A slap on his back was accompanied by the baritone voice of his friend Patty Gelardi saying, “Hello Bill. Good to see you again.”
He turned and both men shook hands. Patty was a five-foot ten-inch slim seventy-year old man who looked as though he was in his early fifties. He wore his black and gray wavy hair on the long side and his black mustache was always trimmed to perfection. Bill moved his jacket as Patty removed the dark sunglasses that attached to his thick glasses with a small clip and put them in his pocket as he sat on the stool.
“How’ve you been?”
Bill returned his smile and answered, “Just fine, how about you, Patty?”
He patted his friend’s back, “I’m fine.”
The bar owner returned and the two men shook hands. He asked as he placed a cold mug of beer in front of Patty, “How have ya been, Patty? Still singing?”
“Yep! My group has a gig coming up in Staten Island. You should come and see us sometime, Paddy.”
The big man waved his hand “Patty, I’ve heard you guys singing for years on the corner so what’s new?”
Patty grinned, “Well we do have a few new songs since then.”
“Doo-Wop?”
“Not all Doo-Wop. Did you ever hear our version of ‘Danny Boy’? You would love it.”
“Maybe, just maybe I’ll pop up over there. Now. Is it still steak and potatoes that ya want gents?”
Both answered, “Yep!”
“Rare, for me,” added Patty and seconded by Bill. The barman walked away with the order.
“So, Bill have you been busy? I haven’t seen you around for a bit.”
“Yes, doing a few things here and there,” he hefted his glass and tapped his friend’s glass as he went on, “But I remembered our dinner date.”
“That you did and that makes me think that there might be hope for the younger generation after all.”
Bill laughed as he took a swig. “Matt says hello.”
“How is Matt these days? Please tell him that I said hello and I owe him a nice big Italian dinner after he catered my ‘Oldies Night Review.’ I still get congrats from many of the attendees.”
“Boy, that was a time ago. How fast time flies.”
Patty nodded and said in a low tone of voice, “Yes. August 2. That’s a date I’ll never forget.”
“Because Matt’s cooking was so good?”
“Naw! Because on that date back in 1957 I lost the ring my dad gave me.” He shook his head, “I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as I told him. It was his dad’s and I lost it.”
“Any idea where?”
Patty drained his beer, “Yes. I was with my cousin Nicky, George Adjami and Larry the Bop singing down in the subway station on Ninth Street and Seventh Avenue and it must have slipped off. We went home and that’s when I discovered it missing. I ran back to the spot but it was gone.”
The heavy footfalls on the duckboards told the two men that Paddy had their steaks ready. He placed the dinners before them and quickly added two more beers.
One hour later the two men chatted over coffee.
“I know that you’re a busy man, Bill, but if you find an opening on your calendar I’d love to see you at our next show.” He passed him two tickets.”
Bill looked at the tickets and put them in his jacket pocket. “Patty, I’d love to come and hear you guys. You know I love Doo-Wop.”
Patty patted him on his back, “It’s not whether a person likes or dislikes Doo-Wop, it’s the beautiful group harmony.”
“Let me check my calendar and if I’m clear I’ll be there.”
“Well I better be off,” said Patty as he stood and stretched. “We have rehearsals tonight.”
They left the bar and outside on the corner Bill said, “Patty it was a great evening as usual.”
“Next one’s on me, Bill.”
“I’m going to hold you to that my friend.” They shook hands that became a man-hug then both took a taxi in opposite directions.
It was when his taxi was in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge that Bill thought as he looked at his watch, Eight o’clock. I know what I have to do.
Back at the club Bill spotted the small yellow stick-it paper on his desk. It read, Sir. I have taken Samson back to 1898 for a walk. While I’m there I shall pick up some chocolate pudding filled Blackout Cake from Ebingers bakery for dessert. Hope to be back at nine o’clock. Matt. Bill grinned and thought, so that’s why my beagle wasn’t at the door looking for a treat.
