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Gwen Loved Leonard Cohen and It Almost Killed Me

Leonard Cohen has passed away. 

The New York Times called him, “...an unlikely and reluctant pop star, if in fact he ever was one.”

For the record?   I tried. I really tried.
You see... 

Years ago, I dated a girl named Gwen. Gwen adored Leonard Cohen. She was determined to help me get into  his music, so she asked me over to her apartment for what she said would be a very special night.

Gwen lived in a second floor walkup just off Downer Ave., walking distance from UWM.  I found her in the bedroom rummaging thru the perpetual pile of clothes and filled up sketch books strewn about on the floor. Upon finding my old brown corduroy bell bottomed Levis she said, “Here, wear these!" (I wondered where those were).  For the record she was wearing her hippy-earth-mother dress - the one she made from a McCalls pattern. 

I changed and walked into the tiny kitchen in time to see her dumping a can of Chock Full 'O Nuts coffee into her coffee urn. As it brewed, she asked me to get the bottle of Amaretto from the cupboard.  I knew it was going to be some kind of special night because there was a lentil stew simmering in the crock pot (hell, the entire building knew it!)  Gwen turned off the lights, lit the few candles she had stuck in Mateus bottles and we sat down on throw pillows strewn around her living room floor. 
For the next three hours we ate bowls of thick lentil stew, drank cups of black coffee with Amaretto and listened to Leonard Cohen on the Lear Jet 8 track stereo, (for the record, it was MY tape deck!)  Over and over again he droned on.  “It’s like having our own NBC!”, she giggled, “Nothing But Cohen!” 

Three and one half hours later, I ran screaming from her apartment - I couldn’t take it any longer!  I got back to my place, put on a pair of  earphones and listened to Abbey Road, flushing the sounds of Leonard Cohen out of my head!  Adding injury to insult, I didn't sleep for two days on account of  that damn black coffee. Good thing too, because that lentil stew combined with the Amaretto wreaked total havoc on my lower GI system!  

It was three weeks later that I happened to walk past Gwen's building one evening coming back from the UWM law library and stopped dead in my tracks!  The smell of lentil stew hung like a fog below her apartment window.  In my head I could picture some poor schlep sitting on the floor on her throw pillows, pretending to like Leonard Cohen’s god awful drone, while all the while hoping that Gwen would let him touch her perfect body with more than just his mind.  I shuddered and hurried by. 

A few years later the inevitable happened -- I bumped into Gwen in Lake Park. She had her  new, Leonard-loving hubby in tow.  We chatted for a few awkward minutes, exchanging pleasantries.  I managed to snap this photo just after asking her if it would be OK if I stopped by to pick up my eight track player.  

Gotta say this for Gwen, she looked great in a romper and never took a bad picture.

Gwen flips me off while wearing a romper

Guys and Dolls

First rehearsal with the orchestra. That's me in the white shirt! I was asked to sit in the back corner because, as the Musical Director said,  You might scare the band.

Good view of the theatre from the spot light booth.

Rehearsal

Listening as Sister Sarah preaches to the crowd in Runyonland. The stage hands forgot to make this cheezy sign til literally the last minute...Can you tell?!   PS: It's glued onto a Home Depot stir stick.

Telling Sarah I know she's in love with Sky. The wardrobe madame messed up and sewed Sergeant stripes on my coat, instead of Lindsey's -- and then I refused to wear the stewardess cap!  And then she 'forgot' to lower my coat sleeves. #doesn'thappenonBroadway

Arvide Abernathy; Leader of the Save A Soul Mission chorus

Adding harmony to Sit Down You're Rocking The Boat.

Sky Masterson trying to BS Arivde

Maybe a little too much rouge on the schnoz??  I was going for the "Drunk Irish" look

Singing, Follow The Fold

Crap Shooters Dance

Sarah and Arvide: Blue sailor suit and brown shoes?  It's OK, I'm from Milwaukee!

