All of the going over my past with Walter first, then Harley, finally made me brave enough to tell about my WHOLE life. It may not initially make sense to most, but after a while, you will be drawn in to the minnow, just as a crappie is to two of them on a jig. I started to do it many time one New Years morning, but never got very far. After having to go through what I didn't want to remember or feel again, I finally got the guts and nerve to put it down. It didn't happen in one session, but took a while. The good was easy to relate, but the bad, I struggled with. Today, I would suggest to anyone who may choose to do something similar, is to get one of those voice recognition programs or hire a courtroom stenographer. Am happy I did it, for most of the skeletons hidden in my closet and the dust bunnies under my bed have vacated their premises. I no longer have to remember which portion of my life that I am talking about to any individual who doesn't know my entire life. I don't have to be career driven John Michael by day and Crazy Ralph by night. I can just be myself and if anyone doesn't like that, then you know what they can do with themselves. Perhaps, I owe some apologies, which I definitely do. However, I have received few apologies that I deserved. Can call it a draw, my front door is always opened, but leave the past and the trash outside. I plan on living until I am 93, just like one of my mentors and confidants, Robert N. Clark. By that time most of the negativity in my life will either have been buried or cremated. Have tried over the recent years to connect with those bearing my positive, not toxic genes. Am not the greatest example of how one should lead their life, but feel that I have some positive things they should consider. The following may at first be a bit hard to follow, similar to my life, but eventually it wiil start to make a bit of sense.
JMD Chronology
********Harley....Well I am at a stopping point. Need a break. Most of what follows may not help you in what you are trying to write about Sammy's, but perhaps it will give you a better understanding about CRAZY RALPH. It has been hard for me to talk about my personal life. Most of it, I would like to forget, but then in my own right, I do have a somewhat of an amusing story to tell. Most of it is not something I would brag about, but when we dare to examine, who we are, we sometimes have to recognize those stormy days, as opposed to the wonderful days at the Jonathan Club's private beach eating lobster with young Walter. We realize the many roads we have gone down in our lives and we can't erase them, no matter how we try. Some of this is repetitive, but I have tried to upgrade it with better information. Enjoy or say Wow what a fuckhead!******
(from earlier when I started writing this whole thing)
(Sorry this has taken a while, but sometimes have to take a break. If all of life was all so wonderful, could probably go on for days without one. Use whatever you want out of it, just happy the, not so good is over and done. I try to concentrate on the good that I try to pass on to others. The first part of the following is about before we met and the other parts are about when we lost contact. Left out the parts when we were involved and searching for MEANINGS IN LIFE at Sammy's, probably which we are still doing. The last part is about Young Walter, his journey after he left KC and until his demise and our meeting at Skradski's. Like the new approach you are taking, for you are right, during our period at Sammy's we put it on a historical/hysterical map. It was "The Champagne of Beers", just like Miller High Life. There was a cast of supporting characters, but Sam, like a Broadway angel, knew when to invest in 1, then 2 and then 3 diverse wannabes. He was brave enough and smart enough to put his money behind and trust in these 3 village idiots. Though in all rights, we were all tyros, he saw that we could write and produce the greatest performances ever on 6th Street, even anything produced on Broadway. All 4 of us in a strange way, not only got to live in the moments, but got to live, in a strange way into the future. A time, place or events can never be replicated. They stand on their own. Don't want to diminish others, but without the 4 of us, Sammy's would have only ended up being a local neighborhood joint. Sometimes we don't understand the actions in life and how they will have influence in the future. We live in the moment for our own gratifications. However, when we dare to dare in that moment, we give those in the future the confidence to also dare. Christians dared to push forward when John the Baptist was beheaded and learned to open their minds to alternatives and questions in life. As much of what we did that may have been questioned, we did provide alternative AAA trip-tics to go through life and I am proud to say I offered a few alternatives.)
JMD Chronology For Sammy's (Updated 5/29/2013)
Born April 4, 1945 at home (not in hospital) at 515 N 5th St., KCK
Mother died before I was 2. We were put in an orphanage and later split up amongst various aunts and uncles. (4 girls and 2 boys)
Lived at 710 N 3rd St., KCK until I was 10. Sammy's family home was 5 houses up from there at 3rd and Ann Avenue. Remember him and Jerry as a kid. (He would have been in the Korean War.)
With almost no friends, I hung out with the older guys in the neighborhood. Most were 4-6 years older. Was almost like their mascot. They let me hang out with them and turned me into a TOUGH, LITTLE AND DETERMINED KID. Taught me how to play tackle football, baseball and bottle cap ball, played with a broom stick and beer bottle caps. Most went to De La Salle the others to Ward later on. Working at Sammy's later was like a reunion to me. There was Panta, Beast, Moon, Marinovich, Sam Pie, Jimmy Kent, Degraves, Stipetich, Horvatin, Markovich, J. Evans, Birdman, Mad Dog Pavlic and a few others.
When the turnpike came through in the 50's, my Uncle Jim and I moved in with an aunt at 3013 N 27th St., KCK. One of the stipulations of his guardianship for me was that I had to live in a home with a woman present. Was great for me as there were a few kids my age and I had my wonderful sister Maggie to educate me in life. Also because I had to take the public transit bus to school everyday, I had a great excuse for not making it to Mass with all the other students. Lived there for about 2 years and was happy to have very little contact with the "Hill" except for the schools days, bowling or sports.
Moved next to 67 S 25th St., KCK into a basement apartment in Giz's folks home. Lived there from my last year at St. John's and through my first 3 years at Maur Hill. That's when I started hanging with Garbo, Loser, Sick Fred, Mike Rogers, Bub Mayhew and the guys from Wyandotte High. Had an argument with my uncle about having to work for him on construction on the Intercity Viaduct. Had a chance to work at the Wyandotte Swim Club as a lifeguard. He thought I should stay in shape for my senior year of football working as a laborer. I only thought about being doted on by all those hot little chicks in their bikinis. I moved out and in with one of my sisters. Had one of the greatest summers of my life.
Had a pretty good senior year at Maur Hill. Spotty Pavlic and his son Michael came up for my graduation and to get my personal things back to KCK. Want to say my uncle came with them, but am not certain. Do know that no member of my family attended my graduation, even though it was just an hour drive from KCK. Was student body president. Dated U.S. Senator Mize's daughter for a while, when she wasn't at Bishop School in La Jolla, CA, which allowed me extra privileges because of him being a big benefactor to the school. Also received numerous scholarship offers to play football and an opportunity to attend the Air Force Academy via Senator Mize's recommendation. I wanted to play for Dan Devine at Mizzou or Jack Mitchell at KU and even gave some serious thought Boston College where a Maur Hill alum had ties with the program there. It was pretty cool to be the first athlete from Maur Hill to be recruited by the big boys. Being called out of class or study hall to personally meet with recruiters or talk with them on the headmasters phone was a real trip, as were those recruiting trips. They even started an "Outstanding Player of the Year" award, which I was the first to receive. As they say the Lord giveth an the Lord taketh away.
You had to have your parents or guardians sign your letter of intent if you were not 18 to make it a legal contact with a university or college. Little did I realize they you were not only recruiting you, but also your parents or guardian. You got these under the counter incentives and so did the parents and guardians. While I was in Atchison floating sky-high, little did I know what was going on in KCK at the Colonial Club (Shorty's). Seems like that was where my uncle met with the recruiters and sought the advice from the more scholarly and connected who hung out there. I remember me going home one weekend before the signing date to discus who I wanted to sign with. Before I could say anything, I was informed that I would be signing with 3-51-1 LOSER Doug Weaver at K-State and that was that. Didn't realize it at the time, but his and his Colonial Club advisors incentive packages were far better than mine. Got the first real lesson in life that you may be just a piece of meat or a sacrificial lamb in this world. You can't wait for 2 months to turn 18 and make your own decision or the doors will all be closed, a lesson I learned later in life when I got my architectural degree. As I was told, They aren't that good now, but you'll make them a winner. Hell Johnny, this is a chance of a lifetime. You get room, board, books, tuition, insurance, $25 a month for incidentals and don't forget that $200 a month incentive guaranteed for 4-5 years. Who gets that kind of opportunity? I'm only looking out for your best interest. (Was equivalent to what all were offering me, but not what was being offered at the Colonial Club). One of those examples of going from the "top to the bottom".
There was one good thing about the previous ordeal, I didn't have to go back to living in that basement apartment at Giz's folks and I was 18 and no one but myself could dictate my life or future. No one could say remember all we did for you. What would you have done if we hadn't been there for you? Sometimes people don't recognize that you're the one doing all the work and suffering through all the aches and pains. Ask not what you can do for yourself, ask what you can do for us!
The summer of 63 was a strange one. Most thought I was cool because of my scholarship and so forth. I trained for the fall running many miles and on occasions worked out with some of the guys that were heading to MU or KU. They didn't understand why I had chosen to sign with K-State. My real preparation was done at Mel's Tavern at 28th and Parallel. Mel had a glass eye and everyone never knew who he was talking to, so in chorus they answered when he said hey you! Got pretty good playing shuffleboard and the bowling machine to keep me stocked with those 8-packs of Coors 6 ounce ponies for high scores. They were the first recyclables. Threw them first into the back seat of my 1954 Ford, later transferred them into the trunk and when it was full, returned them to Mel in exchange for a few more 8-packs to go. When you know you are about to be a sacrificial lamb you wonder about the punishment you are going to have to face and endure. The only way to shut down your mind is to get totally shit-faced. I went from 191 pounds at playing weight, with a 17 1/2" neck, 42" chest, 28" waist, able to run the 100 yard in 10.2, high jump 6'-3" and into a skeletal 138 pounds, due to ulcers, frustration and depression. I still had that tough kid mentality that Panta and the boys had instilled in me, but I didn't want to go through the agony I had endured in my earlier childhood.
That fall I lived up to my commitment and showed up in Manhattan. My word is something, when I give it, that I will always keep, regardless of any ensuing situations. One has to be true to themselves or they are irrelevant. If you lead, you lead and not subjugate your commitments and blame others for your inabilities. As this Twiggy stick figure, I punished those varsity players, who us freshmen, as sacrificial lambs had to practice against every day. I wanted them to live up to their responsibilities and commitments. I wanted them to earn their incentives. I continued to smoke 2 packs of Kools a day and drank a few pitchers a day down at Kites Bar in Aggieville, part of my incentive package for free. I just wanted this nightmare to be over and get on with life, whatever it had in store for me. Panta, Moon and the others had instilled in me an attitude of it didn't matter how small you were that you could make a difference, just by being a constant pain-in-the-ass to those that thought they were cock. The coaches couldn't understand where I was coming from or how this almost midget could punish their big boys that badly. I was just SO ANGRY about why life had dealt me a crappy poker hand at every stage in my life. Though I was this anemic stick figure, they made me the starting defensive free safety on the freshman team. Our first freshman game was against the University of Nebraska. I had met several of their players on those recruiting trips. On their team were 3 individuals who would later become consensus All-Americans under a delightful and honest gentleman named Bob Devaney. Life had always challenged me, and thank God for some strange reason, I always accepted a challenge. As the free safety, I was assigned to look after Charley Green. He would be later the fastest man on earth and run the 100 yards in 9.3, a world record. With my smoking and all that beer I consumed at Kite's, he wore my ass off running down the field for 60 yards each play for 3 quarters. Dick Czap, a 260 pound fullback, later, a 3 time All-American at tackle for NU ran out of bounds and I plastered him with a forearm and stepped on him. One of the NU coaches said There's the only player on their team. Got the 15 yard penalty and got taken out of the game. Later 3-51-1 LOSER Doug Weaver called me into his office and told me we don't play football that way here at K-State. I got demoted to just watching the practices. The varsity boys were happy for I wasn't out there to make them look bad. Our next game was at KU. The guys from the Tri Pi house were there, the guys from my incentive fund at the Colonial Club were there, but because of my actions, not in accordance to LOSER Doug Weaver, they only told me to enter the game for the last 45 seconds, so my local supporters could see me play. Me being me, I told them to fuck off and refused to go in. I wasn't about to bail their ass out or allow them to humiliate me. Had had enough of that in life. They went back to using me as a tackling dummy in practice with the varsity and one day I was involved in a collision with 235 pound Ron The Robot Barlow and two fat-ass pulling guards. My left leg tried to go up my asshole, as if I were double jointed. Got shipped down to KU Med Center, then back to Manhattan, where no coach or any of my family contacted me until seven days later. Learned definitely that in life you can be just a piece of meat or sacrificial lamb. Was contacted by a graduate assistant coach of LOSER Doug Weaver and told the medical staff recommended me hanging up my cleats. They said if I injured that knee again I could spend my life on crutches or in a wheel chair. They told me that LOSER Doug Weaver and Kansas State University would honor my scholarship. However there were the piece of meat and sacrificial lamb conditions involved. I was to clean up locker rooms, wash dirty socks and jock straps, clean the stadium and field house and simply be their NIGGER. My uncle tried to convince me that it was a good deal, my education was secured without anyone, let alone him, having to pay for it. I would have still gotten that $200 a month incentive and he and his advisors at the Colonial Club (Shorty's) would have benefitted off of me being a K-State NIGGER. You owe them for helping you get such a good opportunity. They know about the big time and what it takes to get to the big time and you should be thankful. I always knew that their offer was a ploy to get me to give up my scholarship. When you've been the leader, star or desired "catch" for so long, how many 18 year olds, want to stick around and become a university NIGGER and looked down on and be used by what were their former peers?
At the end of the semester I packed up my belongings and headed home to KCK. After a brief and heated conversation with my uncle about not wanting to be his or his Colonial Club buddies' NIGGER, I drove to Boulder, CO and met with Eddie Crowder who had also recruited me. He couldn't offer me anything but training table for meals, but said we could look at a scholarship if my knee proved to be stable. I went through 8 hours of the enrollment process in the field house, still semi-on-crutches, paid $800 for tuition, but got frustrated standing in line to secure housing. Fuck my uncle, let him cover that check I wrote to CU. Headed south to Emporia State Teachers College, where I met with the coach with the greatest name in the world, "Gus Fish" and he lived up to his name. Being a bottom feeder, he gave me training table and rehab until I could start exerting my knee. When you resort to dealing with a GUS FISH you realize that you better get your act together and not have the fire department rescue you from slipping into a drainage basin like Tiger Mike. Unfortunately I didn't heed my own thoughts.
While at E-State I became a true wild man. Took courses like Corrective Rest, Bait and Fly Casting and Ball Room Dancing. Rarely went to class, but never missed going into any bar I passed for a few beers. Took mini-trips to all the college towns in the Midwest. In a way, I was doing my own Zagat survey/rating of places to party. Took most tests and even sent papers to my English professor via mail or have someone turn them in for me. Toward the end of the semester I was on one of my little trips and forgot to pay my share of the rent. My roommate's parents were in town and fortunately covered me. Unfortunately they contacted my uncle for reimbursement and relayed my out of control actions. I left Emporia State with 2 F's, 4 Incompletes and a D- in English. Pretty good for a National Merit Finalist. My uncle was really pissed when I got up the courage to pick up my remaining things at his place. One good thing I can say about him is that he never hit me or was physical abusive in any way in my life. Mentally, we won't even go into that. When he asked why I did what I did, I simply told him I am tired of people telling me to do what is best for them, not what best for me. As for all those trips, you always said that travelling was the best education one could get. Wanted to see if you were telling the truth about that. We never had much of a relationship after that and the small trust fund I had, he converted into another that I couldn't touch until I was 32, and even then it required his signature.
