by Todd Daley
“That most normal people prefer M&M’s to peanuts … except for weirdos like Riner and Ronnie,” Barry said as he munched on the popular candy pieces.
“I have diabetes, so I can’t eat sugar,” Riner replied defensively. He was a mild-mannered brainy kid, except when his medical condition was involved.
“And I happen to prefer peanuts to those sugary M&M’s. Is that a crime?” Ronnie asked petulantly.
“Only your face is a crime,” Barry snapped.
“Look who’s talking, Mister Skin and Bones,” the naive youngster retorted.
Barry got out of his seat and headed for Ronnie, when Lora put herself between the two angry teenagers, who were ready to escalate their quarrel into a physical confrontation.
“Come on, guys, get ahold of yourselves. We’ve been together since junior high. Love is stronger than hate,” Lora said, giving Ronnie one of her copper bracelets.
“So what do I get?” Barry asked with a smirk.
“I’ll give you a kiss,” she replied, handing the vociferous black teenager a Hershey Kiss. He accepted the token grudgingly, expecting a different kind of kiss from the cute miniskirted youngster.
“Thank you, Lora. Now let us proceed with Mrs. Murray’s lesson on the law of supply and demand.”
Pausing a few seconds to scrutinize the latter’s lesson, Tom asserted that three distinct laws were involved: “The law of supply, the law of demand, and the law of supply and demand—each with their own graphs.”
Turning to the blackboard, Tom explained the three graphs he had carefully drawn on the board.
“Notice the supply graph is a positively sloping line, whereas the demand graph is a negatively sloping line. Why is that?”
Riner raised his hand. “Because as the price of a product, like bread, goes up, there will be more bakers making the bread. And as the price of bread goes up, there will be fewer customers buying the bread.”
“Excellent, Riner. In other words, there is a direct relationship between price and supply, which is the law of supply. But there is an inverse relationship between price and demand, which is the law of demand,” Tom lectured.
Then turning to the third graph showing the positively sloping supply line intersecting the negatively sloping demand line, the skinny science teacher said it represented the law of supply and demand. “Here we have producers and consumers operating together—bakers of bread and buyers of bread.”
“I know what’s going on. Can I go to the board and explain it?” Barry exclaimed excitedly.
Tom nodded, and the lanky black teenager ambled to the board. Barry pointed to the left side of the graph. “Demand is greater than supply, which pushes the price of bread up.” Then pointing to the right side of the graph, he continued, “Supply is greater than demand, which pushes the price of bread down.”
“Excellent, Barry. That’s absolutely right! So market forces operate to set the price of bread where the supply and demand for bread are equal—no surpluses and no shortages.”
“So long as there’s a free market with plenty of producers and lots of consumers,” Riner interjected.
“Well, that’s true. It has to be an ideal free market, with no single company holding a monopoly over any given product,” Tom stated, reading from Mrs. Murray’s notes.
“That doesn’t hold for car companies, ’cause there’s only three of them: General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler,” Manny called out from the back of the classroom.
“What about Japanese cars?” Wendy asked.
“I hate those tinny little Jap cars. If you get into an accident with one of them, you’re dead,” Barry exclaimed.
“My dad says buy American and keep factory jobs here,” Lora said, shaking her copper bracelets and anklets.
“How about those weird bracelets you wear? Are they made in America?” Manny called out from the back of the room.
“They’re not weird. My mother makes them herself, for your information,” Lora replied, piqued by the slouching teenager who liked to stir the pot.
“So what did the peanuts and the M&M’s have to do with the law of supply and demand?” Barry asked.
“There were fewer M&M’s left than peanuts because of the greater demand. If I were selling M&M’s in the cafeteria, I’d set them at a higher price than the peanuts,” Tom replied.
“All processed foods cost more than natural foods, and they’re bad for your health,” Riner observed.
“How come folks who eat fruits and veggies look wasted, while guys like me who eat junk food are high-energy phenoms?” Barry asked half-seriously.
“Are you wearing any copper?” Lora asked.
