290. AVENEL, Pt. 12
It's really funny now,
looking back, at the
1967 era : there
were a lot of weird
things to retain.
Crazy stuff like
'The Heartbreak
of Psoriasis'; and
'Summer's Eve
Feminine Spray;'
new things, like
'Dunkin' Donuts',
and 'Blimpie Bases.'
The Blimpie, by the
way, was a hippie-sized
submarine sandwich,
or Hoagie, or whatever.
They original logo was
- yes - a blimp; kind
of in the shape of a
sub-sandwich, tethered
to something - an
airfield pole, or something.
All along the lower west
side, hippies everywhere
loved them. Sliced meat,
oils and vinegars, lettuce.
It took a long time for them
to make it out of NYC.
In NJ, even Avenel,
we'd had sub shops for
a long time. The real
kind of sub shop,
where a few people
actually cut the meat
and made the sandwiches.
The thing about these
upstarts, like Blimpie,
and Subway, later, was/is
that they'e franchises - all
exactly the same everywhere.
There's just no joy in it.
The proprietors have to
buy the meats (delivered
frozen, in waxed, already
settled, portions, with
everything done exact
and by the rule book).
If you ever watch one
of these people, the
'supposed meats'
are kept in trays,
wax-paper separated,
and for each sandwich
all the clerks do is peel
and construct. Even
the condiments,
tomatoes and olives
and junk, are controlled.
That's the things they
never mention, but
they keep you
distracted by
bragging about their
'bread'. I'm not so
sure about that bread
either, but can't tell
you because I really
don't frequent these spots.
Anyway, these were all
big, breaking things back
then. There was even
something called 'Pssst'
which claimed to be a
spray that 'washed' your
hair, and was advertised
for date nights and
times when you (the
girl, back then),
didn't have time to
rightly 'wash' your
hair, and needed a
quick cleansing
and freshening up.
Beats me what they
were thinking.
men's colognes
and junk started
appearing then too,
besides the normal
after-shave crap like
Old Spice which
had been around
forever. This was
sex-marketing :
Brut, English Leather,
Canoe. At first the
radio ad guys just
said 'Canoe' - like
the boat. Then a
few years later
they got all uppity
about it, and it
suddenly morphed
into the (very
French) 'Ca-new-ay'.
Jesus K. Rist, what
was going on?
-
If anyone had ever
walked into Appellate
Printing smelling like
one of those, he'd have
been bounced on his
head right down the
stairway - and at the
bank to which we'd
relocated too. None
of that smell stuff
worked too well for
us. Bill Konowalow
smoked a strange
mini-cigar called
'Swisher Sweets', or
he smoked De Nobili,
which looked like a
dark, twisted twig,
or something else
called 'Factory
Seconds,' which
were like failed
cigars which didn't
pass inspection at
the cigar factory.
Each of these were
little, runty things,
and each produced
an 'aroma,' shall I
call it, of its own.
Everybody smoked
back then, and
everywhere too,
so it little mattered;
there was a blue,
gray, or black haze
of smoke most
everywhere. I
swear people
smoked while
making love,
maybe with a
stop too, for an
extra drag. That
was the only smell
around, and the
smell of work.
The world was
different then -
all that task-oriented
stuff, people willingly
popping blood vessels
and having heart attacks
over work and duties.
I don't know what
it's like now, but
it sure seems
different. Now, you
can't get anyone's
attention. Back then,
along with the smoking,
there were a lot of
round, red-faced,
ready-to-burst guys.
They'd drop dead
on the factory floor.
One time, we had a
printing appeal from
a case at the GM Plant
in Linden, where
some guy had a
heart attack and
died in the course
of his work. His wife
had filed suit suing
GM, saying the stress
of the work had killed
him. They drove him
too hard. The lawyer
had all this stuff ready,
and they testified -
some co-workers,
some 'automotive'
experts - about
the work. (I had
to read all this
stuff, as a proofreader
there, so I'd see it all).
Their points were
that this fellow had
perhaps the most
tedious, demanding
job on the auto-plant
floor, with the line
always moving; and
he carried it out so
prodigiously and
exactingly, that it
killed him - it (his
job detail) was
'hanging of the
rear-loading tailgate
doors onto station
wagons,' Their claims
were that it was a
totally exact and
to-standard job;
they had to meet
perfectly, be hinged
and torqued , glass
windows and handles
and hook-ups and
things. If you got
too many bounced,
from bad work,
you could get in
big trouble. He
sweated a lot, was
extreme in his work,
and was...dead. They
lost the case; thus
the appeal. That was
a fairly typical sort
of the liability cases
these small courts
and things handled.
I guess if you set
to it you could
really find any
lawyer who would
concoct for you
a case of any sort -
the short order
cook who went
crazy from making
perfect toast, or
omelettes under
pressure; you
can imagine any
of your own
scenarios.
-
Back to that
old bank building,
the coolest thing
about it was that
deep in the center
of the main floor,
underneath that
balcony section
I mentioned where
the offices were
above, there was
a huge, I mean
huge, walk-in -
I mean drive-in,
if you wanted -
safe. From the old
days, like in the
movies, bank robbers,
people getting stuffed
into the safe as the
doors are locked
on them and the
robbers take off
with the dough.
You could probably
fit sixty people in
this thing - all
heavy, solid steel
and chrome, with
that big wheel-lock
combination spinner
thing on the front.
We used it to store
paper, sorted by
color and size and
stuff. The lock had
been disabled. I bet
that baby's still there
- the building's a
gun shop and auto-parts
place now. I used to
tell people I invented
'safe sex' there -
I'd take a girl in
and have sex with
her. Big joke, huh.
I was always a
comedian; not
a good one, but
a comedian
none the less.
-
But working in an
environment such as
that was pretty fantastic.
I'd never even been exposed
to air-conditioning units
before; this old bank had
four separate, gigantic Chrysler
Air-Conditioning units. They
were large, metal boxes, with
fans and pulleys and noises,
that went just about from
floor to ceiling in each of the
four corners of the large
central room. They did
the job too - God knows
what their usage cost.
Neither did I ever know
Chrysler got involved
in air conditioning -
must have been the 1940's.
It was nice, in a place like
that, for it to be cooled. The
ceiling above it all,
cathedral-like anyway,
must have been thirty feet,
with the balcony too. Lots of
space to work on cooling.
Things were still 'metal' back
then - there wasn't a plastic
piece to be found.
-
But working in an
environment such as
that was pretty fantastic.
I'd never even been exposed
to air-conditioning units
before; this old bank had
four separate, gigantic Chrysler
Air-Conditioning units. They
were large, metal boxes, with
fans and pulleys and noises,
that went just about from
floor to ceiling in each of the
four corners of the large
central room. They did
the job too - God knows
what their usage cost.
Neither did I ever know
Chrysler got involved
in air conditioning -
must have been the 1940's.
It was nice, in a place like
that, for it to be cooled. The
ceiling above it all,
cathedral-like anyway,
must have been thirty feet,
with the balcony too. Lots of
space to work on cooling.
Things were still 'metal' back
then - there wasn't a plastic
piece to be found.
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