"ROCK AND ROLL SATURDAY NIGHT!"

TONIGHT'S GUEST BLOGGER IS DICKIE DOO WOP of DICKIE DOO WOP & THE DEBUTANTS, Moonbeam Records recording artists.........."Well, here it is, SATURDAY NIGHT and we're in A ROCK AND ROLL MOOD! 50's ROCK and ROLL: DOO WOP to all you youngsters out there. We're playing a fifties compilation CD while we write down our thoughts. I'm here with a lovely girl from Avenue D who looks like she just stepped out of a scene from, "THE LORDS OF FLATBUSH". She's five-foot, two and has eyes of blue. She's tough. Looks like she can kick my ass.
"Hey, ANGIE, where'd you get that leather jacket?"
"My name's not ANGIE, punk. It's ANITA!"
"Oh. Where'd you get that leather jacket, ANITA?"
"None-a ya freakin' business!"
"OK, never mind."
"Hey, DOO WOP, why don't you play, "EDDIE MY LOVE" by THE TEEN QUEENS!
"You got it, doll!"
While she's busy listening to the song, I thought we could play a Rock and Roll trivia game. You know, I ask you, "Who sang, a particular song and you tell me the name of the artist. For example, I ask you, Who sang HEARTBREAK HOTEL and you answer, 'Duh, Elvis Presley! DUH!' Or, I'll ask you a real one, like, who sang, GUIDED MISSILES and if you know the answer, it will be, THE CUFF LINKS
OK, now we're gonna play, then I gotta go because ANITA wants me to go out dancing with her. If you answer all five of the questions CORRECTLY, you will receive a wonderful prize. If you only answer THREE of the FIVE correctly you will still receive a copy of this CD I'm listening to and then you will know the answers to the next trivia game. The first four songs are from the CD I'm listening to. The fifth song is not. Ready? Who sang...."
1. BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ?
2. DONNA LEE
3. DANCE DANCE DANCE
4. ON YOUR RADIO
5. BESIDES The Cuff Links, can you name any other group who also recorded a version of GUIDED MISSILES?
GOOD LUCK! This is DICKIE DOO WOP bringing you the best of ROCK AND ROLL, DOO WOP STYLE. As I say, farewell to you, I'm singing, GOOD NIGHT MY LOVE, by JESSE BELVIN. Pleasant dreams, everybody."
Thanks to Richie D., THE KID FROM FLATBUSH. He'll be back on Tuesday.

"DAYS OF DOO WOP"

