23 – The Year of the Cat – Al Stewart – 1976

           The Year of the Cat - Al Stewart

           I love this song! Say what you will about his sibilant s’s, this is a great song by Al Stewart. This song got me into the rest of his work and I discovered he had a great historical sensibility. Who else has written songs about: the Night of the Long Knives (‘Last Day of June 1934”), about Hitler’s purge of Ernst Roem and the SA brownshirts; “Warren Harding”; Germany’s retreat from Russia (“Road to Moscow “); or a 10 minute song about “Nostradamus”?

It’s one of those songs that settles my mind and takes me to a specific day in June 1978…..

In 1977, upon graduation from Blackburn College, I had been offered a position as a grad assistant at Western Illinois University. At the end of that school year, in 1978, I was looking at coming back in the Fall for one more semester to finish my coursework, and WIU had extended my assistantship for that one semester, something they did not normally do.

So during the Spring of 1978 I saw an ad for a Summer school in England that was in Late Medieval/Early Renaissance History. I was interested in Medieval history, but did not have the foreign language background necessary to do original research at the graduate level. This was a six-week course in Medieval History at the University of Kent at Canterbury. My grandma fronted me the money for the course, about $500, and I paid for the flight to London, another $500.

I got on the TWA flight about 7:30 PM at O’Hare, sat down and belted up. I was a little scared, I’ll admit. I had never flown before. My family took few vacations and those we did tended to be in Wisconsin, within an 8 hour’s drive, or so. I purchased the state–of-the-art tubing called headphones, put the ends in my ears, and the first thing I heard was the 35 second piano solo that opens “Year of the Cat.” It settled me down right away and every time I hear it, it reminds me of that flight and that summer.

The flight took about 6 hours and got in to London around 2AM, Chicago time, 8AM London time. I then had to drag my two bags through customs, and the airport, to the tube (Underground) to Victoria Station to a train that took me to Canterbury. It was about 1PM or thereabouts, and I dragged the suitcases (I could find no bus, and didn’t have enough cash for a cab) about 2 miles to the campus, which was on a hill overlooking Canterbury and it’s beautiful cathedral.

I arrived at my college (there were four colleges that made up the University of Kent at Canterbury: Darwin, Keynes, Rutherford, and Eliot), which was Darwin and I was shown to my room, where I laid down for a while, my mind still racing (I had been up about 24 hours by then). I was still up several hours later when we (all the other US students) were feted at the Mayor of Canterbury’s digs.

About 2 hours into the shindig, after eating for the first time since the flight, 12 hours before, I was babbling to some Englishman about my master’s Thesis on the Civil War. It wasn’t until the next day that I remembered England had a Civil War as well and maybe I wasn’t making the sense I thought I was at the time.

What a great summer that was! The whole college was housed in one grouping of buildings, the dorm (single rooms), classrooms, dining hall, and (surprise!) a pub. You didn’t have to go into town (though we did do a couple of pub crawls in the six weeks I was there), just stroll in and get a pint. Of course, in 1978 the pubs in England closed at 10PM, but still, you couldn’t beat the convenience.

And the lectures! We had guest lecturers like Eugene Vinaver, who had done the translation of my copy of “Le Mort D’Arthur” and spoke off the top of his head brilliantly about the various versions of the legends of King Arthur (it turned out he was almost blind so notes wouldn’t have helped him much).

We had a lecture about an altar painting by Jan Van Eyck that is in a church in Ghent, Belgium. He’s considered a primitive, because he came before Michelangelo, but the detail in his paintings is incredible. As the lecturer told us, scholars have identified 30+ different kinds of flora in this painting.

The Summer School was broken into two, three-week sessions and on the weekend between the two; a group of us went to Bruges, Belgium. We took a train to Dover, then a ferry across the Channel to Ostend, Belgium, about four and a half hours away. Then we got on another train for Bruges. We got in around 2AM to our hotel and the Canadian student I was sharing a room with said, “Let’s find a bar!”  I said, “Sounds like a plan!” and off we went. We found a bar that was still open and we ordered Trappist, brewed in a Trappist monastery.

