Random Days Gone By I took a ride with mom and Archie in ‘54, to the middle of nowhere, onto a dirt road surrounded by orange trees and gazed with amazement down a small dusty road. Before us stood the framework for Sleeping Beauty’s castle in a magical land that would one day be ruled by Mickey Mouse and exchange its orange trees for as many motels. There were times we would be on the roadway and suddenly passed by a truck bristling with giraffe heads, giant boulders and things heading for Disneyland.- Disneyland opened July 18, 1955.
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- Grammar school was a boring, humiliating nightmare. Why I was compelled to draw on floors and walls eludes me, but many an evening was spent cleaning artistic excess from school property. Reading came easy and proved a welcome escape; Claire Huchet Bishop’s “Five Chinese Brothers”, William Paene Dubois’ “21 Balloons” and “Flying Saucer Under the Apple Tree” were favorites while “Mary Poppins” and Dr. Seuss weren’t far behind.
- Whatever I did to fit in would inevitably backfire. One swell idea was bringing a pet garter snake to fourth grade “Show and Tell”. The teacher however, went ballistic, sending me directly to the principal, Mrs. German who forced me into her private bathroom to watch and tremble while she flushed the critter down the toilet! My only (and most meaningless) triumphs in all of grammar school were winning the marbles championship.
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- No doubt the most important discovery was made at my great grandma’s house in Santa Barbara. One of those ceremonial family things where the widows gather and rehash old times in a room full of doilies and China. Endless goodies were piled onto one of those enormous wooden tables with feet carved like claws. I grabbed one of these treats and gave it a taste. . . Epiphany. I asked my mother “What are these things?” to which she replied “Potato Chips”. My world has never been the same.
- My uncle was an engineer for the railroad with the train-track a convenient spud toss from great granny's. Every day we'd gather at the crossing, place our pennies on the track as uncle Bob came whizzing past, blaring his horn and waving, then clamored over the tracks, picking up our coins and gasping in amazement at the new, wonderful shapes.
 I looked forward to being eight years old for I could then become a Cub Scout! You know, make crafty things, hang out with a peer group, camp, etcetera. The den mother, Mrs. Brown installed her son John as group leader of course, but he was a vicious son-of-a-bitch and a fucking bastard in the nicest sense of the word. He was huge, mean and before each meeting would intimidate each arriving kid into handing over their dues money, then ensure secrecy by sitting through meetings cracking his knuckles and brandishing his fist. The den finally closed because everyone, including myself, was kicked out for non-payment of dues, but didn’t stop his tyranny however. Size, strength and attitude created a bully that made walking home from school a daily adventure in terror. On more than one occasion he mopped the concrete with me and any number of my schoolmates. Telling a teacher was a complete act of lunacy as the first thing they would do is call his parents which only escalated the predicament.- Mom enrolled me in a self-defense class, where I became an instant target for those demonstrating their prowess on the unsuspecting. That paled by comparison as I was singled out by the instructor for the ultimate in humiliation. Before each class he would demonstrate to any onlookers the correct way to wear those white, pint-sized karate outfits. As I faced the audience, he would stand behind me showing them how the belt is tied, and as a guaranteed crowd pleaser, he would feign distraction, drop my pants and walk away talking about something else, leaving me standing on the stage in my underwear. After three episodes of this, I decided it was better getting beaten up.
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- Before a movie, doting mom and I might partake a dinner at Beanie’s, the ”Beanie and Cecil” restaurant; after all, I was a “Beanie” fan. It seemed television was made for kids and movie fans at the time. Sheriff John, Engineer Bill, Tom Hatton and a host of others showed us the way. And Science Fiction shows had their day on TV: Flash Gordon, Science Fiction Theatre, Men into Space, Rocky Jones, Space Patrol, Captain Video and his Video Rangers, Captain Zoom in Space, Captain Midnight. Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Twilight Zone and of course, Adventures of Superman. Disney started his not-to-be-missed TV show on Sunday nights and captivated every good American.