Hello, again. This is Richie D., The Kid From Flatbush transmitting from 3,000 miles away in La La Land.
Our focus for today is FIFTIES ROCK & ROLL - now affectionately known as DOO WOP. When we were growing up in Brooklyn, one of the MAJOR activities we had was singing rock and roll music in doorways and street corners. I was in a group called, "The Impalas" with Artie L, his older brother, Richie L., and their cousin, Joe K. We used to practice in storefront doorways on Avenue D. We used to sing at parties and dances and we were pretty good. Artis recruited me when I was fifteen. He had lost one of the group members and he needed another singer. I remember it well. I was walking along Avenue D, near the corner of East 45th Street and Artie was coming the other way. He was older than me, seventeen but I knew him from the neighborhood.
"Hey, Richie," he said. "You can sing, can't you?"
I had to think for a minute. "Yeah, well I used to be in the choir," I replied.
"I'm looking for another singer, 'cause we just lost a guy and I can't find anybody who can sing harmony. You wanna be in our group? We're The Impalas."
"Sure," I answered. God, be in Artie's group? Wow! My friends won't believe Artie is asking ME!
"Okay," he continued. "You know the song, "You Baby You" by The Cleftones?"
"Sure."
"Well, there's this harmony in there that nobody can do. It's like an offset harmony. If you can sing the harmony, YOU'RE IN!"
"I'll try."
"Okay, here we go." Artie started singing, "Ah, ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah, aaahhh, Wop, Wop, A-Wop Wop Wop! Well, You, You, You..."
On "You, You, You," I joined in with what I thought was the missing part he wanted and I guess that was it, because he stopped singing and started yelling, "YEAH! THAT'S IT! THAT'S THE MISSING PART! I knew you could do it, Richie! You're IN!"
Oh, man, I'm gonna be a star! We're gonna make rock and roll records and we'll get played on Alan Freed's Rock And Roll Dance Party! We'll be singing in Rock And Roll Shows at The Brooklyn Paramount! Oh, BOY! Becoming a major Rock And Roll Star was not farfetched at all because our friend, Paulie Albano (Beansie) was in THE FIVE DISCS and they had a hit record called, "I Remember". They used to practice in the subway before they were famous.
As The Impalas, we did sing a lot, mainly at parties and dances and everywhere on Avenue D. We learned all of the latest songs. Every Friday night, Alan Freed would introduce a new record and it would become an instant hit. We'd all meet up at Von Dohlen's Ice Cream Parlor where we hung out and Artie would arrange the new song, give us all our parts and we'd have it down by that night's performance. About a year and a half later, we were all supposed to meet at Von Dohlen's at ten o'clock on Saturday morning. Joe and I were there, but no Artie or Richie. Ten-thirty, eleven o'clock, still no Artie or Richie. Finally at about eleven-forty-five, Artie comes walking fast around the corner. He looked angry.
"Hi, Artie, how come you're late?" Joe asked him (Artie was never late).
Did you hear the new song that came out this morning? "I Ran All The Way Home?"
"No." We hadn't heard it yet.
"Do you know what the name of the group is?"
"No."
"THE IMPALAS! THEY STOLE OUR NAME!"
"Oh, no. They took that name?" I asked.
"Shit," Joe said.
"That's okay, Artie," I said. "We'll just think up another name."
"NO! THAT'S OUR NAME! THAT'S IT, I'M QUITTING THE GROUP!"
"Ah, c'mon, Artie," Joe and I begged. "Don't quick the group."
"THAT'S IT!" Artie stormed off and wouldn't change his mind for love or money. A few weeks later, he joined The Marines. He never sang with us, again and that was the end of my rock and roll singing career. (Until now).
This is a true story and anyone who comes from Avenue D. might remember that we had the name Impalas for almost two years before the "I Ran All The Way Home" Impalas had their hit record. But, what the heck, it was the name of a car. Hardly original. Still, The Impalas came from Canarsie which was not far from our neighborhood and I often wondered if they DID STEAL that name because maybe they heard of us and wanted that name for themselves. If any of The Impalas happen to read this, please log in and tell us how YOU CAME UP WITH THAT NAME! So I can tell Artie.
Anyway, we had Alan Freed guiding us through that world of fabulous group harmony which made you discover feelings you didn’t know you had. From seven until eleven every night we listened to fabulous rock and roll and witnessed hits and legends being created by the true King of Rock and Roll - ALAN FREED!
I used to set my clock radio to shut down at 11:05 but most nights I’d fall asleep a little before the end of Freed’s show, barely conscious of the last few songs being played. Ballads like, “Please Say You Want Me” by The Schoolboys or “School Boy Romance” by Danny & The Juniors. Being a schoolboy myself, I could relate to that.
Those songs would see us through the week and then before we knew it, it would be Friday night and we’d be heading over to the dance at St Vinny’s on Glenwood Road. The band was called THE BLUENOTES and they always let our friend, Eddie sit in on the drums. He was great! Eddie taught me how to play and we used to play drums in the Boy Scouts Marching Band at Little Flower. Have you ever had the pleasure of dancing The Lindy to Eddie Cooley & The Dimples’ rendition of “Oh, Priscilla”? Or what could be better than slow dancing with The girl of your dreams in somebody’s hastily cleaned-up-in-a-hurry-enough-for-a-party-on-Saturday-night basement to a song like “It’s Too Late” by Chuck Willis?
After a while, the lights really WOULD go low then guys and girls would start pairing off and the makeout session would begin. After a while someone would turn the lights out altogether (until one of the parents opened the cellar door and yelled down, “TURN THOSE LIGHTS BACK ON!” Ah, sweet innocent fun!
As I write this BLOG I am listening to DJ Tommy, on his radio show, “THE MALT SHOPPE OF MEMORIES” on my computer. You’ve gotta check him out . He has a show on Friday night and again on Sunday night. 7-10 Eastern Time. I just tuned in and caught the end. Haven’t heard “Lullaby Of The Bells in a long time. Way to go, THE MALT MAN, DJ TOMMY!
That’s www.maltshoppememories.com or www.doowopdestination.com. You can link to DOO WOP DESTINATION from MALT SHOPPE MEMORIES. That’s SHOPPE with an “E”, remember.
DESTINATION DOO WOP at WWW.MALTSHOPPEOF MEMORIES.COM - FRIDAY NIGHT 7-10PM EDT and SUNDAY NIGHTS 7-11PM EDT.
They're plating "CRYING" by Roy Orbison as I write this.

Have a safe and wonderful Memorial Day Weekend. Remember to Honor And Give Thanks to all of our veterans, our active duty Armed Forces personnel and to all men and women of Good Will everywhere.

Summer at Seashell Harbor by Richard Dunne

"Summer at Seashell Harbor" by Richard Dunne
Available on amazon.com, cdbaby.com,
barnesandnoble.com and all major bookstores!

