Dinah Shore

16 11 2009

Dinah Shore (February 29, 1916 – February 24, 1994)

 

Blue skies from shore to shore. Crutches in the ballrooms. Blondes lining Arlington Cemetery. With tears that should have stopped wars. Big frilly dresses. Puffy sleeves. In the golden days of America. When men wore straight pants. Women in church. Were on their knees. Praying to the lance instead of to Christ. 1950s. And life was perfect.

Dinah kept a diary. Mommy’s advice. Don’t let your mouth turn the milk. Chin up. And smile. A million eyes watched Dinah every Sunday evening. You could hear her black and white laughter. Fill their hearts. America was in love. With being blonde.

Richie Ashburn fouled a ball.  Hit Alice Roth twice. In the same at bat. 1st one broke her nose. 2nd one hit her. While she was on the stretcher. Enraged a white mob. Little Rock Arkansas. Forced 9 black students. Who had started high school. To withdraw. It was the bottom of the third. And America had a new home movie. It was called the ‘The Battle of Los Angeles’. UFOs attacked the city of angels. Through the smog. And the alleys. And all their mighty ships were shot down. But no one could find. Where they had crashed. And Dinah kept smiling. That smile. In the back seat of a Chevrolet. Her leg draped over yours. Laughter that was contagious. The touch. Of her fingers on your lips. Sent shivers. Through your teeth.

Dinah loved Tarzan. And his jungle. A general named Moose. And his jingles. Singers. In alphabetical order. It might have been the Cantabile Choirs Of Kingston. A drummer. From the old school. Several actors named Jimmy. A senator. Who wanted to be President.

Dinah. Loved to start her weekends. In that wide eyed glee. I’ll sing to him, each spring to him. And worship the trousers that cling to him.

Halloween. Ed Gein butchered his last victim. The fight for cancer was lost. And Dinah passed. Throwing a kiss. Across America. To that drunk. At the end of the bar. In Tonawanda. To the professor. Sleeping with his assistant in Baltimore. That waitress in Tucson. Feet swollen. All Dinah’s lovers sighed. And all those little girls. Dyed blondes. In suburban homes. Felt like something inside. Was gone.





The Andrew Sisters

6 11 2009

Andrew sisters V2jpg

The Andrew Sisters (1911 –

 

Momma was a crusader. Daddy was a peach. Teutonic castles. Rolled across the rustic hills. Dressed up in tights. Inside dreams. Out of reach. Teach. Me to sing. And bob for apple cores. Roy. Joy. Life was so sweet. In the twin cities.

Death March. Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen. Jews. From Moldavia. Trains. Out of Mechelen. Klaus Barbie and Ann Frank. Hand in hand. Every child of God. Gets their own little yellow star. Those were golden days.

And the war raged on. In the kitchens of America. Listening to the USO. On the radio. Three little girls. Lungs like trumpets. In the fresh April breeze. Sweethearts. Singing at full volume. Through the air. Across the seas.

And the war raged on. The sisters sang on. About hugging. And kissing under an apple tree. Sang about bugles. In company D. Sang about jumping up. For those boys in their boats. In their tents. In their tanks. Brushing their teeth. Eating that grub. Sinking those subs.

Patty married Marty. Lavergne complained about a headache. Patty mentioned that it might be the hole in her heart. Maxene got drunk on rum and egg nog. And had a dream. Where a white man was dancing with his dog.

Hitler loved his children. He kept them warm. Some graduated from university. And flew to the moon. Others wished they’d never been born.

2500 women trampled guards. Trying to purchase. 1500 alarm clocks. In a Chicago department store. Uprising. At Auschwitz. The Jews trampled the guards. And burned down the crematoriums. But time was going up in smoke.

And the war raged on. Hal Newhouser was named AL MVP. In reprisal. 40 Dutch men were hung. Like apples. From the trees.

Singing songs for Wrigley’s Chewing Gum. Doles’ Pineapple. Never forgetting Franco-American. Promised to meet those service boys. When the war ended. In the soda shop. Dance and sing. Make them laugh. But on that day of reveille. Not all the uniforms, showed up.