The bartender placed a glass before me that was black and cold! In England, the beer was never cold, since their ales were meant to be drunk at room temperature. In fact, in 1978, it was hard to find any drink that was served cold, even a pop.

I took a sip and it was glorious, maybe because it was 3 AM and we were a little loopy from the travel, but it was a strong, sweet taste, with a hint of chocolate or coffee, unlike any beer I have experienced since. There are a lot of micro brews in the US that claim to use the Trappist recipe, but none has come close to that brew from Bruges. The closest thing I have found in the US is an English import called Mackson Triple Stout (which I have not been able to find lately).

The next day, Saturday, we spent looking around Bruges, going into the Church of Our Lady, which has one of the few Michelangelo sculptures in Northern Europe; Old St. John’s Hospital, now an art gallery with several Hans Memling works, another “primitive”: and the Groeningemuseum, which had a couple of Van Eyck’s as well, a Hieronymous Bosch, and one particular painting I have never forgotten (though I forget the artist) of a man being flayed alive. I also remember on the backside of the Church of Our Lady was a urinal; fully exposed to the street I seem to recall.

(Holy Crap! You can find just about anything on Wikipedia. I found out who did the flaying painting, it’s Gerard David’s “Judgment of Cambyses, part 2”)

I also climbed the 270-foot belfry, which had a wonderful view of the market square below. I am afraid of heights and when I leaned out to take a photo of the square I felt as if someone was going to push me the whole time.

That night, we went to a restaurant where the menu was in French/Dutch. I had had several years of French, but I wasn’t sure what I was ordering. It was crayfish grilled in butter and it was pretty good.

On Sunday morning we got up early to catch a train to Ghent to see the Van Eyck altar piece we had had the lecture on, and we were able to go into St. Bavo’s church and go right up to it, looking for the various flora and fauna. Then they opened it up and we got to inspect the altar of the lamb up close.

Then we hopped back on the train to Bruges, then on to Ostend, then by boat back to Dover, where we stood in line for over an hour and an half at customs, then back to Canterbury by late Sunday night.

While at Darwin College, we received three separate tours of Canterbury Cathedral. The first was on the night we arrived, and was a quick walk around; the second was during the day and included a climb onto the roof and down into the crypt under the nave; and the last, and best, was at night when they turned off the lights inside the church and the floodlights were turned on outside so we could see the stained glass in all it’s glory.

After six weeks of classes I went back to London and got the train to Scotland. I had a Brit Rail pass for unlimited travel for 7 days and I was going to see Edinburgh, Dundee, and Elgin. The first night I stayed in a bed and breakfast in Edinburgh that cost 5 pounds, around $10, and I had a room to myself. For dinner I bought a pastie (a meat pie) and brought it back to my room.

The next morning at breakfast I met a man who was from Edinburgh, but had emigrated to Australia. He had returned to spread his wife’s ashes on Arthur’s Seat, a volcanic mountain that overlooks Edinburgh. We started talking and he gave me several ideas for sight seeing. I had several other sights to visit based on a letter I received in Canterbury from my Blackburn College History professor, Dr. M.G.R. Kelley, who had recommended me to Western Illinois for the Graduate Assistant program and had received his PhD. from the University of Edinburgh.

Consequently, I visited Edinburgh Castle, the Scott Monument, Holyrood House (where the British royals stayed when they visited Scotland), the unfinished National Monument (“Scotland’s disgrace”), and Arthur’s Seat.

I returned to my B&B that night and got into a conversation with Alex McWilliams, the Aussie expatriate, and I found out that he was an artist and had had a show in Australia. He had invented what he called stereoscopic painting, where he would paint thickly onto a hard, non-porous surface, then place a piece of paper on it, apply pressure, then pull it off, achieving a painting with an almost 3D depth to it.

He showed me a newspaper article from his show in Australia and it mentioned that the first of his stereo paintings was valued at $10,000. He reached into his bag and pulled it out to show me. He then signed and gave me three other stereoscopic paintings along with some of the commercial art he had done (travel brochures, sketches, etc)

We talked into the night, until the proprietor of the B&B asked us to quiet down, as other guests had complained.

