra: Who is the target audience? Eighth graders??
Del: That sounds about right. I may seem all sophisticated and mature on the outside, but all men still have that horny eighth grader living inside.
Cassandra: And have you used this product?
Del: (casually) Oh yeh …
Cassandra: And how did it work?
Del: It didn’t turn me into the chest-thumping beast I was hoping for, but it seemed to help. Gregor, you received the same sample kit I did. Did you try it?
Gregor: (quietly) um-hmmmm.
Cassandra: What did you say?
Gregor: I said “um-hmm”
Cassandra: Is that “YES!?”
Gregor: I guess so.
Cassandra: (incredulous) You used this product without telling me?
Gregor: I didn’t want to say anything in case it didn’t work.
Cassandra: And did it work?
Gregor: Let’s just say there weren’t any complaints. Let’s take this conversation off-line.
Cassandra: You bet we will.
Del: Old Rockers is proudly supported by Size Matters, the little yellow pill that is full of big surprises.
Del: Back to our guest, Cassandra Brewster. You and Gregor have been married, what? 43 years?
Cassandra: Don’t try to change the subject. We had an unbelievably great summer, then, BOOM, one day you break it to us that you’re leaving. Leaving the band, leaving your friends, leaving the state. What was happening in your mind?
Del: Too much. Too much was happening in my mind. That’s the problem. It was everything all mushed together. I was humiliated.
Gregor: Humiliated? By whom.
Del: Plus … I was in love with you, Cassandra.
Gregor: Should I leave the room?
Cassandra: Of course you were. And I was in love with you, but only in love the way you can be when you’re sixteen.
Del: It wasn’t just you. It was Gregor …
Gregor: What’d I do?
Del: It was nothing either of you did. You were nothing but nice to me, which was part of the problem. It was your father, it was Obediah Brown, it was Trudy, it was college, it was the apartment, it was Gloria …
Cassandra: Who was Gloria?
Del: Long story for another time. You go through life and you maintain a certain image. Then something happens … or a bunch of things happen … and you don’t have that image any more. For me that image was as equal of Greg’s in the band, a friendly rival for the hand of the beautiful Cassandra, a musician … suddenly the wheels fell off of that bus.
Cassandra: I guess I see it to some extent now, with decades of hindsight and a lifetime of accumulated wisdom.
Gregor: I took it very personally. I interpreted everything as a rejection of me– a teammate, a bandmate, a songwriting partner, a friends.
Del: It never was a rejection of you. It was confronting the failure of me.
Cassandra: Well, look. We’ve all had years to reflect on this. Let’s move forward!
Gregor: Here, here!
Del: I second that emotion. How does the view look from here, some fifty-odd years in the future.
Cassandra: At this moment things look pretty damn sweet. It’s like you wrote in that rap “thingy” … “The kids are grown and doing fine, from here I see the finish line …” There were all those years when you were incommunicado that I could never have foreseen this situation. It’s not that this has been the storybook romance that it looks like on the surface.
Del: Hum a few more bars of that tune …
Cassandra: We broke up a million times during college.
Gregor: You had all those creepy boyfriends.
Cassandra: What about Anita?
Del: Who’s Anita?
Cassandra: Some little whore he became fascinated with in his Junior year.
Gregor: Cassandra! She was not a little whore!
Cassandra: OK, a big whore–
Gregor: That’s not fair of you …
Del: Now children …
Cassandra: She didn’t look so good when we looked her up on Facebook a while ago.
Gregor: So? She gained a few pounds … And what about Randolph What’s-his-face?
Cassandra: (snorts) That was nothing!
Gregor: Mardi Gras was … nothing?
Del: STOP! Is this something you really want to share with thousands of strangers.
Gregor: She started it!
Del: STOP! (breaking character) Hey, Shep, are we going to be able to edit this out?
(Sal “Shep” Shepard, also wearing headphones, is the podcast engineer): Sure, why don’t we break for five.
(back on set)
Del: You ready? You going to be able to do this?
Gregor: Yeah … that Anita thing still triggers me.
Del: (to Cassandra) How about you?
Cassandra: Yes, the adult Cassandra has re-entered the room. I bet ‘Sythia would never go off like that.
Del: (laughs) She’s pretty laid back, but the girl can have her moments. Actually, it was good for me to see your immature and bitchy side. I’ve gone through life thinking that you and Gregor were both perfect.
Gregor: Cassandra’s much better than perfect.
Del: OK, let’s go. Let’s pick it up from when I ask you how things look from here, fifty years later. Shep … all good? (Shep gives a thumbs-up.) Del: How does the view look from here, some fifty-odd years in the future.
Cassandra: Gregor … as you know all too well… is the world’s most loyal, most dutiful, bestest husband, friend, father, son …
Del (interrupts): In other words … Motherfucker is too good to be true!
Cassandra: Exactly, but being perfect takes its toll. Things catch up to you. There were years when Gregor was a lawyer at this father’s firm, running for public office, and trying to cope with three teenage adolescents when I was afraid he would implode, taking our marriage along with it. That music connection that the two of you maintained was a lifeline.
Gregor: And an inspiration. It saved my life when I chucked the politics, picked up the guitar, and hung out the shingle. I couldn’t have done that if I hadn’t seen you do it at 18. I may have been hurt and frustrated with you, but on the other hand, you were my hero.
Del: You never saw me at my worst.
Gregor: Even when the music thing backfired and you joined the Marines, at least you were doing something with your life, not just drifting with the current like I was.
Gregor: I was no one’s hero, especially not my own.
Cassandra: (changing into a more reflective mode) And now, seeing what’s happened with the whole Old Rockers phenomenon, it’s biblical in terms of its irony and sense of justification.
Gregor: Biblical?
Cassandra: “Biblical” with a small “b.”
Del: We’ve pretty much covered our personal summer of love, then it’s no secret that I shook everyone’s world by turning everything upside down. How did it affect you, personally?
Cassandra: I was shocked, like everyone else, but I wasn’t devastated like Gregor, Billy and Joey Cranston. They had to re-invent themselves … and they did. Gregor just had to go to school, lick his wounds and take a deep breath.
Gregor: As I remember, you barely missed a beat. You even started learning how to play the guitar!
Cassandra: I was 17 … I was just beginning my senior year in high school … I had boobs, and everyone was looking at me differently … I had a boy friend, a college boy, no less … I had a second boy friend off in New York to become a star. This is not the time in life to crawl into your shell.
Gregor: Watching you shine only made my dilemma worse. So did the letters from Del, which seemed like you were rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. Meanwhile I’m dragging my ass to Freshman lit and bringing my laundry home to Mom on the weekends
Del: Then I came home for the holidays.
Gregor: Yeah … in a Marine uniform!
Del: This was my meteoric trip to the bottom. The only one who knew I was coming was Cassandra.
Cassandra: I knew you were coming home for a few days … I didn’t know you had signed up for the Marines.
Del: Tell us what you remember.
Cassandra: You wrote a letter. You said things had not gone well in New York. Lou Reed told you to fuck yourself. And that was the highlight of your time in New York! You didn’t have anywhere to stay in Providence, because your Mom had married some guy you’d never even met, and had moved to Florida. You only had a few days. You wanted the visit to be a surprise. I talked to Gregor’s mom and dad, and they were glad to offer you a room.
Del: So much happened so quickly. Getting humiliated in New York, the draft letter, the talk with the recruitment officer who offered the choice of two years as cannon fodder versus three years in the nation’s elite fighting corps.
Gregor: I’m coaching Cassandra to do her very first open mike at the Tete a Tete, and who shows up in full regalia, requesting “Soldier Boy.” You could have knocked me over with a feather.
Del: Hit the “Pause” button, please. For the sake of our listeners, can we back up a step. Gregor?
Gregor: Here’s the Cliff Notes version. Two teenagers start playing music. The British Invasion happens. They form a band. Just as they are having a little success, one guy takes off on his own, supposedly to become a star.
Del: Guy fucks up royally, ends up a Marine. Goes to Vietnam and gets traumatized along with millions of other you men. Guy decides to drop out and disappear.
Gregor: Other guy spends years trying to reconnect. Finally does …
Cassandra: Stop! Right there! That’s the natural end-point of this story. Two guys reconcile, bridges are created, and everyone lives happily ever after, right? But that’s not what happens.
Del: What does happen?
Gregor: I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, but I either blame-it-on, or attribute-it-to Cassandra.
Cassandra: Me!! What did I do?
Gregor: You were the one who connected us to the Trinity Square Playhouse.
Cassandra: But what about Drama Dude? Without him there’s no Trinity Square! What about Gwen? Without her there’s no book, no play, no commercials, no … nothing.
Gregor: You’re still the lynch-pin …
Cassandra: You’re going to be the “lynchee” if you …
Del: Now kids … let’s calm down. We’re on the same team here. However, unlikely it was that recognition and commercial happened … it did. And you, Cassandra have witnessed the entire journey … the good, the bad …
Cassandra: … the tedious, the frustrating, the ridiculous …
Del: And, the absurd. As someone who’s seen it all, what does it say to you?
Cassandra: It says that most of us spend our lives chasing the wrong dreams and given the choice between talent and hard work, and good timing and luck, you should always go for the timing and luck. Beware of answered prayers.
Del: But, and here’s the hooker. You never get the choice.
Cassandra: That’s right. You don’t get to choose timing or luck.
Del: You do get to choose lovers, however, and you chose the wrong one.
Gregor: Hello. It’s Gregor. I’m still here.
Cassandra: Shut up. Del and I are having a moment here.
Del: (Moment of silence) And today’s episode is supported by SmallTown USA, the nation’s largest retirement community, located in Yuma, Arizona. Gregor, have you and Cassandra made a retirement plan?
Gregor: Not yet. We’re leaving that for when we get old.
Del: Then you better get going. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Let me ask you a few leading questions. Do you like sunshine? Of course you do. Everyone likes sunshine. Do you still like to party, because cocktail hour starts at 3 pm in SmallTown?
Gregor: Best of all ranchettes and RV lots start at $20,000, with only $1500, that’s hundred, not thousand due at signing. With E-Z payment plans to suit everyone.
Del: What if someone’s credit is not-too-good? I’m asking for a friend. Gregor and I will be playing a week in SmallTown … what is it? Next December, is it?
Gregor: And it won’t be just the two of us. We’re going to be joined by some of the biggest stars of thee 60s and 70s, members of bands like the Left Banke, the Strawberry Alarm Clock, and the Rob Roys.
Del: You can get a FREE PLANNING KIT by calling 1-800-Big-Plan or signing up a SmallTown.com.
Gregor: SmallTown USA, a project of the Del Webb Company.
Del: Thank you to today’s guest, Cassandra Brewster, who’s been an integral part of the Old Rockers team since the Old Rockers were the young rockers.
Cassandra: Little boys, really.
Del: We’ve grown up together.
Cassandra: If not “up” then “old.”
Del: We can leave it at that. Join us next week when out guest is … someone.