 





That’s the end

10 10 2009

I didn’t win the Nobel Prize. Life can be very disappointing at times. My wife was counting on the money. Anyway that was the end of the ‘Lou Grant’ story. It’s a short novel. And I’m not sure of the ending. I  have to think about it for a while. I’m also not sure of the title. ‘The Lou Grant Story’ seems too banal. I’m thinking Lou Grant’s Last Breaths. Or The Death of Lou Grant. Or…

Thinking out loud here. I’m not sure whether I should start reworking 2 different jazz novels that I worked on. One was a series of short pieces on female jazz singers. I loved doing them. But I’ve put them in a back drawer of my mind hoping they would ferment. I need some juice. The other jazz novel is a series of short stories about a plaza. Its’ called OPEN 24HRS. I like the title. the trouble with the stories is that I’m not sure which of 2 directions to go in. One is to make the stories very jazzy, to play off themes, to improvise and leave the structures of each story loosy goosy. The 2nd is to tighten everything up. Make each story shorter (maybe very short).

And I wanted to create some visuals for each of the 2 novels. But that entails an incredible amount of work. With the jazz singers I was hoping to create some jazz collages but as of yet I haven’t been able to come up with a single idea. I’ve been looking around the net to see what other artists have been doing, hoping to graft an idea or a direction from someone but I haven’t come up with a thing. I have been working on a lot of other visual work that you can look at on my other sight, but none of it works for me in the jazz novels. For OPEN 24 HRS I planned on taking some photographs this summer of a lot of strip malls hoping to come up with some ideas but I got caught up in a lot of other work.

The other idea I had was to start working on pieces about Niagara Falls. I have already done the ground work. Which I hoped would be used by my brother-in-law, Ferry Van Vosselen, in his comic strip work. But that hasn’t worked out. These ideas are pretty interesting but I have to get juiced up for them. I don’t want to run out of steam half way through.

Well, there you go. I’m lost.






Rape (Chapter 40, Lou Grant)

25 09 2009

Rape

Chapter 40

Mary crawled into the corner of the bed, wrapping herself in the sheets like a cocoon. She began to rub herself with the back of her hands. Her thighs. Her stomach. Her breasts. Dug her fingers into her cunt. Blood drained from her face.

MARY: Bastard!

Mary struck Michael on the chest, arms and face. He let her. For a while. He grabbed her wrists.

MICHAEL: That’s enough!

Mary began to weep uncontrollably, sinking into his arms.

MARY: Why did you do that?

MICHAEL: I love you.

MARY: That wasn’t love.

MICHAEL: I had to.

MARY: You hurt me!

Michael raised Mary’s chin so that the two of them were looking into each other’s eyes.

MICHAEL: Hurt!

Mary turned away. For a moment she was silent. Then she moved off the bed and pulled on her housecoat.

MARY: If you think that was love, you don’t know anything about love, Michael. Love is tenderness. Love is sharing. Love is healing. Love is not brutality. I’m not some sleaze bag, some toilet you jerk off into. I’m a human being.

Michael stood up and pulled on his trousers.

MICHAEL: Tenderness! You talk as if that was the natural state of things. Have you had a look outside your window? You live in a world of polite cruelty. BMWs, microwaves, low cholesterol diets, sitcoms and soap operas, while the rest of the world is dieing from starvation, diseases, war, and ignorance. My world may be brutal but at least it’s honest. Can’t you smell the rot, the putrid hypocrisy of your life? The world is a violent place. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t want it. But, there it is.

MARY:  But why with me? Why here with me?

MICHAEL:  That world you despise is part of me. Shall sweetness reign here, while outside…  Did you see the rage inside me? That’s who I am! That anger is me. It hides in the darkness, my soul calls home. Rage is all I have. The only thing I’m sure is me.

Mary slapped Michael’s face. Michael smirked.

MARY:  You raped me, Michael!

Michael picked up his shoes and stepped toward the door. He looked back at Mary.

MICHAEL: You loved it.






A Drink After Work At The Red Lion (Chapter 37, Lou Grant)

20 09 2009

Chapter 37

A Drink After Work At The Red Lion

MURRAY: This is awful. We’ve got to do something about this, Lou.

