Los Angles late 1950's. Not even a memory. Just some black and white photos. The best one, me in a swing, my right leg looking painfully twisted. And then the call from grandfather – “you betta get that checked out”. Gee, so I had a leg brace for a while.

The bright colors and the rust. Colors so potent that you imagine that the formula used to make them caused sever illness to their inventors. The creaking, cranking and'a belching of the aging rides. Blurring mechanical metal spinning tiny cars whose performance sounds almost like a wheeze. The horror house with the larger than life nude demon statue provocatively covering his manly (?) bits with his pitchfork. What kind of idiot mad genius designed that! The sickly salty smell that on the most humid hot of July days that takes on Alka Seltzer pungency. And the faces of the amusement park workers - hard lined, ruddy and eyes beyond blood shot - more like blood explosions. The bodies - men wire thin with muscled arms snaked with popping veins and faded tattoos. Their smell an elixir of booze, body odor and Vitalis. Women with swinging hips, candy lips, and a layer of fat curling over their hot dog skin-tight capris. Canary hair the same color as the hot buttered radioactive corn being sold on the boardwalk. As you are handed your strip of ride tickets you pick up the stale waft of baby powder. By the food stand adorned with a rocket perched like a cherry are the darkened halls of a bar whose members sit in silence staring at world in a glass. Even darker, smaller and secretive is the bar under the subway station. Perhaps the risk of walking two blocks in the sun, to the joyous in comparison boardwalk bar, is too great. Hovering over all the people, the rides, the beach and surf- like an invisible force field - is the scratching, screeching Geiger counter reading melodies of a thousand transistor radios all on the same station and all sounding different. And feeding it like a foot to accelerator is laughter. All ages, all times, from human and machine - laughter. Coney Island in the 1960's.

And then…

The waitress in fishnet stockings at the Manhattan ice cream parlor called The Flick. Running home after school to watch Zacherle. And fireworks. The sawdust under my feet and smell of animals at my first circus. When I jumped 10 feet in the air startled by Moondog; his Viking helmet over his eyes and spear in hand. The over exposed photograph of my wife and children at a carnival in West Palm Beach - pimples and freckles glowing like Christmas lights - eyeballs the color of possessed soul red. The Beta tapes I never watched. And fire works. Paying five bucks to sit front row at a wrestling match (with the Cuban Assassin!) in Antigonish Nova Scotia. The topless girl I spoke to at 60’s Psychedelic Night in a Tribeca club that I did not realize was topless- long story. Billy Something-or-other, damaged by drug abuse, hammering a nail up his nose at the Kutztown State Fair. Winding up at a dive on Canal Street with the entertainment selling very personal favors. My 4,000 albums disorganized but safe in my basement. The real freak shows and fake freak shows. And fireworks.

These are my influences. I am now in New Jersey.

Amber dreamed of stardom. She was told she had the look and talent to make it. After winning titles such as Our Miss Personable, Holiday Queen of Belvedere Mountain and Miss New Teen she knew she must head to Hollywood.

Her parents Bruce and Rene agreed. They always knew that Amber was special. They knew it when they both looked at each other and nodded during Amber’s performance in the Carter Public School talent show. At age 6 she sang the show tune classic “Night may be dark, but my days are bright”. Her performance was so moving one lunch room attendant cried. In the show’s second act, Amber had the audience in stitches when she donned an oversize newsboy cap and floppy plaid bow tie and imitated the great 1930’s comedian Sorrowful O’Brien. She even recreated his famous “But that’s what they told me!” routine. From that day forwarded a theatrical career seemed inevitable. It was further confirmed when it was her turn to glisten during the swimsuit portion of the Miss Passion Fruit beauty pageant sponsored by Summer Radiance Tanning Solutions. Although it made Bruce uncomfortable seeing how the men in the audience reacted, he understood that hers was a beauty that could not be ignored. Landing bit parts in films like “The House by Blood Swamp” and “Freshman Winter Recess 3: The Race Is On” made her a legend back home and even more determined to succeed. Being seen in Nu-View magazine photos “dating” hot young rock star Derek King further increased her visibility as a face on the rise.