Gregor: Let’s just slink off into the sunset.
Cassandra: Sounds like a plan.
Reference:
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.)
Del (low voiceover, speaking intimately into a microphone): Welcome to the Old Rockers podcast
Del: Welcome to the Old Rockers podcast, where two guys who used to be nobodies ruminate on why they are suddenly somebodies. I’m Del Watson, and this is my partner Gregor Brewster. Hello Gregor …
Gregor: Our guest today is Darryl Piccus.
Del: Hey! I went to school with someone named Darryl Piccus!
Gregor: And he’s today’s guest.
Del: But … why?
Gregor: We’re about to find out. Tell me, what do you remember about Darryl Piccus.
Del: Almost nothing. He was small, kinda brainy, and he always carried this huge briefcase that was about as big as he was.
Gregor: That’s about all I remember, too, but soon, thanks to the miracle of modern communications, he’ll be joining us live from Providence, Rhode Island. Darryl, are you there?
Darryl (appears on monitor. He has gray hair and a beard, and is of the same vintage as Gregor and Del): I’m here!
Gregor: Welcome to the Old Rockers Podcast. What’s it like in Providence today?
Darryl: It’s overcast and rainy, not really cold, but not warm either, kind of like every day we can remember from the Obediah Brown School.
Gregor: I hear ya!
Del: Do you still have the briefcase? That’s the only way I’m going to believe that it’s actually you.
Darryl: It’s right here beside me. (Holds it up to camera.)
Both: Omigod! There it is. Fifty years later.
Del” I’ve gotta know … what’s in that thing?
Darryl: The usual stuff … legal pad, notes, my lunch, a can of Arizona Tea …
Gregor: What’s for lunch, Darryl?
Darryl: I’m reluctant to tell you, beause you’ll think I’m weird.
Del: We’ve always thought you were weird.
Darryl: Today I’ve got a banana, a small blueberry yogurt, and two sandwiches.
Gregor: What kind of sandwiches?
Darryl: This is what I was afraid of … they’re peanut butter and pickle sandwiches on sourdough bread.
Gregor: What’s weird about sourdough bread?
Darryl: (laughs) If you haven’t tried peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, you should.
Del: Dill pickles or sweet?
Darryl: I have one of each. I consider myself somewhat of a connoisseur of peanut butter and pickle sandwiches.
Del: What the fuck are you doing here, talking about peanut butter and pickle sandwiches.
Gregor: (interrupts) I’m afraid Del didn’t get the memo on this. Darryl, how about you take a minute and walk us through your life and career since Obediah Brown.
Darryl: Ok, I graduated …
Del: Did you carry around sandwiches in your briefcase back then?
Darryl: No, I actually carried a first aid kit, but that’s another long and not very relevant story.
Gregor: Get back to your life and career …
Darryl: Right … after graduation I went to University of Rhode Island, where I majored in American history. I got my teaching certificate and actually logged a couple of years back at dear ol’ Obediah before getting my graduate degrees, again in history, and jumping ahead a few years I eventually became Department Chair of History at Roger Williams College. I will be retiring at the end of this semester.
Del: How’d you get so big?
Darryl: I had a late growth spurt. I was 5’3″ when we graduated and a year later I was almost 6 feet.
Del: Great story, Darryl, and thanks for being our guest here on Old Rockers where we play loud, play fast, …
Gregor: Don’t be a wise ass. Darryl, keep going …
Darryl: My specialty was contemporary Rhode Island history, and my doctorate thesis was on the “Unintended consequences of the Vietnam War, and its impact on Rhode Island. This led to me writing a book called The Wounds of War, which looked at the subject on a national basis. It came out in the late 1980s when we were learning that the casualties of that war were not only the ones left on the battlefield.
Gregor: Hum a few bars of that tune, Darryl.
Darryl: I never served in the military, but in a sense we’re all veterans of the turbulence of that era. We watched the sickening evening news, we knew people who shipped out, or who high-tailed it to Canada, we all had to decide what to do about the draft–
Gregor: What was your number in the first draft lottery, Darryl?
Darryl: 338, yours?
Gregor: 277, safe enough. Back up and tell the listeners what we’re talking about.
Darryl: The draft was a messy business, with lots of favoritism, corruption, and variance from place to place. The national lottery, held on December 1, 1969 was supposed to clean that up by taking the entire pool of draft-eligible young men and establishing once and for all the likelihood of being drafted. It was set up like a game show with capsules, each containing one birth date being drawn fro a bin.
Gregor: I remember watching the common room of my dorm at Brown. For the first part of the night, if you birthday was called, you just got up silently and left the room, while after the supposed safe number was reached, around 200, it became a wild celebration. Break out the beer. What was you number Del?
Del: Damned if I know. I was in Saigon at the time. Didn’t matter to me.
Darryl: The Draft Lottery is a good example of an “unintended consequence.” It was supposed to clarify a murky situation, but instead it trivialized it by making it seem like the Powerball Game, but with a deadly outcome. If anything, it fanned the flames of anti-war sentiment.
Del: I’m starting to see a connection …
Darryl: I followed the two of you, just as you’d follow the outcomes of any fellow classmates from a small high school. At first I followed your music, then I followed the news of Del’s supposed death, then Gregor’s political career, and eventually your re-emergence as the Old Rockers. For the past couple of years I have hosted an honors seminar called “Play Loud, Play Fast, and Get the Hell in the Spotlight” which focuses on how your personal stories were affected by the Vietnam War, and Gregor has been kind enough to be a guest at one of the sessions, so now I’m returning the favor.
Del: Wow. I get it. We’ve got to take a break. We’ll be back to you as soon as we can, Darryl.
Del: Who are we shilling for today, Gregor? Hemorroid cream? Adult diapers? Cruises to nowhere? Investment scams?
Gregor: Oh Del … silly, silly Del? What’s the most important thing in the world to you these days?
Del: My dick?
Gregor: (fakes a laugh) Maybe a few decades ago, but right now, today.
Del: ‘Sythia?
Gregor: Of course, your beautiful wife, ‘Sythia, but after ‘Sythia?
Del: Can we just cut to the chase? What’s the most important thing in the world to me?
Gregor: Porky!
Del: My dog, Porky?
Gregor: Yes, Porky!
Del: Why would you say Porky?
Gregor: When you sit down at the end of hard day, say you are watching a Celtics game or looking on YouTube for videos of your favorite bands, who is sitting on your lap?
Del: You’re right, it’s generally not ‘Sythia. It’s probably Porky.
Gregor: And, like you, Del, Porky’s getting a little long in the tooth. Not that many years left, if you know what I’m saying.
Del: No … I don’t know what you are saying. Will you get to the point … what is it we are selling here, anyway.
Gregor: We’re selling Best Friend, the fresh, organic dog chow, the pet food that you keep fresh in the refrigerator.
Del: Is this the dog food that costs more than Kobe beef?
Greg: Is money important when it comes to your best friend, Del? No sir,
Del: You sound like my wife. Whenever I complain about the cost of something, she says “What are you saving it for, the worms?”
Greg: She’s got a point. Porky gives you love … don’t you want to give a little back?
Del: Is overpriced dog food the only way to do that?
Greg: Don’t you also do that with the way you groom Porky. (silence) Your Honor, I withdraw the question. (Del and Gregor laugh.) For our listeners, the idea of grooming Porky is akin to putting glitter on a turd. Best Friend Dog Chow …
Del: Fresh, organic, delicious, nutritious … it’s what your Best Friend deserves. Let’s get back to our guest, Darryl Piccus, author of The Wounds of War. Darryl, do you have a dog?
Darryl: I do.
Del: What kind?
Darryl: A Sheep-a-Doodle. She’s one of these “designer dogs.”
Del: Combination Poodle and English Sheep Dog? Must be adorable?
Darryl: She’s the Diva of the Dog Park. Unfortunately, she keeps having these unfortunate encounters with a skunk.
Gregor: Do you feed her Best Friend Organic Dog Chow?
Darryl: Oh yeah, by the truckload. We spend nearly as much on dog food as we spend at the Canine Clippers Grooming Salon. No “saving it for the worms” in our household!
Gregor: Back to our subject … we now have two, maybe three generations of perspective on the Vietnam War. Are we still feeling the impact? Or, is it ancient history??
Darryl: Oh, Vietnam is still relevant, because we still haven’t figured it out?
Del: Hum a few bars of that tune.
Darryl: OK, World War II ends with the Atomic Bomb, the biggest exclamation point you could ask for? What’s the next cataclymic event.
Gregor: I don’t know, the Korean War?
Darryl: No that’s just a … mistake. Big waste of time, energy, and life. But what’s the next big thing from a cultural perspective.
Gregor: The Kennedy assassination?
Darryl: That’s not a cultural thing. It’s cataclysmic, but not cultural … I’d think you’d know this. You’re musicians, right?
Del: Oh, you mean Elvis.
Darryl: Exactly, Elvis comes along and turns the world upside down. Within a couple of years America is unquestionably the world leader in music, film, art, broadcasting … this is a worldwide sea change.
Gregor: Yeah, but was only good for a couple of years, but then came all the schlocky movies and the Las Vegas crap.
Darryl: Exactly, but you see what’s happening. The world’s trying to force him back into the model of success that existed before he arrived on the scene. They tried to make him a cheesy movie star and a nightclub performer, but the world wasn’t having it. Remember what the music world was like in those days? You had a string of Elvis wannabees– Frank Avalon, Fabian, Bobby Rydell, Bobby Darin — and after an initial flush of success they’d get shoved right into the crooner model that the public had already rejected with Elvis. Meanwhile, JFK gets popped off and the political world, which always lags behind the cultural world, spirals into chaos.
Del: So the cultural world leads the way, then politics follows.
Darryl: Right … with music usually at the forefront.
Gregor: Why’s that?
Darryl: The other modes of human communication revolve around storytelling and storytelling revolve around words and language which are cerebral, meaning they rely on the brain for comprehension. Music, though, is a eries of vibrations and intervals and waves of varying lengths. You don’t need no stinkin’ words to communicate. It’s resonating in a part of your brain that words can’t reach.
Del: But you’re a historian. You’re essentially telling “his” “story.” How are you going to do that through music?
Darryl: Let’s reel ourselves back to 1962/63. Political world is scrambled, pop music has descended into the world of schlock … what’s happening, guys?
Gregor: Not sure I know what you’re fishing for. About the only thing I can remember about 1963 and music is that I started playing the guitar.
Darryl: BINGO-O-O!! America starts taking control of its own destiny. The old models of success are dead. As a culture we take a step back to see how we might proceed into the future.
Del: You’re talking the folk music revival?
Darryl: Folk music, roots, Americana, Appalachian, blues, bluegrass … there are all kinds of different branches, but you put them all together and you have a revisionist period taking place in the culture. Remember … I’m a historian. This was setting the stage for what was to be the next big thing.
Gregor: Are you saying, or implying, that Del and I were in some way instrumental in this cultural change?