The next morning, after a very filling breakfast, I was off to the northern coast of Scotland, to Elgin, the town after which my birthplace was named (though the Brits pronounce it with a hard “G”). I got into town, took some photos, bought some postcards of the ruins of Elgin Cathedral, and then got on the southbound train to Dundee, where I found another B&B for 3 ½ pounds.

When they showed me to my room, I saw there were two single beds. I thought nothing of it until the middle of the night when another man was shown to the room and, in the dark, he began to smoke. I have never been a smoker, except for a brief period in Grad school when I tried smoking a pipe. I had always enjoyed the smell of a pipe, my grandpa smoked one, but when it’s in your mouth the smell is not the same, and the taste is worse.

Then I saw myself in a mirror with a pipe and quit the next day.

After breakfast the next morning (and all the breakfasts in Scotland had been very substantial, enough to get me through the day until I bought a pastie to eat for dinner, I honestly can’t remember any other dinner I ever ate during that week. I know I didn’t go to any restaurants, maybe I had nothing?) I spent one day and night in York, England, visiting their beautiful cathedral, and then headed back down to London, where I stayed at a youth hostel (again for a very reasonable 3.5 pounds). The breakfast, however, was only a continental, fruit and cereal, nothing like the eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, tomatoes, and kippers, of the Scottish ones.

While in London, I spent one full day at the British Museum, one day at the London Tower, and one-day trip outside London to Hampton Court.

My favorite memory of that whole seven weeks was one night I spent in the pub on campus, reading the National Lampoon Sunday Newspaper parody, which I had brought to read (along with my copy of Dangerous Visions, edited by Harlan Ellison).

There was a married couple form Tennessee, still undergrads, who sat with me that night and I have rarely laughed so hard and so long at anything, especially the “Swill Mart” flyer/insert by the great Bruce McCall. The English folk could not understand what was so funny. I almost peed my pants.

While in England I went to several book stores to stock up on books I could not find, or were out of print, in the US, by authors Philip K Dick, Harlan Ellison, and Ivan Turgenev. I ended up bringing over 30 paperback books back with me (adding a box to the two suitcases I was already dragging around. I also bought 2 bottles of mead (grape and apple juice fermented with honey) and several comedy albums of BBC radio shows (with Monty Python alumni John Cleese), including one album I have never played. It’s an album by Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, “Derek and Clive”, which I’d heard was a truly scatological group of comedy bits.

After those last 3 days in London, I made my way back to the airport and flew home. “Year of the Cat” was still on TWA’s playlist as it remains on mine.

22 – We’re Not Gonna Take It – The Who 1969

We're Not Gonna Take It

This is the last song on the album Tommy, it was one of the first albums I remember listening to in my best friend Jimmy’s basement hideaway (it was the old coal storage room from the days when the house was heated by a coal furnace, the walls were painted black and there was crinkled aluminum foil on them as well. It was suffused with what I took to be the smell of pot. Or perhaps it was “…incense and patchouli” (foreshadowing another song coming up on Kaffred’s Zune!). At the time, 1969, I had not even had a beer, I was 14 years old). On a wall hung a painting depicting the Jefferson Airplane (a painting of an actual bi-plane, not the members of the group).

The Who were one of the first bands I sampled as I slowly dipped my toe into the rock genre, breaking away slightly from Paul Mauriat (‘Love is Blue”), Mason Williams, Gary Lewis and the Playboys, and the Beatles. In my senior year at Irving Crown High School (now Dundee-Crown), 1971-72, I listened to Who’s Next in the school library. It had a system whereby you handed your cassette of music to the librarian, who placed it into a bank of playback decks and you were given a set of headphones connected to a wireless box that you tuned to your tape. It was monaural, but kind of neat.

A few years later, on a Sunday in 1975, my good friend Bob W.  and I went to Chicago to see the Ken Russell extravaganza of Tommy, in Quintaphonic sound (“It’s one more” than the quadraphonic home systems of the day). We took the train down to the Northwestern station and walked the 8-9 blocks to the Loop in a cold rain to get to the run-down Chicago Theater (this was before the 1980s rehab). And the almost empty theater throbbed with a soundtrack turned all the way to 11 (Wow! Two Spinal Tap references, from the same scene, in the same paragraph!).

