The Greasy Spoon

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[A repeat from January 5, 2017] When I was a kid, we rarely went out for dinner.  But when we did, my folks would take me to different places – mainly burger joints.  One night – I was maybe 7 years old – we went to a place on Milwaukee Avenue in Chicago.   I don’t remember much about the place or the food.  But I remember – keenly – my father’s reaction.   “Man – this is really a greasy spoon.”  Greasy spoon.  I looked around on the table.  No spoons.  I thought – Wow!  That is a cool term. 

The next time we went out for dinner to one of the regular sit down burger joints, the waitress came over and took our order.  I looked up at her and asked – quite seriously – “is this a greasy spoon?”   I don’t recall the waitress’s reaction but I remember my father’s nervous laughter and attempt to wriggle out of my inquiry. 

The term “greasy spoon” has probably diminished in usage (does anyone remember it?). But my use of the term likely pales to the time when my father’s boss – Mr. Lovell – came to the house for dinner.  And I said quite innocently “gee Mom – we oughta have company more often.  This food is really good!”

The Rodeo

On By scottpetersenIn Skyline Ranch, The Rodeo1 Comment

On November 21, 2013, I mentioned how my parents had put me on a train bound for Denver when I was 10 years old. “Don’t get off ’til Denver, son” my father had said. And that was that. I was off to Skyline Ranch – a camp for boys in Estes Park.  Once at camp – after the homesick tears ended – I settled in pretty well.  Riding horses, hiking, swimming and shooting every day. 

The big day came when we all participated in a junior rodeo.  And I won.  I still have the trophy.  The events were pretty tame.  Barrel races.  Flat out races.  And then there was the potato race.  Each kid mounted his horse and got a spoon and potato.  The potato went in the spoon.   And you trotted toward the finish line.  If the potato fell, you had to dismount, pick it up, put it on the spoon and get back in the saddle.  I won the event.  No one told me I couldn’t put my thumb on the potato to hold it in place. 

Then there was the balloon pop.  Every kid had a balloon tied to his saddle.  And each got a sharpened 9 inch nail.  When the starting gun went off, everyone flurried into the mix.  Trying to pop the other kid’s balloon.  Once popped, you had to move out.  Well I figured I was toast if I got mixed up so I slung one leg over the saddle horn.  And waited.  When there were two boys left – going round and round stabbing and yelling – I said “giddup” and suddenly appeared.  And I popped their balloons.   I won that event too.   I won’t tell you how I won the barrel race. . . . .

I’m told that these instincts probably have helped me as a lawyer. 

“Zulu”

On By scottpetersenIn Isandlwana, Rorke's Drift, ZuluLeave a comment

[Third of a trilogy – from March 28, 2013]

In 1964 I was in my first year of college. Two afternoons a week, I worked as a lifeguard at the Moline YMCA (thanks to Lifesaving Merit Badge). One day after work, I noticed that a new movie was playing at the theater across the street.  I had time. I had interest. So I went in.  Alone. To watch “Zulu.”  WOW! 

The movie “Zulu” debuted in 1964 and it was Michael Caine’s first starring role. He played Lt. Gonville Bromhead – one of two commanding officers (with Stanley Baker as Lt. John Chard) of the small garrison that defended Rorke’s Drift.   None other than Mangosuthu Buthelezi, the former Prime Minister of Zululand and noted South African politician, played King Cetshwayo — the leader of the Zulu nation in 1879.  And – Cetshwayo was Buthelezi’s great grandfather! The scene opens with Zulus walking through the battlefield of Isandlwana.  And then the scene shifts to Rorke’s Drift. 