Lou grumbles.

MURRAY: I don’t know how you can sit there and… grumble

Lou picks up his scotch and takes a swallow.

MURRAY: And drink. Let’s go to the police, Lou.

LOU GRANT: Haven’t we been through this before?

MURRAY: Have we?

LOU GRANT: I think so. What’s bothering you?

MURRAY: You, Lou. You’re just not reacting to this threat on Mary like… I expected.

LOU GRANT: How so?

MURRAY: Listen to yourself. I expected… a bear. What do I get? Indifference.

LOU GRANT: Something wrong with that, Murray.

MURRAY: Wrong with what?

LOU GRANT: The way you said it. I mean … bear than indifference. The Murray I know would never have said something like that. In that fashion.

MURRAY: Well the Lou Grant I know wouldn’t be sitting on his ass doing nothing while Mary was in jeopardy.

LOU GRANT: You’re right. He wouldn’t. Maybe I’m not Lou Grant.

MURRAY: And I suppose I’m not Murray Slaughter.

LOU GRANT: Oh, I’m sure of that.

LAUGH TRACK





Personal Stuff (Chapter 27, Lou Grant)

7 09 2009

27.

Personal Stuff

Ted Baxter stepped into Lou Grant’s office. A small room filled with shelves of books, videotapes, magazines, socks, shoes, awards, empty liquor bottles, styrofoam cups (some growing strange and sentient life forms).

TED: Busy, Lou?

Ted tried to stand taller.

LOU GRANT: Always busy to you, Ted.

Lou looked up from his desk where he was leafing through some papers.

LAUGH TRACK

Ted laughed uncomfortably, braying like a donkey.

TED: Seriously, Lou.

LOU GRANT sighed: Sit down, Ted.

Ted smiled, a gesture of gratitude that always rubbed Lou the wrong way. He stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. Nodding and straightening out his tie while cocking his head to one side, Ted moved over to the chair opposite Lou. Lou picked up his coffee to finish it, and finding it cold, turned and poured the remainder of the coffee into the lush green arms of a spider plant. He threw the empty cup toward the garbage can, missing it, but landing in one of the other empty cups on the floor. Ted sat down then immediately stood up, picking up a pair of running shoes that were on the chair.

LAUGH TRACK

LOU GRANT: My son’s. Got to get him another pair. An identical pair.

Ted placed the pair of shoes on the floor and took a seat.

LOU GRANT: He hates shoe stores. Seventeen years old and I still have to buy his shoes. Ashamed of his feet. Says they smell. Of course they smell. He wears those damn running shoes all the time.

Ted grinned anxiously. Straightened out his tie. Once again cocked his head. Lou held up the papers from his desk.

LOU GRANT: Ya?

LAUGH TRACK

Ted laughed uncomfortably, squirming in his seat, cocking his head to one side.

LOU GRANT: You keep twisting your head like that, Ted, and you’re going to need a neck brace.

Ted continued to squirm in his chair, looking down into his lap. Straightened his tie. He muttered under his breath.

TED: I wanted to talk to you about something… personal.

LOU GRANT: What? Speak up!

TED: Personal stuff, Lou.

Ted cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, cocked his head once again, smiling sheepishly.

LOU GRANT: What?

TED: Personal stuff.

LOU GRANT: Personal stuff!

Ted nodded.

Lou picked up the papers again and hid behind them.

LOU GRANT: I’m not good at personal, Ted! Why don’t you talk to Murray?

TED: This is real personal, Lou.

LOU GRANT: Try Mary. Women love that personal stuff. They think it makes you a better person. I don’t want to be a better person, Ted. I just want to get my work done.

TED: It’s about Mary.

Once again Ted straightened his tie, cocked his neck.

Lou dropped his papers on the desk. His eyes flared with rage.

LOU GRANT: You straighten your tie one more time, Ted, and I’m going to use it to strangle you!

Ted began to bawl, tears bursting out of his eyes.

TED: Sorry, Lou.