It was just a matter of time.

Dorthea 31” x 31” acrylic gouache, ink on canvas

Dorthea was aced once again by Heidi. Heidi oozes confidence. No one else could have carried off the mask and glove combination with such panache. Without effort, her ability to captivate is amazing. Women envy her. Men are intimidated. Her hair slightly wild, quads firm, triceps and biceps taut, and her sense of color: lush. And her smirk is perfect. It was both inviting and powerful. Lips parted in a way that made her seem to know the answer to any question before it was asked. She is knowledgeable. She knows how apply the right degree of pressure. It is the kind of force that lets one know that she is in charge. And this all comes naturally for Heidi. You could see signs of this when she worked summers at Zach’s Aluminum Sign Shop. When a sign was returned because of a spelling or design error, she would put on heavy duty work gloves and punch the error. This dent was a sign for all. It said; you made a mistake and I am pointing it out.

Dorthea was absolutely positive that tonight her look was right. Years of research, preparation and exercise finally came together. There were times when her “look” was almost there. About seven months ago, preparing for an evening of dancing at Little Jo and Big Bo’s, she thought she got it. The skirt was the right length, hair so shiny it looked like old shellac 78’s, her breasts discreetly yet provocatively displayed in silky white, but her expression wrong. It was weak, lacking in confidence. Those who knew her would chuckle to themselves that when push came to shove, there would be no push. It was all in the way her lips bent into a content smile. Not what was needed. Even the lizard green lipstick did not help. She needed and wanted a smirk. The kind of smirk that would let whomever she met know that behind whip lashed eyelashes she knew better. And more. And was capable of more. Maybe because the look did not have the experience to back it up, the smile was not a smirk. But one of Dorthea's best qualities was hard work. When others would give up, she was just getting started. Maybe it was because of growing up in a large family, she was used to competition. She went beyond giving it her best. She gave… excellence. If she lost, well, she tried. So the smile needed to be replaced by the smirk and she was determined to do it.

She did the psychical work necessary; stretching, bending and spent hours working on her kicks. The kicks became so precise that she was able to blacken both of Billy’s eyes when he tried to “help” Dorothea clean the garage. Mutual friends laughed when they asked him what happened. He used to say that he got hit by a swinging door. Everbody broke up when Eric said “that must have happened going in and coming out!” Everyone knew the truth which was good for Dorthea’s developing reputation. It was believed by many that this reputation helped get Dorthea her first job as a returns clerk at the local Grand Buy. With naturally strong arms, customers were impressed by her ability to lift TVs and home entertainments units as long as they were packed in their original boxes. It was at this point that her “following” started. Real hi-fi nuts; men who were always purchasing the latest in entertainment electronics. They quickly became recognizable. She would see them about every 30 days as the store warranties were about to expire. They would drag in their units, projectors and receivers and watch intently as Dorthea effortlessly lifted them. Staring as the veins in her arms darkened, they would make little jokes about how the equipment did not match their expectations. That they needed some-thing “stronger, tougher and stylish”. But woe, to the customer who did not have a receipt.

And as plans for the evening were forming and Heidi was doing a last minute hair tousle, Dorthea was left to wonder if she really had been giving enough of an effort. The corners of her mouth curled down. There would no smirk tonight.

Jocelyn 22” x 28” Acrylic Gouache, ink on canvas

Jocelyn was smart enough to realize the value of Derrick’s stupidity and anger. And he dressed very well. If you are going to play with jerks, at least make it a well-dressed jerk. Derrick was the kind of guy who went along with it, whether it made sense or not. This made him the perfect ploy/accomplice. He felt he was getting something out of it, while that something was inconsequential to Jocelyn. She was very focused in these matters. The phone number exchange had to not only be timed right, but at the proper angle with the correct lighting. The scene created had to get its point across in a flash. It would be an image that would remain active in an unsuspecting mind. It would be reviewed and analyzed again and again. The viewer would question:” Did I really see that”? The images would stick and become the scene that would never end. The eternal late night re-run. It was at times like this that Jocelyn identified with the great German silent film directors.