Most of my family turned their backs on me, as they had done most of my life. Giz, my sister Maggie and my brother-in-law Bill Baska never abandoned me, thank God. Fortunately they understood what I had gone through most of my life. I moved in with my sister and her seven kids, sleeping on a couch in the den for the next few months. Her husband got me into the Carpenters and Millwright Union as an apprentice. He was a superintendent with Midwest Conveyor and made sure I got placed on the jobs he was in charge of. One of those good souls in life who asked for nothing in return, but to just do the best that I could do and be happy, not ANGRY. After model change overs at BOP in Fairfax and Ford in Clay Como, I had a few bucks in my pocket, felt a little security and knew that I had to move on in life. Not knowing what I wanted to do with my life, I decided to join the Air Force, which would give me four years to figure something out, just like Giz and Don, did when they joined the Marines. Nam was on the horizon, but nothing of significance at that time. Unfortunately, this athletic specimen, flunked the physical and didn't ship out to Lackland AFB in Texas. I remember Boy Blunder when he flunked his physical and was too embarrassed to come into Sammy's. I know just how he felt. I went on a 2 week bender. My brother-in-laws, Bill and Joe came to my rescue once again. Bill gave me one of his vacant apartments to live in and they both made sure I had food, cigarettes, a few beers and a little money in my pocket until I found a job. Know that it was an imposition and sore points with their families, but thankfully there are the Joes, Bills, Helens & Johns, Hermans, Gizs and Sams in the world that see some "potential" that needs a little kindness and backing in life, not just being a "property" that they can personally benefit from.
Got a job as an errand boy with Neville, Sharp & Simon Architects taking home $37.50 a week, minimum wage. Had no idea where that simple job would take me over the next 20 years. Like those great souls who had helped me, another wonderful individual came into my life. Fred Small, who actually designed the original General Motors Institute, not that a-hole I.M. Pei for Eero Saarinen. He saw something in me and took me under his wing. He knew I was a rebellious young apple, but saw something that had "potential", just like the other great souls in my life. When I only had 7 cents for a cup of coffee at Katz's Drug store during break, he would throw in the 10 cents for my Danish. Is funny, no one in the firm liked him, later when all the founders passed away, Fred had controlling stock interest in the firm. They paid him big bucks to get control, but without his core talent, the firm went under in a few years. About a year into my gig at NS&S, Sam hired me as a bar tender. I worked 8-5 at NS&S and 6-? at Sammy's. What was that series I Led Two Lives? Being an insomniac, both gigs were good for me, for I could get by on 2-3 hours of sleep a night. Was a strange segue going from one to the other. Got rather confusing when I shopped at Salvation Army stores for my double breasted suits and high top Truman Shoes and then get into Dylan playing his harmonica. The best part of that was that at last I was free and could be whoever and whatever I wanted to be.
After 1 1/2 years at NS&S, Fred told me that it was time for me to move on. He told me you've got it kid, but it's not going to happen here. (I am leaving out my time at Sammy's to give you what was going on in the other half of my life. Was strange, but I often had a difficulty in what was the real me and what was the shadow.) Went for an interview at Herman A. Sharhags Architects. My competition were the guys with the degrees and the big rolls of drawings they supposedly were responsible for. "Bullshitting" is an art. Think that Herman was so amused by the lines I delivered, that he hired me and when I asked why, he simply said We have enough people around here that want to be chiefs, but not enough people that want to be the Indians and fight the wars. The son of a gun hired me, showed me examples of the company's work and told me I was to do a project on my own, which I had never done, and unfortunately he was leaving for vacation the next day and he had confidence in me that I would do a good job. Flew by the seat of my pants over the next 2 weeks, but with a little help from a few guys in the office and determination put a decent design and set of plans together. A unique thing about the office was that each guy was like their own profit center. You had a good base salary, but how well you performed your job, you got a bonus from the profits when it was completed, not just a bonus at Christmas. When you were assigned a project, it was like you were your own one man office.
All the others in the office had architectural degrees or were licensed architects. I was pretty far behind in the experience curve. However, like Fred Small at NS&S, Herman took me under his wing teaching me the basic skills to be an architectural designer, not just a draftsman. He assigned me easier projects in the beginning or him and I teamed up to do the more creative and visible projects. Think he was trying to compress a five year education into a 6-12 month experience. He took me to client meetings and presentations, why sometimes I had to have someone fill in for me at Sammy's. He took me to job sites to view and inspect projects under construction. Had his wife Phyl, who ran the business side of the office, teach me how to put together specifications and bid packages. He hand picked a few engineers to teach me how to do basic calculations required for plumbing, electrical, HVAC and structural. He taught me how to do renderings and put presentation packages together. It wasn't a theoretical or philosophical university approach, it was a hands-on and in real time approach. Funny part of this is that at night I would turn into that wild man at Sammy's. Herman and Phyl liked to tip a few, so we just smiled at each other when we came into the office with our blood shot eyes. He was one helluva tutor, for after about 1 1/2 years, he let me start doing those high visible projects, to some resentment from some of the guys in the office. He told me that at times you had to do those bread and butter projects, they pay the bills and the bonuses, but when you get a chance to do something new and creative, you pull out all the stops and let your mind go. You get one shot at it, so don't pull out a project from the drawer and replicate it. Go for it and have fun. Never forgot those words while was involved in architecture or later doing my art or those remodels to support my art career.
I would work for Herman for about 5 years and at the same time at Sammy's or Buttons at the 8-Ball. Herman on the side, paid for me to take a course or two, without anyone in the office knowing about it, at the Art Institute, Park College, Donnelly College or UMKC. He didn't care what I took, he just encouraged me to keep my brain active, as if working at Sammy's or the 8-Ball didn't keep it active enough.
During the last 3 years there, I got married to Lynn, whom I paid for her last year at the Art Institute. Her parents had cut here off and told me, that I was nothing more than a city-slicker, leading their daughter astray and that They could have been happier had their daughter married a NIGGER rather than me. They almost got their chance, when one of their other daughters was dating Harvey Martin of Dallas Cowboy fame. He was acceptable for he drove a Green Rolls Royce which would have been utterly prestigious to drive up to the 9-hole Friend, NB Country Club in. Even though Herman and Phyl were several years older than Lynn and I and had 3 kids younger than Lynn and I, we spent a lot of time with them and they did wonderful things for us. Everyone in the office rotated going down to their cabin in the Ozarks when they weren't using it. They often took us with them and we all partied, danced and got ripped. Maybe we were their "fountains of youth". Know that Beast, whom I recommended and who got a job there, along with most of the others, didn't understand and envied my relationship with the Scharhags. They weren't the only ones, nor did I, but when you have a good thing going, don't try and reinvent the wheel again or be overly philosophical, Just Jag On.
As I approached having 7 years of experience in the architectural profession, I thought about applying for a professional license. Herman and I had lunch and he laid out the real facts of life. Your work has won this firm 7 Awards, but there isn't any way in hell you can pass that exam even if they let you take it. Here's your choices Ralph. Go back to school at that Juco over in KCK and get your grade point average up and then apply to a few architecture schools. Phyl and I and all the engineers, who have worked with you, will write recommendations for your talents, accomplishments and discipline (Even though we know you are a wild man on 6th Street). We'll pay for your tuition at Juco and you only have to work in the office 20 hours a week, but we will pay you for a full 40. If you don't like this deal, then find another job and waste a successful future. You've got too much going for you Ralph to throw it down the drain and there are a lot of people out there that believe in your abilities and talent. Don't worry about letting us down, just don't let yourself down. It was the same message I had gotten from Sam, Helen & John, Giz, Maggie, Bill, Fred and Joe, perhaps they said it a little differently, but basically it was the same. None were doing anything to benefit from me, I wasn't instilled with the devil and I had "potential" that they thought should be shared.
I enrolled at KCKJC, made up for my bad grades with a 4.0 average both semesters, continued working at Sam's or the 8-Ball and got accepted at Yale (can't you see Ralph at Yale), Detroit University, Washington University, Oklahoma University and Hampton Institute of Technology (where I would have been the only white student in the architecture school and able to get minority funding). Couldn't go to Yale, until the following spring semester, so let go of that. Didn't want to go to Hampton and be accepted by Lynn's folks, even if I didn't drive a Rolls. Detroit was my preference for Marvin, Smokey and the others were becoming hot and I enjoyed the beat and if another Viet Nam started I was close enough to escape over the Canadian border. Lynn wanted Washington, but I knew I couldn't take the rain and dampness of the Northwest physically, due to my reactions of those earlier athletic injuries. What was left, was to join the Joad family descendants in Oklahoma. Walter at that time was going to the New School in NYC. The Christmas before I departed for You're doing fine Oklahoma, Herman and Phyl gave out Christmas bonuses 3 days early. No one in the office knew why the dispersal was held earlier. When I opened my bonus envelope, it also included 2 tickets to NYC so Lynn and I could spend the holidays with Walter and his first wife, Janie. Is strange how you wonder about being dealt the bad cards in life, but is even stranger to wonder why suddenly you're Stranger Than A Stranger. Got to experience Times Square on New Years eve and the Rolling Stones at MSG at $85 (that was a lot of money in 69 turning into 70) a pop that Walter provided from his funds made at American Music. Think that was really when Walter and I got hooked at the hips.
I left KCK in the Fall of 1970 and headed to Oklahoma.....okay! Wasn't exactly a smooth ride. The U-Haul broke down on the way down from KC. They didn't grant me in-state tuition, but fortunately Sam sent me some funds and Phyl Scharhag got me some funds from the KC's AIA's wives funds to get enrolled. It was a big difference between $12 an hour and $40 an hour, plus the in state and out of state fees. Unfortunately for Lynn, when you were a graduate from an art school, there weren't a lot of jobs available. I carried 21 hours of academic studies, but to survive had to work for the Bureau For Economic Research, laying out their monthly economics magazine and also worked part-time for a construction company, Abercrombie and Pedigrow, to pay the bills and keep us afloat. I started a small furniture company making affordable furniture and doing some architectural work for individuals and smaller companies. One good thing on my behalf was that the architecture department didn't know what to do with me. I had more real architectural experience than most on their staff. There was always the statement Those that can do, do, those that can't teach. They allowed me to pay tuition fees and "quiz out" of 40 hours of classes because of my experience. That allowed me to get my first degree, BSED, Bachelors of Science Environmental Degree in 1 1/2 years without a summer break. Probably Al Gore would have hired me to help him sell his "bullshit". That also allowed me to cut off a year from me getting my Masters In Architecture degree in 2 years. To keep me from being a pain-in-the-ass to most of the professors, they made a graduate assistant teaching Graphics I and Basic Design II. The good part about that was that I was able to give up many of those part time jobs and Lynn was working her way upwardly in the advertising business, so money, food and a few good times was not a problem.
There was more trauma in between, like when my students stole my HARLEY Davidson Sportster or when the Iranian student's father tried to get me fired because I wasn't much of a professor, but a racist for flunking his son for not attending class, which threatened his student visa. Being a rebel without a cause I pushed all those tenured a-holes to the limit. Funny, but later, I would be offered teaching jobs on the architectural staff at Auburn University, UL Rustin, Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, University of Hawaii and a few other places where some of the professors went on to become Deans of the School of Architecture. I often thought that I was the pagan who fought for their iconoclastic dreams and wars.
I graduated with honors, even though I didn't attend graduation ceremonies, nor did any of my family or those a-holes from the Colonial Club. I got numerous awards and recognitions. My family of the past again loved me. They had some more blood to try and suck out of a turnip, but I didn't allow them to get a chance. Maybe I was selfish, but I wanted to have something for myself. What was wrong with going through all the aches and pains, then letting others claim that they were responsible for my achievements?
While studying at OU, I developed an infinity and intrigue for Japanese architecture and their use of concrete. My desire was to work in Japan upon graduation. Unfortunately there were but a few American firms in Japan and my most desired Japanese firms, Kenzo Tange and Aoki, had no Americans and the language barrier would be too much to overcome and I hit a dead end. If I couldn't work in Japan, I wanted to work for an international firm or big time US firm. I didn't want to end up at another K-State. Due to my past real experiences, my more advanced projects at OU and the professional resume I sent out, I found much interest from the nationwide architectural community. Narrowed it down to 2 prestigious US firms. C.F. Murphy in Chicago and Leo Daly in Omaha, the largest pure architectural firm in the US and internationally. Had other good offers, but those 2 fit my desires. C.F. Murphy was noted for the best concrete projects and envied at the times by the HOKs and SOMs. Daly had offices in most major cities around the world. Had I gone to work for Murphy, I would have been working with one the finest designers on earth today, Helmut Jahns, who now the company bears his name, Murphy Jahns. Daly was going to send me to their Beirut office, prior to the bombing there. They would have sent me to Hawaii to the Berlitz school to learn basic crash language and cultural necessities. They also were planning to open an office in Tokyo and if I performed, I would have an opportunity to be transferred there or in their Pacific Division. Got a big head and couldn't make a decision about what I wanted to do. Remember when I said earlier that doors close very fast if you can't make a decision. Learned that as a professional, you are expected to make tough decisions rapidly and not drag the problem/situation on. I put both of the firms off for a few weeks and when I called Daly's, they had moved on without me and when I called C.F. Murphy, they had also decided to move on without me. I was devastated but had learned a great lesson in life. That kind of started the run to Lynn's and my first divorce. We were staying in OKC, and even though she was coming up in the advertising world, she wanted more in life. She thought I was a failure and I somewhat agreed with her at the time. I wanted to have a prodigy, but she backed off and told me I don't think you're capable of being the father a child needs in life.
I got a job with a construction company in Norman who had a systems approach, similar to the bread and butter projects when I was at Scharhag's. They hired me primarily to be their designer and to upgrade their design/build projects. I had 2 registered architects and 6 draftsmen under me. We did some very good projects, but not only was I not satisfied, but also Lynn wasn't and one day when I went home, she had moved out. Didn't know where and no one at her agency would give me any information. Her father came down from Nebraska and did everything to belittle me and confirm in his mind, that I wasn't anything better than the Nigger he had suspected me to be. I signed the divorce papers he had brought with him and hoped I never had to see the man again.
While working for Aztec Building Systems, I did a proposal for a cover-up of an open mall into an enclosed mall for an A&E firm, Benham Blair & Affiliates. They were the 21st ranked A&E firm in the US, headquartered in OKC with 11 offices in the US. My proposal included several renderings utilizing space frames to enclose the mall. Until computers came along, they were the hardest structures to illustrate. I did them like a hot knife cutting through butter. When we gave our proposal and presentation to them, Jack Bedingfield, the head of their Architectural Department, offered me a position on their design staff. They were involved in doing the first solar hospital and medical school in the US at The Garden of the Gods in Colorado. He teamed me up with David Harris, one of the most brilliant designers I had ever met and who would've been a great bartender and running mate at Sammy's. He was a pure freak. He would design the hospital portion, his expertise, and I was in charge of the teaching portion. I was flying by the seat of my pants, but thanks to David's and Jack's support and encouragement, we produced a great project. Our preliminarily design won an award at the AMA and Hospital Association convention. Unfortunately, it was ahead of its time and couldn't get financing from the government or the private sector. Got my first education about the corporate world. Regardless about your capabilities, if there isn't something for you to do and generate income, and if you are low man on the totem pole, you simply go and find something else or place to seek your dreams. Jack, I know, didn't want to let me go, but he had no choice. Later, two more times he would call on me, to not only fortify my place but also solidify his position. Jack was another in my life that saw "potential" in me.
Went to work for a small politically connected firm in OKC, Freils & Associates, as head designer. Did projects for OU Med Center and the tribal lands of the Sac & Fox Indians in Northeastern Oklahoma and met and worked with Indian activist Russell Means. On the side, I did developmental work for contractors and manufacturers wanting to break into the larger market. Lynn, who after a few months, finally allowed me to be able to contact and to talk to her, as she was making her way up the advertising ladder. She worked her way up to having 27% ownership in a small, but dynamic agency in OKC. They sold her original watercolor art, used in various ads, at auctions for fundraisers for the OKC Zoo and local individuals commissioned her to do pieces for them. She also did numerous illustrations, on the side, for many doctors at the Research Center at the OU Med Center. To this day, I have a great respect for her talents and capabilities, even though in the end it didn't work out between us.
Jack Bedingfield and BB&A entered my life again while I was at Friels. They had another primo project. David had moved on to the West coast, and Jack wanted me and my capabilities to come in and bail them out. As an athlete, I knew I was special, but as a designer, at that time, didn't have the confidence I would later develop. Thought at the time, Jack was using me, as others in the past, but convinced myself he really believed in me. I remembered those in my past, who urged me to reach my "potential", left Friels and went back to BB&A in search of my dream. Did the Dean A. Mc Kee Eye Institute at the OU Med Center, where later a prince from Saudi Arabia, would be given a better vision and view on life. At the time, development in the Middle East was going on. It was the hotspot of architecture in the world. It was also a time when things were tanking in the US. I had grown a bit smarter in regards to not only the corporate world, but what one had to do to survive on this earth. When another primo project fell through, I didn't want to hear Jack give me that corporate jargon about having to let me go. Had spent enough time in a large and almost empty designers area with nothing to do on the horizon, so told Jack Ain't anything for me to do here. I gotta move on. It was 1-1 on the scoreboard with BB&A, but our relationship was not over with.