 We had a small black and white TV bought at Sears and spent many a weekend getting our money's worth. Television held a myriad mysteries… after dark like Nightmare Theatre, hosted by <Ottola Nesmith. a batty old tenement-bound gal speaking often of her unseen brother Stanley Nightshade. How prophetic of the laserdisc she was (All the movies, appeared to we casual observers as 10” 78s); but placing a record on an old Victrola and applying the needle movies would begin. “Mad Monster” various mummies, vampires and werewolves would come to life from her magic Victrola.-
- The end of grammar school was celebrated by spending a week at camp communing with nature and fellow students. Whatever it was in the air, everyone in the bungalow except myself became violently ill and spent much of their vacation learning the intricacies of projectile vomiting. I moved to an upper, so my bunkmate could be closer to the bucket, but words have not been invented describing the feeling of laying on your bunk at night while the stillness of the great out-of-doors is shattered by the sounds of violent heaving, splashig, farting, puking, moaning and the fear that I too may become one of them. I’ll wager, should anyone have lit a match, the entire camp would have ceased to exist!
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- Meanwhile, in Las Vegas, my father had kicked the booze and taken a more socially acceptable habit of chain-smoking. As to drinking, my mother was no slouch herself. I was now 10 and had been her bar hopping companion for a number of years. She would drag me off to some sawdust floored dive, give me a handful of nickels and sit me in front of the jukebox where I would play “Day-O” until the owner unplugged the machine. There were occasions I would visit my father by train while he and his new wife would tour me around Hoover Dam and other attractions. On December 26, 1957 I was thrilled seeing Judy Garland in concert, but “Over the Rainbow” quickly lulled me to sleep and thus I remained for the balance of the show. Afterwards, I became entranced by a cigarette machine and while figuring out how it worked, got my hand stuck up the drop-slot. It took two huge Italian sounding guys in tuxedos to open the machine and extricate my embarrassed extremity.
- While Archie was a hard worker, he was an equally hard drinker and being Sicilian, shared many of the tendencies demonstrated in “The Godfather”. There were nights my mother and I coward in the bathroom while Archie rampaged - literally tearing the house apart. There were just as many nights I spent sitting on the edge of the tub, fascinated by Archie puking his guts out from some all night drinking binge.
- By and by, my mother grew weary of Archie’s boozy nuances and along with 1957 went their separate ways. But what else happened in ‘57 of any value? One of the biggest
 disappointments being the theatrical release of Black Scorpion. Neither myself, nor any of the kids I knew were allowed to see it. Psycho three years later, would be another one off limits for kids. But the year was not without hope and glory. I had a birthday party where mom took all of us to the double horror matinee (Attack of the Crab Monsters & Not of This Earth). During the latter, we spent the film peering at the screen from between the seats. -
- There was a weed infested gully bisecting Long Beach from the ocean to the land beyond our experience and for years, on my way to and from school I would traverse the bridge there-over. On occasion I would scamper down the embankment and cross the flowing stream on a series of rocks and debris to the other side. One such adventure led me to discover my schoolmate Maureen allowing a group of boys to inspect her nubile nether regions. Upon closer observation I discovered that in some instances, less is indeed more, and was confronted with substance for further study.
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- What was left of 1957 would be spent looking toward the sky. Russia had launched their Sputnik and the neighborhood was abuzz. In the evening, like a city of the dispossessed, Long Beach would leave their televisions and literally move to their front yards. Blankets, pillows, barbecues and telescopes, all eyes skyward seeking the little silver ball mingling with the stars.
- “Is that it?” Someone would ask.
- “Nah, that’s an airplane” would come back.
- Then. . .
- “There it is!” would come from one end of the block and relayed to the other at the speed of sound followed by bouts of collective gesturing skyward. . And sure it was, directly above, moving, almost imperceptibly, and for one instant in time, the neighborhood hushed in awe and dreamed together.
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