Ted wiped his eyes then blew his nose with a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. For several long moments Lou glared across the desk at Ted.

LOU GRANT: Okay! What’s this about, Ted?

TED: Mary…

LAUGH TRACK

LOU GRANT: Well…? Ted…?

TED: Mary tried to seduce me last night.

There was a moment of silence. Lou looked at Ted then at the spider plant next to his desk and then at Ted.

LOU GRANT: Run that passed me again, Ted.

LAUGH TRACK

TED: Mar and me…

Lou pointed at Ted.

LOU GRANT: You and Mary?

Ted nodded.

Lou shook with laughter. Tears ran down his cheeks as he continued to howl with laughter. Ted looked behind him, hoping that no one from the office would knock, curious to discover what was so funny. After a few moments Lou regained his composure and stared at Ted intently as if he were trying to probe his mind.

LAUGH TRACK

TED: I’m serious, Lou.

Lou stared at Ted for a moment.

LOU GRANT: You haven’t…?

Ted shook his head.

LOU GRANT: You must have misinterpreted the situation, Ted.

TED: No, sir.

LOU GRANT: Our Mary? Mary Richards? The young woman sitting out at the desk in the other room writing copy?

Ted nodded, took out his handkerchief again and wiped his brow. Then he remembered with a look of disgust that the handkerchief had been used for other functions.

LOU GRANT: But you didn’t…?

Ted shook his head.

Lou sighed with relief then stepped out from behind his desk and over to the glass door of his office. He opened the door and peeked outside. Satisfied that no one was listening, he returned to his desk, pulled open a drawer of his desk, removed two glasses and a bottle of scotch, poured two stiff drinks, swallowed one.

TED: Too early for me.

Before Ted finished, Lou had downed the second drink as well.

LOU GRANT: Don’t raise this topic again. Am I understood, Ted?”

TED: Yes, dad.

LAUGH TRACK





Follow That Car (Chapter 23, Lou Grant)

3 09 2009

23.

Follow That Car

It had rained out. Streetlights splattered on the sweating asphalt. It looked like one of those tacky paintings of a Paris street. I stood in my overcoat underneath the awning outside the bar. Waiting. For what, I had no idea.

It was still raining. A streetcar rang its bell. And thundered by. Newspapers that had been blowing about on the street now, wet, wallpapered the sidewalks. Teenage girls in football jackets over their heads, giggled as they raced down the avenue. I wish I owned a gun.

Mary Richards and her friends came out of the Blue Lagoon. Huddled under two umbrellas. Laughing. Sue Ann screeched as the group made a mad dash across Church Street to the parking lot next to Gatsby’s Steak House.

I pulled my collar up. Rain dripped off my hair, and the tip of my nose and chin. From the bar, you could hear music playing. Billy Joel’s Piano Man. A white van raced up the street. I lost sight of the WTM crowd. The van passed. They were piling two cars. Doors slammed. Mary had climbed into the silver Mercedes with Sue Ann and Ted. Lou and Rhoda continued on through the lot until they reached Rhoda’s red Rabbit. The Mercedes moved slowly across the lot, beeped its horn once and then stopped in front of the attendant’s booth. Windshield wipers kept slapping. The muted siren from a window lowering. Voices. A ticket receipt.

I stepped out to the curb and haled a cab. I don’t know why. Maybe I was bored. I haled a cab. One passed me. A second. The Mercedes had already moved up the street. Stopped at a traffic light. A cab pulled over to the curb.

“Follow that Mercedes,” I said to the driver.

MURRAY:  Wait a minute, Lou.

LOU GRANT: I was on a roll here, Murray.

MURRAY: There were two Lou Grants in the bar.

LOU GRANT: Ya?

MURRAY: Isn’t there some kind of rule about that? Some kind of temporal disruption. That changes everything in the future.

LOU GRANT: Like hair loss?

LAUGH TRACK

MURRAY: Okay. So there’s a big storm. Lightning and thunder. Why would you do that in your own dream? Why not have a warm pleasant evening. Shirt sleeve weather.

LOU GRANT: You might be right about that. I didn’t have an umbrella. Could have caught a cold.