Singing, More I Cannot Wish You.  Funny story; When the sound guy forgot to turn off Lindsey's mic, my voice had reverb like Darth Vader

Adelaide and the Hot Box chorus girls, Take Back Your Mink

Adelaide belts out her lament... a bad, bad, cold!

Giving Sky Masterson and the Mugs my advice.  You can see them checking their coat sleeves! (my shirt, brought from the casa, is 36". Costume coat sleeve is 32". baahahahaha!)

Thank you and drive safely!

I felt bad for Nancy. She took bows with me. She was an innocent victim. She knew the audience applause was muted as a final criticism for my short sleeves and wearing brown shoes. You can see me hunching over, trying to make it less obvious.  

Bill Crowley Teacher Appreciation

Originally published May 15, 2015

Dear Reader: Please read the footnotes as they occur in the text. TY

Dear Mr. Crowley,                                                                                                                                                                                         

You know that Sinatra song, “My Way”?  The part where he sings, "Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention”.  Well, that’s not true for me.

On the occasion of Teacher Appreciation Day, I hope you’ll indulge me as I share with you a few regrets from my years as a student at Dominican High School.

§ I regret that I wasn’t there to help you when school hoodlums chained all the second floor hallway doors together.  On that particular day I was in Mrs. Ash’s Physical Science class at the DHS field next to Bay Shore. We launched our class-project rocket. It crash landed on the Kohl’s roof.  Oops! Class dismissed!! 

§ I regret falling in with the wrong crowd in my World Problems class in senior year. As a result, I became the first student in the history of DHS to be petitioned OUT of a class, (a ruling I always suspected you presided over). The only upside to being reassigned to the Typing Class is that I can type this today with just a minimum of Wite-Out and eroes errors. (SEE  [1]  below)

§ I regret I didn’t attend the gala Sports Banquet my senior year. Of course, there really wasn’t much to celebrate. We lost every single football game. I think Bob Trussell won something for high jumping. Kerry DeChant won an award just for surviving the year. And Sphanie won everything else. I would’ve cheered their accomplishments, if I had attended, but I had other commitments. [2]

§ I regret that after four years and pretty good attendance, the only college letter of recommendation I received from Dominican and the faculty, came from Mr. Synold.[3]

What the hell are you doing Ms. Lechmaier?? I said PITH the frog, not KISS the frog!

But most of all, I regret I wasn’t in your class the day you created Kinetic Boy.  That’s right.  It was in your class -- and I wasn’t there to see it! I should’ve been, but again,  I had commitments. [4]

Kinetic Boy.  That’s all you heard around school. Mike Fetherston told me he was in the Girls Locker Room when he first heard about Kinetic Boy. He couldn't say for sure who said it as he was hiding under a pile of towels in a laundry cart.

Rumor had it, Bill, you hurt your leg earlier that day and couldn’t demonstrate the Theories of Energy as you usually did.[5]  So that day in class, you asked for a volunteer to help. Bob Hoeller jumped out of his seat and raced to the front of the room. With your blessing, he climbed up on top of the lab table and stood motionless. Classmates remember you saying, "There it is people!  That's Potential Energy!"  You thanked Bob for helping and asked the class to open their books to, “Mitosis: A House Divided.”

[1] Mary Andrews was also tossed out of class. It haunts her to this day.

[2] I needed to make it up to Mary for getting her kicked out of World Problems, so I asked her to be my date at a small dinner party hosted by Tom O’Leary at Miss Prange’s apartment. I brought a bottle of Mateus Rosé.

[3] I  also regret that after receiving that letter, I repeatedly snuck into the PA room and for several days used it to repeatedly announce, “Mr. Synold, please call 1-0”

[4] As punishment for my Fr. Richards Kumbaya Incident on the PA system, (“Sing with me…Someone’s limpin’ Lord, kumbaya”), I was banished to the 3^rd floor, to spend the rest of the semester in the DHS Scholastic Gulag known as “Business Law” taught by Jeff Messerknecht -- who already hated me for losing the last football game of the year, (a transfer I  suspected you engineered).

