by Jim Hallaux
“You got that right.”
“We need to unite the masses to become a flame that will burn down the establishment!” Pete stated in a rising voice. “The establishment is killing off the men and women on our campuses. Sending the men to Nam to be slaughtered for the sake of the spread of American colonial power!” Peter dropped his voice for effect. “Guys, Mr. X is the kindling that will light the flame of the oppressed. I submit to you we blow up the John Jacob Astor Hotel.”
Peter stopped for effect. To let it sink in. He pointed to an American flag hanging sideways on the wall with a peace sign spray-painted over it.
“Mr. X can help us do that.”
Peter scanned the room seeing a bobbing of heads.
“It’s a plan then,” he declared.
He glanced at his new friend who stood up. A tall man, he had a strong presence, and tired, weather-worn skin. His mutton-chops blended into a thick, black Fu Manchu. His hair was long and wavy but tied back in a ponytail low on his neck. Something about him did not ring true to Bill.
“As Peter alluded, though I have a degree in engineering, I specialize in explosives technology,” Mr. X lied. “Peter and I have been down to the underground of Astoria and scoped out the tunnels the town is built upon. The plan we came up with is to implode the John Jacob Astor Hotel. To raze it to the basement below. There will be little above street level but a pile of bricks.”
“Wow,” Joe let out.
“You can do that?” Bill mumbled his question.
“We can,” Mr. X said, “And we will.” His confidence was contagious.
“What’s in it for you?” Bill questioned.
“I feel your pain, my man. I’m on your side. My reward will be our success.”
Everyone was excited to work out the details. Everyone except Bill. He didn’t trust anyone that refused a hit on a doobie.
24
November 27
Joe holed up in the squatter home basement. He had dropped by to see his mom earlier, something he did not do often. Mrs. Lagerstrom didn’t understand what he and his generation were going through and the less time he was home, the better. Today, He went home, and his mom started in immediately. ‘Where are you staying? You’re not doing that LST stuff, are you? You’re twenty-three. What are you going to do with your life?’ Joe ignored her and headed straight to his room. The windows were painted black with a peace symbol on each. He picked up some things he needed.
“What?” he asked as he slid by her again. “I’ll be at Pete’s,” he stated for no good reason. His mom dropped her arms to her side and, in frustration, watched him leave the house.
Joe returned to The Basement, turned on his black light, and grabbed Iron Butterfly’s first album, one of his favorites. He set the second side up on his turntable and carefully rested the needle onto the record surface. He threw himself down on his bed and closed his eyes as “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” began its seventeen-minute musical journey of psychedelic and heavy metal mix. Joe’s bedside tables were base speakers which rattled the basement. Joe claimed he “discovered” the group which was true if only among his friends.
He knew everything about the band and this song. Ron Ingle, Butterfly’s organist, and vocalist wrote the song while drinking a gallon of Red Mountain wine. Bushy, the group’s drummer, wrote down the lyrics for the inebriated Ingle as he played it for him. Bushy misinterpreted Ingle’s slurred words and what was meant to be In the Garden of Eden became the garbled name that stuck.
Joe’s mind floated away into a mist of boredom as Bushy’s drum solo reverberated in his chest.
Tom walked across the spotty grass of the Victorian’s backyard and up to the basement door. He threw his shoulder into it without announcement and entered.
He hadn’t been to the guy’s squat in a while. The mess was frightening. At the Job Corps, if your bed wasn’t made and your room ‘ship shape,’ you got a talking to. If it happened again, you got a demerit. Here it looked like two decades of crap were mixed in a giant blender and thrown in the basement. Where to sit? Where to stand? Where was the floor? Tom wasn’t sure.
Peter and Joe sat on what once was a couch and Bill was lying on his disgusting mattress. Tom, depressed, sat on the cooler “chair” and said nothing.
Joe looked at Pete. What’s up with Tom?