When I had first listened to the album, Tommy’s followers rejected his new religion in the end, but it kind of left his parents in limbo. In the movie, it was spelled out; the rampaging followers killed them. In fact, in the movie, Tommy’s dad was killed by his mom’s lover (she believing her husband MIA and dead), not the other way around as on the album. I actually preferred several of the versions on the soundtrack album, especially Jack Nicholson’s “Go to the Mirror” and Roger Daltry’s final reprise of “See me...Feel me”, sung as he climbs up a waterfall to the hilltop he was conceived (by Ann-Margaret, no less, and Robert Powell).

Another thing I recall about that trip was on the way home I picked up a Chicago magazine, because it had an article about Monty Python’s Flying Circus, at the beginning of their wildly successful run on Channel 11. It contained a photo of the group, with their names underneath. Up ‘til then I had always confused John Cleese and Graham Chapman (since they played the same sorts of officious characters and previous articles described them in general terms, not as specific ones, i.e. the pet shop customer in the “Dead Parrot” sketch  (the Cleese classic).

In 1975, the Chicago and Northwestern train station, with it’s huge, barrel- vaulted ceiling in the sitting room, was still in existence. Somewhere in our garage, I have a 2’ x 4’ slab of marble that came out of that wonderful edifice when it was torn down several years later in 1984. I used it for years (in my bachelor days) as a rather substantial coffee table, with cinder blocks at the corners holding it up.

Man! There’s a lot of parentheticals in this posting, even one parenthetical within another.  I’ll try to limit them next time.

21 – Video Killed the Radio Star – 1979

Video Killed the Radio Star - The Buggles

            I really can’t explain it, but his is one of my all time favorite pop songs. It’s one of the two or three songs that, when it comes up in my Zune, I have to play it 2, 3, or 4 times. It’s just a perfect, pick me up kind of song. It reminds me of the video (the first one played on MTV back in August 1981), which is cheesy, goofy, and everything I liked about early MTV, back when they actually played videos.

            What the song reminds me of is how I used to drive around the Northwest suburbs of Chicago back in the 70’s and early 80’s, in search of record stores with bargain and import bins that might contain an album from the band or individual I was currently listening to.

            I was living in Cary/Crystal Lake/Fox River Grove during that time period and I would drive to Skipper’s Music in Carpentersville, Apple Tree Records in Elgin, EJ Korvette’s in Des Plaines, Woodfield Mall with 2 or 3 record stores, FlipSide in Hoffman Estates, and Randhurst Mall in Mount Prospect

It reminds me of graduate school in Macomb, Illiinois, at Western Illinois University, when I drove up to Galesburg to go to Knox College to look in their library for information about a Medal of Honor winner in the Civil War from the 59^th Illinois (I can’t recall what info they had there to see, I guess a song can only bring back so much).

There was also a mall whose name escapes me now, with a record store with two albums that I could not afford at the time (I was making $210/month as a grad assistant, and $130 went to the rent). One was Circle Round the Sun by Leo Kottke, which I found 20 years later on Ebay, and the other was a Cat Stevens live album, an import from Japan, that I have not seen since.

It reminds me of a time when I got my music from the radio or MTV. That whole market is gone today. Radio, FM radio, is either oldies or classic rock, dominated. MTV/VH1 barely play videos, just dreck like Jersey Shore and Mafia Wives. I guess that’s why I don’t buy much music anymore. The last CD of music I bought was from Amazon.com, it was Roadsinger, by Yusuf Islam (Cat Stevens) and that was three years ago.

As I’ve noted before, I commute 2-3 hours a day now, but I only listen to the podcasts on the Steve Dahl Network, and I fall behind on some of them because there’s so much good stuff there. Steve does 5 shows a week, plus a Saturday “Blast from the Past”, best of Steve and Garry (Meier), which I listen to first. Then I listen to Matt Dahl and Brendan Greely’s weekly show, Dino Stamatopolous’ weekly show, James Van Osdol’s weekly show, and if I’ve caught up on all of them, I listen to the twice weekly Kevin Matthews podcast, fast forwarding through his political rants, which I find tiresome and intelligence-free. (I was a huge Kevin fan when he was on WLUP in Chicago, and was funny, but he’s turned into a faux libertarian, ain’t Ted Nugent a great guy, let’s get rid of all the politicians, sort of crank)

My music listening is rarely done in the car. During the summer I hook up the Zune to an amplifier in our garage that drives some outdoor speakers that we listen to when we’re out in the yard or at the community pool that abuts our property. (The pool was part of our property when the house was built in 1955, but the homeowners sold it to the Pool Club members in the mid-60s. Back then the pool had a diving board and underwater lighting, now pulled for liability’s sake in the litigious age. And parties were a weekly occurrence, to hear the folks who lived her back then talk.)