“My underwear is lined with copper. Do you want me to show you, missy?”
“That’s the last time I’ll give you one of my kisses,” the cute sophomore replied.
Fortunately, the bell sounded, ending the class and dispersing the students to the four winds. As Tom gathered up his notes and the big plate filled only with peanuts, Lora approached him.
“Why are boys such assholes?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Tom realized that Martha would say the same thing about himself. Taking a philosophic approach, he said, “They’ll catch up, and things will get better.”
“I wish I could believe you,” she replied, walking slowly out of the room, with hardly a tinkle from her copper bracelets and anklets.
CHAPTER 52
Shoveling Snow
On a snowy Saturday morning in January, Tom lingered over his second cup of coffee as his mom leafed through the Staten Island Advocate. As the snow accumulated in the backyard and alley of the white stucco house, Tom became more sullen. He despised winter—its long nights, bitter temperatures, biting winds, as well as heavy, drifting snows that made driving a perilous undertaking. His thoughts turned to his ex-girlfriend Martha and her predilection for cuddling during such frightful weather. However, she was a strong-willed woman—much like his mother—refusing to accept the skinny teacher’s procrastination with regard to marriage.
He mused about Rosie Murray, whose arithmetic and economic classes he had covered before the Christmas break. What an ass on that woman! In aboriginal cultures, women so endowed were shared among the elders of the tribe. Now, that’s true socialism—sharing material assets and female asses for the common good.
“I see your friend Amon has done something heroic again. It says here he saved a little boy from drowning when he fell off a tugboat in the Kill Van Kull.”
“He pulled me out of the water when I fell off a wharf last year,” Tom replied.
“That’s no surprise. You’re not only a klutz—you’re a klutz who can’t swim.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re always so cheery and encouraging on Saturdays.”
“It goes on to say that he’s been given notice by the city to vacate the waterfront area because of an impending construction project. However, he’s earned a lot of goodwill because of his work with the homeless. This is funny. Do you know what they call him?”
“Tom Haley’s best friend?”
“No. He’s referred to as the Mariners Harbor Messiah,” his mom read loudly.
“Which makes me an apostle—a heavenly being. Since I’m his best friend.”
“And if you don’t start shoveling that snow, you’ll be heading for the hereafter sooner than you expect,” she snapped.
Huffing and puffing, Tom shoveled the snow from his front steps and sidewalk. Not content with clearing his own sidewalk, he cleared a part of his neighbor’s on each side, plus the area around his car. He was soon joined by other Pulaski Avenue inhabitants—Mr. Eggert across the street, Granny Schmidt next door, and Joey Caprino two houses away. Joey waved at him and threw a fast snow ball at him, which Tom smartly blocked with his shovel.
“If that bastard hits me with a snowball, I’m gonna smack him
with my shovel,” Granny Schmidt yelled as she shoveled her sidewalk.
“I’ll do your sidewalk. Go inside before you have a heart attack,” Tom replied, crossing over to his neighbor’s side and clearing the snow from her pavement.
“Thanks, wise guy. How about five bucks for a bottle of whiskey,” the bad-natured hag demanded.
“What? I’m paying you for the privilege of shoveling your sidewalk.”
“You owe me. You and that loudmouth Harry the Horse … always barking up at me from the street,” Granny complained.
Handing her the money, Tom watched Granny Schmidt shuffle away toward the liquor store on Morningstar Road, cursing and mumbling to herself in her own unique way.
“Ah, Granny. Parting is such sweet sorrow,” Tom uttered as he pushed the snow toward the curb.
Granny had a habit of watching the doings of the neighborhood from her second-floor window. Years ago, Harry the Horse liked to heckle the old woman while playing stickball on the street with the kids. Elm Park probably had more alcoholics per square mile than any other neighborhood on the Island’s North Shore. Indeed, drinking appeared to be the most popular pastime of the residents of Pulaski Avenue.