Darryl: Oh, God no! Don’t flatter yourselves. You remember the Dylan song “Only a Pawn in Their Game?”
Gregor: Yes!
Darryl: You and Del are about ten steps below “pawn.” You were two of zillions, but you were there in the crowd, metaphorically.
Gregor: So, we are insignificant?
Darryl: Then? Yes, but now just the fact that you were in the crowd then makes you more relevant today.
Del: Kind of like saying “I was on of the hundreds of thousands of guys who stormed Normandy Beach on D-Day?”
Darryl: Very analogous situation, except in your case it’s more like a couple of million.
Del: Whaddya think, Gregor? Want to grasp at this straw of glory?
Gregor: Might as well. Keep going with your story, Darryl.
Darryl: So, enter The Beatles, in the midst of the Vietnam War. Suddenly, everything is is in question from a societal point of view. It’s not only policy and international diplomacy. The world changes from “I Want to Hold Your Hand” to “All You Need is Love.” Everything is up for grabs– sexual relationships, social institutions, Democracy. You name it.
Del: You name it, we lived it. Here’s one for you, Professor. After The Beatles, what’s the The Next Big Thing?
Darryl: My position is there is no Next Big Thing. It’s still the Beatles?
Del: What!? It’s been sixty-odd years.
Darryl: Right … and there’s been a Michael Jackson blip, a Nirvana blip, a hip-hop blip, and maybe at the moment a Taylor Swift blip, but it seems like every year at Christmas, the big push is to come up with a Beatles product to satisfy the masses.
Gregor: You got that right, and I’ve bought every one of them.
Darryl: The lynch pin was Dylan. He’s the one who linked the American roots with the pop sensibilities of the British Invasion. You had the Dust Bowl meeting European-style Cabaret. It was magic.
Gregor: “Lynch Pin,” I know what it means, but where does the term come from?
Darryl: It’s the piece the wheel from sliding off the axel, but it’s also the piece that is designed to break before the axel does, so it brings the cart to a halt before the damage is even more devastating.
Del: Weren’t groups like The Rolling Stones and The Yardbirds basically updated blues bands before Dylan hit the scene.
Darryl: Yes, BUT it was Dylan who provided the connection with Bluegrass, country, and the other American traditions.
Del: In-ter-est-ing.
Darryl: (on a roll) But Dylan didn’t do it alone. I’ve always thought that the roll of American groups like The Turtles with It Ain’t Me, Babe and The Byrds with Mr. Tambourine Man were critical crossover groups. You might think of them as the Pat Boones of the ’60s.
Gregor: I don’t think they would want to think of themselves in that way.
Darryl: Let’s not forget … in addition to his social-awareness, protest songs, Dylan also pioneered a new type of long song. Before, the heroes and villains of pop songs were always cast in heroic modes, very two-dimensional in the passion or suffering.
Del: I always think of Roy Orbison in Crying, the poor guy’s heart is being ripped and he suffers in silence while his inner-self is wailing in passion “Oh-oh-over (deep breath) you-u-u-u-!!” (Gregor joins in.)
Darryl: Year, meanwhile the Dylan hero is mumbling “Someone who will die for you and more? … It ain’t me, Babe.”
Del: Yeah, “I’m outta here, just don’t think twice, it’s all right.”
Darryl: Without Dylan there’s no “Nowhere Man,” no “Norwegiian Wood.”
Gregory: I read somewhere that Norwegian Wood is actually a cheap, veneer-type product that the marketers gussied up by calling it Norwegian wood, while it should rightly be called “cheap, imitation crap that’s gives the illusion of being substantial.”
Del: This is fascinating stuff, Darryl, but we’re starting to run short on time. So, you think the world has basically been in a holding pattern since The Beatles? So, for how long?
Darryl: No one knows. For a while I thought the personal computer was the next big thing, then the smart phone, but eventually I came to realize that the smart phone is just the transistor radio brought into a new dimension. At the moment there’s a Bad Bunny groundswell happening. Ask me in about five years if he’s the next big thing?
Gregor: Are we sure the next Big Thing is actually coming, or could we be in a hundred year holding pattern?
Darryl: I don’t think so. One thing we know for sure, history repeats itself, and one thing we’ve seen consistently is that before the Culture (with a capital C) takes the big step forward, it takes a step back, and I think that’s already happening.
Gregor: We’re all ears …
Darryl: It’s happening right here!
Gregor: On this planet? In this country” What do you mean it’s happening right here?
Darryl: I mean right here! In this studio! I mean today! (silence) Think of it, guys. You are two of ga-zillions who pick up guitars in the wake of The Beatles. While others die off, become responsible members of society, give up or whatever, you two stick with it … for decades. You get no money, no recognition, no nothing, but you keep doing it. You keep playing music, and you keep the flame alive. You’re not the only ones, but you’re among the survivors. Then, when lightning strikes, and it always takes a lightning strike, you’re uniquely positioned to take advantage. That’s why you are the ones shilling for adult diapers and erectile dysfunction drugs while others are strumming on the back porch.
Del: So … let me make sure I’m hearing you correctly … Gregor and I are the Step Back?
Darryl: That’s how I see it.
Gregor: I’m speechless. I need to absorb this. Meanwhile we’re outta time–
Del: Literally and figuratively —
Gregor: Thank you, Darryl Piccus, for sharing some very interesting thoughts. And now … I can’t believe this. Del, we’re got to sell something …
Del: How about feathers, because right now you could knock me over with one of those? Well, like the true professionals that we are, we’re moving onward. Gregor did you ever want a Sting Ray?
Gregor: You mean the sports car? Maybe for a while in the ’50s or early ’60s. By the time I was old enough to drive, I’d have preferred a hippie van.
Del: Yeah, something that we could haul around the band equipment in. Any way, most of us can define our lives by the vehicles we’ve owned– the VW Beetle, the used Volvo, the Mini-Van, the SUV, and now Cadillac has introduced the wheels that can take you in safety and comfort right up to the pearly gates. Introducing the Goldster …
Gregor: Have you seen one of these things?
Del: Only pictures.
Gregor: They’re amazing. They’ve got a little bad boy styling, a little like the PT Cruiser, but they come in array of soft colors that SHE will enjoy. And you know who I mean by SHE?
Del: The 30 year old mistress with the Bridget Bardot body?
Gregor: No, silly boy, I mean your wife, ‘Sythia, or my Cassandra. Getting in is easy, with front bucket power seats that rotate a full 90 degrees so you can just plop yourself down and press a button. A few seconds later you are behind the wheel. Inside you are swaddled in a steel cocoon with 18 airbags ready. With all-wheel drive, built-in lane violation and collision warnings. Plus, a communications that features rotational controls. You know what that means>
Del: I haven’t a clue.
Gregor: It means when you want to “Crank it up to 11” you actually turn the volume control to the right.
Del: What will they think of next.
Gregor: Instead of “State of the Art” I call it “State of the Fart,” as in Old Fart.
Del: The Cadillac Goldster must cost a King’s ransom!
Gregor: But with Cadillac’s Limbo Lease, the payments will only be a nibble on your Social Security payment.
Del: What’s a Limbo Lease?
Gregor: A Limbo Lease is one that tests the limits of “how low you can go.” It’s a reverse-graduated 12 year lease where you use only your current trade-in as the down payment.
Del: 12 years? Who knows if I’ll even be alive, let alone driving a car.
Gregor: That’s the beauty of a Limbo Lease. It’s weighted towards the later years, so that if you kick the bucket or have a stroke and can’t drive any longer, it’s costing you less money.
Del: There’s actually some logic to that.
Gregor: Cassandra’s actually picked out the color of our Goldster, SnowMelt. It’s kind of a pale green that you see in the streams and rivers during Mud Season.
Del: Not the color I would choose, but … Is Cadillac giving you a deal on your Goldster?
Gregor: They say they are, but the way it’s all figured in on the lease, I can’t understand it. It’s banker-talk and I speak lawyer-talk.
Del: And I speak guitarist-talk, so I wouldn’t understand anyway. I’ve got over 200,000 miles on my Toyota Corolla, and I’m just going to drive it into the ground.
Gregor: I wonder who will get there first … you or the car. Say “Goodnight,” Del.
Del: Goodnight, Del.
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!
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.)
Del (low voiceover, speaking intimately into a microphone): Welcome to the Old Rockers Podcast, where a couple of old duffers forget what they are supposed to be talking. I’m Del Watson and this is my partner What’s-his-name. Remind me who you are …
Gregor: And I am Gregor Brewster, and together we are Grendel whose mission is (together with Del) PLAY, LOUD, PLAY FAST, AND GET THE HELL OFF THE STAGE, but not quite yet, because we’ve got a helluva show lined up for you.
Del: Joining us today are Jerusalem Mann, my son, and Greg’s lovely daughter, Samantha Brewster, and I am already aware that I have stepped over the line by referring to Samantha as “lovely.” When am I going to learn?
Gregor: Some dogs are untrainable and need to be taken out back and shot.
Del: Can I have a do-over?
Gregor: It’s our show … why not?
Del: Joining us today are the ruggedly-handsome, toxically masculine, priapic chip-off-the-old block son of mine, Jerusalem “The Second Coming” Mann and Gregor’s butt-ugly, miserable slab of human flesh daughter, Samantha. How’d I do?
(Woman on monitor, forty-ish, with short, dark hair) Samantha: You nailed it.
(Man on separate monitor. He has long dark hair, streaked with grey.) Second-coming of what? is what I want to know?
Gregor: Let’s have you introduce yourselves to our listeners. Sam, let’s start with you.
Samantha: My name is Samantha Brewster. I’m an Adjunct Professor of Law at Ithaca College in Ithaca, New York where I live with my wife, Lucy, and nine-year-old daughter, Grace. Jeru?
Jeru: Hey, Sammy, howyadoin’? Good to see ya. I’m Jerusalem Mann. I live in Bodega, CA, and I’m an organic farmer and winemaker. I’m married and have two sons, Liam, 3, and MacRae, 6.
Del: When was the first time you two met?
Samantha: I was seventeen, a junior in high school. Jeru came through Providence with his band, Get the Hook, and you had the giant tour bus that was all tricked out. I thought it was the coolest thing. Except I was too young to get into the club you were playing at.
Jeru: You were so funny with your teeny-bopper friends. Everyone had that deer-in-the-headlights look, even your Dad!
Samantha: Except it was icky because you and all your friends smoked. Ech-h-h!
Jeru: It was different time. I don’t even smoke pot any more. Well, hardly ever.
Del: What happened to your original band, Grendel?
Jeru: It should have been called The Spawn of Grendel. Time happened. There’s a certain age when you want to be just like your Dad, then another time when you want to be anything but like your Dad. After all the excitement of Tried Girls I was in the latter phase.
Del: And, to clarify for our listeners, Tried Girls was a remake of the original Grendel tune I Think I’m in Love that I wrote in my Providence days.
Gregor: … that you wrote, and I refused to play. If you don’t mind me squeezing in a question here … What kind of wine do you make these days, Jeru?