I got a job with a firm, whose average age was 51. They did primarily hospital work. It would be the only job I ever got fired from for doing my job as a professional. It was also another strange time in my life. I had the required degree and experience to take my professional NCARB licensing exam, but a ghost out of my past came back to haunt me. When I was still a student at OU and working for Abercrombie and Pedigrow, Earl Pedigrow who owned the only hotel in Norman, OK, where visiting teams stayed, fired his Tulsa architect, Cecil Standfield and hired me to take over and make the project more creative. Earl was well connected in Norman, both politically and with the building department in Norman, even tough at the time I didn't have a license to practice architecture in the state of Oklahoma. I did a wonderful upgrade of the property and I am sure that those who later stayed there, appreciated my efforts over the years. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Standfield who then was a member of the architectural review board of governors, thought it best that I get more experience before taking the exams. I had to endure 1 more year with Charles L. Monnot and Associates to gain my utter freedom. The age of the firm was the most difficult thing to deal with. Would rather have had a Hamm's at Sammy's rather than tea at break time. Got the opportunity to do the Pathology Department at St. Anthony's Hospital in Denver, CO. As H. Scharhag had told me, Pull out all the stops and let the brain go. That's what I did. Was familiar with Herman Miller's Costruct system from my days at BBA. It opened the weir, to modernizing their 3 hospitals in the Denver area. All the other department doctors wanted the same and the nuns, who ran the operations for all their hospitals wondered why this "new approach" hadn't been used in regards to their facilities, even though it had been around for several years. When I was fired for doing what a professional should do, and that they were not willing to pay for my unemployment, I fought back and was willing to take the son-of-a-bitches down. They finally let me have my unemployment, but at the same time the US was in a recession. I was fortunate to have a couple of firms in Memphis that were interested in my abilities, who were in the hospitality/hotel design business. Also had received some offers from the same types of firms in Atlanta. Didn't have that much experience in that segment, but only recognized that they saw some "potential". Was still a rookie in life out there. but never lost that determined attitude that I had learned from Panta and the others. I would win no matter how small I was or how big the challenge. Wish that I could go back and thank them all for what they really did for me in providing the incentive and desire to be.
Can't remember the name of the firm in Memphis that I was going to go to work with there. Several days before I was to hit the road, I got a call from my friend Jack at BB&A. The company was going through re-organization and wanted to start a corporate design department in order to have a cohesive design image throughout their 11 national offices, rather that letting the mice play, while the cat was away. They had moved up the head designer in their DC office, Buford Duke, to be the corporate head of design. Dave Benham, BB&A's president and founder's son, didn't want to turn over total reins to someone whose firm he had purchased to expand and wanted to have a checks and balances via someone with exposure and experience with the corporate office in OKC, but did not want someone from the then within. Jack in his own right, was getting demoted, but Dave asked him to find someone that could challenge and replace "Buffy", if his original choice didn't work out. Even though I knew that I would be flying by the seat of my pants, I accepted a great salary, impressive business card, " J.M. Ralph Dodig, Corporate Manager of Design" and with doubt, but no fear, as taught by Panta and the guys, accepted the challenge. Buffy, would benefit from claiming leadership for the wonderful national staff, I would help assemble and disassemble. Our national 135 designers (architectural, planning, landscaping, interiors and graphics), as well as our international consortium partner's designers, knew who was actually pushing the ball down the road. Like I said, I was flying by the seat of my pants, but isn't that the same thing we did at Sammy's?
I spent a lot of time travelling back and forth to our US offices and spent time in Guam, Rome, Germany, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Iran, Kuwait and Abu Dhabi. Most people may think that is really cool. Unfortunately, there wasn't much time to experience where you were at. You get on a plane, fly for 15-19 hours, spend a day, at most 2 days, then hop back on a plane for a return flight. Thank God I was an insomniac and use to doing double time most of my life. BB&A was a great place to experience a lot of things. On the engineering side, they did nuclear power plants, highway and transportation projects, large scaled manufacturing, large scaled civil engineering projects, military support facilities and had a research arm who did large environmental studies. On the architectural side, we did hospitals, corporate facilities, educational facilities, research and development facilities, military and government facilities and private sector, military, government and educational master planning. Due to their pool of talented and knowledgeable individuals, you could find answers and support for any new ideas or concepts you may want to incorporate in any project. Was like being a kid in a candy store. Learned that good and talented people were always interested in helping their peers, push the limits out there. Good people want to help good people to succeed and know that when their opportunity arises, that they will have a support group behind them. You learned this especially when you teamed up with other firms to do a consortium project, for instance the Technical Institute in Saudi Arabia, which is actually a US/Saudi air base, where we keep our stealth aircraft for our Middle East operations. Examples today would be City Center project in Las Vegas or the Ground Zero development in NYC. There are so many firms, contractors and entities involved. Yes, egos sometimes clash, but they all have the same aim and goal, to do the best and most defining project to date.
The first project out of the newly formed corporate design department was a R&D facility for Conoco Oil in Ponca City, OK, then a subsidiary of Dow Chemical. It combined all the labs, engineers and support groups under one roof. Our design won an AIA design award. Conoco's oil industry related competition came knocking at our door to upgrade their facilities. They didn't wait for the government to tell them what to do. Most were and are 10-15 years ahead of times, thank God. At headquarters in OKC, we would assemble a design team consisting of talent from our various offices. The team would spend 2-3 weeks developing design concepts and then the project would be assigned to be developed at one of our offices closest to the project site or one needing a project to maintain their staff. Part of my job was to drop in on these various offices and make sure the projects were consistent with the newly established design criteria and philosophy and in congruence to the design concept that was developed in OKC. Those little treks also allowed me to meet and evaluate talent within the firm. Having to be savior or executioner, at the same time, was the most difficult part of the job, but had to be done.
We kept the prime and high profile projects in OKC. That allowed me to stay on the boards as a head designer and not be relegated to only being management. The project I am most proud of was the 125 acre master planning for Halliburton in Duncan, OK. There was the R&D facility, corporate offices, energy institute, employees athletic & recreation facilities, graphic/visual arts facility and monorail system connecting all functions on the site, including the manufacturing plant, which produced the equipment for servicing oil wells. It was like doing an entire city. Our only requirement from the Halliburton project staff , was to make it viable in the year 2000. Like Herman Scharhag, they directed us to pull out all the stops and we could set the budget, they would get the money from corporate. One of hardest things to do, is create something without limitations. Kind of understand the mentality now of the people at NASA, Los Alamos, Sandia and Oak Ridge. We incorporated things which, 40 years later, these a-hole LEED architects and the Al Gores are still trying to figure out. Halliburton questioned some of our proposals, yet always gave us the green light. The only thing we didn't get to do was the natural gas fired electrical generation station, which would have provided them and the City of Duncan, OK, not only unlimited but FREE power. For some reason the Federal and State agencies fought us on that. Funny how today they are more amenable to such thinking. Various aspects of the whole development won numerous awards and set some of the standards, still used by those fuck Federal and State head agencies today.
Early in the game we also won a national design competition for an energy efficient project for an addition to the EDD building in Sacramento, CA. Jerry Brown and his state architect deplored it, but the national jury loved it. Instead of plopping down a cutesy building on the site with a few solar collectors on the roof, we took a 180 degree opposite approach. We put most of the project under ground, thus creating a needed urban park. We created a new face for the existing EDD building using tracking solar panels, not hiding them atop a roof, and making a statement about solar in the future. We used new technology and old common sense, not just the whim of the day, theoretical or philosophical approach. It is still considered one of the most energy efficient buildings in the US. The park is the crowning jewel of the project. It is a relief for local residents and employees in the area, small local art and music events are staged there. The project won numerous national awards and brought the company more recognition and prestige. The best part about it was that it kept "Buffy" out of the offices and busy with his self laudatory speaking/lecture tours around the country, expounding on his leadership, creativity and foreword thinking visions. All the designers, in all of the offices, were happy to let him take all the credits for their efforts, rather then have him pop in when in town and tell them everything that was wrong, but never providing alternative solutions. Having to deal with his personality, get the involved designer's confidence back up and getting the project back on track started creating a big friction between "Buffy" and me. More about my resignation and "Buffy's" demise later.
Shortly after getting my new position at BB&A, Lynn and I got back together and eventually married again. The deciding factor was that an individual in her agency knew of a family who was looking for someone to live in and look after their original family home in the historical section of OKC. It was built in 1921, 5,000 s.f., plus carriage house and totally furnished with antiques and memorabilia, including a 1889 Steinway Grand Piano. It hadn't been lived in for over 20 years. The oldest daughter of the family, who headed the family trust thought Lynn and I we were married. The deal almost fell apart when she found out we weren't married, but her other family members, including her only daughter, who originally suggested us, plus that she was a close friend of Dave Benham and had invested in BB&A when they went public and started buying up firms, finally agreed for us to be "caretakers". It was a great gig. We paid no rent, only paid for electrical, telephone to keep in touch with her personally at anytime of day or night, pay for the fuel oil for the furnace and provide adequate landscape service to keep the neighbors from complaining. Whatever maintenance was required, I would call her and she would have it taken care of by her staff that looked over several of the family properties, as well as her own personal properties she had amassed through all her divorces. Funny, but I learned to have a bottle or two of good vodka available whenever we conducted business at the home. She had her people bring in professional cleaning people and when Lynn and I moved in, it was like moving into a 5-Star hotel. Lynn probably, in the back of her mind re-evaluated whether I was a failure or not and agreed that we might make a go of it together once again. She was being successful at the ad agency, I was doing good at BB&A and we had this almost mansion to live in. In life there are perceived truths and real truths. We got married again waltzing to the idea that our lives would always be grandiose. It's hard to make something last forever. Mrs. Bynum, our angel in disguise, got outraged when she found out that Lynn and I had gotten remarried. She from the begining of our relationship, had a great animosity towards Lynn and treated her as if she didn't exist. When I asked Dave Benham, Jack, who was also a close friend of the family members or her daughter about what I should do, I got a similar reply, She has been married seven times, is a powerful lady, demands to be the center of attention and usually will do anything to get what she wants, even if it's just temporary. She is just like her wildcatter father and her Halliburton relatives who did what they had to do to get to the top. Live with it or get out.
Everything worked out for a time, but Lynn resented all of my travel and successes, even though she was doing quite well. I had to make a trip to DC a day before Thanksgiving to sign some papers on a project. We were suppose to go to Nebraska to spend the holidays at her folks who were now impressed with our newfounded lifestyle. Unfortunately there was a major storm and I got diverted to Chicago and didn't make it back to go with her. When I got back the next day, there was dog shit in the house and a letter informing me that she was moving to California and going to be the ARTIST she always wanted to be. I didn't deny her. Knew that both of us were in a strange place in life, but there was no way for either of us to totally satisfy the others needs. We didn't end the second marriage at that time, but agreed to have a trial separation for a year. Have to admit, today, that I knew that it wouldn't work out. We kept in contact, but in actuality kept growing apart.
Neither one of us remained faithful to one another after that. I paid the credit card bills for her trips up and down the West coast with her boy toy and I got involved with a gorgeous lady as not to sleep by myself. We finally got divorced and I married the good lay, who would die shortly after I had moved on to California and terminated that marriage.
While the separation, divorce, marriage, divorce was going on, as I mentioned, my struggles with "Buffy" continued. Had to go to LA on a project, and while there, explored other employment opportunities. Was tired of all the political infighting at BB&A, nothing good in my personal life and blood coming out of my ass and mouth from my ulcers. Just wanted to put an end to it all and move on in life. At Los Alamos, "Buffy" and I had our standoff. I didn't support his ideas. It came down to doing a "charette" project, between him and I to determine the direction the project should go and the staff at Los Alamos would determine the best proposal and direction. It was like a duel. He had 8 designers to do a one day design and I had one. The next day, the staff voted 27-8, in favor of my proposal. One gentleman asked me, Where are you going to be working next week Ralph? Thank God there was my upcoming trip to LA to explore other potentials.
Fortunately, I was able to secure a position in LA, and went into the office one morning, at 6:00am, to hand in my resignation to Dave on the elevator. As fast as a NASCAR pit crew changes four tires, my office was cleaned out, my final check, severance check and profit sharing check was in my hands by 7:15am and I was told not to return to the property. Not any wiggle room, in either athletics or the corporate world. Life goes on and if you aren't producing income or creativity, you have no value. "Buffy" lasted less than a year after my departure and ended up being an architectural professor at University of Texas until his death. BB&A had been contacted by a few clients via referrals per my talents from some of my previous associates, but they weren't willing to work with them without my involvement. Halliburton even flew me into Duncan, OK to resolve issues, and to get the projects back onto their original courses. I refused to get legally involved, but aided in getting my designers and my ideas completed as originally perceived. Sometimes the world may perceive you as that skinny little kid, but they don't realize the somewhat judicial giant they have created.
California, LA, was a real trip to me. I got a $10k raise in salary and the position of Lead Senior Designer for the 10th largest pure architectural firm in the US. Didn't realize it at the time, but I was hired by Maxwell Starkman & Associates, in the heart of Beverly Hills, to replace one of the finest architectural designers in the US, Fred Orr. My first project was a hotel and condominium project in Palm Springs. On the first day there, they informed me to get acquainted with PS, while my furniture and possessions, which they were paying to be shipped and were still enroute and to take my time to find a place to live. They gave me $500 in cash, a company credit card, rental car, a room in a fine hotel a block from the office and put me up in one of the finest hotels in PS for 3 days. No one had ever treated me that good in my life and I wondered what they saw in me. When I got back from PS, they hired a parking consultant to tutor me 2-4 hours a day for 2 weeks. As land was valued by s.f., not acres, you had to get the most parking on a site to obtain the greatest building density on the site. I also had a tutor for elevators and a tutor for California's Title 24. It was like being back at Scharhag's once again.
As mentioned, they had hired me to replace Fred Orr. He had agreed to stay on with the firm until he thought I was capable of taking over his position of Head Architectural Designer. Fred was a prolific and talented individual and very demanding individual. He saw things in his head and could put them down on paper, but verbally had a problem of relating his ideas and intents to others. Rather like that Ionesco play CHAIRS. Besides me doing the hotel and condominium in PS, we had 8, 30 storied high-rise condominiums to design on the Wilshire Corridor. Fred turned over 3 of them to me plus a Sheraton hotel in downtown LA. Strange thing happened. Fred and I could communicate with one another and I was able to relate the design objectives to the rest of the design staff and keep the work flowing. We cranked out a lot of good work together and developed a lot of good in-house designers. Fred decided to stick around, as he was once again having fun and feeling appreciated. He told me about the firm's original intent for hiring me and hoped I didn't resent him for staying on. It was actually a relief for me, not to have to assume all the responsibilities, as I had at Benham and just get back to being a designer and having some fun and doing good things. It was also a great compliment for me, that I inspired this wonderful individual that was so much more talented and capable than myself. It also was the first time in my life that, personally, I realized that I was special and could make significant changes here on Earth.
Working on the West Coast was different. You got recognition for your talents, not the 3 piece suits you wore. You either had it or you didn't. Everyone knew their competition/peers and you always were involved in one-upmanship to push the envelope. Everyone was trying to make each other better and we wanted to bury those staid East Coast assholes. We wanted to show them and the firms that employed us that They needed us, we can do it and without us, who are you/them? Perhaps that sounds a bit vain, but that was a true reality. A company's success is determined by the staff/individuals and what they can produce. Fred, retired today in his 80's, is still hounded by exceptional firms to come in and do one more project for them.
(Several months after I had moved to LA, Walter also moved to LA. He actually moved into and apartment building right behind our office on Wilshire Blvd, in Beverly Hills. More on that later and Walter's time in LA.)
