After I posted Part One I put the story on hold for awhile while I addressed subjects as diverse as "The Big Bang Theory" and "Texting During Sex". My reminiscences about the events covered in my song "Great Expectations" had been tempered by the fact that my Dad's birthday was fast approaching. (Dad passed away last September.) And on New Years Eve, 1973 he had been fifty-nine years-of-age. Thinking one evening about my Dad - and about to work on the next part of the story - sudden awareness choked me: I am fifty-nine years-of-age! I didn't like that. I went on to another topic. The story of "Great Expectations" could wait. I needed a break. Hence the hiatus....His birthday was March 1st. In the past few days I posted a number of my songs to some additional music-oriented websites such as Bandcamp and Reverbnation. Listening to my music while I worked on the process of transferring the music files, I decided it was now time to present the next chapter of the story. And so...
It was the morning of New Years Eve, December 1973. The Big Guy and myself had both left early from our jobs in White's Department Store. (Sudden illnesses as I recall.) We had been invited to a party in Brooklyn by our friend Musical Michael, a fellow student at Stony Brook University whom we had met while working at my other job, Korvettes (another department store). Musical Michael was tall and thin, with a baby face and the longest hair on a guy I'd ever seen. He looked like a semitic version of an Indian warrior - right out of Gunsmoke. Even in the immediate post hippie era, the length of his hair was shocking. Michael's father was an executive at RCA records and he boasted of owning a personal record collection numbering in the thousands. Michael worked with our other friend, Crazy Larry, in the record department at Korvettes. (It wasn't the toughest gig - and Michael never worked very hard. I mostly remember him looking for the newly arrived demos to play over the speaker system and chatting up the female customers.)
Musical Michael could be categorized as the ultimate laid-back person...nothing ever bothered him. His career goal was to coordinate tours of rock and roll bands. A nice guy, he'd invite us to his dorm room on campus to hang out and listen to his plethora of albums - or down to the legendary "James Pub" to have a few beers, listen to live music and try to connect with co-eds. He knew that I wasn't very happy at "The Brook". Commuting to the university from my parent's home, plagued with low self-esteem and an inability to converse with women - hey, just like the character on "Big Bang"! - I had much trouble establishing "connections". And most of my friends weren't doing much better.
At "James Pub" there would be the usual Bob Dylan "wanna-be" playing guitar on a small stage, singing his version of "Blowing In The Wind" or "The Times They Are A Changing". Groups of college students sat at small tables, drinking beer and chatting. And in the center of the pub, sitting at a small table all by himself, surrounded by two or three pitchers of beer, was the guy we dubbed "Mr. Statistics". He happened to be there - at the same table, drinking the same two or three pitchers of beer - always by himself - each and every time we were there. We wondered what the deal was. Michael didn't know him. A few nights before New Years Eve 1973 we were down at "James Pub". The Avenger of Edenn happened to be with us. The Avenger need to know. He finally went over to find out the guy's story. Twenty minutes later the Avenger returned to our table to report that - according to the guy at the table - we all had a better chance of getting struck by lightening than finding a woman on campus: "Let's assume there are 5,000 women here on campus. Three thousand have boyfriends back in the city. One thousand are stuck-up. Five hundred hate guys." The guy kept eliminating women. By the time he finished there was no one left. Hence the derivation of the nickname: "Mr. Statistics".) And Mr. Statistics wasn't even a bad-looking guy!We were already having enough trouble finding woman, Musical Michael - everyone's friend who possessed the "gift of gab" - took pity on us. At Korvettes the next evening, Michael approached Crazy Larry and I and invited us to a New Years Party. (To be held in his parent's home in Midwood, a middle class neighborhood in Brooklyn.)
"Brooklyn?" I replied. "Long trip for a party, that's sixty miles away." Larry didn't appear very enthused either. Michael smiled. "There will be girls there. Twice as many girls as guys. And...they'll the type that's very friendly. Very friendly." Hmmm. Very friendly girls. (And many more girls than guys.) Larry and I looked at each other. Larry did have one excellent question: how did Michael know all these girls? "Friends of friends of friends of friends" he replied. Ok. Good enough for us. We were in.
As it turned out, Michael also invited the Avenger of Edenn, The Big Guy...and the two Solomon Brothers, old friends from high school who were always up for a good time. And always looking to meet girls.
The party was scheduled to start at nine. At eight o'clock everyone met up at my parent's home in Holtsville, Long Island. (Holtsville was famous as the location of a large IRS processing center. And not for much else.) "Mr. Statistics" had depressed us. Michael's party was going to fix that....we talked excitedly about the party. Had some a drinks for the road. (Remember - this was 1973.) Headed out to the highway. A sixty mile adventure. I drove my 1967 Dodge Dart, Larry, the Avenger and the Big Guy rode with me. The Solomon Brothers followed in their beat-up, red, VW "bug". The Avenger and I were twenty years old and the oldest of the group. We were all certain the evening would be fun and memorable. Really fun and really memorable!
Finally we were on the road to Brooklyn. Michael's guarantee ("Twice as many girls as guys. And very friendly...") hung over us. A lightening rod pointing West from Long Island. We were invincible. The young feel invincible. When you're young...no harm can come to you. Nothing can hurt you...or can it?
More to follow. Very soon (I hope).
See you then... be safe!
Stevenn
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