Oddly, once he got into it, the skinny teacher actually enjoyed the snow shoveling. He had recently begun an exercise routine that he had undertaken in high school. It involved calisthenics such as push-ups, sit-ups, and knee bends from a Joe Weider bodybuilding course. He spent extra time on sit-ups, trying to whittle down a growing beer belly (from too many hours of elbow bending at Kaffman’s and K. C.’s on Morningstar Road). Teaching itself required a degree of physical fitness, because it entailed standing, writing on the board, and walking around the classroom to check on the students’ work. Tom vividly remembered how exhausted he was after his first week of teaching at the St. George school.
Later on in the afternoon, Tom paid a visit to Amon, who was shoveling snow in front of this Victorian rooming house on Simonson Avenue. The skinny teacher grabbed a shovel and joined Amon in removing the snow, which became heavy and wet with the rising afternoon temperatures. He was helped in this endeavor by a few elderly men—reformed alcoholics who lived at the Simonson Avenue house. Tom asked his friend about the rescue incident reported in the local newspaper.
“That was Evette’s boy, Willie. He had stopped breathing momentarily, but I revived him. We moved mom and son to the house here. My boat is not fit for children,” Amon replied.
At that point, a shiny blue Chrysler with a New York City logo emblazoned on its doors pulled up next to the refurbished Victorian house. A burly curly-haired man emerged from the house, smiling at the two young men. He introduced himself as Sid Davidoff, Mayor Lindsay’s community point man.
“Hello, gentlemen. I’m Sid Davidoff from the mayor’s office. Is it okay if I take a look at your boardinghouse and the boats on the waterfront?”
“Sure. Come with me. This is Tom Haley, friend and helper. And Curtis High School science teacher and founder of the school’s food basket program,” Amon replied, nodding toward his friend.
Mr. Davidoff shook hands with both young men and followed them on a tour of the Simonson Avenue house. Satisfied with his inspection, the mayor’s troubleshooter trudged in the snow with them to take a look at Amon’s tugboat on the Kill Van Kull. He appeared to like the freshly painted boat, but the rotting wharfs, broken docks, corroded ships, rusted hulks, and ramshackle warehouses gave the John Lindsay aide pause.
Amon and Tom anxiously awaited Sid Davidoff’s verdict.
“Well, we can save your boat, but the remnants of the old Bethlehem Steel shipyard will have to go. It will be condemned and removed. Then builders will come in and put up pricy condos, new docks for yachts and boats, paving stone walkways, flowers, shrubs, and trees.”
“Sounds depressing to me,” Tom remarked, which caused Lindsay’s troubleshooter to smile.
“It’s called gentrification, which is the current rage today,” Davidoff remarked.
“When will the construction begin?” Amon inquired sadly.
“There will be competitive bidding, etc. The city moves like a snail on big projects like these. Nothing will happen until the summer,” Davidoff replied.
“That’s fortunate. Thank God for bureaucracies—they’re as slow as molasses,” the charismatic Mariners Harbor resident declared bitterly.
“If it was up to me, I’d leave the Harbor as it is. The place has character. The old docks and rusty ships are picturesque,” Davidoff said as he surveyed the Kill Van Kull waterfront.
“So the city will allow my boat to remain here in the harbor?”
“I have the mayor’s ear, and I’ll do my best. Mayor Lindsay is aware of the good work you’ve done in Mariners Harbor and your reputation as a miracle worker,” Davidoff replied, shaking hands with both of them and heading back to his shiny blue Chrysler.
“What do you think? Can we trust this guy, or will the giant cranes and wrecking balls descend on us tomorrow?”
“Sid Davidoff is a good guy. When the students sat in at Columbia University to protest the war, Davidoff negotiated with them and lowered the flag, honoring the four students killed at Kent State,” Tom related.
“How about his boss, Mr. Fun City himself?”
“John Lindsay is a decent man. He cares about working people. And he gave teachers the best contract we’ve ever had, along with transit workers, sanitation workers, cops, and firemen.”
“Then why does everybody put him down?” Amon asked.