MURRAY: You can catch a cold in a dream?

LOU GRANT: Maybe.  Do you know how you catch a cold?





Mary’s Proposal (Chapter 22, Lou Grant)

1 09 2009

22.

Mary’s Proposal

“I’ve been lucky.” Mary addressed her friends seated around the table. Everyone stopped talking and turned their attention to her. “I know that. Things have a way of falling into place for me. People like me.”

“They adore you, Mary.” Sue Ann gritted her teeth in a smile. And in an aside to Ted who wasn’t listening, “God, is she going to go on like this all night?”

“They do, Sue Ann.” Mary nodded her head in appreciation. “I’m not saying I deserve it, but people go out of their way for me. Sue Ann taught me how to cook. She didn’t have to. She just jumped right in and took over.”

“Well.” Sue Ann giggled. “We didn’t want the Board of Health to shut down your kitchen.”

“And Ted.” Mary turned to Ted who smiled, waiting for his accustomed accolades. “Ted got me a bargain on a vintage Ford Pinto. I know nothing about cars but Ted walked into the used car lot and put his fist down.”

“Gee, Mary.” Ted blushed. “You’re embarrassing me. Keep going.”

LAUGH TRACK

“And Mr. Grant took a chance on a kid who was so green behind the knees.”

“Ears, Mary,” Lou responded. “You’re green behind your ears.”

“Not anymore Lou. I’ve learned so much.” Mary turned to Murray who sat beside  her and put her hand on his knee. “Murray found my apartment and taught me how to play poker.”

“We played for toothpicks!” Murray cried in his defense.

Mary pointed across the table at Rhoda. “That’s my best friend, Rhoda.” Rhoda began to shrink. Don’t do this to me, Mary. “Rhoda has always had a free shoulder for me to cry upon. She’s taught me not to give up and how to get up when I’ve been knocked down, and always to keep laughing, and…”

Rhoda started to weep. Sue Ann glanced at her. “Give me a break!”

Mary took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s been like that since I was a youngster and I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but my life has become… boring. Everyone is very sweet and generous. Everyday at the office is lovely, amusing, fun, but… it’s always the same. Everyone is the same. Ted, you’re always charming. Mr. Grant is grumpy but loveable. Sue Ann is respectable and kind. Murray is helpful. Rhoda, well Rhoda is always there for me. I said that before, didn’t I?”

“Ya, Mary!” Rhoda responded. “Come up with some new material.”

LAUGH TRACK

“But.” Mary sighed. “None of you ever change. No matter what happens on Friday, the next Monday morning, you’re absolutely the same. No problem is so serious that there isn’t something amusing about it. It’s like a sitcom. I swear I can hear the laugh track. No one is vicious, mean, madly passionate or dangerous. Am I the only one who has noticed? I can’t stand it anymore. It isn’t real.”

There was a long pregnant pause. Outside the clouds were smothering the sun. Night was rising like smoke from its ashes. Ted cleared his throat. Lou tucked his tie into his trousers. Sue Ann smiled. Rhoda held her stomach in.

“Did everyone like my show today?” Sue Ann piped up. “I thought my tribute to Chinese cuisine was quite clever. The Twenty Minute Wok Out.”

“Oh, ya!” Ted started to laugh. “I just got it.”

No one else responded. There was a crack in the timber of the sky. The sky lit up like a flash on a camera. Lovers trembled naked in their raincoats. Heart attack victims were stripped of their pride. Sunbathers pretended that they’re wearing sunglasses. The streetcars began to sing, One more night. And still there was silence at the table.

“So, Mary.” Lou Grant smirked glancing around the table before lighting on Mary. “Why exactly did you bring us here?

“Oh, Mr. Grant.” Mary shrugged off Lou’s question with a giggle. “You’re always looking for an ulterior motive.”

“We’re waiting, Mary.”

Mary looked around the bar, passed her friends and right at me sitting there nursing a beer. But she didn’t see a thing. I didn’t exist. I was invisible. Like when she’s looking in the mirror and notices that her skin has begun to turn to putty. Like the face cream she smears on her forehead and cheeks and breasts. Like the poems that melt like chocolate in her mouth.