Beast said it best one time when I was in KC later on at Stonko's/ Brett's, It's easy to get burned out when you live on the edge and are always in high pressure mode or dealing with one Chinese fire drill after another. Maybe why he never left KCK. Though I tried to convince myself that life for me was wonderful, it actually wasn't. Couldn't slow down my mind. My insomnia got worse and the only way to shut it down, was to get shit-faced. There were the many nameless honeys for the night, but no personal peace and contentment. Life almost became a 110-120 mph drive up Pacific Coast Highway, in my Alfa Romeo, heading to who knows where. I was both a mental and physical wreck. Partied like a wild man on the weekends, but during the week tried to go home after happy hour and started doing various types of 2-dimensional art. It actually helped relieve some of the frustrations and pressures of the day. It also helped a little bit with my insomnia, though many nights I would work on pieces until 3:00 am. Also, and most importantly, it gave me something else to think and talk about other than architecture, architecture, architecture.
Like a junkie, just needed one more fix and swore that the next project would be the last. Knew I couldn't keep the pace going, but didn't want to give up that which I had worked so hard to attain. Really didn't have anyone to talk to or confide in. Walter was as out of control, as myself, and there was no Sam, Helen, Giz, Bill, Joe or Herman to rein me in. Fred knew what I was going through, for it had happened to him and he had to take and extended period away from it all to get his personal, family and professional lives back into the proper perspectives. The work loads slowed down due to another recession, but the pressure didn't subside. I got some relief by doing a project for a wonderful gentleman by the name of Stanley Cohen. Stanley was originally a psychologist who worked with actors to get them believe they were actually the character they were portraying. Along the line he became a real estate developer. Working out of Newport Beach with only him and his secretary, who made $300,000 a year, he only involved himself in only one development a year. He never worked more than 6-9 months a year. He'd put a total package together and then would sell it to an investor or investment group. He then took the rest of the year off and went about enjoying life. He taught me a lot about business, human nature and believing in oneself. Over the years I have repeated to others his mantra, Ralph, there are only two kinds of truths in this world, real truth and perceived truth. Your job is to find out which one is which. Won a competition with Stanley for a major high-rise development in Long Beach. He knew that I was at my breaking point and told me if I chose to walk away from things, to do what I had to do, but he would like for me to work with him on a hotel development next year in New Orleans. He also told me, With your talent, money is easy to make. Take it and use it for yourself and enjoy life.
Shortly after wrapping up the Long Beach project with Stanley and him selling it to Bank of America/Pacific Gas & Electric, I really started giving considerable thought about getting out of the profession for a while, as Fred had done. Had some bucks in the bank, some stock and really no debt, other than the usual monthly items. Thought about moving down to Mexico for 1-2 years. Cost of living was cheap down there and I could do my art and pull myself back together. Also knew that many firms would hire the better designers on a consulting basis. That amounted to about a month, the average time it took to develop a design concept for a project and they paid you more than in-house staff designers. Just didn't quite know how or when to cut it off. Fortunately, an owner/developer of one of the condos on Wilshire corridor opened the door and made it easy for me. He was demanding that we reduce the costs in this luxury building lobby an additional $385,000. When I queried why that specific amount, he said, My wife is having some renovations done on our residence and I want to write it off through this project. I exploded and lost it. I wasn't going to be anyone else's NIGGER. If you want the good life and enjoy the benefits, then work for it like everyone else. Don't come looking to me for CHARITY when you don't need it. I stormed out of that meeting and told Fred to take over for me and I'd be back in a few days. I needed the time to cool down and make a few personal decisions. Got shit-faced for 4 days and knew what I had to do. Went into the office the following Monday and gave notice of my intentions of leaving the firm and getting out of the profession for a while. Intended on only sticking around for 2 weeks, but Fred conned me into a month in order to wrap up the projects I was involved with and help make the transitions for the new designers to be assigned to those projects. Was a pretty quiet month. Felt like the parolee who was getting out of prison and all the other inmates did everything to avoid him. There were those in upper management and associates in other divisions of the firm, who tried to convince me to stay, but there was no turning back. Left with a sizeable chunk of change in my pocket and my health and life insurance paid for 90 days. Like Martin Luther, I was Free At Last.
Spent the next month trying to just kick back and relax. Funny thing though is, and which I would later experience when I moved to New York, it's extremely difficult to readjust the biological clock and not feel as though you have to be going someplace or doing something the minute you open your eyes in the morning. Took a few runs down to Mexico to explore what needed to be done to make things happen there. Did a few road trips up and down the coast. Occupied those not knowing what to do mornings by doing my art. The mistake I made was going to happy hour with some of those close to me at Starkman's. The recession was starting to really take it's toll, many projects were being shut down and a lot of really good people were losing their jobs. An individual on my level of talent, capabilities and experience, weren't immune from the downslide, but had greater opportunity to withstand it until things turned around. I didn't exactly panic, but decided to check out my possibilities if things didn't work out in Mexico. Arranged and interviewed with 3 of the top design firms in LA. Is rather funny, but when times are prosperous, the better firms get undercut in the fee structure and their work load is somewhat limited. When times get tough, the better firms get the majority of the available work. Usually that work is large government projects, large scale developers or corporations or entities who have money to invest and make whatever prevailing profits they can. All 3 were amenable to me joining their firms and guaranteed, I would only have to work on and be in charge of one project at a time. It wasn't that I didn't trust them, but I doubted myself to not over extending myself if someone asked me to do so.
I decided to go to work with Daniel L. Dworsky, FAIA & Associates. Everyone across town told me my decision and match were the worse I could come up with. Most designers only lasted 1-2 months, because they couldn't deal with his simplistic, disciplined and family run office. Dan wasn't about the "flash side of architecture", but doing projects that would be viable, sustainable and relevant, 30, 40 and more years down the road. You didn't talk or concern yourself with issues G,l, Q or T, until you resolved A, then B and so forth. That's a weird thing for creative minds. All of Dan's projects had a "continuity and flow to them". They were like bringing a new child into this world and providing it with what was needed at each step and phase of it's growth and development. He was a great family father and a great father to the architecture his firm created. On many of the high profile projects in LA, his firm would joint venture with larger firms and develop the design aspects of the projects. Many of those firms didn't want to work with him, but selection committees often demanded his involvement in order that they could get the substantial portion of the fees for the project. There is a big difference between being a primadonna and boisterous, as opposed to simply producing high quality and lasting work. Dan was highly dedicated, honest and committed to giving more than anyone expected. He had a hard perceived shell, but was one of the most sensitive and caring individuals I have ever met. I always told people that if I ever went back into architecture, there would only be one person I would work with and that was Dan.
A little about Dan Dworsky. He was simple little Jewish boy off a farm in South Dakota. He got a football scholarship at the University of Michigan and studied architecture, originally thinking about the construction side, not the design side. He became an All-American playing center and linebacker. He was the MVP in either the 47 or 48 Rose Bowl. He played pro football the L.A. Dons for two years. In the off seasons he continued his pursuit in architecture working for, Charles Lukman, the top firm in L.A. He was an escort for Marilyn Monroe on numerous occasions. However, when he decided that architecture was more important than football, he returned to South Dakota briefly, and married his high school sweetheart, Sylvia. What a fairytale life they have had over the years. They are not the typical Hollywood couple. Since he opened his own firm, Sylvia ran the business side of it, similar to how Phyl did at Scharhag's, and oversaw the family's financial and investments, allowing Dan all those years to just concentrate on doing his architecture. Their children and their nephews and nieces all played parts in making the firm successful. It was always a family affair and perhaps one of the main reasons why many people hesitated working there. You knew you could become a highly skilled and paid associate, but there was never a chance of becoming a partner, even a limited one. They sold the firm a few years back to a national large firm and I believe his only involvement is sitting on the board of directors as a marketing tool. Is rather sad to me that there won't be any more great projects bearing credits: Daniel L. Dworsky F.A.I.A., Architect and Associates.
Dan is the youngest architect to ever to be selected into the F.A.I.A. fellowship. He designed the University of Michigan Chrisler Center at the age of 32 and over the years did many projects at U of M and also sat on the selection committee for choosing other firms to do work on the campus. He also did numerous projects at UCLA and other California universities. He did federal, state and local government projects and also high visible private sector projects. Most of his projects received Awards of Excellence. The more restrictions placed on a given project, the better he and his associates performed. Though he seemed staid and set in his ways he was always one step ahead of the curve. Dan never opened his mouth unless he had knowledge or had researched to topic of conversation. Never heard the man use a curse or swear word. When he got frustrated, he headed to the lunch room to get cookies from a 6' long cabinet that was fully stocked with every imaginable type, which were available for anyone in the office. He had also taught himself how to play the piano and had a small combo that got together several times a month to play Jazz at his home. One of the strangest and dearest things about Sylvia and him, and sworn and attested by family members, was that every night Sylvia would bring him a tray with milk and cookies to eat in bed while they watched TV and discussed the day or the next days events. Was one of the most difficult individuals to ever try and figure out in my entire life. Just know that he was one the most honest and finest men I have ever met.
He, like most in my past, knew that I was somewhat of a wild man. From our first meeting, he made it clear that all he would expect from me was to give him my best when in or representing the office. My personal life was my personal life and I should lead it the way I saw fit. Remember him saying, If you have personal problems or issues, please don't bring them into the office and be a disruption. Besides the annual 2 weeks of vacation, 1 week sick pay, you get 5 days of mental pay to deal with such things. If you think you may need more than that, I don't think this would be a good place for you. I was very amused and struck by his direct and blunt questions about my professional and personal backgrounds. You could always hear the wheels in his head cranking anytime you had a conversation with him. There was no beating around the bush with Dan.
A few days after that initial interview, I got a call from him saying he had a position for me if I was still interested. The door had opened, and unlike the past, I didn't hesitate in making an instantaneous decision. We met and we discussed the usual items of compensation, benefits, insurances, holidays, vacation, sick pay, mental days, profit sharing, licenses, etc.. Neither one of us wanted throw out a figure for what my base salary should be. I finally came up with the suggestion, Let's do this Dan. I'll work here for a pay period. That will allow us to get to know one another a little better and for me to get to know your people better. You know more than I do what I am worth to your firm and what you are willing to pay and can afford. If when I get that first check and if it's meets my expectations, I'm totally committed. If not, I won't be back and both of us will have to wonder what could have been. We shook hands and he gave me a wonderful compliment. He said, Doug Weaver, (who was Dan's opponent at Michigan State), sure underestimated you. He then took me around and introduced me to the staff and other personnel, jokingly saying we were both trying to decide whether to move up to a new MBZ. When payday arrived, the office manager gave out checks to everyone but me. About 5 minutes before quitting time, Dan came back to my work area with a few cookies in one hand and an envelope in another. He handed me the envelope and told me to open it and asked, Will I see you in the morning? It was substantially more than I had expected. I said Yes, what time? We shook hands and typical Dan just turned around and headed back to his office eating those cookies.
That first pay period, I had worked on finishing some details on a senior citizens project in downtown LA. It was the largest senior project ever funded by the federal government in the US. What made it more important was that it was like a prototype project for what should be done for seniors in an urban core. It has 1200 high rise living units, victory gardens, hose bibs on every balcony (for cultivating plants), every unit had two bedrooms, there was a central cafeteria for not only residents, if they chose not to prepare meals in their units, but for seniors living in the area, as well as, basic health care facilities for residents and local seniors. It was and still today is one of the most sought after places for any senior to live in in LA. It was designed on a systems approach, incorporating a pre-fab units, similar to a mobile home but only out of concrete (my favorite material). The units were manufactured by a company in Cleveland, OH, Forest City Dillion. They were totally furnished in the factory and shipped to LA by rail, then trucked to the site and 6 stories could be set in place and almost ready for occupancy within a week. It was like one of those time-lapse films. As the project was winding down, that early few weeks at Dworsky's, Dan had me work with Greg Serraro, the project architect on Angeles Plaza. He would be the project architect on the first design I would do for Dworsky. Forest City had made major investments in senior housing in the LA area, but wanted to get into the upscale condominium market in LA. They had purchased a major parcel in a downtown redevelopment area, South Park, that now includes Staples Center, Kodak Center, LA Convention Center, FIDM and other major LA developments, which had been limited by height restrictions imposed by that piece of junk, LA City Hall. It would include 2 high rise condominiums, commercial, retail and some of the finest amenities not even found along the Wilshire Corridor. (A little flashback. I was still doing my art in my free time, though not as religiously as before). One percent of the total project cost had to be invested back into ART in any project done in the area. Thought about my cousin Giz and some of those souls at the Art Institute and they gave me incentive to do something special. As Herman had said, Pull out all the stops. Am extremely proud of that project, for it spurred others to invest in the area and do more than I had done. You can always tell the pioneers by the arrows in their asses. One more thing I am proud of is that, like Dan, none of the projects I did over the years have been torn down and replaced.
What Dan had actually hired me for was a major project to be done in Long Beach, CA. There were 32 square blocks of LB, which once was the Old Pike area. When the Naval shipyards were there, it was a huge amusement park and tourist and entertainment area, as well as, all the facilities supporting the ships moored there. However when the Navy left, the area dried up just like the elastic skin on an 80 year old woman's face. LB was similar to Atlantic City, where I had done a few condominiums and a small part of the Playboy Casino at Starkman's. The only thing relevant in LB was the QE II and the Spruce Goose. The city had spent millions to keep both attractions afloat, but both were in the stage of constantly sinking with no return in store. The city finally got some sense and decided to open the area to make the city relevant and attractive once again. I had fought before with my wonderful friend Stanley Cohen to get something decent in LB to spur further development in LB. There were a lot of big time SoCal and national investors involved, as mentioned earlier, the best are called upon in not so good of times. This was the largest project, not only in California, but in the US, that major investors would make a commitment to at the time.
The City of LB had hired a local Urban Planner, for $7,000.00, to do a simple study of what was known as SHORELINE. Probably had a dream one night, woke up and sketched out his perception on a pad and pencil always available on the night stand for his next great creation, just as Bukaty had done for the KCK City Hall and numerous others have explained their concepts. He came up with things like homeless shelter camps, scattered single- story senior housing, children day-care centers, small nodal retail pods, a small amusement park and the likes. Fortunately, he did propose a condominium or two, a hotel and office space. The problem became that most developers weren't interested in this mish-mash and funding the building of all the non-revenue producing elements. Planners are wonderful theorist and ideologist, but seldom have to deal with the realties of life. This gentleman's simple proposal became the biggest headache and heartache for anyone wanting to do anything in LB. Their Planning Department and Commission, too often, looked at it like the holy grail.
Though Dworsky's was an absolutely wonderful design firm, they had little or no experience in planning, programming, hotels, condominiums, commercial, civil engineering or in projects involving overlapping jurisdictional agencies. They normally just had a simple site to work with and did the best architectural solution for that specific site. Understand today, but not initially why Dan had hired me. My experience at Benham and other firms gave him experience in what his firm was lacking to take on this project. At first, I questioned if I was capable, but that jeering from Panta and the boys, in the back of my head, only inspired me.
Dan signed a $5.1 million contract for us do the MASTER PLAN for SHORELINE with a consortium group of investors. He allowed me to have a group of seven designers and staff, as well as consultants, per my specific needs, over the next year. The thing I appreciated the most about Dan was that he stayed out of my way and concentrated his efforts on other projects in the office. Simply, he let me do my thing, but I know at night sometimes Sylvia had to feed him extra milk and cookies. Over that year, there was more than 1,000 government and special interest groups to deal with. I often tell people that My real profession has been that of a fireman. Problems arise and you go deal with them. You deal with each situation equally, but unfortunately, sometimes you have to deliver bad news. It's not easy to tell people that they have to go out and do things and not rely on others to do it for them. Remember being cursed at, trying to be bribed and threatened, when delivering real facts about life. It was never a pretty scene and it wasn't limited to any individual or group. Understand that statement, Someone has to do it so we can all get on with REAL life. Was still drinking heavily, still doing my art to fight the insomnia, but didn't want to let Dan, or more importantly, myself down.