Jeru: We make a variety of fruit wines, but my specialty is blackberry.
Gregor: Why blackberry?
Jeru: It has the complexity and personality of grape, but it’s much closer to wild, so it has an uninhibited quality that you can’t find anywhere else. Also, the berries have to be harvested individually by hand so the care from the harvest finds its way into the finished product.
Del: Spoken like a true marketer. Question for Sam … what do you think of your old man these days?
Samantha: By “these days” are you meaning since moving out from the parental home or since you two have become the darlings of Old Fart America?
Del: (laughs) I would express it slightly differently, but since you’ve become an adult. It’s not lost on my that you’ve become a lawyer.
Samantha: I’m sure there’s some Freudian significance to that, but to answer your question, we’re best buds now, but I also don’t mind saying that the last few years at home were on the chaotic side.
Del: For the benefit of our listeners, would you back up and set the stage for how our lives all intersected?
Samantha: Hm-m-m … that’s a tall order.
Jeru: The proverbial four-beer conversation.
Samantha: We might need another six-pack … here goes. I was about fifteen, and life at home was … like I said, “Chaotic.” My mother was on every board-of-directors and steering committee in the state while my father was having his mid-life crisis. My two brothers were discovering new ways to torture me …
Gregor: In other words … a typical family with teenagers. It’s not like you were the model of stability.
Samantha: True, I’m in the throes of adolescence, trying to figure out my own identity. Like a lot of teenagers at that age, I looked to music to provide answers that I couldn’t articulate for myself. How about you, Jeru?
Jeru: My situation couldn’t have been more different. We lived on a commune in the middle of fucking nowhere. My Dad had gotten me started in music when I was, what?, nine? And so by the time I was fourteen I was in a band with four other guys, plus or minus the occasional girl, and pretty free to focus on music. While the other kids were obsessing on grades and soccer and pimples and clothes, we retreated into our musical cave.
Samantha: Didn’t you resent your Dad at all?
Jeru: Billy … now, Del … isn’t my biological dad, so there was none of that baggage, and he was a guiding hand for the band, but not in a heavy-handed way. That’s why we honored him by taking the name Grendel.
Gregor: Del, you want to chime in on that?
Del: I grew up without a strong father-figure in my life, so I definitely wanted that closeness, but without the baggage.
Samantha: And it never occurred to you that have a band out there calling themselves “Grendel” might not be a good idea?
Del: Don’t forget, we were in the boondocks, and these were still kids. They were a long way from success. And to tell the truth, there was probably a side of me that wanted to be exposed somewhere along the way.
Jeru: Gregor, what was your “mid-life crisis?”
Samantha: I’ll take that one, if you don’t mind. My Dad was the fucking Attorney General of the State of Rhode Island, and rumored to be in line for a shot at the Governorship. That’s a big deal, especially in a small state. That meant that everyone in school knew who I was, which is not a positive when you are fifteen years old, dealing with a weight issue, and having a complexion that is less than Clearasol-perfect. The only thing that really made him smile was talking about the teenage band he was in and his best buddy, the mythical Del.
Del: “The Mythical Del” … I like that! Before we get into the details of how this all played out, we need a word today’s sponsor. You’re going to love this one, Sam!
Gregor: Millions of Veterans have suffered from nerve damage, respiratory illness, or even cancer. If you served in the US Military between 1962 and 1975 in an area where Agent Orange was used in a combat setting you may be entitled to compensation as the result of a class action suit that was settled in 2016 in which plaintiffs were found to eligible for $975 million in compensatory damages. To see about eligibility, contact AgentOrange.gov, that’s AgentOrange.gov. A public service announcement brought to you by Citizens for Public Justice. Del … sounds to me like you may be eligible.
Del: Maybe, but the last thing I am going to do is to open up that can of worms. Plus, I was in a non-combat role for most of my time in Vietnam.
Gregor: But you must have been exposed, and you must have witnessed the damage that that stuff could cause.
Del: Yeah … can we just move on? Have we done our required bit with the Public Service Announcement? Don’t we have another sponsor?
Gregor: Yes, we’ll be hearing about Elder U. a little later in the program.
Del: And aren’t we gigging with them later this year?
Gregor: Yup. We’re going to appearing with a few surprise guest in Bisbee, Arizona at a session where we learn about “The Not-so-Fragile Desert Ecology.” That sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?
Del: Yes, Elder U. has a bunch of great programs. We’ll tell you about some of them later in the show, but now back to our guests. Today we are welcoming my son, a winemaker and great musician from Bodega, California, Jerusalem Mann, and Gregor’s daughter from Ithaca, New York, Samantha Brewster-McCloud. Gregor, start us off.
Gregor: Backstory … the last time I saw Del was right after he had joined the Army and just before he left for basic. We kept in touch all the time he was in Vietnam, but then — just before he was scheduled to be discharged, poof!– he disappeared. We read about his reported death in the Providence Journal, but we kept getting these tantalizing little clues that he may still be among the living. Then, one night Samantha was in her room, supposedly doing her homework while listening to music at the usual 120 decibels. Sam?
Samantha: It was the early days of the Internet and MTV rules the day, but if you really wanted to listen to was new and exciting you could swap mixtapes with your friends, and there were a few websites you could go to to hear new stuff.
Jeru: I can’t remember whether this was before, during, or after Napster, but our bass player was a real tech nerd, and he figured how to get our stuff online at a very early stage. We put up “Tried Girls” and “Just Like I Know” on a site called Recrrdlbl.com and started getting some plays. Then we were contacted by a punk label called Fourplay and they put us on a few more sites. We were still kids. We didn’t know what we were doing but no one else in the record business seemed to, either.
Gregor: and This was as “Grendel,” right.
Jeru: Right. We didn’t change our name to Get the Hook until about two years later when we started touring.
Del: It was right at this time when things were getting heavy on the commune, and I became scared that my time underground was coming to an end. We very quietly made plans to split for Vermont. We wanted Jeru to come, but we knew that the band and music were more important to him than his parents.
Gregor: Meanwhile, in my role as Dad, The Enforcer, I am prowling the hallways of our house in Providence try to make sure that homework assignments weren’t being completely blown off. I hear this music coming from Sammy’s room. It’s loud, it’s thrashing, but I recognized the chords. It was Del’s tune, “I Think I’m in Love.”
Samantha: I remember you busting into my room, demanding “What’s that song? Who’s that band?” You were so-o-o agitated. You were saying “I know that song! Who’s that band?” And I didn’t know, but I knew how to find out, so I just told Dad to not have a heart attack, and I’d find out. It took a few days of asking around, but I eventually found out it was “Tried Girls” by a group called Grendel. I knew that would trip his trigger. You should have seen Mom when I told her.
Jeru: I had zero knowledge of any of this until about two years later.
Gregor: Information was really hard to come by. There was no Wikipedia, no Google. I had great contacts in law enforcement and official channels, but they were useless when it came to the punk or Indie music scene. Eventually I was able to trace the copyright to a “Jerusalem Mann,” and found that he was playing in a band called Get the Hook in the San Francisco Bay Area. I got in touch through their record label.
Jeru: I get a call from our contact at Fourplay saying the lawyer dude from Rhode Island wants to meet me.
Samantha: At this point you knew nothing about your Dad’s past, right?
Jeru: Right. As far as I knew, he was my Dad and he had been with Mom and I since the earliest days I can remember on the commune. I never heard of Del Watson, but I was enough of a commune kid to know that you never talk to cops or lawyers, so I wasn’t about to give up anything to this dude.
Gregor: By this time I was in full-fledged obsessional mode. It was Cassandra who said “Get your ass out there and see what you can find out. I went up to the commune, I talked with last week’s guest, Chief Bucky, and finally I went to this rat-hole punk club where Jeru’s band was playing. I met him about a half-hour before they were set to go on, but it was too loud to hear yourself in the club, so we went outside.
Jeru: Gregor was all friendly and re-assuring that he wasn’t looking to cause trouble, and it’s not that I didn’t believe him. I just couldn’t see anything to be gained from trusting him.
Gregor: It was a dead end, just when I could sense myself getting closer. I flew back to Rhode Island pretty discouraged. I think that’s when I decided I was going to abandon politics. Hang up my shingle and play guitar for fun.
Del: What did you make of all this, Sam?
Samantha: I was going through my own turmoil at the time, figuring out my sexual identity and all that. I remember arguing with him once about “Tried Girls.” ‘You don’t even know what it’s about,’ he said. “It’s about masturbation, and I countered with ‘No, it’s about being comfortable in your own skin and loving yourself.’ You want to weigh in on this Jeru?
Jeru: As we say in California. It’s about “whateva'” (laughs). I think the song was way ahead of its time.
Del: Told you so, Gregor!
Gregor: You’ve just made him more insufferable! I will admit that attitudes have changed pretty dramatically in the last generation, including mine.
Del: I like to think I’m the one who started the Sexual Revolution …
Gregor: See what I mean!
Jeru: I’ve got one for Sam … what do you make of this late-in-life success of our dads?
Samantha: You mean this bolt of lightning that turned them from obscure old duffers into household words? I think it’s a testament to everything that is wrong with this celebrity-obsessed nation, but I’m happy that they have something to do in their dotage. It comes with a price, though.
Jeru: How so?
Samantha: There are incredible demands on their time. That’s just the nature of celebrity in our culture. Plus, there are the usual suspects clamoring for handouts. This is the time of life when they should be kicking back and taking afternoon naps.
Gregor: Gawd! Talk about a toothless old lion …
Del: The worst part for me is the … I guess you’d call it “survivor’s guilt” … the sense that so many others deserved the success that was just handed to us.
Gregor: We’re flukes … lucky flukes, but, nonetheless, flukes, which reminds me. Do you know who are guests are next week?
Del: Remind me.
Gregor: Two of the people most responsible for our flukey, late-in-life, unexpected, and undeserved success, Foster Hughes of the Trinity Square Playhouse and the Artist Formerly Known as Drama Dude.
Del: No shit, the Dude himself. Let’s not forget today’s guests. What’s next on your calendar, Jeru?
Jeru: We displaying at the American Fruit Wine Festival in Santa Barbara, and I will be disappointed if we don’t come home with a medal. Then, you guys are coming out later this spring, right?
Del: We’re doing something at the Burbank Center in Santa Rosa with Bonnie Raitt. I don’t remember the date, but we’ll be there. How about you, Sam?
Samantha: Jeru, by the way, thank you for the gift box you sent for Christmas. This year’s vintage was superb, a medal winner for sure. Next on our docket is school vacation and a trip to Disney World. Grace is a perfect age for Mickey and Donald, even if it makes me sick to be giving money to the Disney Corporation.
Gregor: Fantastic. Thanks for being with us today and talk to you both soon. Don’t leave us. Today on Stories and Tunes we’ll be talking about some tunes written separately when we were lifetimes apart. But, first, we have to thank someone, don’t we Del?