Names and characters are based on actual participants in the battle.  While the movie is historically accurate, there are a few Hollywoodizations — limited for the most part to personalities and not events.  There was no “singing” and some of the characters are incorrectly portrayed (like “Hook” who was considered a model soldier).    Nonetheless, “Zulu” is one of the most captivating action movies I have ever seen.   In 2008, while in South Africa, I couldn’t resist.  I chartered a 4-seater and flew to Isandlwana and walked the battlefield.   The place was barren, remote and silent — except for lonely white stone cairns scattered over the landscape which served as markers for the 1,500 men that lay buried beneath them.  I then went to Rorke’s Drift.  The interesting thing?  There was hardly a soul at either place.  A lone Zulu guide spoke eloquently of the British defense at Rorke’s Drift.  But he spoke more eloquently of the Zulu courage — and military savvy — that nearly drove the British from South Africa.      

Rorke’s Drift

On By scottpetersenIn Isandlwana, Rorke's Drift, ZuluLeave a comment

[Second of a repeat trilogy – from March 25, 2013]

Following the dreadful defeat of British troops at Isandlwana on January 22, 1879, a small British outpost/hospital called “Rorke’s Drift” – a bare dozen miles from the site of the massacre – quickly mobilized.  They hastily built walls and fortifications with mealie bags between a series of buildings and a cattle kraal.   The 150 defenders settled down to wait.   They didn’t wait long.  By late afternoon, about 4,000 Zulus fresh from The Washing of the Spears (from the title of the magnificent book by Donald R. Morris on the history of the Zulu campaign) descended on the small outpost.  And attacked.  

As at the Battle of Isandlwana, the Zulus configured their attack like the head of a water buffalo — the horns surrounding the enemy and the head and chest crushing forward.  The battle raged through the night and into the morning.  The defenders fell back into smaller and smaller redoubts.  The 150 defenders poured a withering fire at the Zulus who surged a bare foot or two beneath the mealie bag walls. 

 By morning, the small garrison still held – suffering a few score of casualties.  Zulu casualties ran into the hundreds.  And the Zulus fell back as reinforcements were detected in the distance.  The defenders – the 24th Foot Regiment – succeeded in earning more Victoria Crosses (11) than any other regiment in British military history.  And 85 years later, a Hollywood offering captured with historic accuracy this pivotal battle of Rorke’s Drift.  The movie was “Zulu” . . . . .       

Isandlwana

On By scottpetersenIn IsandlwanaLeave a comment

[A repeat from March 21, 2013]

January 22, 1879, was the first major encounter in the Anglo-Zulu War between the British and the Zulu kingdom in South Africa. The battle took place in a remote area of the Natal province called “Isandlwana.” Isandlwana is remembered as the worst defeat in British military history in terms of percentage. Surrounded and attacked by nearly 20,000 Zulu warriors, nearly all of the 1,800 British defenders were massacred. Armed mainly with assegais (the Zulu short stabbing spear), the Zulus literally overwhelmed the British. The reasons for defeat? The British – led by the inept Lord Chelmsford – upon arrival at Isandlwana with about 10,000 troops – refused to “laager” (circle the wagons) or entrench (as was normally required). Why? Chelmsford severely underestimated Zulu capabilities.

Shortly after arrival at Isandlwana, Chelmsford marched off with nearly all of his troop “looking for Zulus.” Meanwhile, the entire Zulu nation was just over a hill. Waiting. Watching. Chelmsford left the similarly inept Col. Anthony Durnford in charge of the remaining soldiers. Durnford – with a bare 1,800 men – set a sparsely-defended perimeter nearly a mile out from the camp. And when the 20,000 Zulus attacked, they quickly knifed through the perimeter and set upon the camp. Durnford never gave the order to “strike the tents” (that is – pull down the center pole of the hundreds of tents giving clear vision of the terrain). Thus the battle raged around canvas tents. And there is rumor that a quartermaster refused to pass out ammunition (“I have no orders to give out ammunition“) even though the Zulus were pouring through the lines and the encampment.

Clearly the British underestimated the Zulu capabilities. This gave rise to the major military disaster where only a hundred or so British soldiers barely escaped with their lives. The few who escaped raced in all directions. Many raced in the direction of Rorke’s Drift. . . .

The Lady be Good

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[A repeat from September 15, 2016]  This is not about the 1924 Broadway show that featured music and lyrics by George and Ira Gershwin. I’m talking about a B-24D Liberator that vanished after a bombing run over Naples during World War II. That fateful day was April 4, 1943.