“Don’t you just love this place?” Sue Ann piped up. “The first time I stepped in to use the little girl’s room, I fell in love. It looks so lived in. And look at the clientele. What characters!”

“Hookers, pimps, gamblers,” Lou snarled, “and us, the staff of the local news. But let Mary finish.”

“Sue Ann is right.” Mary added.

“I am?” Sue Ann gasped. “I thought I was being facetious.”

“Another dodo?” Ted laughed.

“Don’t you see it, Mr. Grant?” Mary pleaded.

Lou growled as he glanced around the room. “Bunch of lay-abouts, wasting away in a bar. Not unlike most people in bars. Half of them are trying to forget about today. The other half are afraid of tomorrow. Just what a bar was designed for. Home sweet home.”

Mary looked despondent as she addressed her boss. “Aren’t you interested in these people, Mr. Grant? What kind of lives they live? How they make their living? What their interests are, their dreams, their ambitions? These are the ones who make the news; we just report it. We are the scavengers. These are the glorious beasts of the hunt.”

My drink began to taste… sweet. God. I pushed it away. And ordered another.

Lou turned to Ted. “What the hell is Mary talking about?”

Ted smiled charmingly, and then shrugged his shoulders. He was bewildered.

“I’m in the dark too, Lou.” Ted grinned.

“Thanks, Ted.” Lou responded sarcastically. “I knew I could count on your support.”

“Strange bedfellows.” Rhoda mumbled. Got to keep my mouth shut. How can Mary be so innocent? Think about something else. A man’s unshaven face scratching the back of my knees. No! His beer breathe on my neck. No! Got to get these images out of my head. Hands on my hips softly shaking… No. Oh God.  Too many mornings of regrets and bad breathe and trips to the toilet. Maybe Mary is right. Maybe love is sweet. Maybe life is a flower opening up… No! Did I say that out loud. No one is looking at me. I hate this. Hate being me. Why do I have to know the truth?

“I was thinking.” Mary hesitated.

Everyone looked at Mary.

“A dangerous and addictive habit.” Rhoda muttered than almost apologized.

Sue Ann glared at Rhoda and placed her finger in front of her lips.

“I knew it!” Lou cried, smacking his hand on the table.

Sue Ann jumped.

Lou continued. “I knew there was a hidden agenda. Do I know human nature? You don’t spend thirty years in…”

“Bars…” Rhoda interjected.

“…in a newsroom.” Lou scowled as he looked at Rhoda then turned his attention back to the rest of the table. “You don’t spend all those years in a newsroom without learning something about human nature.”

“Mr. Grant, hear me out.” Lou continued to smile. Mary cleared her throat. “I thought we might do a series of investigative reports on the city’s underworld. Not organized crime or biker gangs, but the lower end of the criminal ladder. Small time criminals. Salt of the earth criminals. Gamblers, hustlers, pimps and hookers, pushers and thieves. The public is curious about how these people survive, what they do, what they’re like, where they come from…”

“How they make love?” Rhoda added. If Sue Ann says something I’m going to punch her lights out.

Sue Ann smirked. You’re such a slut?

Rhoda smiled at Sue Ann then winked. Why do I have to be such a smart ass? Why do I have to have these thoughts racing through my head. I didn’t ask for them.

Ted turned to Rhoda. “How do they make love, Rhoda?” Ted chuckled and then asked sincerely. “Is it really… different?”

Rhoda smiled. “Different than you, Ted, They don’t do it alone.”

“OH!” Ted laughed heartily as he thought over what Rhoda had just said. He rubbed his chin with his fingers, thought again, and then glared at Rhoda from beneath his eyebrows. “Wait a minute!”

LAUGH TRACK

“So charming and yet so cruel,” Sue Ann giggled.

“Thank you.” Rhoda bowed. “I knew I could count on your support.”

“You mean to say, Mary.” Ted spoke and then hesitated, waiting for everyone’s attention to fall his way. When it did not he cleared his throat and spoke with the force of his newscaster’s voice. “Mary!”

Mary looked up. “Yes, Ted.”