Compared to that original $7,000.00 study, our MASTER PLAN for SHORELINE was close to a 300 page document. It included criteria and standards, space and specific locations for each type of land usage, as well as projected costs. Overall, it set the guidelines and standards for all future development in that 32 square block area for the next 20 years if adopted by the city. Unlike that original study, investors had a more comprehensive and defined vision to follow. This new plan called for 1,500 high-rise condominium units, minimum 500 room hotel, 2 high-rise office towers, small urban shopping mall, new city aquarium and museum, marina with 1,100 slips, tourist center with shops and restaurants along the coastline, reconfiguration of the Formula-1 race course for the annual LB Grand Prix and all support facilities, such as fire station, electrical, water and sewage substations. Though all of the land was owned by City of LB, which they would give 50 year property leases to developers, the biggest challenge was getting the Federal and State Coastal Commissions to buy into and approve the master plan and yield on many of their restrictions and requirements. There always has been and always will be someone in DC or Sacramento that think they can do something better or are simply looking to have their campaign funds bolstered. Our little team really partied when the LB City Council approved and adopted it. Several investment groups started putting proposal packages together the next day for various parcels or portions. Another benefit for the firm was that Dworsky's was retained as a consultant to oversee that all proposals by others conformed to the guidelines in the master plan. If Dworsky's was involved in any of the proposal an independent panel would review such proposals.
During that year I wasn't as much of a wild man. Was spending more time at home at nights and doing my art. The guys at Dworsky's weren't party animals. Walter and I would get together from time to time and cut loose, but couldn't keep going like I had in the past or the next day would be a prolonged struggle. Actually enjoyed working with Dan. Was personally happier and a bit content. Is amazing what a little respect and not feeling like you're being used can do for someone. However, those long, intense and grinding days still ate at me. Couldn't get the thought about Mexico out of my mind. Just didn't have the desire to be that person who saw a new mountain and had to climb it. Kept asking myself what more did I have to accomplish and what more did I have to prove to others. Outside of architecture, I really had little to show for my life. Had no family, few friends and nothing much exciting to look forward to other than another project. Walter tried to keep my spirits up, but his career was moving up and faster than one could imagine. Didn't want to be a burden on him with my problems or dull his enthusiasm. Like a guy in prison for life, all I could think about was how to escape.
As the master plan was getting closer to wrapping up, I took a break from my art and went to a bar in Beverly Hills that Walter and I frequented for drinks, food and babes. While sitting there by myself, Jack Lemon came in and sat next to me. His good friend and neighbor, Walter Matthau, had had a stroke and Lemon had come from visiting him in the hospital. Knew he was depressed and saddened, but we kind of engaged in a bit of small talk. He at one point made the statement, These are the times when I wish I was in Kenya or Alaska. Things are simpler there and the natural beauty has a way of relieving the stress. We chatted a bit more and he picked up my tab and left. I would be fortunate to chat with him one more time at a party at his other neighbors home, who was an artists agent and gallery consultant who helped me get established in the LA art community later when I made the break to become an artist. That brief meeting taught me that I wasn't the only one out there that needed some relief. Was a good sight to see him and his friend Walter and their wives at that party a few years later and all of them laughing and smiling again.
After he had left, I looked around possible honey-for-the-night. Sitting at a table by herself was an attractive lady, who seemed a bit out of place. Had the bartender make her a drink and took it over to her. We made the usual small talk and she told me that she was an executive's secretary and they were in from NYC to conduct some business. She said a car was coming from the hotel shortly to pick her up, but I was welcome to meet her there and we could have a nightcap or two. When she told me where she was staying, the LeErmitage, the only 5-Star hotel in LA at the time, how could I resist? Only guests and members of their 500 Club were allowed in their bar or restaurant. We got to know a little more about each other over few drinks, then even better over several drinks in her suite. All the rooms there were either one or two bedrooms suites. When I left in the morning, I was walking on air. She was heading back to NYC later in the day, but said she would be back in a few weeks and would like to get back together with me again. Did not refuse her offer. Over the next month she made a few more trips to LA and called me a few times a week at the office. On her second trip to LA, she told be who she really was, Marion J. "Cissy" Starr, Executive Vice-President and co-founder and co-owner of Bernard Hodes Advertising. They were the largest recruitment advertising agency in the US and had 15 offices across the country, 2 in Canada and also offices in London and Paris. She also told me she was divorced, but said she still lived with her ex-husband, who was a threatening control freak. By trade he was a steamfitter and couldn't adjust to her and Bernie's meteoric business successes. In no way would he participate in anything to do with the company. She said she stayed in the City with one of hers sisters, in a hotel or got out of town as often as possible to not have to deal with him. I wondered what I was getting into, but there's 3,000 miles between LA and NYC.
Had to make a trip to get some final data and info in regards to the master plan in NYC from a firm that would possibly be involved in LB later. Extended my stay to over the weekend. Marion and I had discussed me wanting to get out of architecture and trying to see what I could do in the art arena. She was aware that I was going to make a move one way or the other after the master plan was completed. Her partner Bernie was part owner in a very reputable gallery and had a lot of contacts in the art community. She said, If you want to be an artist, New York is the place to be. She hinted that there were ways to get me relocated to and situated in Manhattan at almost no cost to me. It would give me time to meet some people and figure out where I wanted settle in NYC. She also said there would be NO strings attached, but she hoped we could continue our relationship. If things didn't work out, she'd make sure I got back to California, Mexico or wherever I chose. For being only 5'-1" and 105 lbs., she was a very shrewd, tactful and direct businesswoman. Over the years she always kept or lived up to her words or commitments, at least to me.
That was one of the longest and most confusing flights for me back to LA. Seemed like I was flying back from Germany, not NYC. Those last few weeks in the office, getting the master plan completed and submitted for final approval, were also an almost torture chamber. Marion was smart enough and sensitive enough not to pose my answer about NYC. We agreed to get together after things were done with the master plan. When it was approved, Dan gave the team a week off, for he knew we had been working 12-16 hours a day down the stretch. During that time she came into LA for a few days and discussed how we could work things if I chose to accept her offer. (Funny thing, that her and Walter had a direct/indirect knowledge of one another. Will get into that in the segment about Walter.) Know that he was flabbergasted by, as he put it, my catch and that you always get the good ones. After she left, I went over my finances and other things I would have to do. Money Market Funds were paying high returns, I wouldn't need a car, pay for monthly parking, insurance and maintenance. I could be an employee of a NYC company for my medical without actually working there. I'd have access to a lot of free expensive meals and drinks and other perks from certain relationships. I could actually have a few years of living the good life and could go back to being a simple Croatian from the "Hill" who most had not any great expectations of. The hard part of making the decision, was that unlike my almost lifelong friend, Walter, I was very uncomfortable in using others to attain my dreams and goals. Most of my life I always thought I owed, not merited.
At the end of my week off, I called Marion and asked if the offer was still open, but I needed a month to get my ducks in a row. She said yes and my days, as a high powered architectural designer came to an end. Is funny to go from the almost ULTIMATE into a STARVING ARTIST. Dan had no idea what I wanted to talk to him about when I returned to the office. He had plugged me in, mentally, to being the person in charge of reviewing other firms and investors proposals in regards to the master plan. He had also, mentally, plugged me in to being the Head Designer with his classmate's firm in NYC, as a joint venture for the major condominium portion proposed in the master plan, which he had a signed contract to do if the master plan was approved.
The office was buzzing, but I felt like a heal. I couldn't go through 5+ more years of this insanity and I wanted out. I just wanted to be me and enjoy life a little bit. When I told Dan of my intentions of leaving the firm and getting out of the profession, he slumped back in his chair and said, I think that you are making a mistake, but we all have to do what we think is best for us. (The best thing he could have said to me). If it all doesn't work out for you, would you consider opening an office for me in NYC? Realistically, I understand that there are always others willing and able to take your place, learned that at Benham, but you always question whether you made the best decision at the moment.
I paid off all my outstanding debts, sold that beautiful black Alfa Romeo for more than I had paid for it, threw out 10 years of Architectural Record magazines, let the movers come in and pack up my possessions and got on that first class American Airlines flight to take me to NYC. A limo was waiting for me at JFK and took me to the Lombardy Hotel in Midtown Manhattan. That would be my residence for the next month in a private apartment of an author who was in Europe writing a book there. Never had had that many people in my life, kiss my ass or refuse a modest tip. Even though there were facilities within the apartment for me to prepare my own basic needs, I could call down to a very known restaurant, located on the premises, and have whatever I desired delivered to me with no questions asked. As they say in those TMC movies, I felt like I was almost like the toast of the town. Thank God because of my upbringing, I didn't abuse my opportunity. Just often thought that maybe this was in reconciliation and compensation for what I had had to go through in my life.
Before I go into my time in NYC, I want to tell you about the two individuals that made it all happen for me. In ways they were so much alike, but in most ways so different. Like Walter and myself, the were hooked at the hips for so many years. Their lives were filled with almost tragedy and grief, but what they accomplished and provided for the rest of us is truly inspirational and their stories should be lauded and told. Have always said, Good and honest people always are appreciative and pass on to others, portions of that that they were fortunate to attain.
Bernie was an only child born to a poor couple in Newark, NJ. When he was about 6, his mother left one evening and never came back. He never knew what had happened to her or where she went, even though he later invested heavily in trying to find her whereabouts. He and his father moved into NYC and struggled to get him through NYU with a degree. Bernie was a dreamer, schemer and a gambler. He was determined to attain the things he dreamt of as a kid. Like Sam, he became a robust and rotund individual that seldom could get under that 300 lb. threshold and could never think small, only BIG. Somehow, fate or destiny bit him in the ass and one night his first wife left and never returned. Fortunately, like in the past, he had his father there to help him raise his son so he could get on to concentrating on his aspirations and dreams. He would have a few more unsuccessful tries with marriage along the way. Somehow, he ventured into the advertising world and garnered every important aspect of it, just as Young Walter did later down the line. Both wanted to be the leader, not the surrogate or the ones cleaning up the poop at the end of a parade going nowhere. It cost him a few times along the road, but would lead him to the successes later in life. He could garner people's confidence and get them to give the information he wanted without even asking a question about what it was he really wanted to know. He could go on a mile a minute or just sit there silently for an hour and only listen and observe. He developed many new concepts in recruitment advertising and many tools for HR heads in businesses to incorporate and use in their hire searches. I often laughed and thought of him as the ultimate car salesman. He lured you into the showroom with that unbelievable low price. Just before you were ready to sign on the bottom line, he'd pull out a few bells and whistles packages that couldn't be matched by the competition. By the time you actually signed on the bottom line you hadn't just committed to buying one car, but a matching one for your wife and a time share unit in Florida. You got what you were promised and always looked at Bernie as a true and a trusted friend you could always count on. In business and in his personal life he was very generous man, but you never wanted to lie to him or try to jerk him around. As per his personal life, the sky was the limit. He was a gourmet chef, opera aficionado, travelled the world when time permitted and led an almost totally hedonistic life. I once told Marion that when I looked at him, I often saw him wearing a toga and being one of those elitist of the Roman era. Though we never had a close relationship, I always sensed and knew that he was back there in the shadows to help me out if I ever needed it. He was truly a remarkable man. Last I heard about him that he is still with his last wife, Bonnie, then for close to 25 years, and still living his hedonistic life on Park Avenue.
Now as for Marion, originally Wexelbaum, via marriage Jones, later legally changed to Starr, short for Starskolinsky, a purported close unmarried relative and diamond mine owner in South Africa. Later when funds were available, it was discovered, that yes, he had owned a mine, but due to personal issues, had lost it and died in destitute. It was heartbreaking for some in the family, for they would not be wearing their diamond tiaras at the various NYC balls. Like Bernie she didn't have the greatest of roots. She was born in and raised in the Lower Eastside of Manhattan, down by Jefferson Park in a city project 2 bedroom flat. Her father, Louis, was a simple cabby, who did the best he could for his family and loved his children dearly. Marion was the oldest of the children and she had 5 sisters. Two were by her father and three were by her mother's Italian lover. Louis never questioned that they were all his.
Her father worked 12 hours a day, 6 days a week and her mother worked part time at a nearby hospital, just enough to not exceed the limits to lose the benefits given by NYC to those in need. Most of what her mother made didn't go back into helping her family, but to provide for her self indulgences. Her and her lover, would on occasions take the 3 sisters, later 4, then 5, then 6 to Coney Island or the Palisades, give them a string of amusement tickets and some money for food and treats and then disappear for a few hours. When you have little in life, you learn to keep your mouth shut, so hopefully you may be able to have another good day down the road. There were the night time card games, while her father was working and in the morning, when the children woke for school, they would scurry out to collect the dimes, nickels and pennies strewn under the table to buy their silence. It was a damned if you do and a damned if you don't situation and no child deserved to be put in that position. Marion started working, after school, at the age of 12 in some of the small shops and stores in the neighborhood, so as to provide her sisters with a few simple and basic things like gloves in winter, as opposed to worn out socks. Know that she cherished her father deeply until he died of a heart attack. Until her mother died here in Vegas in the late 80's, she never said a disparaging word about her and provided her with everything and anything that might make her happy in life. I never could quite understand that and still don't to this day. Her mother over the years maintained the relationship with her Italian pony, and not until he was trying to hit on one of his own children did she cut him off. Life can be very, very sick, but it will always go on. As she did in her youth, as the older sister, she has protected them all, no matter how good or bad the situation, even if she came up losing in the end.
Her older sisters got married at 16 & 18. Alice and Tommy, the dancing fools, won the original Dick Clark Bandstand dance contest. Tommy with minimal aspirations kept his dance shoes shined and in hope that his application to become a postman would finally come through so he could be there come rain or shine. He still checks the mail and answering machine everyday for the notice that he has been accepted. Tippy (Tipster to me) married a kind of small time Mafioso-type. Always thought their wonderful 2 sons had to have been conceived during conjugal visits, as he spent most of his life in Reikers or somewhere upstate. The Tipster would always be my one ally in the family until she passed away several years back. Always thought her and my sister Maggie were twins separated at birth. They had very similar looks, almost the same personal convictions and attitudes and were always utterly honest, straight forward and always realistic. They probably had to stick a lot of those sock mittens in her mouth when she was younger. Unlike most of the others, she never abused what Marion was able to provide her family down the road. She was like her big sister's bodyguard. Didn't matter if you were friend, acquaintance or family, she would step in and you had to go through her first.
Her sister Leah married a NYPD cop, who at 40 developed chronic back problems and was granted a full disability pension. Harry, even with this severe disability, could play golf almost everyday or sit a blackjack table 10-12 hours at a time. Leah always wanted a dress shop and when afforded one in Levittown, spent most of her time next door in a butcher shop, stuffing sausages with the owner. As a couple, they were financial geniuses. They managed to make that pension go a long ways. They remodeled there home to be one of the finest in Levittown, their children were the best dressed and were never denied any of their wants. They went on many gambling cruise junkets for the sea air would do wonders for Harry's back. They also were able to afford a condo on a golf course in Sarasota which eased a lot of pain for Harry by not having to cope with those cold Northeastern winters. Still amazes me how they got so much out of that little pension.
.
Annette was the real looker of the family. Can understand why Gumba tried to hit on her. Unlike the others she always had a little higher aspirations. Don't remember her having a degree, but know she had worked in a few doctors offices and spent the least amount of time at the family home down in the project. She ended up marrying a decent guy, Richie, who was in the advertising business. They participated with the family, but only minimally. Marion had known him from her early days in advertising. Over the years they have shared a common interest, betting on the ponies. Actually he has been pretty successful at it and is invited to participate in many of the casino Horse Racing Tournaments around the country, similar to the poker tournaments going on today. Marion will meet him at some of those venues and participate in the small poker tournaments that are staged at the same time. Funny but Annette, who worked in those doctors office has become a germaphobic. She will travel by car to their place in Florida, but will not travel on any boat, train, plane or bus, nor will she stay in any place that she can't be convinced that it has been totally sanitized for 3 days. She is also very extreme about food, clothes and everything else. I couldn't live with someone like that, but somehow they have managed to work it out all these years.
Her youngest sister, Geraldine, could be a lifetime project for 5 psychoanalysts at same time. She is the spitting image of her mother and has more personalities than you can count. Talking to Gerri, is like having a round table discussion, but there's only one other person at table. You feel sorry for her at times and try to have a little compassion, but realize she brings on or causes all these problems herself. She's like a ticking time bomb and you never know how many seconds are left.