Why do things have to change so much, and not necessarily for the good?

20 - Walking on Broken Glass – Annie Lennox – 1992

            Walking on Broken Glass - 1992

             Wow, another guilty pleasure! A nugget ‘cause I dug it. I also enjoyed the video that went along with it. Starring Annie Lennox and John Malkovich, it also featured an actor I knew from “Blackadder”, who would later become fairly well known over here. It’s Hugh Laurie, “House”, in his sniveling fop mode that he does so well.

            Again, a reminder of Dynacircuits days in the early 90’s. I had a 90 minute cassette called Album Hits, that I listened to on my daily commute (about 1.5 hours round trip, Elgin to Franklin Park and back). This tape contained the single song from each album heard on the radio, usually, that led me to buy the album. I also had a tape called MTV Hits that contained the one song, typically, that had a video which moved me to buy the whole album or CD to get that one song. Many of these songs are now on my Zune playlist.

            Annie Lennox’s, Diva, from which this song came, was an exception. I had a separate cassette with Diva on side one and Lindsay Buckingham’s Out of the Cradle on the other side. I just realized I have no representative from this great album on the playlist (though the whole CD is on the Zune in its own folder).

            The only car with a cassette player is our family car, the 14 year old Camry Lynn drives the kids around in. My car, an eight year old Echo, only has an AM-FM radio, through which I play my Zune, with an FM transmitter.

            The only tapes we listen to in the Camry are kid’s songs. There’s one called Tuneland, “starring” Howie Mandel singing in an irritating faux kid’s voice. But, we all sing along to keep everyone occupied.

19 – Beach Baby – First Class – 1974

Beach Baby - First Class - 1974 

            No reason, just pure guilty pleasure explains why this faux Beach Boys is on my Zune. The group, First Class, was a couple of English guys who were trying to get a Brian Wilson-type, wall of sound, effect. And I think it’s pretty good.

            I remember hearing it in 1974 when I was running a punch press at Accutronics. I started there making $2.63/ hour as the shear operator. Shearing laminate sheets into smaller process panels, 12x18, 16x18, etc. My job duties also included unloading trucks that delivered copper covered laminate, the base material of every circuit board, that came in 36x48 or 36x72 inch sheets on pallets of 100 sheets or more. Laminates came from numerous suppliers, most of which no longer make laminate, e.g. GE, Westinghouse, Norplex, Cincinnati Milacron, Glassteel, and Dynamit Nobel.

            Another part of my job was to unload 15-20 55-gallon drums of ferric chloride acid, the etchant used to remove the copper from the laminate in the areas without traces. After removing the barrels of fresh acid, I moved the barrels of spent acid and copper-contaminated rinse water back onto the truck for disposal. Several years later we became part of a lawsuit after it turned out the guy we were using to dispose of this toxic waste was dumping it in a site that was not up to code and was leaching into the ground water.

            After 3 months of doing this I signed a posting and became a punch press operator at $3.05/hour. Several months later I became the punch press supervisor and then, just after my first anniversary, I was made first shift supervisor. I had just turned 20.

            Running a punch press is why I now have tinitus and permanent hearing loss in the upper register. In 1974, OSHA regulations had not been fully implemented at Accutronics and the punch press operators wore no hearing protection and, indeed, most of us had radio/tape players blaring next to us while we ran the press.  Placing the circuit board into the press opening, onto registration pins, then pulling both hands out to hit the two switches to start the punch cycle.