“Do you mean to say that the suburban crowd wants to sit back in their lazy boys and live the dangers of crime…” Ted hesitated so that he could pronounce each syllable of vicariously individually. “…vi-car-ri-ous-slee?”

Lou’s mouth fell open with shock. His eyes lid up.

Mary nodded. “That’s exactly it. Thank you, Mr. Baxter.”

Ted smiled and looked around the table for his accolades.

“Give it a rest, Ted,” Murray responded.

“I think it’s a marvelous idea,” Sue Ann piped up. “I know it would go over with my girls at the noon hour. We could have some criminals on my show to demonstrate their favorite recipes. Al Capone made wonderful pasta. And we can’t forget Eggs Bennedict.”

LAUGH TRACK

Lou choked on his scotch. Murray smacked him on the back. Lou glared at him.

“I thought you were choking, Lou.”

“I’m serious!” Sue Ann’s voice rose with her enthusiasm. “It would be great fun. I’ve always wondered how gangsters cooked. They have to watch their waistlines like the rest of us.”

LAUGH TRACK

Rhoda turned to Sue Ann. “You’re dangerous.”

“Exactly,” Lou asked turning to Mary, “how do you plan on going about this? These people are not exactly the type of folks who seek publicity for their work.”

“I’ll appeal to their vanity, Mr. Grant.” Mary smiled. “Everyone wants to be on television.”





Lou’s Cigar (Chapter 21, Lou Grant)

28 08 2009

21.

Lou’s Cigar

SUE ANN: Don’t you love these anecdotes of Lou?

Sue Ann nodded toward Rhoda who was exercising her stomach muscles. She’d read about it in Cosmo. Do not waste any free moment. And so she exercised anytime she was sitting down and had nothing else to do. On the bus. Eating dinner. Watching television. And now here in this bar. Rhoda listened to Spanish lessons while she slept.

RHODA: They’re so revealing.

Lou looked around the table before he returned to Mary.

LOU: So why have you brought us here, Miss Richards?

Everyone at the table was smiling as broadly as Lou, waiting for Mary to respond. What silly idea had the young Miss Richards come up with this time? She was always so enthusiastic. Her ideas were like little balloons and everyone waiting for Lou to burst this one. Mary blushed, looking around the table at each face.

MARY: I don’t know what you can possibly be getting at Mr. Grant.

Lou Grant took out a cigar, than ransacked his pocket for a moment before finding his lighter. It was an odd sensation, watching yourself. Or some facsimile. I didn’t realize how clumsy I was. And, its difficult to admit, unattractive.

Sue Ann turned to Ted Baxter.

SUE ANN: Did you see that?

Ted smiled at Sue Ann. Ted was a poster of what God would look like if he had a better tailor. Ted had no idea what Sue Ann was talking about.

Sue Ann placed her hand on Ted’s sleeve. Ted’s heart rate climbed.

SUE ANN: Mary had that dear waiter eating out of her hand. She has such a spell over men, don’t you think, Ted? In a little girl sort of way. Appealing to the pedophile in every male. I’ve never seen anything like it.

TED: See what, Sue Ann?

SUE ANN: The waiter. You must have seen the way the waiter behaved. He was staring at Mary. You’d have thought that he had seen a vision.

TED: Some of us do have that effect on others.

LAUGH TRACK

Rhoda howled with laughter. Sue Ann looked at Rhoda with some concern. Then turned to Lou who was enjoying his cigar. A cloud of smoke lay siege on Sue Ann’s hair.

SUE ANN: Lou!

Lou smiled.

SUE ANN: Do you have to smoke that awful… thing? I wouldn’t allow my Frank to smoke those vile things in the house. The butts look like little puppy dodoes. Frank was always cooperative, always departed for the balcony when he felt the urge.

TED: The urge for anything in particular? Or just urges in general?

LAUGH TRACK

SUE ANN: In all the years we were married, Frank never once smoked in the apartment. Consideration! That’s what characterized Frank’s behavior, bless his heart. Gentlemanship begins with consideration for others.

RHODA: Consideration!

