The City That Never Sleeps Was Not Awake

When I was in high school on Long Island, I had a friend named Bonnie.   She was a year older than me.   She was vivacious and jovial, and I nicknamed her "Boom Bah Bonnie".   

My friend did not have a date for the High School Graduation Dance, and she asked me to be her escort.

I was gallant and I agreed, hoping that no one would mistake us for a couple.  I was a junior, and this would be a preview of what to expect when I graduated.  And I looked forward to staying up all night.

Our town had grieved decades before when some seniors were killed in car crashes while partying on graduation night.  The town decided, for safety reasons, to start a tradition that all seniors would attend a grand dance on graduation night   The legal drinking age was 18; so, the Dance lasted all night, to keep the seniors from drinking and driving.  The Dance went until 4:00 AM.

The dance featured a 1:00 AM dinner served by fathers all dressed in white shirts and slacks, carrying their aluminum serving trays with great flourish.  And there was entertainment provided by a local woman who was trying to establish herself on the New York nightclub circuit.  I remember that she sang a sultry version of “Bye Bye Blackbird”, and I remember being amazed that she had managed to fit into her skin-tight red-sequined gown.

When 4:00 AM came, I had planned for Bonnie and me to watch the sun rise --- in New York City.  We went to our town’s train station and caught the next train into the City.  From Penn Station, we walked over to to Fifth Avenue, as the sun rose.

Frank Sinatra said that New York was a city that never sleeps.  It was clear that Frank had never walked up Fifth Avenue during sunrise.  Bonnie and I were about the only humans visible at this time of day.  The city that never sleeps was not awake.  But we were happy to be strolling up New York’s most glamorous street, even though the buildings blocked out any chance of seeing the sun rise in the east.

We crossed streets without having to worry about traffic.  The stores were closed, but we checked out their windows.  St. Patrick’s Cathedral was closed, but we crooked our heads back to look up at its spires. 

Then we came to the Olivetti Typewriter Store.  In front of the store, right out in public, was a typewriter sitting on a pedestal.  A working typewriter.  It was time for a gesture.  I walked up to the typewriter and typed: “BOOM BAH BONNIE HAS GRADUATED FROM HIGH SCHOOL.”

Our energy was wearing down.  We walked back to Penn Station and took a train back home.  I hoped that I had been a suitable graduation night escort for my friend.

But there was fallout from that evening.  When I took a part-time job at the local library, I discovered that Bonnie’s aunt worked there.  Whenever her aunt walked by me, she would flash a smile at me and flutter her eyelashes at me because I had escorted her niece to the graduation dance. 

Those smiles and flutters made me cringe, almost wiping out my fond memories of having dinner at 1:00 AM, dancing until 4:00 AM, going into New York City at sunrise, and typing a historic message on a public typewriter,

I thought that my message was so historic that Olivetti might have decided to send it off to Italy, and maybe it now sits in the company’s archives somewhere in Rome.

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New York has changed since Boom Bah Bonnie and I strolled up Fifth Avenue.  Johnny T (of Glove And Boots) has updated Frank Sinatra's song.  3 minute YouTube video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=326RcOeSPGs

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  Send an email to ParadiseDouglas at gmail.com to find out how to purchase a copy by mail.

Three Symphony Concerts

When I lived in Brussels, Belgium, I grew tired of hearing foreigners complain.

A Frenchman told me, “Brussels is dull; it is not like Paris where I can buy elegant clothes in every neighborhood of the city.”  A Dutchman told me, “Brussels is dull; it is not like Amsterdam where I can dance all night because the clubs are open until dawn.”

I grew very tired of hearing complaints.

An Englishman told me, “Brussels is dull; it is not like London, where I can go to three symphony concerts in one night.”

Enough is enough.  I looked the Englishman in the eye and said, “Try as I might, I have never been able to attend more than one symphony concert in a single night.”

But when I left Brussels and moved back to the United States, I started to understand what the Englishman was talking about, because New York City was struggling.

It was the 1970’s. 

On a large scale, New York City was struggling with the possibility of bankruptcy.  On a medium scale, graffiti artists started to spray messages on subway cars.  On a small scale, the phone system was inadequate and it was hard to get a dial tone in the city.

In the midst of New York’s troubles, a reporter hit the streets and interviewed city residents.  “What makes you want to live in New York?”

The first resident responded, “Why, we have the Metropolitan Opera!”  “What is the last opera you saw there?”  “I have never seen an opera.”

Second resident, “Why, we have the Statue of Liberty!!”  “When is the last time you visited the Statue?”  “My parents took me there when I was six years old.”

Third resident, “Why, we have Central Park!!!”  “When is the last time you visited the park?”  “Oh, I don’t go there because it is too dangerous.”

After hearing these interviews, I started to realize that these New York City residents may not visit the opera, the statue, or the park --- but they have the option to do so.  They could visit these places if they wanted, and that fact gave them re-assurance that they were living in a worthwhile place.  They had options.

I then understood that the Englishman in Brussels did not have the option of choosing amongst three symphony concerts in one night.  By moving from London to Brussels, he had lost his options, and the Englishman felt deprived.

I started to regret that I had made a flip comment to him.

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com