Del: Yes, a big thank “U” to Elder U, where you will Discover Yourself. The Non-Profit Adult Learning Center holds Discovery Adventures on all six continents, twelve months a year. With over 200 educational offerings amidst an environment that is both nurturing and joyful. Surrounded by by fellow voyagers in wisdom, you’ll select a curriculum and setting that suits your life goals whether it is observing penguins in Antarctica or sampling Mezcal at artisan Mexican distilleries … Damn, these sound like fun, Gregor.
Gregor: Whether you fancy nature photography, needlework, or mountaineering you’ll be able to follow your bliss with one of our well-qualified experts, all at a price that’s surprisingly affordable. How do they keep prices so low, Del?
Del: It’s not by cutting back on the quality of the food, that’s for sure, and there’s even free wine and beer with every meal. Elder U keeps prices down, because they’re a non-profit and the venues are not staged at luxury hotels but rather educational facilities during off-session times.
Gregor: So you might have to share a bathroom.
Del: Sometimes, yes. It’s like going back to college, but without the dope smoking and frat parties.
Jeru: But plenty of sex, I bet. I just read that the town with the highest rate of venereal disease in the country is The Villages retirement community in Florida.
Del: Wha-a-a-t? I don’t believe that.
Samantha: I heard the same thing. No one bothers with protection, because no one’s afraid of getting pregnant.
Del: I still don’t believe it. Well, we don’t have to worry, because we’re going there with our wives.
Samantha: Well, bring some condoms just to be on the safe side!
Gregor: Ahem … on that note … returning to our podcast. … Remember, there are no hidden extras at Elder U, just good company, good instructors, and great times. Pick a time and place that are just right for you. Learn more at http://www.elderuniversity.com. You think they’d like us to teach a course at Elder U, Del? Something like “Learn How to Avoid Paying Taxes?”
Del: Or, “1500 rock ‘n roll songs you can play with the same three chords.” Thanks for tuning in to The Old Rockers’ Podcast.
Reference:
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: Hey Everybody, Gregor Brewster here with my partner in crime, Del Watson, and we’re here to regale you with Tales of The Old Rockers, a musical journey into the catacombs of Rock ‘n Roll.
Del: Not to be argumentative, but we really don’t spend a lot of time delving into the catacombs, do we? Actually we spend more time exploring the impact of modern marketing on an aging Baby Boom population.
Gregor: No one wants to listen to that.
Del: How are we going to fix it?
Gregor: I’m not sure that we can. Some problems are just too big, even for Old Rockers.
Del: Well, you’re certainly a buzz-kill. Should we just tell people to go elsewhere.
Gregor: No, because we’ve got a very interesting guest today.
Del: And who is it?
Gregor: You’re joking, right? Our guest today is your wife. Seriously … you didn’t know that?
Del: Of course I knew it. I live with the lady, don’t I? I just was trying to keep the conversation going. We’re really not off to a very good start today. Let’s hope our guest can salvage the show. Joining us here in our snowbound studio in sunny, but frigid Vermont, is the beautiful, exotic, and alluring … ‘Sythia.
Gregor: Welcome ‘Sythia. Let’s begin with the name. It’s just “‘Sythia?” No last name?
‘Sythia: Let me check my driver’s license … oh, there is a last name. I just don’t use it.
Gregor: Why not?
‘Sythia: I don’t need it. I don’t need to distinguish myself from a bunch of other ‘Sythias out there.
Gregor: That’s true, but ‘Sythia was not the name you were born with?
‘Sythia: No one has a name when they are born.
Gregor: True enough, but ‘Sythia is not the name you were given at birth …
‘Sythia: It depends on how you define “birth” …
Gregor: Del … help me out here …
Del: (laughs) Tell us how you came to be called ‘Sythia.
‘Sythia: I was living in the part of California called The Emerald Triangle, and although it is called that, the grass turns brown by about June, but in April it’s glorious. Everything is bursting with life from the snowmelt. The streams are rushing, and then one day the Forsythia just explodes into bloom with golden, yellow brilliance. The winter had been long, cold, and grey. The earth was saturated. Mudslides everywhere. But one day, the sun came out, the forsythia popped, and I knew everything was going to be all right.
Gregor: And then Del … called Billy back then … came into your life?
‘Sythia: No, I didn’t meet him until a year later. What made you think that?
Gregor: I’m sorry … I guess I had the timing wrong.
Del: Describe your life at that time.
‘Sythia: I was still trying to figure things out. I was nineteen or twenty, and I had a kid, and I’m living on this commune where, to be honest, no one knew what the fuck they were doing.
Del: Tell us more.
‘Sythia: Most of the kids were from suburban backgrounds. We were reasonably well-educated, but we didn’t know shit about how to survive. We’re building these crazy-ass houses that all fell apart in about five years. We’re trying to survive on diets of brown rice and turnips. We’re making rules like “clothing optional,” then figuring out policies to enforce them … we’re re-inventing wheels that need steering, not re-invention. It was nuts.
Gregor: The complete opposite of my life– go to college, marry girl of your dreams, go to law school, join Daddy’s firm, have 2.3 children … how did Del … Billy … Hey, we’ve got to get this straight. Are we referring to you a Del, your real name, or “Billy,” the name you were going by at the time?
Del: I think “Del,” because that’s my real name and it’s my name for the here and now. It’s my reality.
‘Sythia: And I say “Billy,” because there was no “Del” when I met you. He didn’t exist.
Gregor: It’s your story, let’s go with “Billy.” What set him apart?
‘Sythia: There were a bunch of guys, always running around, no shirts, long, hair, banging nails and smoking pot. With most of the guys they wanted to get into your pants, first, then they’d deal with the kid later. With Billy, he always wanted to play with Jerusalem first.”
Del: Then, get into your pants!
‘Sythia: I was living in the geodesic dome …
Del: … that leaked like a sieve …
‘Sythia: … that leaked like a sieve, and Billy didn’t think it would make it through the next winter, so he convinced me to move in with him in his teepee.
Gregor: How’d that work out?
‘Sythia: A lot better than the dome. Billy was right about that.
Gregor: Did he tell you about his past and where he came from?
‘Sythia: No, we were in an environment where you didn’t look back, and you didn’t look forward.
Del: Spent a lot of time staring at our bellybuttons. (all laugh)
‘Sythia: It was a great time. I have all kinds of fond memories … fuzzy, but fond.
Gregor: How did music fit in?
‘Sythia: Music was magic for Billy. I think there was always a tune going through his head. And that’s what set him apart and gave him his identity on the commune. By the way, we never called it a “commune;” it was always “the homestead” for us. He carried his guitar around with him most of the time, and he was very quick to bang out a tune. Don’t forget, we were off the grid, so there wasn’t a lot of outside entertainment. No television. No radio to speak of. In the early days we just didn’t have a lot of electricity. That improved over the years.
Gregor: Did he ever mention his mother, or me, or Grendel?
‘Sythia: Oh yes, he wasn’t secretive about anything, but it just spilled out in dribs and drabs over time. When I first met him, he still had quite the hard-on for Cassandra.
Gregor: Couldn’t you phrase that a little differently … “carried a torch,” or something.
‘Sythia: Sorry, Gregor. By the way, I got a good laugh over the way you stepped on your dick when Cassandra was on the podcast.
Gregor: I’m still digging my way out of that hole.
Del: It was refreshing to hear you two bickering!
Gregor: Can we get back to our guest? You were talking about music …
‘Sythia: In the early years Billy could be like the Pied Piper. Whenever we held a Homestead Council, Billy would lead us in song. You’d be amazed, but there are people out in Northern California who know all the words to Casserole Blues?
Gregor: (singing) “I’m going to fry your bacon, honey …” That’s funny. It’s still the only rock ‘n roll song to have the word “ratatouille.” We’ll get back to our special guest ‘Sythia, just ‘Sythia, not ‘Sythia Watson or Mann, and hear about the move to Vermont, after this word from today’s sponsor.
Del: Aging in place? That’s our plan. How about you and Cassandra?
Gregor: It’s our plan, too. But we’ve run into a problem … what do do about the damn stairs.
Del: How so?
Gregor: You’ve been to our house. The master bedroom is on the second floor.
Del: Always has been.
Gregor: Right now, we can scurry up and down the stairs just fine, but it might not always be that way.
Del: I hadn’t thought of that.
Gregor: That’s the difference between you and me … I do think of things like this, even if they are not pleasant.
Del: So, what are you going to do? Move the master bedroom down to the dining room?
Gregor: No, you silly goose, we’re going to install a Stairway to Heaven that will let us go up and down stairs with the push of a button.
Del: A Stairway to Heaven … such a thing really exists?
Gregor: Yes, it does, and it can be retrofit to nearly any stairway so that you can have easy access to all of your house, even if you have mobility issues.
Del: Maybe ‘Sythia and I should think about that, because our bedroom is on the second floor, too.
Gregor: I can give you their brochure or point you to their website. They will even come to your house and give you a free, no obligation estimate.
Del: I just thought of a problem. Your stairway goes straight up to the second floor. Ours has a landing and a right-angle turn.
Gregor: Not to worry, my friend, there are Stairway to Heaven models to fit 98% of American households. They have a model just for you.
Del: I bet they’re expensive.
Gregor: Not as expensive as moving to an assisted living facility. And the company has several low-cost financing options that make installing your Stairway as easy to go down as drinking a glass of Dulcolax.
Del: I know what I’m doing after today’s show … I’m calling Stairway to Heaven to get my free estimate.
Gregor: Mention “Old Rockers” and get 25% off on their Golden Throne upgrade.
Del: Now, back to our show, a lady who’s so together that, like Elvis, Prince, Fabian, or Adele, she needs only a single name, my wife, ‘Sythia.
‘Sythia: You guys have gotten really good at peddling that stuff.
Del: I know, shocking, isn’t it?
‘Sythia: That’s why they pay you the big bucks.
Del: Our agent Gwen–we had her on the show earlier– tells us that they’ve done studies on this and that our credibility actually goes UP if we make fun of our sponsors.
‘Sythia: I’d be buying a Stairway to Heaven even if I lived in a doublewide …
Gregor: I hate to intrude on this clever banter, but we do have a show to finish. At some point things began to change on The Homestead.
‘Sythia: Yes, you remember what it was like. Vietnam, Watergate, Nixon, then the First Arab Oil Embargo in 1973. It was chaotic and there was a real sense of outrage, like “how dare they not sell us their oil!” That sparked a back-to-the-land movement which then got a second boost in 1979 when there was a second Arab oil embargo.
Gregor: Then Reagan got elected, and all kinds of awful shit started happening. Chernobyl, the Exxon-Valdez, Three Mile Island. How did things change at The Homestead?
‘Sythia: The Old Guard, people like me, were getting older. Our kids were in school. You have to forget the “us versus them” mentality when your kid’s on the same soccer team as the cop’s kid. Some people went back to become grown-ups, and the new generation of people who moved in were there for the wrong reasons.
Gregor: How so?