He took the stairs up to the club’s top floor and opened the door to the very large clothing section. He went to the 1957 style clothing section and selected an outfit for his trip. Next he visited the currency room and took fifty dollars in bills and two more in coins. He then opened the next door and took three diamonds and slipped them into the hidden compartment in the wide black belt he was going to wear. Back downstairs in his room he quickly dressed and looked at himself in his full-length mirror. He wore a black tee shirt beneath his black leather motorcycle jacket and jeans with a wide black leather belt. He looked down at his brown heavily scuffed motorcycle boots and pulled up his jacket collar in the fashion of the day. Next he ran his fingers through his dark hair and then had to wipe off the excess Brylcreem hair tonic from his fingers.
“Ready, Mister Scott?” he asked himself and answered to the reflection in the mirror, “Ready as I’ll ever be, daddy-o.”
Bill went to his desk and took a yellow stick-it and wrote on it, Matt it’s 8:25 P.M. I stepped back to Brooklyn on August 2, 1957. Ninth Street and Seventh Avenue to be exact. I’ll be back in two hours. Bill.
Using the key on the chain around his neck Bill opened the door at the rear of his den and stepped out onto the landing and closed the door behind him. He looked at the red brick walls and grinned as his shadow created by the gas lamps made him look to be ten feet tall. The heavy motorcycle boots thumped on each step he took and finally at the bottom he used the same key once again to unlock the heavy steel security door at the end of the stairwell. Before he stepped out he opened his small Time Frequency Modulator and entered in his password, SAMSON followed by AUGUST 2, 1957, 6 P.M. He pressed the activate button and stepped out into the garden.
DATELINE: AUGUST 2, 1957, 6 P.M. PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY
The sun was slowly sinking in the sky and the lush garden was quiet as most of the birds were settling down for the night. The butterflies disappeared and in a few hours would be replaced by fireflies. Bill went to a small tree next to the waterfall that constantly flowed into the goldfish pond. At the tree’s base was an old fashion milk crate, which had the goldfish food in it. He took a large pinch and sprinkled it on the surface of the pond and was rewarded with the sight of the beautiful fish feeding.
Using the same key Bill unlocked the wrought iron gate at the end of the high stonewalls that surrounded the garden and stepped out onto the gray slate sidewalk before locking the gate behind him. At the curb sat his 1950 red two door Ford and he smiled proudly as he took out his car keys. Before he opened the door he wiped away some sap on the windshield. The sticky sap came from the tall oak tree that spread its branches over ten feet from its trunk. Satisfied, he unlocked the door, sat and inserted the ignition key. Next Bill pulled out the hand choke slightly, depressed the clutch and pressed the ignition button. Instantly the starter motor engaged and after cranking for a moment the V-8 flat-head engine came to life with a roar that was amplified by the twin chrome fiberglass exhaust pipes. He touched the two fuzzy dice that hung from his rear-view mirror and smiled as he remembered his fiancé tossing darts at balloons in Coney Island and winning them for him.
When the engine was warmed up Bill pushed the choke back in, put the car in first gear and pulled smoothly away from the curb.
He drove down Broadway and over the Brooklyn Bridge, up Flatbush Avenue and turned right on Seventh Avenue. Once at Ninth Street he looked for a parking spot, something that was getting harder and hard
er to do these days. He found one two blocks away and after parking the Ford he walked to the subway station on 7th Avenue and 9th Street where he heard what he had come here for: Original Doo-Wop songs. The sound of four young guys singing in harmony in the subway.
The walls and ceiling of the New York City subway system were made of white and black ceramic tiles. They were a perfect setting for groups who couldn’t afford a studio’s echo chamber as they gave the singers an echo for free and there was no worry about rushing before the next group would come into a rented studio.
Bill met Patty Gelardi in Diamond’s Bar & Grill when Patty was bartending one evening in 2002 and they became good friends. Although Bill was forty years his junior the two had common ground in their love of music. Patty Gelardi who moved from Brooklyn to Staten Island, New York is a walking music encyclopedia, to whom Bill lost many a dinner-bet.