"PREPARING FOR GRAMMAR SCHOOL"

When I was four years old, I was the King of East 46th Street. Maybe it was the fact that I had an older brother who was tough or that my old man was a cop but I was pretty tough myself, back in those days. If any of the other kids tried to bully me around, I'd make quick mince-meat of them in two seconds flat. That made me, "The Boss".
We had a cool group of kids who lived in the neighborhood. There was Joey, two brothers named Howie & Jeff, Peter Paul and his cousin, Peter John, two girls named Lois and the local doctor's son, Joel. This made up the core group of our gang. We all had bicycles and would ride them in the big lot on E. 46th, which was just around the corner from my house on Foster Avenue. There were these big mounds of dirt left over from a previous excavation of some kind and to us, these were our "mountains". There was a dirt trail that ran around the perimeter of these hilly mounds and we would ride our bikes around to the back and then down this giant hill, going as fast as we could. The only way to stop before careening out into the street was to crash into one of the mounds in the middle of the lot. Luckily, the dirt was soft and we never got hurt. Sometimes one of the kids would miss the mound and would go flying out into the street before being able to stop. There weren't too many cars coming down the block back then so chances were that we wouldn't get run over. People drove a lot slower back then, too.
When we got tired of our bikes, we'd organize street games like ring-a-levio, Johnny May I Cross Your River, hide and go seek, which we always referred to as "hingo" seek. In fact, I never knew it's official title was hide and go seek until I was much older. We played stick ball in the other lot we called "Pebble Field" which was across the street from the other lot, our favorite one.
One day, to our sheer horror, we all met by the lot for what we thought would be another great mountain-biking episode, only to discover that a bunch of mean-looking men driving bulldozers had flattened out our entire mountain range! To our credit, me and Joey, who was a pretty big kid even at four years old, went up to one of the men and asked what they thought they were doing. Well, there were four houses being built on the site, he explained, much to our dismay. We told him that this was the place where we rode our bikes every day and now it was ruined. He couldn't help it, he said. The houses were going to be built and there was nothing he could do about it.
"Look on the bright side," he said. "Maybe there'll be some new kids moving in and you'll make new friends." There weren't any new kids who moved in those houses and we always hated those houses because they were the newer ones made of brick with the high stoops and we just didn't like them. They were too "modern" looking. When we were about nine or ten a girl, believe it or not named, Lois (this made three girls named Lois on the same block) did move into one of them and she used to let us "feel her up" so maybe it wasn't so tragic, after all. To this day, I cringe whenever I see new construction of any kind going up.
It was about this time, right before summer that my older brother and sister, Bobby and Lizzy told me that when I turned five I would have to go to school, just like they did. I remember my reply to them as if it were yesterday. "Oh, No," I said. "I'm not going to school! I'm having too much fun playing with my friends!"
"Yes, you are," they taunted. "Everbody has to go to school when they turn five."
Oh, no. This could become a real problem. I wasn't so sure about school. It seemed like some sort of prison that all the older kids in the neighborhood had to be stuck in all day long. My fifth bithday was just around the corner at the end of June. Come September, it was off to kindergarden for this kid. Plus, those nuns at Little Flower were SCARY LOOKING!
Although I spent most of that summer giving my mother all kinds of reasons why I thought I shouldn't have to go to school
it didn't do any good. "You're going!" was all she said. Case closed.
I think it was some time in August of that year that she said to me, "Go down to Miss Farley's house and introduce yourself to her." (Miss Farley was the kindergarten teacher who also lived on Foster Avenue).
"I can't do that, Ma," I said.
"Sure you can. Why can't you? Just go down there and knock on her door. When she answeres, tell her who you are and that you'll be in her kindergarten class in September."
"I can't. I'm too scared."
"What are you scared of? There's nothing to be scared of. Just go down there and do it." There was no talking her out of it.
"Okay." Oh, my God, what do I do, now? I can't go down there and knock on some stranger's door. Is my mother nuts?
I'M ONLY FIVE YEARS OLD! I don't know this lady. What am I gonna say to her? She'll think I'M crazy, coming down there and knocking on her door and bothering her.
I think it took me a good half hour to walk the one short block to Miss Farley's house and summon up the courage to knock on her door. Even though my feet felt like lead and were glued to the sidewalk, I finally found myself standing in front of her door, shaking like a leaf. Well, here goes, I remember telling myself. I walked up the stoop, took a deep breath and rang the bell (I was too scared to knock). A moment later, this beautiful young woman answered the door and stood there looking down at me.
"M'mmmmiss Farley?" I stammered.
"Yes." she answered.
"hi,missfarley,mynameisbillyandIlivedowntheblockanI'mgonnabeinyourclassthisyear!" Whew. I got it out.
"Oh, how SWEET!" she said. "Come on in, Billy. I'm so glad you came down and introduced yourself. Would you care for a soda?"
"Sure. My mother sent me." She brought me inside her house, sat me down on the sofa, gave me an ice-cold bottle of coke and asked me all about myself. We talked for about fifteen minutes and I finally relaxed and thought, this wasn't so bad. She even gave me a coke!
Well, you know what? I was A STAR the entire time I was in kindergarten! I mean, I was her favorite. I could do no wrong. Miss Farley told all the other kids how she met me and how it was the nicest thing for me to do. I got the lead in the kindergarten play (Pony Boy). I got to sing the lead song. I even got the girl - Betty! (She later became a nun but we were boyfriend and girlfriend for the entire year we were in kindergarten). Even the other kids treated me like a star. I guess when you're the teacher's pet, they have no choice.
When I think about it today, I realize that incident was my first experience with POLITICS! Boy, my mother was pretty smart, after all. Until next time, this is Richie D., The Kid From FLATBUSH, wishing you good memories and lots of happiness.