The other, almost family member, was her ex-husband Johnny. He was a few year older than her and had this possessive crush on her since she was a teenager. Never got the impression that her father really liked him, but after her father died, he was the only male figure around the household. Know he did some nice things for the family, but Marion was always going to be his and no one else's. They got married shortly after her 2 older sisters had gotten married.
Hope that I have not given the impression that I in anyway mean to belittle or look down my nose at any of these individuals. As myself, they are who they are and there are circumstances that played a major part in who we all turned out to be. I mention them, because they became a part of my life after I moved to NYC and for many years after. A sick, but comforting thought is that I wasn't the only one out there that didn't know what a real family was like or never having experienced the warmth of a real home growing up.
Back to Bernie and Marion. Upon graduating from high school she went to a small business school to learn secretarial and accounting skills. She worked in a few offices in Lower Manhattan for a few years. During that period she got married. Shortly after that she got a job at a recruitment ad agency, Nationwide, in Midtown. That's where they first hooked up together. He was 10 years older and already an experienced and an upwardly headed Account Executive. His father was also employed their in the distribution and proof archive department. l always kind of laughed when I would see Big Bernie and Little Marion scheming over in the corner of a room. Over the next few years they would develop into a very dynamic team. Bernie was the idea man and salesman and Marion put the packages together to complete the deals. Later in her career, people would play games with her, by asking what line rates, media rates were in various cities. She could quote them off the top of her head. Later when they went out own their own, she become one of the most valuable tools and assets for the account executives. When they met with a client, they didn't have to get back with them later with the costs for their service, but simply call Marion and in 5 minutes could have the bottom line. Little did either of them realize the first time they met, it would be not only a business, but personal match made in heaven.
They would stay at the same agency for the next few years and developed a sizable reputable client list. Bernie couldn't be satisfied with playing second fiddle and had to be the concert master. He wanted for them to go out own their own, but unfortunately no publication or media outlet will run your ads without payment upfront or a line of established credit. Most companies would pay 30-60 days later for the services and none, why should they, would pay upfront. Bernie came across an ad in one of the trades about an agency from Kansas City who had space and staff for a small upstart group to venture with in order for both of them to grow in NYC together. (This is where the connection with Young Walter comes in, for he was working at that agency in KC at the time, Barickman Advertising). When Jim Barickman saw their client list, he offered to back them, if they could bring most of those clients with them. As I have said, Bernie was quite an operator and gambler. Over the next few weeks he secured the confidence of almost all of his clients to move on with him. Wednesdays and Thursdays are the deadline days for submitting for Sunday print publications. Somehow management at Nationwide got air of their ploy. On Friday after all their clients adds we placed, as to get the income from their ad placements, they fired Bernie, Marion and his father. Nationwide probably believed that they didn't really have the backing or were capable of meeting the next week's deadline for those clients. Learned to never underestimate 2 Jews from recovering a dime that accidentally falls from someone's pocket when it hits the pavement. They met that next deadline, and as they say, the rest is history. They would later become partners with Barickman owning 51% and the two of them 49%. For legal and other reasons, the new partnership would be known as Bernard Hodes Advertising. Barickman closed his NYC office and went back to KC and later LaQuinta, CA and only had to exert himself in signing his monthly profit checks. Later down the road, Bernard Hodes Advertising would be acquired by Doyle Dane Bernbach, the 8th largest advertising agency in the world for millions of dollars. Barickman at that time stepped totally out of the picture, but Marion and Bernie signed non-competitive contracts for 5 years and extended them several times after. One of those great American stories. Fortunately, I would be one later to benefit from what they had accomplished and to this day and thankful for what they accomplished and being a beneficiary of their efforts. Not all of those out there in the corporate world are blood suckers and piranhas. The majority of them are just like Bernie and Marion and have worked their asses off, defied the odds and when they attained, always made sure that others had opportunities to be their peers one day. One thing I have learned over the years, is that it happens, Only In America.
The previous gives you an idea of what I walked into when I moved to NYC. Initially I didn't have that overall perspective. Just know that it was similar to that first day at Starkman's in Beverly Hills and feeling like I had died and ended in heaven. Making a transition from the West Coast to the East Coast isn't an easy transition. Simple things, like heavy starched shirts on hangers, in by 9:00am, out by 5:00 pm, costs 5 times more. You couldn't find margarita mix for an afternoon refresher or your Mexican taco party. You had to always have a lot of cash for many places and vendors didn't care who you were, even though you had a Gold American Express Card. Things that had been simple in California were at times more problematic in NYC. I humbly suffered through the differences. I often thought about Walter's words when he and I were sharing experiences, over the years, in our individual rises at various venues, If only Helen could see us now. Hate to admit it, but I really did get spoiled for the first time in my life. I felt like one of those rich kids at Maur Hill who ran away from school in their private airplanes from Amelia Earhart Field, when you weren't allowed to have a car on campus but could have a plane out at the airport. The events of the first few weeks were like getting a bigger and better Christmas gift every day. Going to an upscale restaurant and then seeing a performance on Broadway, going to Jimmy Weston's, meeting Bernie and Marion at the Friars Club for drinks after work or Thursday's lobster feast, having free access to all the major museums via company passes and of course a weekend in the Hamptons, were really mind blowing to me. Felt out of place at times, but as my reunited friend, Michael Rebarber, from Jersey said, Go for it Ralph while you can, for there are no guarantees on how long something is going to last. You don't want to look back and say I wish I had when the opportunity may no longer exist. Life gives you these chances for a reason, but I have no idea what those reasons are, so don't ask and just enjoy while you can.
The hardest adjustment for me to make in NYC, for not only the first month at the Lombardy, but even for quite a while after I moved into my own place was what to do with myself when I opened my eyes in the morning. Always feeling and sensing that I HAD to be somewhere and there was something I HAD to do. When I took that time off in LA, it was the same feelings and sensations, but I was in my own place with familiar things around me, knew the city and surrounding areas, had access to all my creature comforts and had that Alfa Romeo to get me where I wanted or needed to go. When I woke up at the Lombardy, there was a whole different world out there. All of my personal things were in storage somewhere in Brooklyn. Had visited the city, but really had no idea where anything was or how to get around other than a cab and that could cost you an arm and a leg. Had no friends other than Michael in Jersey. Didn't want to bug Marion or anyone else who had their JOBS to do. I would get up at 6:00 am, as usual, SS&S in 7 (shower, shit and shave in 7 minutes, something I had learned to do on the road in the past) and headed out to pound the pavement of NYC and discover and find out where I was. Know that over those first few months there, I walked up and down every street or avenue from Harlem to the Battery and from the East River to the Hudson. Mentally I did a Google mapping of Manhattan. Along a given daily route, I would call the Lombardy or my apartment to check on any received messages, as there were no cellular phones in those days. If necessary, I would abort my exploration and again SS&S in 7 to meet whoever had called and meet them for lunch. After the first few weeks I did buy some art sketch books to document my journeys, make notes of my impressions and personal feelings and do some sketches of the art I may want to do when in my own place.
During those treks and on a few exploratory trips with Marion's friend Morty, a semi-apartment broker, along with other numerous ventures, I got to see what was available for me to finally settle down in NYC, where all the artists lived in Soho, The Village and south of Houston Street. Most of them were similar to the Chicano area of East LA and the South-Central area of LA. I had grown up in an almost Bohemian area of Strawberry Hill in KCK. I had worked my ass off to move up in the world and couldn't imagine myself paying almost double the rates for a shit-hole there and once again being abused just to have that ARTIST persona. Morty helped me get into a semi-luxury apartment in Midtown on 55th between 2nd and 3rd Avenue. The wonderful thing about the place was that, excluding the manager/superintendent, the whole staff were all Croatians from across the East River in Long Island City. If a hen lays an egg and you are the resultant Croatian chick, where would you want to be hatched at? Being the only Croatian tenant in the building they took good care of me and often brought me those traditional comfort items from the homeland. None of them ever had my, then life style, but perhaps it gave them the hope that one day they could be residing there too. After not having someone to speak Croatian to for many years, I had come across some that understood some of my frustrations trying adapt to NYC when I spoke certain words.
The first month in my apartment I tried to replicate my LA lifestyle with the plants and minimalist look. I had only shipped my bedroom furniture, dining table and chairs, my few special designer pieces of furniture and my art collection. Figured I could find new bookcases, storage units, small cube tables/displays and sleeper couch (for guests) in NYC. Another difference between LA and NYC. In LA you could go to showrooms, purchase what you wanted and it would be delivered in a couple of days. In NYC, the showrooms had minimal displays and you did your selections via catalogs. You had to special order most items, and if lucky, they would delivered in 3-4 weeks. Even when I bought my new couch and loveseat at Bloomingdales, I had to pay an extra charge to have them delivered a week later. At least the plant people, delivered the next day, if you paid 75% cash up front and the other 25% plus delivery charges, in again cash, upon delivery. Fortunately, my friend Michael in Jersey, had worked with me in my small furniture company when we were at OU. He had a prosthetics and brace company in Ridgewood, NJ and we renewed our relationship, by building what I needed in his garage over a few weekends. Michael, his father, David and his stepmother would also come to my rescue down the road when some instances developed with Marion's ex-husband.
Once I was finally set up and feeling comfortable about my move, I got into concentrating on my art. Got somewhat bored with doing 2-dimensional pieces and started doing small 3-dimensional assemblages. That was more compatible with my architectural trained mind and way of visualizing. You just don't want to view an object. You want to know what's on the back side. You want to almost walk around it and get a total experience. My daily treks somewhat subsided, but due to the fact, that most artists in NYC did 2-dimensional work, the art supplies I sought were not overly available and I had to go out, pounding the pavement to discover where they were hiding. Didn't do as many lunches, but my evening and weekend calendar remained pretty much filled. Walter and friends from LA, visiting or doing business in town would stop by from time to time. Made a few trips back to LA, went to Canada with Marion on business and spent Christmas/New Years in the Bahamas with friends I had gone to school with back at OU.
About two weeks before going to the Bahamas a major problem developed with her ex-husband. When Bernie and Marion started building the company, it meant that she had to spend substantial time, in the office, with clients and travelling to establish and maintain the new offices. Her ex-husband wanted her under his thumb and on a leash at all times. As mentioned, he seldom, if ever, participated in anything pertaining to the company or her career. After a few disruptive incidents in the office she decided to end the marriage, hoping the dramas and traumas would end. They did for a while, but then he began another assault on her, her family and anyone he thought may be abetting her against him in the company. She agreed to maintain a part-time relationship with him. She bought two homes in Keansburg, NJ. One was for her mother and one was for her sisters and their families to share. He had alienated most of them with his threatening activities and most only participated with him if Marion were present. The company also had an apartment at the Claridge in NYC, for their executives to stay when in town on business. She would often stay there, when the evenings required entertaining clients or meeting with executives from their other offices. A few days a week she would return to their condo in Queens to pacify her ex-husband. That seemed to keep him under control and allowed her some freedom to have a life and not be constantly threatened.
While living at the Lombardy we spent a few nights together, me not knowing the big picture of the world going on out there. Tipster, who worked in the NYC office, met me a few days a week after work for drinks and bit by bit clued me in on that big picture. The good thing was that I knew who he was, but he didn't know Marion was involved with anyone nor did he know who they were or what they looked like. Do admit, it was a very uncomfortable situation. Remember contacting some old friends in Miami to see if they had some contacts in NYC, who could help me out if things went awry.
Know that a lot of this is like many of those TCM movies that I am addicted to. However, I often think that I actually was in many scenes of those movies and thank God I survived. Feel a bit guilty about some of the grief and not so pleasant moments inflicted on to others. Maybe in my mind, I justify what happened as only being an actor, portraying Ralph in a script of Ralph Discovers NYC. Another funny thing in my mind, it was filmed in black and white, not color. Also, realize that like Star Wars, there could be numerous sequels to Ralph, The Crazy Croatian from Strawberry Hill. On one hand I am very proud of what I have accomplished in life, but at the same time wish that the mind would rid itself of many parts of it. Unfortunately, one's life is a sum total of all our experiences.
Marion and I, naturally, grew closer. My personal desires of life were being met, but unfortunately, Marion's, were not. We had conversations, as well as she had conversations with Bernie about what should be done so she could get on with her life and quit playing games with her ex-husband. No one could move forward until actions were taken to remedy that situation. Though skeptical, we moved in together and acknowledged possible upcoming storms. She placated her ex-husband by meeting him once a week for dinner at his favorite place in Midtown and told him that she had taken up a permanent apartment in NYC and didn't want to go through the NYC to Queens routine anymore, but left out the fact that she was living with someone. Don't know how he discovered where she was living, but one day he showed up in the lobby and made a scene. Fortunately my Croatian allies had him removed and had a car take her to the office. He showed up later at her office and caused another major scene there. After her and Bernie talked, it was decided to get her a bodyguard to accompany her back and forth to the office and also be outside her office, in case he would return. He did on several occasions. They finally got a restraining order to limit his access around the office and also the apartment. The man went on a mission and pushed everything to the limits. In his mind, she was his and he was going to get her back. Being that he had substantial funds from the divorce, he could take all the time to harass her in hopes of getting her back. Horace her bodyguard was an imposing figure, and had been once a personal bodyguard for Mohammad Ali. He made things a bit more comfortable and reassuring for this tiny woman. However, making $800 a week in cash wouldn't be enough, for him not to sell us out about our relationship For A Few Dollars More. Her ex, still didn't know my name, identity or unit in the building, but his vigilance increased. Wonder sometimes if he ever went home at night. The NYPD got involved, because he was making more threats to all those around us. I knew who he was and could walk past him on the streets, almost feeling terror. One day two NYPD detectives came up to the apartment and told me the only way to end this was for me to confront him personally out of the blue. They said that if he didn't do anything physically, as he had threatened, they couldn't do anything about him. They handed me a bullet-proof vest, told me to walk up to him, for at the time he was outside idling his time, and say Fuck face I'm the one you're looking for and they would be right behind me to respond to his actions and get him put away. Like cockroaches that disappear when you turn on the lights, he was nowhere to be found when we went out on the streets. For me, it was a bit of relief. He still didn't know who I was, but at the same time I felt extremely threatened and vulnerable.
Bernie suggested we get out of town for a while. Maybe the upcoming holidays were in play in her ex-husband's mind and not wanting to be alone. I can't read anyone's mind, but I know from personal past experiences those are not times when we want to be alone. A new bodyguard came on board and her ex-husband disappeared until we left for the Bahamas.
We left NYC, where it was 28 degrees and landed in sunny Nassau where it was 87. Had gone to school at OU with many of the guys from there. My friend Bruce and I had worked on a few projects together as students and like myself he was a graduate assistant. We would go up to Stillwater from time to time to party with other Bahamians going to OSU studying hotel and hospitality management. At the time it was the only university in the US that had a hotel on campus and had such a curriculum. The Bahamian government developed their future talent and leaders from within. As you developed your talent and capabilities, you were given the opportunity to expand them via further education at any university around the world. They paid not only your educational costs and living expenses, but you also retained your previous position, and were paid its monthly salary. Your only obligation was that you had to work in your previous position for 3 years upon your return. After that you were free to do with your life whatever you chose. Bruce had worked in the Planning Department before going to OU and not long after returning became Director of Planning for all of the Bahamian 705 islands. He later left and opened his own architectural firm, which is the most prominent one today and his son, who also later graduated from OU, is now, more or less running the firm. Several times after I had gotten out of architecture, Bruce tried to convince me to join him in Nassau, but the idea of being confined and restricted on an island just didn't appeal to me.
Let me tell you, that was one helluva 10 days and the problems back in NYC seemed so far away. The best part of it was that it was National Holiday time and the main objective was to party, party, party and party some more. One of the big highlights for us was attending the President's Christmas Ball. We were introduced as special guests from NYC and danced the opening dance with the President and his wife. Bruce, Bones, Gubba, Thomas Dean, Omawali, Louie and a few others that had risen in the ranks of the government, all made sure that our visit would be a most memorable one and it was. An interesting aside, we were two "white people" being welcomed into an almost totally black culture and society. Yes we did some of the tourists things, but 95% of the time we lived as being native Bahamians. Like in other parts of what I have been writing, there are some many stories I'd like to relate, but there isn't time to fit them all in. Just know that I am thankful for having been afforded such wonderful people in my life.