            Much like the place in Indiana I was almost employed at in 1983 (see song #3), we did not have pull-backs either. In fact, to show our quickness, we would trip the press (which would initiate a cycle of the ram that would not stop until it came down with 38 or 65 tons of pressure and cut the outside of the board and punch all the holes into the part) touching the ram as it was in its downward movement, before it bottomed out and returned to the top of the cycle.

750 times an hour on the 38-ton press, 500 times an hour on the 65-ton press.  (We didn’t touch it that many times, just when we wanted to impress the girls who walked by to other areas of the plant).

We were idiots.

In a future posting (at my current rate of posting about a year, but hopefully, not) I will write about how, 34 years later, I came to be running and setting up a punch press again in the same building (and maybe even post a video of me doing both, if I can figure out how to get a video onto this blog).

18 – Sleepwalk – Leo Kottke – 1981

            Sleepwalk - Leo Kottke

           This is Leo Kottke’s take on the Santo and Johnny instrumental from 1959. (Man, I didn’t remember Leo’s was from so long ago, 1981, it’s closer in years to the original than to today!). My folks had the Santo and Johnny album and I remember it being played in our house in Algonquin.

            It brings back memories of playing albums and 45s on our “Hi-Fi”, a blond wood box that predated our Monkey Wards stereo in the “antique” trunk. (See: Here Am I) I especially remember the thick, black and red plastic tube spindle that you placed over the thin metal LP spindle to play 45s.

            Novelty 45s and instrumentals, such as “Please Mr. Custer” by Larry Verne (“I don’t wanna go!” “Forward, Ho!” “Nooo!”) from 1960, “The Epic Ride of John H. Glenn” by Walter Brennan from 1962, the “B” side to “Old Rivers”, “Ringo” by Lorne Greene (1964), “the Stripper” (1958) and the theme to “Bonanza” by David Rose.

            We played LPs like “Bonanza,” a soundtrack album from 1961 with each of the stars singing (I could be wrong about this, I may need to get it from my mom to verify), and a group of comedy albums such as “The Button-Down Mind of Bob Newhart” (1960), “The First Family” (1962) with Vaughn Meader as JFK, “Inside Shelly Berman” (1959), and “My Son, the Folk Singer” (1962) with Allan Sherman.

            A couple years later I used this stand alone RCA player to listen to my first albums, “This Diamond Ring” and “Everybody Loves a Clown” by Gary Lewis and the Playboys, “A Hard Days’ Night,” “Help!” “Revolver”, and “Rubber Soul” by the Beatles, and my first comedy albums by the great Bill Cosby, “Bill Cosby is a Very Funny Fellow, Right!” (1963), “Wonderfulness” with the classic “Chicken Heart” bit (1966), “Revenge” (1967), and “To Russell, My Brother, Whom I Slept With” (1968).

            I did seem to have bent towards comedy in my early listening that matured into Lenny Bruce, Mort Sahl, Tom Lehrer, The Firesign Theatre, Monty Python, Albert Brooks, Martin Mull, and the National Lampoon albums in the 1970s. I don’t think I’ve bought a comedy album since Monty Python’s Contractual Obligation Album, though I now subscribe to the Steve Dahl Podcast Network, which gets me great comedy from Steve, Kevin Matthews (when he gets his head out of his “Libertarian” ass), Dino Stamatopolous, and the Matt and Brendan Show,

            Musically, in the late 60’s I was into Paul Muriat and Mason Williams (after the early infatuation with the Beatles and Gary Lewis), but I also recall buying all the Chicago albums, especially the hugely awaited “Chicago at Carnegie Hall” LP set from 1971. At $10, it was quite a purchase for a 16 year old with no income besides lawn mowing, etc., but it came with 4 self-indulgent albums, plus two large posters of the band, a poster of Carnegie Hall (on my wall at home, I was/am an architecture geek, I wanted to write my master’s thesis about the White City, the Columbian Exposition of 1893, but could not find a topic that an advisor at WIU would buy into, since I had no architectural history background), a voter info booklet, and a 20-page booklet about the group.