Derrick is always ready; his hands reflexing into a fist almost as often as his blinks. The thought of anything going wrong never enters Derrick’s mind. He has no time for that. Derrick feels that “Losers worry about things going wrong. So what if something goes wrong? Just walk away. Keeping walking and it is way behind you. History. There are people like Ed who like to worry about things going wrong. “Let ‘em. Those are the ones who like to keep going over things in their head. What a waste of time. It distracts so much that they can’t think of important things like eating. Or going to Crescent Bay to play the slots. Or driving fast. Or what a fine ass Jocelyn has. And how I am gonna help her out and maybe get something in return. Actually not maybe, definitely. I am just being polite.”

Rich deserts have a special place not only in Ted’s stomach, but his heart. Ted studies deserts the way an architect studies his designs. He thinks the average desert lover only cares about the flavor. The statement “it tasted better than it looked” offends him. Deserts have a fundamental aesthetic that must be adhered to. It needs to look good. It must have balance and a firm foundation. It needs to have delectable colors. It needs to make a statement. It needs to have a mysterious energy that sets it apart from other treats. And it needs to have a berry or cherry. Preferably on top of delectable cream. However, others do not appreciate Ted’s passion. He is snickered at. And in his quest to be quickly exposed to many deserts, he usually stains his clothes. He has found that to truly savior deserts, he must do it in private. Like out by the pool the night of Mickey’s birthday party. But the joy of digesting his potpourri of sweets was interrupted. It was the image. “Could I be wrong? Maybe I am wrong but it sure looked that way” “What if I am not wrong?” “What if I think I am so right that if I tell someone they would say, that can’t be, “You are wrong.”

Ted can have his desserts, thinks his brother Ed. For him exotic cocktails accessorized with little umbrellas are worth the calories. It is like sending your mouth and mind on a tropical adventure. The enticing blending of flavors…the intense colors….the crisp sensations extinguishing a warm weather thirst. And the names of the beverages! A Rumble Rum Eruption, a Poco Loco, a Wayward Schooner and his favorite: a Bali Veri Hai. Jocelyn never shared, as Ted called it, “the lure of the tropical drink“. But she could mix a great one. It was funny that she never tried one. She said that the umbrellas, custom swizzle sticks and fruit riding the glass rim made it difficult for her to smoke and drink at the same time. Many a night she would light up, pour herself some red wine and would then create a cocktail for Ed. And then another one. And then ….another. Soon the soft hum of the air conditioner became the sound of a gentle lapping ocean and the couch became a hammock .And then before he knew it, it was morning and waking up in the living room. Friends could not understand the connection between Ed and Jocelyn. But he knew she was all right. Whenever he woke up after too many of Jocelyn’s cocktails the apartment would be empty. But a few hours later she would arrive with bagels.

For Mickey’s party Jocelyn insisted on making pitcher after pitcher of fantastic concoctions. It was a great party. Boy, Mickey knows lots of people Ed thought as he sat caressing a frosty Casa Coco Rico adorned with a teal umbrella and fluorescent green mixing stick topped with an octopus. He was feeling marvelous even though he could not stand. He smugly chuckled to himself. Jocelyn looked as gorgeous as ever tonight. While he was not the best looking guy on the block, and never lost the weight he had gained after Junior High, he was smart and knew how to make money. By adding TVs and snack bars to his chain of laundries, business had gone up by 39%. He turned to give Jocelyn a kiss but she was gone. She had just been right next to him. “I must have nodded out for a few minutes. Ahh the lure of the tropical drink he giggled. Hey Ted! Hey Ted! Come over here. Sit down next to your big brother. Hey…what’s with the look? You feeling sick? You got to lay off those deserts. Come on, come on, sit down, have a drink and tell me what‘s new.”