It was a new year, we were partied out, filled with wonderful memories, but unfortunately had to get back on that plane to NYC and face the music there. For the next month, there were only a few minor instances involving her ex-husband. After he had followed us up to the Calgary Stampede in Alberta, Canada. Bernie stepped in and said it was time to end this whole mess. He couldn't have individuals' personal problems affecting company business. His solution was for Marion to move to the West Coast and have her take over operations of all the offices in that part of the company. He would handle operations on the East Coast. Marion really didn't want to leave NYC for the fear for her family, but knew the partnership was on the line. Myself, still being anonymous, thought it was a great idea. Perhaps being a bit selfish, it would allow me to get back to familiar territory, friends and not having to put on another bullet-proof vest.
We made the move, got a place in Beverly Hills and felt some comfort and security that the problems would be over. Unfortunately, that didn't last for more than two weeks. One morning her ex-husband was across the street from our place. Panic struck and a barrage of phone calls ensued. Don't know how or who did what, but after a few hours, two BHPD cars and an unmarked car arrived and picked him up. Fortunately, after that Marion nor her family heard little from him over the next five years. Can only imagine what was said to him to get such a response. Perhaps it was similar to what was said by Alice, We're not in Kansas (New York) anymore Toto. After you've been through questioning situations for months, it is hard to get up in the morning and believe that things have really changed, but eventually you do get a little more secure, day by day.
Was a great time seeing Marion bloom for the first time in her life. All that she had worked for, she was now experiencing. She learned how to drive, though she often thought sidewalks were another driving lane. She got her first car, an MBZ. She got a personal shopper and make up person to give her that executive look. Most importantly, she took night classes at UCLA to develop her presentation skills and to get rid of her NYC accent. Think for the first time in her life she was having a blast. Know that Bernie was happy, for he didn't have to have three extra handkerchiefs to deal with the sweat of her next trauma and also she was increasing the volume of business for the company. I was, and still am, very proud of her. It is extremely hard for anyone to make a 180 degree turn in their life. The Tipster and I kept in contact, but the rest of her family were disillusioned and only made contact when their needs needed to be met.
Spent my first month back connecting with old contacts and helping Marion adjust to her new life style. Was out scouting for studio space so I could go chase my dream. You never envy someone on the rise, but sometimes you have to think about yourself. You are only an asset to others, if you are an asset unto yourself. I really wanted a studio, but there were many delays I got confronted with. Didn't mind the dog and pony shows with Marion, but just wanted to get on with being the real me, no matter what that was. She got involved financially with another tenant in our complex. He had a home study paralegal course that was heavily advertised on all the cable channels. He convinced her to invest in it in small at first, then bigger over a short time and later as 50-50 partners. You got big cash returns monthly on your investment from supposedly all the students involved with signing up. Later, would discover it was one of those Ponzi schemes and she would lose close to $300,000 (Almost $7,000,000 was lost by others drawn in to his scam). At the same time, they were both Jewish and loved Italian food, so why not open the ideal Italian restaurant? That's where I got drawn in. With my talents, I would design and look over it getting built and for my efforts I would get 20% interest in the partnership, which would more than pay for any art studio I desired. Really wanted to invest my own money in MY STUDIO, but didn't want to curb or dull Marion's enthusiasm. S&S Restaurant Corporation was formed. I would later refer to it as, Short and Stupid, take it either way you want to look at it. Bill Siegel, her partner, knew she was a big time executive, with very little time to look after such a small venture and volunteered to oversee it from the business side. They would supposedly contribute 50-50 on all investments. Until I started questioning expenditures and asked to see the books, everything seemed to be going along smoothly. Also I had not received my 20% of the stocks, nor had they been registered with the California Corporation Commission. To many I am known as The elephant man, who doesn't forget anything and a documentarian that takes detailed notes. Mr. William Siegel told Marion I may be a fine architect, but that I knew little about business and how it operates. That opened up a riff between Marion and myself. Every time I told her that he was fucking over her, she sided with him. Finally, when a few checks bounced to the contractor, that his portion should have covered, did what was actually happening come out. Out of $350,000, to get the restaurant built, he had only contributed $8,000 personally, but had used her resources to establish a credit line for the corporation to pay for his supposedly portion. He was definitely a slick Willy. When that second check bounced, I told them I was out of the picture until I got my shares of stock and could see all the books. Went up to Mammoth and Northern California for several days, and as in the past, got totally shit-faced, having no contact back with LA. Slick Willy poured out his personal financial problems, along with numerous other sob stories, but in the end agreed to give me my stock, if she would agree to finance the restaurant through its completion and allow him to pay her back from his portions of the profits.
I agreed to help get the placed opened, but after that I was out of the picture and only a silent partner. I also told Marion it was time for me to move on. I felt that I had been more than supportive in NYC and in BH, but didn't want to go through anymore of the Chinese fire drills. We either had to get on the same page together or I am moving on in life without you. We made the commitment to get married. Bernie, her lawyers, partner Siegel, family and other influentials in her life, had her lawyers draw up a marriage contract. I understood where they coming from. They just didn't understand where I was coming from. Was willing to sign whatever they came up with. On a trip back from NYC to LA, she pulled it out and asked me to sign it. When I started to put the ink down on the 60 page document, she pulled the pen away from me and said, You don't need to sign it, I trust you. You've thought more about me than I have thought about you. We'll deal with whatever comes up down the line. Since that time we have also become hooked at the hip and looked out for one another, even though we were not physically together over these numerous years. As with my relationship with Walter over the years, I have had a similar relationship with Marion for many, many years. If you're not selfish in the beginning of a relationship and consider the other individual, you have the opportunity to develop a lifelong relationship.
One thing I always had a problem of dealing with Marion with, was that on a business level, she was a totally, totally hard-ass and cold woman, but in her personal life and affairs she was totally different, and too often, an easy touch and had great difficulty in saying no.
We got the restaurant opened, but Marion was held with all of the financial liabilities. We had hired a very good chef from an established restaurant and a manager from another fine and established restaurant and bar on Sunset Blvd. The first month, was an outstanding success, due to those two individuals. However, Mr. Siegel, no longer having 50% say-so, demanded we buy his share out, at the present restaurant's performance and income rate. As he was still a major owner, he intruded in the chef's and manager's abilities to do their jobs. He demanded that nightly receipts, not be deposited until he received his 40% from the daily income. The daily infighting caused the chef and manager to bail out. Could you blame them? Went from a 4-Star venue into a don't go there in review publications.
The next few months would involve those rats (lawyers), for getting into court to resolve any issue in LA, it was 7 years down the road. You learn to just scratch your ass and forget about wanting to get justice in life. No attorney was concerned about the cumulative one million dollars that you had been scammed out of, but rather if you paid his fees on time. There was no other options, but to shut down the place and sell it at big loss. Marion got heavily involved back into her business and at last I got into a second story studio at Sunset Blvd. and Gardner, across the street from where Michael Jackson had gone to elementary school. Don't like admitting it, but our relationship became tentative and questionable when it came to trust. In a strange way we were both reborn and realized the only impediments in our lives were ourselves. After you go through so many traumas in life, it is a relief to stand naked in front of an open fire hydrant to try and cleanse yourself from your personal inadequacies'.
I worked diligently and was blasted (shit-faced) most days in my new den of recluse. I seldom participated in Marion's dog and pony shows or trips to her various offices for a mini-vacation on the company. I started cranking out numerous pieces of art and Marion's creative staff helped me promote my talents and abilities. Our joint efforts got me 14 art shows over the next 12 months, most of them one-man shows and also a speaking engagement at the Hollywood Women's Business Association on self-marketing. Though I was having great exposure, the subject matter of my art didn't produce the revenues to support me doing it. In simple terms, no one wants to be reminded of the not so good times in one's life. My art has always been about getting upon that "psychiatrist couch" and most in life don't opt to go there. It's like having your picture taken with Miss Lohan, but you ain't gonna hire her to be a tutor or be a babysitter for your children.
Wanted to be just myself. Wanted to only to be dependent on only one person in my life, ME. You sometimes enter a fantasy world, by which you think you are equal to those which you associate with. Well, we all have different tool boxes that we operate out of and our personal skills don't necessarily qualify to use someone else's tool boxes. In a court of law, you may be guilty by association, but in real life you can't be guaranteed of success by association.
I got involved with a Mexican, supposedly gentleman, who owned two restaurants on Sunset. He told me that he owned some property in Playas de Tijuana, Mexico (On the beach outside of Tijuana) and we could make some good money by incorporating both of our talents. We could open an American restaurant and art gallery, and there was enough room for me to have a second studio. I could be a famous American artist living in Mexico and both US and Mexico galleries would help make me become a famous GRINGO artist. I needed to get into something that would allow me to have some income and not have to rely on Marion or anyone else. The same type of situation that Marion had gotten hooked on, I got hooked on and in the end would have to face the realities she had to face. Won't go into the whole story, but left Mexico after almost two years without a dime to even pay the rent on my studio in LA. Marion tried to bail me out, but being a hard headed HUNKIE, I had to do things my way. A word to those that think they are smarter than the rest.....you aren't. I was too proud and couldn't accept help from others. All I had worked for in life was gone, except for my credit cards that after I ran them up to $60,000, they were cancelled. Didn't want Marion to get stuck with my fantasies and bail my ass out. When those around her suggested to get rid of my dead ass, I agreed with them. Though I have always loved and still do, my best friend Walter, I couldn't follow his advice, Don't sign anything unless you get $85-100,000 a year. She can pay it and you should be able to live quite comfortably on that. Thank God I didn't take his advise. We have remained close friends, almost like brother and sister over the past 30 years and hopefully until we leave this Earth.
After we split up, Marion moved out of the condo in West Hollywood and purchased a home in the Hollywood Hills. I still had a little credit left on my credit cards and was shit-faced most of the time. I was temporarily shacking up with a honey, in the music business, who also lived with an asshole in the business, who I absolutely deplored. I accidentally fell asleep with a lit cigarette and the bedding caught fire. Had her asshole roommate not forgotten his wallet, I wouldn't be alive today. Is strange to owe your life to someone that you despise. The property manager told me I was no longer welcomed on the premises. I had nowhere to go. Fortunately for me, I called Marion and she told me I could stay at her place for 2 weeks while she was in NYC. She had a few rules. One was I was not to touch the wine racks or liquor cabinets, Another was for me to take the time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life and the last was to quit being hard-headed and try to like myself a little bit, for she believed I was a special person, again with "potential". I never had another drink for over 14 years. Quit cold turkey, without the aid of AA or one of those Malibu rehabilitation centers. All of the friends and allies, when I had the cash in my pocket, abandoned me. I was back on Strawberry Hill, starting all over again in life.
Marion hired the contractor, who had built our restaurant and helped me with mine in Mexico and also my art studio on Sunset, to remodel her new home. One of the stipulations was that he hire me, to not only work on it physically, but to make sure it was similar to the aesthetics she had grown accustomed to while we were together. Tim Lankford, the contractor with a background in KC, kept me busy over the next few years. Because of my experience, he could take on more than one project at a time. If it was a larger project, he would run it and I would be compensated on a base salary and a percentage of the profits. If it was smaller, I would run it and he would allow me to make the majority of the profits and demanded I reinvest it in buying US Savings Bonds that would enable me to have leverage to get back into a studio down the road. We were a good team. For those smaller projects, he allowed me to choose the people on his payroll to work with me. Didn't think of it at the time, but him having me develop and train individuals in his crews into talented and capable resources, was the same as I had done at BB&A and Starkman. He even took off for 6 months to build a wonderful home north of Malibu in Carbon Canyon.
Fortunately for Tim, but unfortunately for me, he developed a reputation in the Malibu area, which was 1 1/2 hours travel time from where most of his crews lived, including me, but from his new home, it was 30 minutes away from most projects . (LA is a bitch to get around in the mornings and after normal working hours. Who wants to take a cut in pay from the travel time, or not get a little pleasure when you have an erection in the morning?) He also got a contract from a movie production company to build a new movie studio in Ojai, CA. God bless him. His good ship lolli-pop had come through and as the original contractor he would later become the head of facility maintenance for that studio, making more than he did as its original builder. Some of his crew followed him, but most, like me, didn't want to go through that daily grind.
Fortunately for me and several of Tim's crew, that I had grown accustomed to, we got bailed out by Marion. She hired us to renovate their 10,000 s.f. office in Encino, CA. On the side, she also hired me to evaluate all of their offices across the US and to make recommendations on how to improve them. Also, as I had gotten involved with doing videos inre my art, she allowed me to incorporate an audio/visual component into the overall renovation. It allowed me to do focus study group research videos, in conjunction with their research group, as Bernie had thought about years before. Though we were not licensed contractors, she helped promote us to various in-house and client executives, wanting to beat the outrageous property taxes on property improvement in California. I became known as the "Bandit Builder", I still love carrying that monikor, and the main idea to defeat those government assholes. I still fight against the government to control our lives and make us pay for those who sit on their ass and think I should provide for them.
One of the things I am most proud of, is that I never had to advertise my talents and capabilities, including the talent of those who worked with and abetted me. I have to smile when I think about having 19 "Bandit Builders" out there and that people would wait 6-9 months to get on our list. Am totally aware that they were concerned about their tax issues, but unlike most contractors out there, once the job was done, we seldom got calls that something wasn't right or that they needed more of our services. My uncle once said to me If you have time to do it wrong, then you have time to do it right. A greater compliment was that when a City building inspector showed up on a job, cited everyone else for their illegal work, but me, and asked Can I send some individuals over her to show them how it should be done? Many times I almost shit my pants, but when you do the right thing, and better, real and honest people will recognize it. Funny thing is that one inspector asked me if I could do an addition on his residence so he and his wife could have his daughter and son-in-law move in and they could help bringing up their Hispanic grandchild in a better environment.
Paid of most of my debts and that urge to have another art studio started working on my brain. I was also getting tired of having so many people dependent on me to keep working. I selected 5-6 guys, who were multi-talented and I knew could get any aspect of a job done without me having to be on site most of the time. I wasn't interested in chasing the art gallery circuit, but wanted a place to do my personal "artistic psychiatry". Found a good space for me in a rough section of North Hollywood. I would have that studio for over 16 years until my landlord died about 5 years ago. Mr. Clark was a wonderful gentleman. He never raised my rent in those 16 years and after 2 years put me in charge of management and maintenance of all of his commercial and residential properties in the LA area. That allowed me to have 3-4 months a year to do my art and keep my guys busy a couple of months doing work for him alone. I also had a few other clients whom I performed the same services for. The other 6 months or so, I would do special projects for a select and closely knit group of clients. They all understood I didn't want to be involved in anything taking more than 2 months and then I wanted time off to do my art, though few really understood any of it. We did things for them in phases and a few of the projects took 5 years overall to complete. It was good for us both, for they didn't have to amass large chunks of revenue and relocate for several months, along with not having to deal with all the Building and Safety inspectors and other government assholes/agencies. My guys didn't mind a little time off now and then. It also allowed them to do some small projects on the side, that I didn't want to be involved in. It worked out good for all over those many years until Mr. Clark died.
After losing my North Hollywood Studio, I worked out of a one bed room apartment in Burbank for about a year. I wanted another studio, but the $490 per month, which I had paid Mr. Clark wouldn't cover comparable space which would have cost me $15-1,600 per month, plus renovating a new space to what I had, would have cost about $35,000. Didn't want to put that kind of money into someone else's property. Marion offered me the opportunity to move into her home in Las Vegas and just pay the mortgage. Our little group had remodeled it over a few years after she purchased it. She used it as a vacation home for herself, her family and friends and would possibly be a place to retire. She also allowed me to use it for entertaining friends or when I wanted to get out of LA for a while. When she retired, Vegas started growing like mad. Her and the gentleman she has lived with for quite a few years, didn't want the big city life. She ended up buying another place in Mesquite, NV. When she wanted the big city, they could spend time in her NYC condo or the one in Florida. When I took the crew to Las Vegas to work on her home, many of the neighbors and others in the area admired our work and we would often stick around for a week or two and do work for them. Many of them were Mormons and though I don't affiliate myself with any religion, since that time, I have gained a great respect for them as a group of honest, dedicated and caring people. Though I wasn't one of them, they, in their own way looked out after me and gave me access to opportunities to make my life better. I think what I appreciate about the them most, is that they take care of one another, just as those "hunkies" on the "Hill" did. You take care of your own and don't rely on a socialistic government to abort or squash your dreams and ambitions. Thought I could make things happen in Las Vegas and took Marion up on her offer.