‘Sythia: We were all anti-establishment, for sure, but these people were anti-social, because they were doing things that they didn’t want the rest of the world to know about. People weren’t just getting zonked on grass, they were freebasing or taking heroin. Pretty soon there was talk of meth labs off in the woods with guard dogs and guns. Billy became more and more paranoid that we’d get caught up in the bad shit that we could see taking over The Homestead.
Gregor: Had Billy come clean with you about his past?
‘Sythia: Oh completely. I knew all about you, his Mom, and her good friend Gloria. I knew about the music connection that he kept up with you. I was there when he got Jeru to sing On My Birthday over the phone on your 40th. I knew all about the homo-erotic bond between the two of you.
Del: (interrupts) Waitaminute, waitaminute … what are you talking about?
‘Sythia: “Homo” comes from the Latin for man, and I assume that you know what “erotic” means.
Del: Gregor and I are not gay.
‘Sythia: I’m not saying you are.
Del: “Homo Erotic” sounds pretty much like “gay” to my ear.
‘Sythia: It’s something very different. Males can have very strong attractions to other males that are very different than what they have for females. That’s all I’m saying. You don’t have to be defensive about. I’m sure there’s a homo-erotic quality to the relationships among The Beatles, or guys on a sports team. Don’t get your panties up in a bunch.
Del: Call us buddies, or pals, or best friends.
‘Sythia: You know that what bonded you and Gregor over all these years was more than “pals.” Just recognize it and call it what you like. Meanwhile, I’ll stick with homo erotic. Didn’t you listen to your own podcast with Samantha and Jeru? Isn’t that what you were writing about in “Tried Girls?” There are all kinds of different relationships out there in the world.
Del: We’re not gay. The original title of that song is I Think I’m in Love.
‘Sythia: And love is love is love. Whatever! There are different relationships that fall under the banner of “love.” That’s all I’m saying. I love my mother, but that doesn’t make us lesbians.
Gregor: Kids … let’s move on. Did you think that Del and I would be re-united one day.
‘Sythia: I was sure of it. I’m surprised it took so long.
Gregor: So when Cassandra and I showed up at the Farmer’s Market that morning, you weren’t surprised.
‘Sythia: I hadn’t been expecting it that day, but I knew that it would happen. Just a matter of when.
Gregor: How about this latest twist, with us becoming worldwide celebrities as The Old Rockers?
‘Sythia: That has been a total surprise, and a bit of a mixed blessing.
Del: How so?
‘Sythia: You two were in a band as teenagers … so what? You got back together after many years of separation … big deal! You can both play a few chords on the guitar and warble a few songs … who cares? No one , BUT the Drama Dude kid suggested you turn your story into a play, AND we make a video of the show because Gregor and Cassandra happen to be on the board of the Repertory Company, AND the Repertory Company does a production of it AND high-powered agent, HAPPENS to be in town visiting her sister, AND … it’s a litany of “what ifs?”, and every one of them worked in your favor.
Gregor: So … we don’t deserve our success?
‘Sythia: No, you DO deserve your success, because you were in the arena when lightning struck, but it could have just as easily been old rockers Frank and Harry in Kansas City or old rockers Ed and Pinky down in Baltimore. You do deserve it, but you are a couple of very, very lucky bastards.
Gregor: I can accept that, and I would add that we’re also a couple of very, very lucky podcasters to have you as a guest today on the Old Rocker’s Podcast. Got any final words, Del?
Del: I just want it to be clear that we’re not gay, and that we are equally lucky to be sponsored today by the Stairway to Heaven electric stair chair, makers of the Golden Throne. Stay tuned for next week when our guests are Phelps Downing of the Trinity Square Repertory and Royalton Bent, sometimes known as “Drama Dude.”
Ed and Pinky from Baltimore
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.)
Del: Welcome to the Old Rockers podcast. I’m your host Del Watson, and I’m joined by my homoerotic partner and ex-bandmate, Gregor Brewster.
Gregor: You’re just not going to let go of that, are you. For listeners playing catch-up, last week’s guest and Gregor’s lovely wife was ‘Sythia … just ‘Sythia as in Elvis, Adele, and Prince who referred to Del’s and my relationship as being “homoerotic,” and I’d say your over-reaction to it is homophobic.
Del: I am not homophobic. I’m very clear on that. What was fuzzy for me was the distinction between “homoerotic” and “homosexual.”
Gregor: You got it straight now?
Del: Yeah, it’s like in the NBA, and after the game you see all these guys going over and giving each other the bro-hugs. One arm around the neck and a couple of quick back taps. That’s homoerotic, but it doesn’t imply that they are homosexual. So guys like you and me can groove together when we are playing music or on the baseball field, but then afterwards we can still be God’s gift to women …
Gregor: Close enough.
Del: … some of us more than others, obviously.
Gregor: You’re in you 70s. Don’t you can stop with the toxic male posturing?
Del: There’s nothing toxic about the opposite sex finding me extremely attractive.
Gregor: (big sigh) Who are our guests today? No women, I hope.
Del: Our guests today are Phelps Downing, Board Chair of the Trinity Square Playhouse in Providence, Rhode Island and Royalton Bent, who will be joining us here in the studio and who we first me as (drum roll) … “Drama Dude.” I can wait to catch up with him!
Gregor: Let’s get started. Joining us today via the miracle of modern electronics is Phelps Downing. Phelps, you certainly make me feel dowdy today. How are things in Providence?
[Phelps, on monitor, defines “preppie.” He wears a button-down shirt, blue blazer, a bow tie, and suspenders.)
Phelps: I think we’ve turned the corner into spring. I drove by Classical High School on my way to work today, and I saw them putting down the lines on the baseball field.
Del: Ouch! The baseball fields up here are under about 18 inches of snow. The good news is, the sap is running like crazy. How’s the washboard in Rhode Island?
Phelps: Not sure I follow you ? …
Del: Just yanking your chain a little.
Gregor: It’s an insider joke for Vermonters. Give us a little background on Trinity Square.
Phelps: Sure, founded in 1964 in the Trinity Square part of downtown Providence, our repertory company is a cultural resource that we describe as a public square where ideas and issues relating to our corner of the world are pondered, discussed, and debated, hopefully sparked by the work presented on our stages. We stared as a pure repertory company, but now we are a much more far-flung educational institution with broad partnerships throughout the state, reaching communities online, in the classroom, and, of course, onstage.
Gregor: As a lifelong Rhode Islander, let me put in a heartfelt plug for this organization which has been instrumental in creating a cultural identity for Providence and Rhode Island that is now recognized and admired worldwide.
Phelps: Thank you, Gregor.
Del: Wow. This doesn’t sound like an organization that would want anything to do with a couple of half-assed Old Rockers. Tell us about how this happened.
Phelps: A few years ago we, as a Board of Directors, decided that, at least occasionally we wanted to an original show by original writers about local issues. Our first venture was called The Prince of Providence about controversial Mayor Buddy Cianci.
Gregor: Do you know about him, Del?
Del: I’ve heard the name.
Gregor: Tell us about Buddy, Phelps.
Phelps: Buddy was a longtime mayor who was either credited or blamed for what has been termed the downtown Renaissance of Providence. Buddy had as many fans as detractors. He got things done, but often using questionable methods. He ended up going to prison on corruption charges, but he remained a popular figure in the state. And I have to admit that Trinity Square thrived during his tenure.
Gregor: This is while I was active in politics on the state level. I can say definitively that no one was neutral on the subject of Buddy.
Phelps: Long-story-short. The show was a huge success, hottest ticket in town. When it came to doing a follow-up, however, the bucket was empty. One of our Board members at that time was Gregor’s wife Cassandra Brewster.
Del: Did she make the connection?
Phelps: No, that’s what is interesting about this story. We’ve always had a firewall between Board issues and Programming. Cassandra and I were chatting, just polite stuff, before a board meeting and she mentioned that she had gone to her daughter’s wedding the weekend before. It was lovely, la-ti-da, but the only downside was that they had to miss the performance of a high school play, in Vermont of all places, based on her husband’s experience in a teenage band in Providence. Oh, what a shame, I said and she said, “Luckily they made a video.” “Did you see it?” I asked. “Gregor and I watched it twice,” she answered. “It’s completely amateurish, but a lot of fun.” Then, it was time to start the Board meeting, but I tucked away the part about the videotape.
Del: Sounds to me that you are setting the stage for being the unsung hero responsible for the improbable success of the Old Rockers …
Phelps: You better believe it … my right shoulder has been dislocated from reaching behind and patting myself on the back. The truth, however, is that I didn’t give it another thought until the next meeting of the Programming Committee when the subject came up of the well running dry on the local programming front. I remembered the videotape and mentioned it to one of the Committee members by the name of Eleanor Monohon. She contacted Cassandra, watched the tape, and made the recommendation.
Del: And you’ve taken all the credit!
Phelps: Kinda guy I am! That’s what guys do, isn’t it? Take credit for the work of women?
Gregor: It’s always worked for me. I hope Eleanor got something out of the deal.
Phelps: Oh yes, she takes over for me as Board Chair in June. And the success of original local productions has continued. We followed Old Rockers with Salty, the story of local TV host Salty Brine who overcame the adversity of losing a leg to become a local legend …
Del: I watched his show. He showed Popeye cartoons!
Phelps: Right … “I’m strong to the finish, ‘cuz I eats me spinach.” And we’ve currently got in development Mama’s in the Band, the behind-the-scenes look at the sad story of The Cowsills.
Gregor: I’ve heard that things weren’t quite as happy with that family as they were on the television screen.
Phelps: Sad, but true.
Del: I’ve got a suggestion for your next local original.
Phelps: I’m all ears.
Del: It’s called Old Rockers: The Beat Goes On. It’s about the unexpected rise to fame and fortune that the Old Rockers experience after their hit show at the Trinity Square Playhouse.
Phelps: Sounds like a good one.
Del: Sadly, it’s actually true. It’s a project in development as a potential Netflix series. Gregor and I have even seen the initial proposal.
Phelps: For real?
Gregor: Yup, it’s for real. Who knows if it will happen? A lot of projects never see the light of day.
Del: What we saw was pretty much predictable slop– one of the guys leaves his wife for an eighteen year old with big boobs. Another episode is about a gambling problem, then the predictable cancer episode …
Gregor: It’s like someone got the idea over lunch, then went back and fed it into AI.
Phelps: Still, you must be excited by the prospect.
Del: I thought the best thing about it is that if it goes more than one season, they’ll change up the cast and music to reflect a new generation of rockers.
Phelps: That’s a cool concept.
Del: Yeah, that way they can keep the Old Rockers rockin’ on long after these old rockers have gone to that big recording studio in the sky.
Gregor: Thank you for joining us. Our guest has been Phelps Downing, the soon-to-be ex-Board Chair of the Trinity Square Repertory Company. Thank you, Phelps.
Phelps: A pleasure, gentlemen.