“They see Lindsay as an aristocrat because he comes from the silk stocking district in upper Manhattan. The blue-collar workers despise him because of his empathy for black people and his opposition to the war,” Tom related.
“He seems to be a maverick. We ought to extol such idealists. Instead, we want to tear them down and stone them,” Amon replied somberly.
“And take away their homes,” Tom said, pointing to Amon’s brightly painted tugboat, bobbing up and down in the polluted Kill Van Kull.
The Bee Gees
The Bee Gees were a pop group who wrote and recorded many hit songs in the 1960s and 1970s. Like Brian Wilson’s Beach Boys, the group was composed of three brothers: Barry, Robin, and Maurice Gibb. Born on the Isle of Man, the Gibb brothers moved to Manchester, England, with their parents in the 1950s. Later on, the Gibb family moved to Australia, where they began performing to earn pocket money. In 1960, the Gibb brothers were hired to entertain the crowds at Redcliffe Speedway in Queensland, Australia. Initially, they performed under the name BG’s, which was later changed to Bee Gees.
In the early 1960s, the Bee Gees were appearing on Australia’s TV shows, singing such songs as “Time Is Passing By” and “Wine and Women.” In 1962, the Bee Gees appeared with Chubby Checker in a concert at Sydney Stadium. By 1966, their record company, Festival Records, was on the verge of dropping them, because they failed to catch on in the pop music field. However, an engineer/producer, Ossie Byrne, was intrigued by the Gibb brothers and allowed them to record in his St. Clair studio in the latter part of 1966. During this period, the Bee Gees recorded their own songs—including their first big hit, “Spicks and Specks”—plus their own versions of songs by other rock groups like the Beatles.
In 1967, the Bee Gees moved to England, where they caught the attention of Brian Epstein and Robert Stigwood. The latter obtained a recording contract for the group, under which their records would be produced and promoted in England and the United States. The Bee Gees recorded “To Love Somebody,” which reached the US Top Twenty level. In the same year, the Bee Gees made their first appearance on British television. The Gibb brothers had attained a popularity that put them on the same level as the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and the Dave Clark Five. In 1968, the Bee Gees made a promotional tour to the United States and sang their number-one UK single, “Massachusetts.” Later that year
, the Bee Gees toured Germany and the Scandinavian countries, performing with Procol Harum, who sang “A Whiter Shade of Pale.” Robin Gibb remarked that the “Germans were wilder than the fans in England at the height of Beatlemania.” In Zurich, the mad rush of fans literally crushed the Bee Gees’ car, smashing the windows and forcing the Gibb brothers to huddle on the floor.
Toward the end of 1968, the Bee Gees recorded some more big hits, including “I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You” and “I Started a Joke.” But the strains of extensive touring took its toll on Robin Gibb, who collapsed from nervous exhaustion. There were some more hit singles in the early 1970s, but a period of decline ensued with the Bee Gees. The single “Don’t Forget to Remember” was a big hit in the United Kingdom but a flop in the United States. Later on in 1971, the Bee Gees recorded two massive hits: “Lonely Days” and “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart.”
In the middle 1970s, the Bee Gees seemed to be in a rut—relegated to playing in small clubs. There was a change in musical tastes in the United States. Rock and roll had been replaced by dance-oriented disco. Spurred by this sea change, the group recorded two disco hits: “Jive Talkin’” and “Nights on Broadway.” In these records, Barry Gibb sang an R & B falsetto that would become a trademark of the group. The Bee Gees’ new R & B disco sound catapulted them to a level of stardom not previously achieved in the United States. A big break occurred when the Bee Gees agreed to participate in the creation of the soundtrack for the 1970s hit movie Saturday Night Fever.
John Travolta asserted that the Bee Gees weren’t even involved in the early stages of this movie. Incredibly, the Gibb brothers wrote the songs for Saturday Night Fever in a single weekend, and the movie’s producer flipped out. Barry Gibb said that they worked with a rough script of the movie, with no exact concept of its storyline. Saturday Night Fever kicked off the disco music trend and reinvigorated the Bee Gees as pop music superstars.