The time traveler stood near the street entrance to the subway listening to the young group warming up and finally breaking into a few songs that would become Doo-Wop classics over the years. Bill went down the subway steps and saw that the group had an audience of commuters who had stopped to listen. He joined them and added his applause as the teens sang Whispering Bells followed by Little Darlin’. Some of the spectators left to go home or catch a train, but they were quickly replaced as another subway train unloaded more commuters. The group sang for another hour before going back up to the street and separated as they had school the next day. Bill quickly looked over the space where the group stood as they sang and after a moment saw Patty’s ring resting on a drain grating ready to slip down and be swept away forever. He scooped it up and ran back up the same exit the group used and saw Patty a block away. He walked fast and when he was within shouting distance called out, “Patty.”
The 17 year old stopped and squinted as he tried to see who called him.
“Patty,” Bill said as he approached him with his hand out. “One of you guys dropped this.”
Patty’s eyes opened wide when he saw the ring his father had given him. “Wow! That’s my ring! My dad gave it to me and he’d be angry if I ever lost it. Thanks a lot, man. I really appreciate it.” He slipped it into his pocket and added, “Sometimes I just become oblivious to everything when we are rehearsing.”
“You guys sounded great.”
He shrugged, “Aw, thanks. Maybe we’ll be discovered.”
“Well even if you don’t, keep doing what you like. It’s the key to a good life.”
Patty offered his hand and as they shook hands he said, “Once again, man, thanks tons.”
“Have a great life my friend.”
Bill got back to his car and was back in the club’s garden by 10 P.M. He opened his Time Frequency Modulator and entered his password followed by JANUARY 15, 2016, 10:00 P.M. Next he opened the security door and entered the stairwell. Once inside he locked the door behind him and pressed the activate button.
DATELINE: JANUARY 15, 2016 10:00 P.M. PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY
He took the stairs two at a time and opened the door to his den. His beagle Samson ran to him and did his sniff test to find a treat which Bill took out of his pocket and gave to him. “Good boy. Now sit awhile while I finish my trip.” He opened his computer and went to YouTube Videos and entered ‘The Expressions of Staten Island.’ As the computer searched he thought, Boy, Patty had a great career. He sang with ‘Just Voices,’ and so many other groups and now he sings with the Expressions over in Staten Island. The computer showed that YouTube had found the group and Bill pressed the play button and sat back as one of the originators of Doo-Wop sang lead.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHc0lyaWvpw
There was a tap on his door and Matt entered carrying a silver tray with a thick slice of dark chocolate cake and Bill’s Donald Duck mug of hot chocolate. “Good evening, sir. I thought you might enjoy some dessert after your dinner with Mister Gelardi. Hot chocolate and Blackout cake?”
Bill rubbed his hands together and said with a smile, “Matt, once again you hit a home run!”
Matt placed the tray on the coffee table, “Thank you for that kind analogy, sir. I’m sure you meant it as a ‘well done.’”
Bill smiled, “Of course I meant it as a ‘well done,’ Matt.”
There was a knock on the door that Bill had just come in through and both men looked at one another.
“Mmmm, wonder if this is the start of a new mission?” Bill said as he went to the door. He was pleasantly surprised to see his future grandson Edmund Scott standing on the landing with a big smile on his handsome face. “Edmund! Oh, great to see you. Come on in.”
“Hello Bill. It’s great to see you again.”
The two men hugged as Matt suddenly had to straighten out a picture that didn’t look crooked.
“Matt! How are you?”
“Quite fine, Mister Scott. And yourself?”
“Great! Its good to see you again.”
“Would you like some hot chocolate and cake, sir?”
“No, thanks anyway, Matt. I’m good.”
“Very well then I shall leave you two gentlemen alone. Please call if you wish anything sirs.” Matt left the room.
“Grab a seat, Ed and tell me what’s going on in your life.”
The young man shrugged as he sat. “Nothing much, but I see that you just came back from a trip or are you just stepping back now?”
“Just got back ten minutes ago.”
“From your clothes I’d say 1955?”
“Actually 1957, but the style also ran 1955 to around 1958 or ’59.”
Edmund shook his head. “Wow! That has to be fun.”