Gregor: Stay tuned for another fun guest, Royalton Bent, known throughout the Old Rocker World as “Drama Dude,” but first this word from today’s sponsor, Reliable Roadside Relief. Tell them what happened to you recently, Del.
Del: This is an embarrassing but true tale. ‘Sythia and I went down to West Lebanon New Hampshire which we do about once a month for what we call our shopping spree. We go out to lunch, go to the Hanover Co-op, hit the NH State Liquor store to see what wines are on sale, do whatever other shopping needs to be done–New Hampshire doesn’t have any sales tax, then we always gas up before we head home, because gas is cheaper there than in Vermont, and I’m a nut about buying gas at the lowest possible price.
Gregor: You, too? I’m the same way. I’ll think nothing of buying a new guitar, but I will also drive twenty miles out of my way in order to save 3 cents a gallon on gas. Ridiculous!
Del: It’s getting dark. It’s about 4 pm back in December. I make it back onto the highway. I’m about ten miles up the road, and the lights on the dash go crazy, and the engine shits off. That’s when it hits me. I’m out of gas. I forgot to fill up back in West Lebanon. Luckily I was able to pull over to the shoulder and put my flashers on. I was completely quiet. So was ‘Sythia. There was no one to blame for this but myself.
Gregor: Didn’t you get a warning light and that little ding-y sound?
Del: Maybe, but we were listening to a book, the life story of Jerry Lee Lewis, and my hearing ain’t so good any more, so we probably had it cranked up pretty loud.
Gregor: Man, that guy lived a life and a half.
Del: Yes, well what do now? We’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s nowhere to walk. It’s getting dark. I don’t want to try flagging someone down. Luckily there was enough of a cell signal to call 9-1-1. ‘Sythia had to do it because I was too embarrassed. What a moron! Finally about an hour later, and a guy came with a gallon of gas. Then we had to drive back to West Lebanon to fill up. It cost a couple of hundred bucks, but the worst part was the blow to my pride. Guys are supposed to let things like this happen.
Gregor: I got a flat tire in downtown Boston about a year ago. You know how long it’s been since I changed a tire? You know how many people flipped me the bird, because I was holding up traffic?
Del: Del: As soon as I got home I was on the phone to Triple-R, Reliable Roadside Relief, because “They’re There” when you need them.
Gregor: I did the exact same thing, and you know what? I haven’t had to call them in a year, and I still think having their card in my wallet is worth it just for my piece of mind.
Del: The last time I had to change a spare tire was a fiasco. I couldn’t figure out how to make the jack work, I didn’t know where to place it, and the spare itself was one of these ridiculous little doughnuts. It was horrible!
Gregor: So what did you do?
Del: I sat in the car and let ‘Sythia do it.
Gregor: Seriously, what did you do?
Del: I pinched myself hard to wake up from the dream.
Gregor: Seriously …
Del: I drove on it flat to the nearest garage.
Gregor: Doesn’t that destroy the tire?
Del: Yup, they told me it was completely shredded when I arrived.
Gregor: Bet you wish you had Triple-R.
Del: I sure am glad I’ve got it now. Time to get back to the show.
Gregor: Joining us now in the studio is someone we haven’t seen for at least the last two years. Someone who is as responsible as anyone for the success of the Old Rockers. We welcome Drama Dude! Hey! Where’s the pink hair?
(Royalton Bent is disheveled and emaciated. He is 20 years old and bears a dour demeanor.) Royalton: Drama Dude doesn’t live here any more.
Del: I barely recognize you.
Royalton: Like I say, Drama Dude doesn’t live here any more. I don’t do theater any more.
Del: Hey … what’s up, man? Tell us what’s going on in your life.
Royalton: Nothing too exciting. Working third shift at Thubriderm. Living back at home for the moment. Trying to keep out of trouble.
Gregor: (awkwardly) Want to back up a little and tell we first met each other.
Royalton: I did the Saturday Farmer’s Market, helping the Mont Verde Farm people, selling their botanical balms and salves. Billy the “One Mann Band,” before he was Del, played there and I really got off on his music and the stories he told about the songs. Mr. McGuigan, the drama coach at the high school, said we should try an original play, and I suggested the idea that became “Old Rockers.” You two guys really helped to make it happen and bring it to life.
Del: That’s exactly how we felt about you and the other kids in the play. It was so much fun!
Royalton: Yeah, I was really jazzed and ready to commit my life to the theater. I thought I was on my way.
Del: What happened?
Royalton: (exhales loudly) It’s more like “What didn’t happen?” After graduation me and one of the other theater kids were going to go to New York, get ourselves into Julliard, live in a squat, work as waiters and become stars.
Del: Been there, done that.
Royalton: The other guy chickened out and got a job at a summer camp. I didn’t have nothing to do and started hanging with some guys who just liked getting as fucked up as possible. Pretty soon that was about all I was doing, and the shit get getting heavier and heavier.
Del: Like, what do you mean …?
Royalton: Like, there were overdoses. And people started stealing things to get money for dope. And people were getting caught, and, yes, I got caught. And I coulda gone to jail, but they let me off. And I got this job working third shift, and I’m living at home, and I hate the job, and I hate living at home, and if I fuck up again, I’ going to get kicked out, and I’m going to fuck up again, because what’s the use?
Gregor: Royalton … you’re a kid. What are you? 20 years old. You’re life hasn’t even begun.
Royalton: Doesn’t seem like that.
Del: Maybe we can help you.
Royalton: How you gonna do that?
Del: Not sure, but give us a chance. It’s not going to happen instantly. For now, go to work. Punch in on time, do the best job you possibly can. Keep your head down at home and try not to do anything to make anyone else’s life worse. You got me?
Royalton: I-I think so.
Gregor: Don’t think so, know so. We’re going to try to help, but in the meantime, you can help us by not making things worse. Can you do that?
Royalton: I think so.
Gregor: Don’t think so, know so.
Del: And DO so. Thank you for being with us, Royalton Bent, the Artist Formerly Known as Drama Dude. This will be continued. We have a little homework, don’t we, Gregor? But we’ll be back next week … same time, same place, but completely new show. What do we have to look forward to?
Gregor: Next week is our final show. Yup, we’re bringing it to the finish line with another guest from Venice Beach, Florida.
Del: Uh-oh, is this what I think it is?
Gregor: It’s exactly what you think it is.
Del: Then I can tell you, folks … you don’t want to miss next week’s podcast of the “Old Rockers.”
[This is the final episode of The Old Rockers Podcast. Hungry for feedback … did you read it? … did you tolerate it? … did you ignore it? Tumbs up? Thumbs down? Thumbs sideways? Have pity on a couple of old apes and tell us what you think. Oo-oo. SBs SM and WGM]
Old Rockers Podcast. Conclusion
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.)
Del: We are the Old Rockers, and we are ready to rock!
Gregor: You feeling it? You ready to play loud, play, fast and get the hell off the stage!
Del: You bet I am, especially after last week’s podcast.
Gregor: That was a kick in the teeth! For those of you who missed it, we talked to Royalton Bent, a young man who, as Drama Dude, started the ball rolling for what has become the Old Rockers … what would you call us, Del? A franchise? A brand? A phenomenon?
Del: I dunno, but we’re something, and he’s got nothing going. I felt terrible after last week’s show. I went to Augie LaRock, you remember him from a few episodes ago, and he said there are lots of kids around here in this same situation. They don’t have much of a future …
Gregor: .. and they don’t have much of a present. Meanwhile, we’re telling this kid to keep his head down and keep showing up for his job on the third shift stamping out injection molding parts or whatever he does.
Del: We’ve got to keep working on it.
Gregor: We’ve got to keep working on it.
Del: Meanwhile, we’ve got a show to do, and a guest standing by. But before we turn the page on Drama Dude, I need to publicly thank him for not only the role he played in our success, but for providing a moment for reflection on what is important in life. We pass through —
Gregor: (interrupts) No-no-no-no-no-o-o-o. I see where this is heading, and I’m not going to let you go there. Just a minute ago you were saying “play loud, play fast.” Are you going to get the hell off the stage now?
Del: (sheepishly) No.
Gregor: You can’t have it both ways. Either get the hell off the stage or play loud and play fast.
Del: Ok.
Gregor: Which is it going to be then?
Del: Play loud, play fast.
Gregor: You sure?
Del: Yeah, I’m sure.
Gregor: Why don’t you introduce today’s guest.
Del: Today we are going back to Venice Beach, Florida which is where we started our podcast many moons ago when we interviewed my mother, Trudy. Today we are interviewing the woman who was, and still is, my mother’s best friend, Gloria.
Gregor: G-L-O-R-I-A?
Del: Not that Gloria. This one is even better, because when I was a mere lad of eighteen, she fucked my brains out for an entire summer. Welcome to the Old Rockers Podcast.
Gloria: (Her white hair shows above a red kerchief. She wears sunglasses and a colorful shoulder wrap over a bathing suit. She’s sitting in a beach chair.) You could have chosen a more nuanced introduction.
Del: I promised Gregor to “play loud” and “play fast.” In any case, welcome to the Old Rockers Podcast.
Gregor: What’s it like today on the beach?
Gloria: Pretty damn perfect. Mid-seventies. Already done my power walk with my lady friends, and a group of us are going to hit the Early Bird special at The Octopus.
Del: How does the Early Bird work?
Gloria: Early Bird is 4 pm to 6 pm. All drinks are five bucks and they have a choice of three entrees for ten. There’s usually eight of us, plus or minus a few.
Del: Will Trudy be there?
Gloria: She usually is, and I’m sure she’ll want to hear how it went today.
Del: All women?
Gloria: No Freddie Freeloader is always there, as well as Hank the Bank.
Gregor: Hank the Bank? Where did that name come from?
Gloria: He picks up the check for the entire table! Every week! His catch-phrase is “What am I saving it for … the worms?”
Gregor: Now I can figure out Freddie the Freeloaders, too.
Gloria: He’s married to one of the girls. Hank says he wins the money back from Freddie on the golf course, but who knows?
Del: Are the other women single?
Gloria: Widowed or divorced. One time we counted up that among us we had 18 husbands who were “B or B’d.”
Del: Which stands for …?
Gloria: “Buried or Banished.”
Gregor: Enough of the chitchat. Gloria, what did you think of Del’s introduction?
Gloria: Accurate. He could have expressed it a little more delicately in his choice of words.
Gregor: How would you have expressed it?
Gloria: Here is a woman who recognized a lost soul wandering in the swamp of male adolescence and led him to the path of salvation, earning his eternal gratitude in the process.
Del: Isn’t that pretty much what I said?
Gregor: Tell me how the whole thing started with you and our lad, Del.
Gloria: Wednesdays were Ladies Nights in Providence, meaning that a lot of the bars and clubs had half-off drinks for ladies. Trudy and I went once in a while, just to see what would happen. Keeping our hands in the game, you might say. I think we were pretending that we had a social life.
Gregor: Did much happen?
