Thirty summers ago I was stuck in New York waiting for a doorman job in Gemany. My pockets were empty and my rent was a month late. Many of my friends worked at Danceteria on West 21st Street. I ate at the BBQ on the roof and drank for free. The owner was a fan of my poetry and John never criticized my glomming from the bartenders.
I finally received the phone call from Germany. A one-way Lufthansa ticket awaited me at JFK. I needed a little money in my pocket and hit up a number of friends for $20 each. John was fast in handing over his donation.
“I’ll be saving money by getting you away from my bar.”
“I don’t drink that much.”
“7-8 drinks a night add up. Not that I mind.” He was in a good mood. The Bush Tetras were performing at midnight and they packed the club with good-looking women and men after good-looking women. “Have you ever been to Germany before.”
“No.” No one in my family had been to Germany since the Great War.
“What’s where the Beatles found their magic?” John had played bass in a long-hair band during the 60s.
“Seems to be the only thing anyone knows about Hamburg.” I was no different, except I offered another nugget. It was only a hunch. “I think Dracula shipped out of Hamburg.”
“Dracula didn’t ship out of Hamburg.” A young drunk in a suit said loudly and added with conviction. “He left for england out of Varna.”
“I stand corrected, thanks.” I turned back to John, but he was confronted by the drunk, “don’t I get a prize for that answer.”
“This isn’t Jeopardy.” John had little patience for annoying customers. They made up half the clientele of Danceteria.
“Yeah, but I got it right, you asshole.” The drunk pushed John hard and I stepped between them. No one laid a hand on my benefactor.
“You two queers.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” He could have called us ‘sissies. “Now why don’t you leave us alone.”
“I know who you are, you fucking asshole.” The blonde-haired drunk pointed his finger at John. Spit flailed from his mouth. His drink slopped over the rim of his glass. The junior exec was a hang-over from the happy hour frequented by 9-5ers. “You own this bar, you wop.”
John’s eyes went steely with the ethnic slur.
“You want to make $100. Smack this guy.” His offer sounded like an order from Don Corleone.
“Yo, guy, take a walk.” I said it nice.
“I ain’t a guy, you stupid Mick.”
“$100?”
John gave the nod.
A short right caught the drunk on his right temple. He never saw it coming. I grabbed his arms before he could hit the floor and tossed him to the bouncers. No one saw any of it, but John and me.
“That was nice.” John gave me the c-note with a pleased smile.
“A lucky shot.” I stuffed the bill in my pocket and my hand ached from the impact on the drunk’s head. I was done for the night.
“What about a drink?” John dragged me to the bar. “It’s on me.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I ordered a screwdriver. It was the fifth of many more. My bon voyage fund stood at a little over $200. I put the cash in my wallet. At the end of the Bush Tetras John paid my taxi home. He knew how to make a man feel unwelcome.
I was always grateful for that money and even when John slipped over to the far right I stayed in communication, because I knew that he would always remember that punch.
Recently he posted an article from ABC News about the media investigating the possible malfeasance of federal involvement with the Finnish electric car make Fisker Karma.
Here is the following dialogue
The ABC News show Nightline is investigating Fisker Automotive, but is there anything new to report?
Peter Nolan Smith it ain’t a GTO, but neither is this watergate
No one responded to that, so I added.
Peter Nolan Smith abc is a zionist christian news station. the more lies, the less the truth
And then
Peter Nolan Smith oh yeah, one more thing free palestine. free the world
A female friend of John – Do you live under a rock?
John – No Mary, Peter lives under an “emotional Burka” He is a trickster; a provocateur who loves to stir up dissent, and he is to be regarded as a radical hedonist, but my friend at his core is a boston catholic Irishman..I would call him priest-like in his slavish devotion to Rome…, but none of the felony charges against him were sustained…..He has no affiliations.., like me, he says things to provoke a reaction…good guy….oy, he’s single..Do you know a nice girl?
No, I don’t know any nice girls.
17 hours ago · Like
John Argento OK then send him the bad girls…..
17 hours ago · Like
Female Friend of John – Does he want your sloppy seconds?
17 hours ago · Like · 1 person
John – I love when you talk dirty to me Mare……..
I replied to Female Friend of John
Peter Nolan Smith No, I live nowhere, but travel everywhere. I know a lot of bad girls, still. John, I traded catholicism for apostasy at the age of eight. The mass lost its magic without the Latin and I was faster than the priest’s roaming hands. I am a devout non-believer and reject most Judeo-Christian thought. I’m living on three continents. America, Europe, and Asia. My back-up plan in New York is a pump-action shotgun and two jugs of moonshine then get on my friend’s boat and sail to Bolivia. In europe it is drink all the liquor in the embassy, where I am writer in residence and in thailand I go on vacation with my two wives and our four children. Yes, I am related to Joseph Smith.
about an hour ago
ps Thanks for the burka suggestion but I’ve lost some weight recently and are any of you losers suggesting that the GTO isn’t it.
pps John I was over in Germany this afternoon and I can report that there are no more guys looking like nazis. Only like fat americans with bad mustaches. Wo ist Siegfried?
ppps Séanmhar Samhain that gaelic. I now travel under an irish passport as well as cameroun and USA when I’m in Te Aviv hustling the yids. John you know what rock I lived under
I liked that John called me a trickster.
He does love the Irish and we love pizza.