“Hey, Tom,” Peter said, “We’ve got good news.”
Tom looked at him but said nothing.
“I could use some good news,” he finally said.
Bill scratched his curly beard. “What’s wrong, guy? Never seen you this down.”
After a long pause, Tom said, “Ah, nothing, I guess.”
“Only a girl causes this much shit.”
Tom looked his way, said nothing. His face said everything.
“Ahah! Dr. Bill scores again. Diagnosis: correct.” Bill took a drag and passed it to Joe.
“Whatever,” Joe stated, “it’s nothing some time with the guys can’t cure.”
Tom half-smiled, but his heart still hurt.
“Enough about me, guys,” Tom stated, “Haven’t seen you for a while. What’s happening?”
Bill and Joe turned their heads to Peter.
“We are about to embark on a great adventure that will change the military-industrial complex in America forever. It’ll blow your mind.” Peter held up his hands as if a director describing the next scene in a movie. “You’re in, of course.”
Tom went along for the moment not knowing what he was getting into. His old friends smoked too much and when they did, their creativity overtook them. You never knew what they would come up with. His life had moved on while theirs had not. Tom looked around at his friends. Bill’s tie-dye shirt and bellbottom pants with an embroidered flower said it all.
“So, here’s the plan. We create the ‘People’s Army.’ Nice ring to it, huh? Oh, thanks—” Peter took a drag on the doobie being passed around. “We’ll start with something explosive to get The Man’s attention. The common man will be with us. They understand the shit that goes on in this country. The Army will grow. We’ll be a movement! We’ll change the country. Fifty years from now, historians will call us the ‘founding fathers’ of the New America.”
There was a silence in the room. Then, all broke into laughter, except Tom. He shook his head. Peter offered the joint to him, but Tom stood up instead.
“I don’t have time for this,” he stated as he headed for the door.
“Ah, come on, man. Don’t be a downer,” Pete called out to him.
Tom never looked back, the door slamming shut behind him.
The black GTO, looking like a panther ready to strike, roared to a stop in front of The Basement. Mr. X saw a man walking out. Someone not part of the People’s Army.
Mr. X entered The Basement and called out to Peter,
“Hey, guy. Who was that?” Mr. X was concerned. He wanted control, and any friend that might threaten the plan was a potential problem.
“A friend. Tom. Why?”
“I need to know who I’m dealing with.”
“Don’t worry about him. Friends for a long time.”
“Does he know about our plans?”
“Yeah. Just told him. Thought he would be excited.”
“But he wasn’t, huh?”
“Nah. All wrapped up in his new life. Got a new girlfriend who’s yanking his chain.”
“Been there. I’ll be right back.”
Tom felt the GTO before it pulled up beside him. The glass pack mufflers made a threatening rumble that filled the air.
“Hey,” Mr. X called out, “Wait up.”
Tom turned.
“Are you Tom?” snarled the driver. All Tom could see was an evil Fu Manchu.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m helping your clueless friends back in the basement. They’re working hard on this People’s Army thing.”
“They need less weed and more brains.”
“Not arguing with you, Tom. But they a
re still your friends, right?”
“Right. But that doesn’t mean I want to go to San Quentin with them. Doesn’t mean I want to blow up innocent people either. What are you guys thinking? And why are you helping them? What’s in it for you?”
“Their idea, Tom. I’m just helping them.”
Mr. X worried about this new guy, Tom. He had come too far to let some rogue spoil his plans.
“You guys,” Tom said, “can plan this thing all you want, but I am trying to get my life straight. Job Corps has helped a lot. I’ve got a job at the jewelry store. I’ve met someone. Things are getting serious… I think. And I’m not about to mess it all up for a pot-induced plan of self-destruction.”
“I get it. Let’s take a deep breath for a minute. Tell me about your new job at the jewelry store. I may need some stones.”