Gloria: Generally, no. Trudy and I–sometimes a few others– would have a couple of highballs–that’s what we drank back in those days–and talk catty about the other men and women in the bar. Occasionally a guy would offer to buy us a drink or ask us to dance, but usually, it was just an excuse to get made-up and dressed-up and to have a change of scenery. The most that ever came of it would be to be asked out on a date. But the main thing was, Trudy and I had a blast, and laughed ourselves silly.
Gregor: So, what changed?
Gloria: We were usually home by eleven o’clock. We’d have a nightcap, then call it a night. This one night, however, Trudy was pretty tipsy. I remember that it was all I could do to get her upstairs and put to bed. She was out by the time her head hit the pillow. I came back down and Del was there in his teenage tunnel, playing the same things over and over on his guitar. I don’t know why, but this particular night I decided to flip the script.
Del: Can I leave the room?
Gregor: By “flipping the script” you mean seducing this innocent child?
Gloria: By “innocent child” I assume you mean this horndog who was always trying to get a look down my shirt or up my skirt. Don’t forget. I’m 36 years old and been divorced for over five years. I’m a young, healthy, unattached woman who still needed human contact. Del seemed safe, of legal age, and even more in need of me than I was of him.
Del: Hear, hear! Yes, this evil woman took advantage of me time and time again that summer.
Gregor: This wasn’t premeditated on your part?
Gloria: No, completely spontaneous.
Gregor: Did you feel guilty about the fact that this was your best friend’s son?
Gloria: Yes and no. Yes, because I knew it would become a big issue if she found out about it, but no because we both knew that he was reaching an age where guys become sexually active, and this can be risky business. Don’t forget she got pregnant and had Del when she was seventeen. That was not a good experience for her. Eventually I knew that Del’s introduction to sex and romance came from someone safe and considerate. It’s not like I wanted to marry the kid.
Gregor: And you, Del. Didn’t you feel guilty about not sharing this with your your classmate, teammate, bandmate, and overall best mate?
Del: Not for a second, make that a nano-second? I never asked for details of your relationship with Cassandra.
Gregor: That’s because there were no details. Sex didn’t enter the picture with us until she finally went off to college.
Del: And Gloria was very specific about this. Don’t tell your mother and don’t tell your little buddy Greg. So I didn’t.
Gregor: Gloria, I never knew about you and Del until a few years ago.
Gloria: Believe me, honey, you didn’t miss a thing!
Gregor: We’ll be back with you in a minute, but first we have to sell some stuff. Take a break, and go to the bathroom, and when you get back with can have some serious talks about toilets. I’ll explain later.
Del: Today’s podcast is sponsored by Biolet, the Porcelain Throne of the Rising Sun. Gregor, so you know what home improvement has the highest ROI in your entire home?
Gregor: I have no idea what an ROI is, and you wouldn’t either if you weren’t holding that little card in your hand.
Del: It stands for Return on Investment and it is a measure of what a dollar invested in improving your home returns as value. So, you invest five grand installing central AC and put your home up for sale the day the installation is complete. Is your home now worth five thousand more? Probably not. If you can recover only two thousand of your five invested you have a negative three thousand ROI. Research shows luxury bathroom upgrades consistently have the highest returns of any home improvement.
Gregor: “Research” shows that, huh?
Del: Look it up on the Internet. And of all luxury upgrades, what is the single best appliance category?
Gregor; Let me take a wild guess … today’s sponsor, Biolet Toilets?
Del: Well, kindof … the answer is Ultra Toilets or which the Biolet is a leading brand.
Gregor: Does “Research” show this?
Del: How did you know? You can Google it. Here’s another indisputable fact: 82% of the world’s households do not have toilets that require the use of toilet paper.
Gregor: Jeez … I would have guessed something more like 79%. What’s your point, Old Rocker?
Del: That the world has passed us by. While here in ‘Merica we’re still scraping ourselves with corn cobs, the rest of the world are gently washing away their filth using science and technology to solve humankind’s most basic need.
Gregor: Which is …?
Del: Pooping! Google it! On a more serious level, you have a Biolet in your home, don’t you? Would you ever go back to a traditional toilet? When I think of it now, traditional toilets seem so backward. And wiping yourself with toilet paper? Barbaric! Do you realize that when you use toilet paper you’re actually pushing your waste back into yourself. Ewyuck! It’s about time for us to catch up with the rest of the world. Which model do you have?
Gregor: I don’t know the name, but it has about fifteen water massage settings. I haven’t tried them all yet. Sometimes I find Cassandra just hanging out on the Biolet.
Del: Really?
Gregor: Really, not really. Just tell people to buy a Biolet, so we can get back to our guest.
Del: Ok, but here’s something I can’t figure out. People come in all sizes, shapes, colors, flavors … there’s a lot of variation within the species …
Gregor: I’m not sure where you are going with this, but so far you haven’t said anything that shows you not to have a remarkable grasp of the obvious.
Del: But you sit them down on the Biolet, from Andre the Giant to Tom Thumb, from Tinkerbelle to Wonder Woman. You turn on that stream of warm, pulsing water and … BINGO! … it’s right on the old rosebud! How does it know?
Gregor: The Biolet knows all and sees all. It’s a wonder of technology.
Del: Right … on … the … ol’ … rosebud! (dramatic pause) Buy yourself a Biolet. Make your morning movement a moving moment with Biolet, the Porcelain Throne of the Rising Sun.
Gregor: Whew, I’m glad that’s over with. Gloria, did you happen to go to the toilet while we took a break?
Gloria: This girl doesn’t go to the bathroom. Ever.
Gregor: After Del left home, did you have any contact with him?
Gloria: I got the occasional letter of anguish while he was in New York, then basic training, and eventually, Vietnam. I answered them all dutifully, but I kept them newsy and chatty. If I knew anything about Obediah Brown School or your band, I’d pass it along, but I wanted him to understand that what happened with us was nice, but it was physical and it was over.
Del: Did you ever say anything to my Mom?
Gloria: Of course! I’m not going to keep something like that from my best girl! We ladies stick together.
Del: When did you do that?
Gloria: When you signed on with the Marines.
Del: How’d that go?
Gloria: She got all mad and indignant, but only for a day or two. I think she felt better about you being off on your own with a little home cooking in your belly. Then, things were back to normal, except she up and married that salesman guy and moved to Florida. I became the eyes and ears for you about what was going on with your mother as well as what was going on in Providence. It’s a small city. Everyone knows what everyone else is doing there.
Del: I remember writing to you to find out her new address in Florida. She never bothered telling me.
Gloria: Well, that guy didn’t last too long. Then she took up with a guy who was in real estate. He brought her to Venice Beach. Then she dumped him and got into real estate herself. Did pretty well, too.
Gregor: And what did you do professionally.
Gloria: I was an Executive Assistant at Symonds Jewelry …
Gregor: Symonds Diamonds! An old Rhode Island firm.
Gloria: Yes, very respected …
Gregor: Saul Symonds was a contributor to my political campaigns. He was the first person Democrats turned to when they need money.
Gloria: And who do you think wrote those checks, honey?
Gregor: Fascinating. Tell us more.
Gloria: I started there as a secretary, then just grew with the company. I was Saul’s gatekeeper and, to put it bluntly, I was his side action, too. It was one of the best known secrets in town.
Gregor: The Symonds were a very prominent family, very active civically and in the Jewish Community.
Gloria: Everyone in the family knew about me and Saul. I got along great with his wife Ellen.
Gregor: She knew about you?
Gloria: It was one of those “don’t ask, don’t tell” situations. Ellen probably thought I was a lot better than some expensive shicksa in Manhattan. They included me in all the family functions. I went to every bar mitzvah and anniversary celebration, usually as the date of Sheldon Symonds, Saul’s brother who was a real nebbish.
Gregor: Getting back to you and Del …
Gloria: We worried about him the whole time he was in Vietnam even though we knew he wasn’t in actual combat. The whole country was in a mess. The diamond business was going pretty good, however. Then, right about the time we were expecting him to come home. I get a phone call from him and he says “Gloria, I’m going to disappear, and I mean really disappear. Tell my mom I’m ok. Don’t believe what you read, and just sit tight. I’m ok. Just sit tight.” So, that’s what we did. The next thing we heard was that he was dead.
Gregor: Yeah, Cassandra and I read it in the Providence Journal. We were distraught. We had no reason not to believe it.
Gloria: It was very confusing. I couldn’t say anything, except what I kept saying to Trudy. “Sit tight.” That’s all I could say.
Del: I was completely fucked up. That’s all I can say. Looking back, I know I caused a lot of pain.
Gregor: So, for all those years that Del was underground, you were the mole. The eyes and ears on the ground.
Gloria: It wasn’t hard to keep on top of things in Providence. It’s such a small town, and you and Cassandra were public figures. Plus, those musical clues that showed up in your mailbox without postmarks? I put them there. Paying back your father for the money he lent Del? That was me, too.
Gregor: My dad never believed Del was dead. I wish he was around for the resurrection.
Gloria: Life is timing. What matters is now. You saw a chance to disappear, and you grabbed it. I saw a chance to help a teenager grow up, and I grabbed it.
Gregor: That’s something I could have done better in life.
Del: You kidding me. You staked your claim on Cassandra before I even laid eyes on her.
Gregor: And now?
Gloria: I walk Venice Beach looking for shark’s teeth.
Del: How many are you up to?
Gloria: 869, but I’ll never catch Trudy. She’s got over 950.
Gregor: What are you two going to do with all of those shark’s teeth?
Gloria: I don’t know about Trudy, but I’m going to dump mine back in the drink.
Gregor: Hey Trudy, thanks for being with us and filling in some important gaps in our story. Hey, Del and I are old enough to retire … should we check out Venice Beach?
Gloria: No, too crowded, too many old people, and not enough shark’s teeth. Check out Portugal. I hear that’s the place to be these days. It’s been a pleasure talking with you boys. ‘Bye.
Del: “You boys” … nice to have somebody talk about us as “boys.” I still feel like one.
Gregor: Take my word, you’re not a kid any more.
Del: (starts singing from Bobby’s Girl)
You’re not a kid any more … You’re not a kid any more (keeps it going in background)
Gregor: (narrates) When people ask of me
What would you like to be
Now that you’re not a kid … any more
Del: You’re not a kid any more … you know what this reminds me of?
Gregor: Uh … Bobby’s Girl?
Del: No, you remember at the end of gigs when we’d play the Stones’s It’s All Over Now, and we’d stretch out those repeating chords for about ten minutes just to fill up time. (Sings the chords Baumm, babump baumm-m-m)
Gregor: We don’t want to be those guys just filling up time at the end.
Del: It ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings …
Gregor: Must have been Mama Cass …
Del: And it ain’t over ’til it’s over …
Gregor: Yogi Berra …
Del: But all’s well that ends well …
Gregor: Billy Shakespeare!
Del: Well, I’ve told you once, and I’ve told you twice …
Gregor: And it’s time to listen to our own advice. Play loud, Brother Del.
Del: And play fast, old friend … it’s time to get the hell off the stage.
the end