Need to back track a bit here. During most of the years at my studio in North Hollywood, I became somewhat of a recluse and still am to a large degree. Didn't do a lot of socializing and hated being invited to gatherings as the "designated driver". Kept my inner circle pretty compact, but never felt deprived of the finer things, as most of my clients afforded me opportunities to experience facets of their lives. As one put it, You dress up pretty good. They're gonna think you are a new member we are sponsoring . Got to experience Hawaii for the first time as a "nanny and tutor". The couple's kids wanted me, as opposed to their regular nanny. I also became like a "big brother" to a young boy whose mother was a heavy user. On many Saturdays I held creative classes in my studio for younger kids. It was more like a babysitting service, but we all had fun doing art, videos, plays and a lot of crazy things. One client even gave me a birthday party with only my circle of kid friends and no adults. It was actually pretty cool, for I had never had such a party when I was younger. After work or on the weekends I would sit outside in the alcove in front of my studio doing crossword puzzles and such and got on a first hand basis with the good, bad and ugly of North Hollywood. Befriended pushers, whores, users, homeless, psychos and on the other hand normal day to day individuals who none of them realized what my studio or what I was about, including a lady who had taught literature at Yale for numerous years. Learned a great lesson in life. Everyone wants a little recognition and respect in it. You make them feel better by giving them a little bit of your time and not being judgmental but letting them express their feelings and frustrations. Had some tense moments at times, but all these strange people appeared out of the shadows when I may need help. Always smiled when the dumpster divers offered me food found at the local grocery store or invited me to the big cook-out they were having later at Magnolia Park. I had a good "street rep". That is absolutely funny to me, but true. The angriest of them would smile and shake my hand when passing by and tell any newcomer Don't mess with the man/brother. It was extremely hard for me to give up that studio later and even more, all those characters.
During that period I also began giving a lot of thoughts to my relationship with my family. When I went back to KC for my sister Cass's funeral, I discovered a whole new generation of nephews and nieces who totally accepted me and acted as if I had been out of town on business for a month, not 30 years. Another good thing was almost all old-timers I had intentionally stayed as far away as possible, had passed on. A door had opened for me to reconnect with the good part of my past. Though hesitant I took tiny steps and so far things have worked out. The best part is that I finally made it to Croatia with a few of them and discovered my true heritage.
That dream of finding who I was and where I came from happened because of the Jazvecs - Ivica, Milka, Nikolina and Baca Sava. These wonderful human beings transformed my life in so many ways. I met Nikolina (Nik) when she was attending FIDM studying interior design in LA. Her and her roommates, Stacey and Carol, lived down the street from my art studio and all would stop by from time to time. Was a big surprise to discover that Nik was Croatian. When she graduated, she was having some problems finding work and a firm that would sponsor her for a permanent visa. Until she finally found a Korean architectural firm to accommodate her needs I did what I could to help out to keep her from being discouraged. She did various small jobs and projects for some of my remodel clients and also helped with my remodel business and aspects of my art from time to time. She was very reliable, thorough and allowed my life to be a bit less stressful. In a way I hated when she finally got the permanent job. We stayed in touch and were there for one another when needed. When her folks were finally able to visit her in the US, I think they were relieved that their only child had someone to look out and after her. That started a wonderful relationship. When they discovered that I had been so close to Croatia so many times, but had never visited it, they urged me to be their guest and would help me find my grandfather's birthplace and any remaining relatives. That didn't happen until two years later when my nephew Mark and his family and I journeyed to Croatia along with Nik, who was going back to attend a class reunion and visit family and other friends. We would find my grandfather's village, discovered unknown relatives and were treated to the greatest of hospitality by the Jazvecs. The following year, I would return to Croatia by myself and with their assistance and meet my long lost family, and wade in the Kupa River as my grandfather had done as a boy.
Now those are memories I shall always cherish. I again stayed at the Palace Hotel and hired an interpreter to go to Kunic with Ivica and myself to meet my long lost relatives. When we arrived, only Marica and her daughter were there. She yelled up into the hills and called on a cellular. My cousin Ivan came running down the hill and we hugged for almost a minute, just smiling and looking at one another. Typically Croatian, he explained that there was a large group working up in one of the vineyards and after all the work was done for the day, we would all celebrate my coming home. A while later he returned driving a tractor and cart with barrels of freshly picked grapes. One gentlemen was with him and they immediately processed them in an electrical press located in the basement of one of the homes. When done, Marica loaded baskets of food, wine and spirits and we headed up the dirt and rutted mountain paths to the vineyard. Have to laugh, cousin Ivan had three extra abled bodies and he was going to put them to work. No work, no food, no party. When we finally got to the vineyard, next to it was an old Catholic church, which the state was slowly restoring. It was the Horvatia Village's own church when around 150 - 350 of my ancestors occupied it. Jura and Luce and their son was the only ones I knew. However, over almost a picnic lunch, we all got introduced and most of the others were my relatives who had kept this grape picking and wine making tradition alive for so many years. They travelled from Slovenia in the Spring to prepare the vineyards and also plant the corn fields down by the Kupa River and then return in the Fall for harvesting and wine making. Jura and Luce, along with an older gentleman who lived in one of the many homes, tended to the property when they were not there. I really worked my ass off that day, not wanting them to think I was a spoiled ingrate American. Ivan kept us going up that mountain, bringing us slivo, rakija and vino. Everyone sang, joked and teased one another. It was a helluva experience and one I will always treasure.
After the work was done for the day, the grapes were all crushed and we cleaned the sweat from our bodies, we gathered for the reunion party. Marica prepared home made breads, desserts and vast assortment of meats prepared on a cast iron wood burning stove. Ivan provided his best red and white wines from the cellar and also various flavors of slivo and that killer, double cooked, rakija. He also had an old cassette player with numerous tapes of traditional music. It was like stepping back in time. My last test to see if I was a true Croatian was when Marica brought out the hog head and placed it in front of me. They all went silent and looked at me, but when I chose the cheek meat and gave it a thumbs up, they all laughed and the party resumed. Ivica and the interpreter left in early evening. One of my relatives, Zorica, who has a bridal and wedding dress shop in Slovenia, was like my aunt in KCK who made most of the wedding gowns for the brides married on the "Hill", spoke English fairly well. She and her husband had spent some time in China, Japan and Australia. Through her and my limited Croatian, we all got what we needed to say and express to one another. We partied until way after midnight and when it was time for me to retire, they presented me with my Kunic version of the Palace Hotel in Zagreb. There is no central plumbing and electricity was only available in the past 15 years. Inside the kuca (house) I stayed, everything was somewhat Croatian-modern. It may have been a 150 years old on the outside, but many in the US would have paid big bucks to stay in it. As mentioned, with no central plumbing, most of the homes had tacked on an ”outhouse" addition. There was a general usage outhouse across the road, but for me, they had cut a hole in the surrounding wooden walkway, fastened the water closet with a barrel below. There were several plastic buckets filled with water for me to flush with and a roll of "fine Kunic Hotel toilet paper" on a nail to wipe with. To be honest, it caused me to be a bit emotional. My own personal homecoming throne.
When I woke in the morning, everyone again assembled for a huge breakfast, prepared again on that wooden stove by Marica and her same named daughter, the mother of the blonde haired young boy name Leon. I treated them with my American instant coffee, which I had learned to always take with me on my travels, and everyone had a few shots of slivo and rakija to get their motors going. I thought we were going to tour the village that morning, but cousin Ivan had a few more grapes that needed to be picked, as well as, berries and fruit to make the slivo and rakija. Back up that mountain we all went. Ivica was smart enough to not return until later in the morning to join us and take me back to Zagreb later that day. Zorica and the younger Ivan told me the history of the village. From where most of the homes were located up on the hill and down to the Kupa River was about a mile. Every day the women in the village would go down and do laundry and bring water back up for the people and animals, until later when wells were drilled. In the lowlands were the corn fields. Was thankful I was leaving later in the day, for that was the next task cousin Ivan had for the group, plus some other neighbors, was to pick all that corn. The Kupa River separates Croatia and Slovenia. It is crystal clear, always a running cold stream which is fed from the snow thaws in Germany, Austria and Slovenia. I got very emotional walking out in the river, knowing my grandfather had done the same and fished and swam in it, as a boy, over 100 years ago and then at 18 years old, he made the big journey to the US and allowed me to have much more than he had had in his life. The only way I knew how to thank him was to sit in that river and in simple Croatian tell him You're home again. Hopefully we will meet down the river and share our experiences. Thank you for all you did for me. The highway there and back is completed. Hope others will travel it and experience what I have. Too often, many feel entitled and don't appreciate or respect those that paved the way for them. Ivica and I left in early evening and I cried most of the way back to Zagreb because of the fantastic and wonderful things I had experienced. Thank you "Janko" Horvat (grandfather) for being a wonderful and caring man.
I spent the next two days in Zagreb by myself, almost like assimulating to being a native Croatian. I walked or took the trams to all parts of the city and did the best I could to intermingle with the locals with the aid of my dictionary and phrasebook. Most were very receptive of me and helped me to get to the places or do the things I wanted to accomplish. A few even picked up my tab for my pivo or biela kava. A funny aside is that many in Croatia do speak English, for in their schooling, they have to take foreign language and many choose English. They are trying to almost upgrade their skills in your language and you are trying to remember the language you grew up speaking. The common denominator is the waving of the hands, pointing at something or drawing a quick sketch on a pad you are carrying with you to document your feelings or ask a question. The best part of all the interactions was the hugs and smiles when everyone went their own way. There were good stories for each of us to relate to others.
Ivica and Milka picked me up in Zagreb and took me on a whirlwind tour of Northern Croatia, probably similar to the one that Nik took them on when they visited the US. We drove through the mountains up the autobahn to Varzadin, the old capitol of Croatia and through the northern agricultural valleys below Hungary. We stopped to eat or just get an ice cream in numerous little towns and villages (selos). One funny and strange thing is that it seemed like Ivica knew someone wherever we stopped. Wondered why he hadn't gotten into politics, for he sure had a lot of friends and no matter where we stopped we got the best service and attention anyone could hope for. Even in my first trip there, he afforded us all to get into places, which may not opened on a given day, but allowed my family and I to experience various museums and other venues. When we got back to Koprivnica in the evening, know that we were a dragging, but the day was not over. We "snacked" on a few things, made sure that Baca Sava, Nik's wonderful grandmother who lived with them, was okay, and went out to dine at a historic park with a wonderful traditional restaurant. It was the first time they allowed me to pay for anything. If they didn't allow me to pick up the tab, I was going to call a cab to take me back to Zagreb, an hour and a half away. As Croatians, we are proud people and when someone has done something good for us, we always want to reciprocate. When we returned to their home, Baca Sava, in her 80"s was still up. Ivica and Milka were spent and retired for the evening. My cousin Ivan had given me a plastic liter bottle of his finest rakija and I knew the airlines wouldn't allow me to take it back to the US. Nik often chided me that I spoke Croatian, not in the newer and proper form, but as a common villager. Well, Baca Sava and I had no problems with our communications. With the hand waving, pointing and a few doodles on the pad, we related to one another just perfectly and had one helluva time and many laughs. Only remember waking up in the morning sleeping on my opened carry-on bag, not on the couch with those pillows and blankets. There was 2 empty glasses and only one quarter of that liter of my cousin's rakija left. Wish I had had a grandmother like Baca Sava.
Ivica had another day planned for me, but Baca Sava's and my philosophical discussions didn't allow me to be too energetic that morning. Know that he was a bit impatient with me, but also knew he wanted to introduce me to his associates and compadres. Where did they all assemble in the morning? Not at your typical coffee shop, but at a local watering hole, where some fought to tame the hair of the dog, others smoked their cigarettes, not allowed at home and others maintained their supposedly dignity by drinking biela kava. Again, in a strange way, I thought Ivica was primed to be a great politico. I think I met all of the who's who and also a lot of vibrant and positive people trying just to get the most out of life. The only way that I could understand what was going on, is that each year the storks from Africa descended upon Koprivnica to mate and bear their young. Above all the lamp post they have erected metal wired, almost bowls for those storks to build their nest and bear their young. Guess sometimes all creatures need to go home where they are appreciated and welcomed. Was a long morning and really didn't want all of my "attention" and excitement to end. However one has to face the realities. Once the curtain closes, you seek out another play for your applauses and experiences.
Went back to the Jazvec's home, learned about Skype, had more wonderful food and Baca Sava and I finished of the last quarter of my cousins rakija. Didn't want to leave that Ferlinghetti's Coney Island Ferry Chasm of the Mind, but knew that he had me penciled in for a few more characters in his upcoming productions. For some strange reason, you can't rest on your laurels, but have to do one more thing and it better be better.
My flight back to the States was an atmospheric and mentally turbulent one. The poor SOBs sitting next to me, on both legs of the return flight, were curious as what was going on in my mind because of my changing emotions, thank God they left me alone. Even when I was back in LA, most gave me the space until I was willing to talk about my recent experiences. It takes a while to put things into perspective, but when you do, it is wonderful to explode with JOY, not the anger that dominated one in the past.
Had hoped that the following year, I could journey to Slovenia and partake in the caravan back to Kunic. Unfortunately, Mr. Clark had passed on and I had numerous other issues to deal with and unfortunately have been unable to make that return trip, which I hope somehow I can pull off down the road. My cousin Ivan and his wife Marica, have passed on in the mean time, but I have a great desire to keep that highway open. Not necessarily for the elder, but for the likes of Leon, so that he has stories to inspire others down the road. One good thing is that I have a "black" nephew, who played American football in Zagreb last year and visited Kunic with Nik's folks. In a few days his "white" brother Kaleb, will spend 10 days with Laurence (Mista CP on his rap CDs) who is coaching and playing for the Zagreb Raiders and will be visiting him and hopefully they can make sure that highway is in good shape for all to travel in either direction. The future is predicated on the actions of the young, not us old farts.
When I moved here to Las Vegas, the bottom feel out of everything, including my ass. No longer have those "buns of steel". On occasions I have to use 2 popsicle sticks and Band-Aids to remain macho. For a while, travelled to LA, Kansas or other places to supplement my SSA income. Most of that has dried up, but my determination has not dwindled. Panta and the boys still haunt me. No one can convince me that I don't have something to offer, especially when I go out and try to deal with these tattooed dweebs out there. When things have been bad for me in the past, I always believed I had one more bullet in the gun and didn't have to take on that grizzly bear with a pocket knife. I believe I will be afforded a bear-skin winter coat to make a few more dreams come true. A few good, caring, concerned, honest true friends have reached out to help me with my existing dilemna. I appreciate it deeply and in all sincerely wish I could take them up on their offers. However, I have almost always had to do things on my own and have had a big problem with many that had good intentions, but abandoned me down the road. One of my realities is that I have had over a hundred people on my email and cellular lists, but have maybe 11-15 that respond when contacted. We all have our lives to live, but we will end with those true friends that we can count on one hand. Einstein said, We are happy only 5% of our consciousness, my aim is to get to 5.1%. That is one helluva effort, but it is worth the effort rather than giving up and accepting a meal at a soup kitchen. Maybe I am strange, but the one thing I have is my self-dignity. I am like the little Choo-Choo, but a variant. I don't think I can. I know I can and somehow, I will do it.
(Am trying to figure out whether to go on with talking about the individuals that had a great impact in my life, after I had moved to California as opposed to Young Walter's and our relations and times there. Both have influenced me tremendously. They all deserve their just due. Allow me to figure out where I go next, Maybe none of this has anything with what you have been trying to write about Sammy's, but hopefully, you'll have an understanding about those you may have been involved with.)
TO BE CONTINUED