Rhoda howled with laughter, her chest shaking. Surreptitiously Ted glanced at her heaving mammaries.

I almost broke out laughing myself. But turned away and ordered another drink from Frank. Frank nodded toward the table in a gesture that meant he had made his own judgment on the sanity of his patrons.

RHODA: Sue Ann, Frank dropped dead in a funeral parlor.

SUE ANN: That’s how considerate he was.

Rhoda’s drink dribbled down her chin and onto her dress.

Sue Ann looked at Rhoda’s dress.

SUE ANN: That will come out with salt, dear. And you must try and control your braying. It attracts the wrong sort. But I’m sure you’ve been through that before.

Rhoda dropped her eyes.

LAUGH TRACK

Sue Ann padded Rhoda on the hand gently then turned back to Lou.

SUE ANN: Must you smoke, Lou? It’s not good for your health, or ours. Second hand smoke is responsible for twenty five point six percent of all lung cancer related deaths. And it is illegal to smoke in public accommodations. How can you expect our children to respect authority when you flaunt the very spirit of our legal system?

Lou shook in his chair with laughter. I shook with laughter at the bar.

LOU: Stupid law. Second hand smoke! Everything in life is second hand. Why should smoke be any different? Pretty soon they’ll pass a by-law against passing wind. Ted could end up doing hard time.

LAUGH TRACK

TED: I read that the pigment of the old masters is being affected by the passage of gas in museums.

SUE ANN: I didn’t know you frequented museums?

RHODA: I didn’t know he could read!

LAUGH TRACK

Lou grunted then took another puff of his cigar.

LOU: I like cigars, Sue Ann. I like them a great deal.

Lou exhaled a cloud of white smoke that drifted over Sue Ann’s head.

RHODA: They’ve elected a new pope.

LAUGH TRACK

Lou took his cigar out of his lips and looked at it lovingly.

LOU: Did you know that these cigars were rolled in the salty thighs of young virginal Cuban girls? Just the thought of it brings a smile to this old man’s lips.

RHODA: Pedophile.

Sue Ann’s face squirmed as she turned toward Rhoda.

SUE ANN: Don’t be so witty, dear. It isn’t feminine. Frank never liked witty women. Women should be sweet. Blossoms in a spring rain.

TED: You should eat more fruit, Sue Ann. Something has gotten stuck… up there.

Mary took a package of cigarettes out of her purse and lit one up. Lou grabbed the cigarette out of her hand.

LOU: You’ll ruin your voice!

MARY: But Mr. Grant, you’re smoking!

LOU: If I lose my voice, everyone in the office will be happier. I won’t be screaming at them.

RHODA: You’re acting like her father! Lou, you’re not Mary’s father.

LOU: I’m more important than her father! I’m her boss!





The Blue Lagoon (Chapter 17, Lou Grant)

21 08 2009

17.

The Blue Lagoon

I sat sipping my drink. Scotch. Single malt. Not too bad either. A little over priced. I was watching Harry. Across the room. What a sleazy character. Even the way he moved. Made you want to take a shower. Like a snail he moved. Hunched over. Leaving a trail of slime behind him. Like some kind of peep show floor. He stopped at the bar. I looked at the blonde next to me. Sheila. (How did I know her name?) She and her friend continued their animated conversation. (I didn’t know her friend’s name. I’ll call her the brunette.) They were eating each other’s ears off. The kind of conversation that is filled with energy and little thought. I thought about my wife. Helen and I were like strangers to each other. Had been for many years. When the boys were young, there was so much noise in the house. It was like oxygen for us. And when they left, we suffocated. Or maybe we went deaf and dumb. Don’t think we ever talked about much of importance when we were young, but we liked the sound of each other’s voice. And Helen’s laugh. I loved to hear Helen laugh. She loved my jokes. Helen doesn’t laugh much anymore. I don’t know how it happened. Becoming a stranger to those you love. Maybe my jokes weren’t funny anymore. And then I found myself back in the backyard. Laying there. Frying in the noon day sun. Looking up at the blue sky. Hoping Helen would come out and find me. Save me. Sheila laughed. And I was back in the Blue Lagoon.