“It is. It really is, but sometimes it gets hairy. Wait until you read the debrief on our last trip back. Believe me it was bone chilling.”
The young man reached into his inside jacket pocket and took out a hologram, which he handed to his grandfather. “The person running this mission is Alexis Shuntly.” Once again he shook his head, “Boy I’d love to take a trip back with you sometime.”
“Hey, why not? I mean if you wear those nostril filters we could do at least a short trip back. I say we look into it.”
“Great, but right now I’m going to leave you so you can check out the hologram.” He stood and Bill followed him to the special door that gives the 1800 Club a reason to exist. Bill opened it and the two hugged goodbye before Bill closed the door behind his future grandson.
Back at his coffee table he took a sip of his drink and a fork full of the dark chocolate cake. He took the six-inch long hologram holder and depressed the indent on its end with his thumb. Recognizing his thumbprint the hologram appeared on table top.
“Hello, Bill,” said the six-inch high figure of Alexis Shuntly. “The group all send their best to you and the club. Once again we are in need of your expertise, as this hologram will show. The two gentlemen are Robert Lewis Stevenson and Mark Twain. As usual anything you need, just ask and we’ll get it to you. Good luck.”
Bill sat back as the idyllic scene appeared before him. It seemed like a nice afternoon in the park with children playing in the green fields and mothers walked by pushing their baby carriages. A few of the boys started throwing stones across the small pond behind the two seated men and suddenly one of the men on the bench jerked forward and fell striking his head on the path’s cement pavers. His friend quickly stooped to help him as strollers ran over to see what happened. The hologram ended and Bill sat back. This should be an easy one, he thought, I’ll just go back and take a stroll in Central Park and prevent those kids from throwing rocks around.
Bill finished the cake and drink then went up to the club’s dressing room. He went to the section marked 1885 - 1900 and then to the smaller 1888 section. Knowing that the day the mission was on was warm and sunny he dressed appropriately. He selected a tan jacket and dark brown slacks held up by a pair of brown suspenders with a hidden money compartment in them. Next he picked out a white shirt and a dark brown floppy bo
w tie of the period. Finally he picked out a dark brown wide-brimmed fedora with a black sweatband, a pair of brown socks and low-cut brown shoes. He then left the room and opened the door to the monetary room next to it. Inside he went to a section marked 1885 to 1900 and then to the smaller section marked 1888. Bill opened a steel box mounted on a wooden shelf and removed fifty dollars in paper money and one dollar in coins. He opened another steel box and took a diamond as he thought, One should do it. He closed the lid, took a step away and stopped. Don’t be stupid, Bill. Take the required amount of emergency currency. He stepped back and took another two diamonds and placed the three gems in his suspender’s hidden compartment.
Back in his den he called Matt on the intercom.
“Yes, sir?”
“Matt, Edmund dropped off a hologram and I decided to jump back and take care of it. I’ve already changed and will be back no later then five o’clock this afternoon. I’m leaving a yellow stick-it with the information on my desk.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll have a warm snack ready for you this afternoon. Safe trip.”
“Thanks. See you soon.” Bill took a stick-it sheet and wrote down where and when he would be, placed it on his desk and put a glass paperweight on it. He knelt by the leather couch where his beagle Samson was curled up as he watched his master. “Be a good boy, Samson and I’ll bring you back a T-R-E-A-T . . .” he laughed at having to spell the word knowing that if the dog heard him say, ‘treat’ he’d jump up looking for a treat now. He then unlocked the door at the rear of his den and went down the stone steps to the ground floor. The time traveler took out his compact Time Frequency Modulator and entered his password followed by SEPTEMBER 3, 1887, 10:00 A.M. He pressed the activate button, opened the heavy security door and stepped out.
DATELINE: SEPTEMBER 3, 1887, 10:00 A.M. PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY
Bill entered the garden and now wished that he had added on a few more minutes so that he could sit on one of the stone benches next to the pond for a minute or two. For reasons only known by nature the goldfish were splashing around as they chased one and other. They created such a fuss that he pond’s small frog climbed out and sat on a stone.
Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club, Book 14 Page 9