Delphine

Delphine had hatched many a scam before, but this one delivered the big paydays.  Previous plots involved dog racing, child modeling agencies and foreign film distribution.  The one constant was that only she benefited.  At least until the complaints and subsequent investigations started.  Then her enterprises would shatter as had the hopes of the daydreamers that had invested in her.  But now she had a plan where everyone benefited; even the fools who trusted her.  The idea came to her while working as a dance instructor at the Lon Frederick’s Dance Pavilion.  Frederick had done a series of low budget musicals in the late '30's through early 50’s, all of which featured his trademark sand dance.  No matter what the movie, somehow Lon wound up on some sand. Lon was a marine storming a beach and would stop for a dance, Lon was a cowboy saving settlers from attack and would pause for a sand dance, Lon was an arctic explorer throwing sand on an icy ground so he could gain traction and break into a dance, etc. When his movie career eroded, Lon opened a chain of dance schools, which as time passed, become a meeting place for many a lonely heart.  Delphine periodically worked there between her entrepreneurial pursuits.  Besides giving lessons she also offered "companionship" to some of the more financially secure widowers.  These relationships never lasted long which was just the way she wanted it.  Her special friends would come to their senses (sometimes through the involvement of a relative), meet someone near their own age or die.   Almost all of these men missed their wives terribly and would tell Delphine about seeing them in their dreams.  One old fellow, Douglas, sweared that his deceased wife Ida appeared in their kitchen and reminded him to take his pills.  Delphine saw how these men were desperate to keep up a connection with their loved ones.  She thought of her Aunt Helena who was obsessed with tarot cards, cloud formations and tea leaves.    Even coffee grounds spoke to her. Delphine remembered how Helena, who was only 10 years older than her, become preoccupied with a childhood boyfriend named Gregory.   Helena tried to contact him through her "methods" and was sure that it was Gregory's vision in her crystal ball blowing kisses to her.  Delphine, callous as she was, did not have the heart to tell her that she had seen Gregory about four years ago shopping at Wellington's with his boyfriend. 

            Delphine's scheme started to take shape.  She easily talked Helena into using her special gifts to bring a few minutes pleasure to lonely soles.  Helena felt honored and proud.  She was the perfect foil because she was a true believer and wanted nothing more than to help people.  All Delphine needed was a fine address, a few computer generated effects and some very personal tidbits about the deceased.   Much of that could be obtained from public records and a few well placed Jeffersons.  Once word of mouth spread, not only would the old folks come but all those needing a connection to the otherside. She jokingly called it spiritual long distance; but no weekend or evening discounts.

            Morrow.  Delphine felt she needed a partner to make this work right.  She had the ins with the males but not the ladies.  That is where Morrow came in.  He was a two-bit actor who was the Frederick’s ballroom dance master and resident heartthrob.  His major claims to fame were appearing as the maitre'd on the soap opera "Cry, Laugh and Love Again" and having dated one of the stars of the "Sassy Seniors" comedy show (Ella Dahl).  He was also known for his snug embraces.  A wardrobe full of worn tuxedos and credit cut off at the 7and 7 Club. Never having enough money to supplement his lifestyle, he was not above a little fibbing if it hurt no one and lined his pockets.  Delphine and Morrow worked well together and respected each other’s talents.  They became as close as any two people who only cared about money and themselves could be. 

The Shack d'Woo Woo

The last stop which is also the first stop. Near the battered steel trestles. About half a mile from the Cyrus Griffin Parkway and two blocks from the Powerstomp Staple Company factory. On an isolated block of howling dogs, barbed wire fences, abandoned gloves and the smell of pot roast stands an oasis of joy - The Shack d’Woo Woo. Supervised by squat muscular men with flat heads, the Shack provides a warm outpost for weary lonely travelers. Tonight they will be first greeted by Cassandra who thinks these are all fools. Next up will be Esme, who is slightly more open minded - but not much. She needs to replace her damaged driver side mirror and will diligently work to cover the cost.  She will stay focused and ignore those around her. But for now, Cassandra has the patrons enthralled by among her many qualities, her interpretative dancing prowess.

Scott Lewis 12/22/08
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