[5] While enjoying your luncheon sandwich in the Faculty Dining Room, you looked out the window and saw Bob Steggert sneaking around the side of the convent, trying to crawl in through an open window. You dashed out and chased him away, pulling your hamstring in the process.

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PAGE TWO

But Bob didn’t get off the table and go back to his seat as you asked, did he?  No he didn’t. To make matters worse there was an aquarium on the table holding a harmless, innocent frog.[1]  (see below) Bob spied the frog and...oh-oh.  Classmates speak of an of eerie, unnatural look that came over him.[2] (see below)

Bob grabbed the frog and began signing Surfin’ Bird:

“A-well-a, everybody's heard about the bird. 
Bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word,
A-well-a, bird, bird, bird, the bird is the word,
A-well-a, bird, bird, bird, well, the bird is the word!”  

Then he started tap dancing right there on the lab table while waving the frog around and singing to it! Others picked up the tune, further encouraging Hoeller, all to the accompaniment of howls and cat-calls from the class!

One look in his eyes and you could tell that inside the containment vessel of his head, billions of neurons were smashing around.  No one could control that chain reaction! [3]  This was your China Syndrome, Bill.  An event like this could melt through to the floors below, wiping out Dora, Antoine, and even Gerard in that basement bunker of hers.  But sometimes the good guys get lucky and today was your day.  In the middle of his frog-crazed song and dance, Bob slipped and fell off the table, (look out!!), landing onto the students in the front row...crash!!  Plaid kiltie skirts went flying as bodies tumbled together onto the floor.

So, what makes a great teacher?  Someone who recognizes a Teachable Moment when he sees one. Ignoring the pain in your hamstring, you jumped up on the lab table, pointed down at the tangled mess of arms and legs on the floor and announced in a loud voice, “OK people…that was Kinetic Energy!”

Suddenly from the pile of bodies there was a SCREAM, followed by a loud SLAP!! and then a girl screeching at the top of her lungs, “Get your damn hands off me, Kinetic Boy!” [4]

Yes; I really, truly regret not being in your class that day! [5]  You were, (and still are!), a great teacher Bill.  And I regret not having you for more classes. 

Murph

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[1] This would be the greatest day of your frog’s life!  Interestingly, according to your lesson plan, it was also the second to last day of his life.

[2] Classmates: Cathy Lechmaier, Pat Hardin, Debby Catalano, Mike Caravella, Mike Tank, Charlie Schumacher, Roberta Hanus, Jim Blumberg, Pattie Striepling, Suzi Stipich, Linda Melacher, Mary Ann DiMaggio, Phil Ott, Frank Biancuzo, Katie Fischer, Patty Larkin and Jim Sweeny.

[3] You prevailed at the trial: Crowley & The Sinsinawans vs. Hoeller. The court agreed with your argument that, “no one man can stop a demonic possession.”  They did however, admonish you for, “Enjoying such a hearty laugh at Mr. Hoeller’s expense.”

[4] In February 1970, I took a Greyhound Bus to Boulder, Colorado for a long ski weekend with Cathy Lechmaier. I arrived at the Kappa House and found her balled up on a couch in the den. After lighting a fire and getting cozy over glasses of Mateus Rosé, she told me it was Debby Catalano who coined the phrase, Kinetic Boy; 

“After Bob fell off the table, we were all tangled up, laughing together on the floor. The frog slipped out of his hand and it hopped up Debby’s skirt (SCREAM!). I saw Bob grab for it. What he got was, well…let’s just say that what he got, wasn’t the frog (SLAP!!). And then Deb started screaming at him. Is there another bottle of Mateus??” 

[5] Years later, relaxing on the veranda at Ozaukee CC, sipping an Old Fashioned and recalling his fall onto that front row of Debby, Katie, Suzi, Mary Ann and Cathy, Mr. Hoeller was heard to say, “All the doubts I had about my sexual orientation were resolved that day thanks to Bill Crowley and his frog.”