25
November 29
Class was out, and Tom walked back to his room, Merri a half a block in front. This was just one of the new protocols, Merri left class first, no communication between them except in class when absolutely necessary. It was a new cold war and had been going on for a week. Tom hated it.
What the hell did I do? Can’t think of a damn thing. He worked it over again and again. How can we get back to where we were?
After a week, he still had no idea.
Tom started hanging out with his old friends, Bill, Joe, and Peter. But that didn’t work. To Tom, it was like going back to 3rd-grade recess. Their People’s Army nonsense went from being just stupid to dangerously stupid. Blowing up the Hotel had jail time written all over it. Big time, jail time.
Tom felt low about his relationship with Merri and talked to Larry about it.
“Have patience Tom, she’ll come around. It’s only been a week.”
Easy for him to say.
Merri’s mood ranged from angry to melancholy on an hourly swing. Sammi tried to be helpful but had her own boy issues. How to juggle 3 at a time. two townies and a very cute JC kid.
In the week since the ‘Blow Up,’ Merri spent time with Penny. More than she had in the last couple of months.
“So, who is this Sally? I see her around and she smiles like I should be glad she’s stealing Tom.”
“Just a high school classmate. Not even an old girlfriend,” Peggy replied. They had been over this, more than once.
Peggy comforted Merri and enjoyed the time they spent together. But she knew when Tom and Merri got back together, she would be on her own… again.
She wished she could get rid of that thought, but there it was.
“Listen Merri, you’re making too much of this. Try talking to Tom. The cold shoulder only goes so far. We both know you’re not breaking up over this.”
“I don’t know that.” Merri sounded angry.
“Yes, you do. You two aren’t breaking up. One more week of you pissed one minute and poor miserable Merri the next and I’ll go nuts. Talk to him.”
Sally wasn’t done with Tom. Not even close. With Merri and Tom on the outs, her time was now.
Plenty of guys pursued Sally, but the guy she couldn’t stop thinking about was the one that wasn’t interested in her.
Maybe I like being the one doing the chasing?
She didn’t dwell on her motives. She just knew she was far from being done.
December 1
As things went into week 2, Larry called Merri and Tom into his office.
“The Clatsop County Historical Society has asked the Job Corps to help restore the Flavel House foyer. A two-member team each from painting, masonry, and carpentry. You two have been chosen from carpentry. Your instructor will fill you in during class. Congratulations.”
And to think I accuse my wife of being a matchmaker! Larry chuckled to himself.
The Flavel House job lasted four days. On the first day, they called an unspoken chilly truce. By the second day, both Tom and Merri realized that being snotty and snide took too much work. Easier to be friendly. Job Corps masonry and painting students did most of the work. That left time for Tom and Merri to talk and explore the historic Victorian mansion.
By the fourth day, Tom and Merri were back together. Tom’s parents, doing a bit of matchmaking on their own, invited the kids to a pizza dinner at Shakey’s.
And that seemed to seal it. Tom and Merri an item, again.
Salvatore Ferragamo was a good roommate for Tom. An Italian-American from an old-school family, Sal was in the Culinary Arts program at the Job Corps. One time, Tom took him to Harley’s Cafe for a taste of ‘Astoria Italian.’
“Tom, if anyone tried serving this food in my ‘hood in Pittsburgh, they’d shoot them.”
Sal had counseled Tom through the whole Tom/Merri blow up. He did it in an Italian way.
“Sure, you scream, and she yells and then you make up and it’s over. It’s all about Makeup Sex. Don’t ever forget that Tom.”
Sal got leave to attend his sister’s wedding back in Pittsburgh. And Tom looked forward to some ‘Sal free’ time. There were some not so good things about Sal as a roommate. Loud, opinionated, and messy, Sal loved clothes, and had more than any guy Tom knew. And more shampoo, cleanser, and moisturizer than any girl. All of it strewn around the room.
With Sal gone, Tom could straighten the place up. The ‘new’ Tom was a bit of a clean freak.