When I was a kid, my parents subscribed to LIFE Magazine – the weekly news journal that was published from 1883 to 1972.  I couldn’t wait to get my hands on LIFE when it walked in the door.  Simple kid that I was – I loved the pictures.  And the armchair adventure.  And I remember with clarity a day in 1960 when I learned that a mysterious B-24 Liberator that had been spotted a year before deep in the Sahara had been identified as the Lady Be Good.

The Lady Be Good on that early April day in 1943 was staffed by a newbie crew of nine – just one week off the boat.  Their first mission was a big one.  A night bombing run over Naples harbor.  The Lady Be Good took off with 25 other bombers from Soluch Field in Libya.  Near Benghazi.  Most of the bombers returned to base within a few hours — because of high winds.  But the noble Lady pressed on.  And ended up dumping her bombs in the Med.  And the Lady with its nine souls – began the return trip – alone.  In the black of night, the plane overflew the base and continued on.  Deep into the Libyan Desert.   The pilot believed the desert below was the ocean.  So they continued.  Until they ran out of fuel.  And the crew bailed out. And the plane crashed.

The wreck was accidentally discovered in November 1958. In February 1960, the U.S. Army visited the plane and conducted a formal search for the remains of the crew.  Eight of the nine were found.  And in August 1994 the remnants of the plane were removed from the site.  Only one member of the crew – S/Sgt. Vernon L. Moore of New Boston, Ohio – was never found.  His body still rests – where it fell – 73 years ago. . . . .  

Stop and Frisk

On By scottpetersenIn Stop & FriskLeave a comment

(A timely repeat from 8/23/13)

When I was an Assistant States Attorney, I occasionally rode along with Chicago Police. One day, we were driving west on 18th Street. Suddenly, the officer in the front seat pointed at a car going in the opposite direction and hissed “They’re dirty.” We squealed a U-turn, going boots and saddles (lights and siren). The car stopped, officers hopped out – guns drawn. Pointed.  In the car were two gang bangers (both with records), drugs and two sawed off shotguns. I often wonder whose life was saved that day.

New York City’s murder rate fell from the thousands to a few hundred thanks to stop & frisk “with reasonable suspicion.”  The bad guys didn’t know when they’d be stopped so they weren’t packing.  Chicago on the other hand is the murder capital of the (un)civilized world where 77% of homicide victims are black. Thousands of shooting victims. Many innocent. Many spontaneous. Explosions of gunfire. Especially in poorer neighborhoods. But of course Chicago doesn’t like stop & frisk. As it “may offend.”  Result?  Gangs rule. Senseless violence. Mayhem. Butchery. Death. And Chicago slides into the abyss.

Police are not the problem. Criminals are the problem. The bad guys. Chicago gun laws are the most stringent in the country yet the bad guys have guns. But in Chicago, there’s no deterrent for the bad guys who carry them. And then use them.

Yes – it is a tough situation. There are no easy solutions to this problem but ignoring stop & frisk as an option is madness. I cannot fathom the mindset of those misguided souls who oppose stop & frisk with reasonable suspicion. If they want to debate the statistics or the Fourth Amendment issues, they will lose.

[Afterword – And now we have “no cash bail” in Illinois. So the bad guys can be released over and over and over again. . . . ]

I Speak Cardinal

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I can get by in a few languages but the one that I seem to be using most often these days is Cardinal. Now that the temperatures have warmed and the sun is out, birds are flocking to our backyard birdbath and bird feeder. Among them – cardinals.

The male cardinal is red and the female brown. They are found mostly in the Central and Eastern portions of the United States and as far south as Mexico. Cardinals do not migrate south during the winter and remain somewhat territorial. If food becomes scarce in their “territory,” they will move to other areas in search of sustenance. It is interesting that both the male and female cardinal “sing.” It is that singing that has led me to pick up a bit of Cardinal.