            Reminds me of another story…at Blackburn College there was a guy who lived in my dorm who was a bit of a neat freak, his colognes had to be arranged on his dresser just so, His clothes were all neatly folded and placed in the drawers, and he had a huge poster of Chicago (not the one from the album, but one he had bought at a concert) and had it on his wall. My friends came into his room one time to move things around, just a little, then had the bright idea to sign the poster. Tom W. signed it “To BJ, All the Best, Love, Chicago” in black magic marker. When BJ came back to the room and saw this he went ballistic and we never goofed with his stuff again.

Rich Mankiewicz- RIP

           I work with an engineer whose husband works for the same company my friend Rich Mankiewicz did. Rich had relocated to India to oversee a board shop there. Making conversation several weeks ago I asked whether she had ever met or heard stories about Rich, one of the great characters I’ve had the pleasure to work with in my career in printed circuit boards. She had not, but a couple days later she came in and said, “You know, I asked Bob (her husband) about Rich and he said he died just last week in India.”

            I was stunned. I had heard nothing! Evidently he had suffered a heart attack and died, at 55, which is 2 years younger than me. They had videotaped his funeral pyre and shown the tape to employees at the plant here in Rolling Meadows.

            My last contact with Rich was a little over two years ago when I had emailed him photos of our daughter, who we had just adopted. He sent back two photos, one of a very pretty Indian woman, who he said he planned to marry, and the second of the motorcycle that was his main mode of transportation. H also stated he did not plan on ever returning to live in “Amerika”, as he called it.

            Over the next week or so I called several people ho had worked with Rich, to see if they had heard anything and only one had, probably because he still worked in the PCB industry, for another Indian-owned shop.

            You have to have known Rich to understand his “Amerika” comment. He claimed he was a fascist, but I think he just had an authoritarian streak. His comment, whenever we discussed the lack of commitment we found in most workers was, “What we need are some heads on stakes!” It has remained a running joke since then (the mid-90s) between Oscar Salazar and me.

            He had walked away, or been fired form, most of his positions over the years. He was a self-described Eagle Scout- Mexican gun runner- heroin addict, and the latter caused him issues with several companies as would be expected. He was fired once, from Dynacircuits, I think it was the 3^rd or 4^th time he had worked there, because he slapped the union steward’s husband for smoking on company property. A smoker himself, Rich didn’t like other people doing what he couldn’t, and he could be very caustic in his comments.

            But I must admit I had more on-the–job fun with him than almost anytime in my career. When he was promoted to Quality manager at Dynacircuits, after Lar, the Dancing bear, was asked to leave, Oscar Salazar, Rich, and I would sit in his nice big office (it had been the office for one of the original owners. it was connected to another large office by a bathroom with a phone next to the commode: real classy!) and play trivia games. Rich was one of the few people who had as much trivial knowledge as me, and Oscar would just sit back and laugh as Rich and I tried to stump each other with pop culture questions.

            When he left Dynacircuits the 2^nd time, for Tingstol, his main goal there was to become a VP so that he would get a company car. I have never known Rich to own a car in the 20 years I knew him. He drove a Jeep at Dyna, but he made the payments to the girl he was living with at the time, and when they broke up, she kept the car.

            Rich finally got his company car, a Taurus station wagon, but several months later he walked out of Tingstol after getting into an argument with the owner. It was a cold, rainy November day and Rich had to walk to a bus stop in Elk Grove Village and ride a bus back to his hovel (I never saw it, but he shared a house with another addict) in Oak Park.

            Rich was also one of the few co-workers my wife has met over the years, as I wrote in an earlier posting. We got together socially with co-workers at Dyna, but he scared her with his intensity. At the time, about 3-4 years into our marriage, I had expressed a whim of mine to establish a “Randyland”, a man cave, as the kids today say, in our 105-year-old Victorian in Elgin.

At one get together, Rich took this and ran with it. He came up to Lynn several times that night and kept going on about coming over the next weekend to begin construction of “Randyland”. Lynn looked at me with a frozen smile, “Yeah, sounds good.”  I knew it was the alcohol talking (another Rich weakness) and the “Randyland” never came to fruition.

Anyway, I always kind of felt that I had Rich to thank for the set-up I eventually got in the house we moved to in 1998. A really nice video/stereo room with ample storage for my books, albums, VCR tapes, and DVDs.

            Vaya con dios, Rich, and thanks.