Sally also knew Salvatore. She teased him about the similarity of their names. Sal knew her intention was to get to Tom, not him. But he didn’t mind. Tall, dark, and handsome, Sal wasn’t lacking in female attention. If he happened to be Sally’s second choice, that was OK with him.
Sal knew something Sally did not. She didn’t have a chance with Tom.
They bumped into one another after lunch one day and he told her about his trip back home.
“See you when you get back, Sal.”
She imagined Tom without a roommate for five days.
Since their fight, Merri made a few changes in her behavior. She allowed Tom more time without her. They didn’t have to be together every moment. She wanted to give him some space, even though he hadn’t asked for it.
“A bunch of us are talking about going to the Paul Revere & the Raiders gig at the Armory.”
“When?” Merri asked. She wasn’t a Paul Revere fan.
“Saturday night. Won’t be able to stay for the whole show, cause of curfew. But we can catch the bus back at 10 and see most of it. Should be fun. Want to go?”
“Why don’t you go with the group. I should spend a little time with Penny.”
“You sure?” Tom was surprised but didn’t want to push it.
“You go. Have a good time.”
December 6
Saturday came, and Tom and Merri had lunch together at the cafeteria. Then Tom left for basketball with the guys. Merri and Penny planned dinner and a movie at the JC.
The Paul Revere concert was loud, fun, and packed. The crowd jammed the front of the stage. In the mezzanine that circled the floor, some people were making out and others drinking the booze they snuck in.
Tom knew a bunch of people from his high school days. He also saw Bill and Pete, along with the weird guy with the Fu Manchu. That guy gave Tom the creeps.
Tom made it back to the JC in plenty of time to beat curfew. He was sorry Merri hadn’t gone, but all in all, a fun evening.
When Tom went into his dorm room, Sally was waiting around the corner of the building. Listening outside, she heard the shower start. She tried the door. It was unlocked. For some reason, guys at JC didn’t lock their doors. Which was OK with Sally.
When she got in the room, Sally started taking off her clothes and slid into one of the beds. The perfect picture for when Tom came out of the shower.
Merri thought of Tom all through dinner and the movie. She had never wanted to go to Tom’s room in the past. With Sal in Pittsburgh, now seemed to be the right time for a surprise for Tom and a pleasant evening for both.
Slipping through the dark campus, I’m glad it’s not rain
ing, Merri got to Tom’s door. She started to knock, tried the knob, it was unlocked. She went for the surprise and opened the door.
Tom came out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wandered into the main room, idly drying his hair. Sally lay naked in his bed. Merri came through the door.
And that was it. Merri was done. No amount of explanation from Tom would cover this.
Tom wanted to kill Sally and talk to Merri. But she was gone, and he knew she wasn’t coming back. Sally got out of bed and started to get dressed. Tom had dropped the towel when Merri ran. The commotion caused a couple guys from the neighboring rooms to look through Tom’s open door.
And then it was all over campus.
Larry was the counselor for all three students involved. His boss had a few things to discuss with Larry.
“Larry, you might not know this, but the federal government did not set up the Job Corps as a pornographic dating service for horny young people.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sally received a 30-day penalty for curfew violation, another 30 days for being in an opposite-sex dorm room and another for ‘conduct unbecoming.’ She was grounded on the JC campus for 3 months.
Merri’s penalty, 30 days for curfew.
Tom, who didn’t have anything to do with any of this, got a 15-day penalty for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Every time he heard a Paul Revere song on the radio, Tom turned it off.
PART SIX
Reality Check
26
December 1
Merri stepped into the bus at the guard’s gate of Job Corps. The 5:10 bus arrived on time for once. The Job Corps allowed its students personal time on the weekend. There were rules. The JC needed to keep control, but if you proved yourself, if you returned on time, did not drink or do drugs, you showed the JC strong character. In her present state of mind, Merri cared little about all that.