During these warm spring days, I sit at our kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading the news. And we have the back door open allowing the cool breeze to envigorate our mornings. It seems that lately the cardinals have been having a convention out back singing and twirping like crazy. AND – given my desire to be included – I whistle. Just like the cardinals (check out https://www.youtube.com/shorts/tUby8Gg9efw ). And would you believe – they literally fly back and forth – outside our door – trying to figure out who is this character with the funny accent?? AND WHERE IS HE??

The Barber

On By scottpetersenIn Camp Napowan, The BarberLeave a comment

When I was a kid, there was no KidSnips or Pigtails. My father was my barber. He would give me haircuts while I sat on the toilet seat in the basement bathroom. Dad had an antique clippers that worked reasonably well – to deliver the usual buzz cut – which he called a “crew cut.” My first trip to a real barber (Mister Conroy) occurred when I was about 15. There wasn’t much difference between my dad’s pompadour and Mr. Conroy’s.

When I went off to Boy Scout camp (Camp Napowan in Wild Rose, Wisconsin), I brought the old clippers along. And I offered to give haircuts to campers for a whopping fifty cents. One young man (nicknamed “Lightnin”) with curly hair left my “barbershop” with essentially a baldy sour. On parts of his head. . . . . My friend Bill tried to fix the “problem.” Without success. I never got many customers after that experience.

When I went off to college, I don’t think I went to a barber for a year. Or more. My hair – like many guys of my generation – just grew. And grew . . . . (“shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen“).

Now – fasten your seat belts. When Donna and I first got married – would you believe – that for the first year or so, Donna cut my hair(!). I mean – newly-married. Both finishing school. Living in a dumpy walkup apartment. Trying to save money. She wasn’t bad. Though it dawned on me – and her – that I could probably do better. These days, I don’t need a barber all that much . . . .

The Best Medicine

On By scottpetersenIn Humor Exchange, The Best Medicine1 Comment

[An oldie from April 3, 2014] Joseph Addison – the 17th Century English writer – said “man is distinguished from all other creatures by the faculty of laughter.”  Sigmund Freud in his The Joke and its Relation to the Unconscious states that “jokes” release us from traditional inhibitions which make up the veneer of our personalities.  

Historically, the earliest known “smile” is etched on the lips of a statue of Ebbeh – a Mesopotamian factotum who lived in 2400 B.C. (Ebbeh now resides in the Louvre).  Four centuries later, we enter Biblical times.  There were no Old Testament comedians, but the word “laugh” (or “laughter”) makes its debut in the Book of Genesis.  When Abraham and Sarah are told they will have a son, both fall on their faces – laughing.  Perhaps that is why their son was named “Isaac” which in Hebrew is “He [or God] laughs.” The word “laugh” or its derivations appear 43 times in the Bible (6 of those in the New Testament).  The Koran chronicles 16 uses of the word but most relate to the faithful laughing at the inglorious fate of unbelievers. 

The Veda in Hindu text records the word “laugh” 8 times.   In Buddhist tradition, he “Laughing Buddha” was supposedly a real person – a wandering happy Zen monk named Pu-Tai who lived around 1000 A.D.  The world’s first stand-up comedian was Aristophanes (see post of 8/28/11).  He would lurch out on stage smeared with wine playing the Emperor – Cleon (the show didn’t last long). The first joke book was The Philogelos (“Laughter Lover“) “published” in the 4th Century A.D.  It was a collection of 264 jokes.  One depicts a chatty barber.  “How shall I cut your hair” he says to his customer.  “In silence” the man responds.   

On March 14, 2005, I delivered a paper to The Chicago Literary Club entitled “The Best Medicine” (see http://www.chilit.org). The paper delved into this history of humor.  But it also discussed the healing power of humor.  It works.  And can help.  A great deal. . . . . 

Post script – For years, Denise Driscoll, an oncological nurse in Lake County, sponsored “The Humor Exchange” – a monthly meeting open to the public. The purpose – to laugh, giggle, chortle and guffaw. Why? Because laughter helps release “T” cells – the cells that go after bad stuff. And makes everyone feel good. And better. . . .