"MY EARLIEST MEMORIES OF FLATBUSH"

I grew up on Foster Avenue, between East 46th Street and Schenectady Avenue in the Hyde Park section of Flatbush but the house where my parents lived when I was born was on East 51st Street, between Clarendon and Beverly Roads. Cortelyou Road was still just a dirt trail at that time and the paved road part of Cortelyou ended at Scenectady Avenue. I lived there until I was about 2 1/2 and then we moved to the Foster Avenue house. I went to Little Flower Grammar School (St Therese de Liseaux is the official name) on Avenue D between Troy Avenue and East 45th Street. Feinberg's candy store was where we spent any money we could scrape together.
My father was a New York cop who was still in uniform back then but he later became a detective and wore a suit and tie on the job. Having a cop for a father was pretty cool in those days when cops were still referred to as, "New York's Finest". The first thing a cop would ask a kid whenever they had any contact with them was, "What does your father do?" We were instructed to say, "My father's on the job!" Dad would make that clear many times over the years. "Don't say your father's a cop," he would tell us. "Say, my father's on the job!" It was insider cop-code for cop-people. Having that secret bit of information kept my brothers and me out of many a legal scrape over the years (not that we ever did anything wrong, mind you).
Ah, Brooklyn! What a great place to grow up in back then although I think wherever a person spends their youth would be the greatest place for them. Back then for me was the early 1940's. Our neighborhood was really special, though. It was magic. We had Holy Cross Cemetary to play in. We had Farragut Woods (before they ripped it up with bulldozers and built the Vandeveer Estates). We had Farragut Pool where we spent most of those hot, humid summer days swimming away from early morning until well into the evening. Farragut Pool was the unofficial baby-sitter for generations of kids. We were lucky enough to have season lockers for every summer that I can remember. If you saw the movie, "The Flamingo Kid", we were the members, not card players. The elite of Farragut Pool.
On really hot days, the kids who didn't have season lockers would have to wait to pay the day rate on a line which sometimes was so long, it extended around the block. Not us. We breezed right past those hot, sweaty kids and just held up our red and white locker key wrist bands to the man at the window who waved us right through. My wife was one of those "day trippers" and she still gets on my case about it even to this day. "You spoiled, little rich kid," she'll say with mock jealousy. What can I tell you, my father was a cop.
Paedergat Park (we called it Farragut Park) was another place we spent a lot of our time. Dodge ball, basketball, the sand lot, the swings, the see-saws, the softball field, the handball courts, the park pool - there was so much to do at the park you could spend an entire day there and never be bored. The park was located on Albany Avenue between Foster Avenue and Farragut Road and East 40th Street on the other side, a block away from Farragut Pool.
When we got a little older, eight or nine, we became a bit more daring and would play in a place that was forbidden - the railroad tracks! Now this was a lot more scarier than playing in the cemetary because dead people never came up out of their graves to hurt us but a freight train could and would run you over. Between the trains and "chicken ladder" - a high voltage wire-surrounded structure that went up about 100 feet and over the tracks; it's a wonder that we survived at all. A kid had to, on a dare, climb up this ladder, walk across the catwalk across the tracks to the other side, all the while keeping his arms tucked in so he wouldn't accidently touch any of the high-tension wires and be electrcuted, then backtrack and climb down the same side that he climbed up. I did it several times (I'm proud to say) but some kids "chickened out" and hence the name. If any kid we hung around with ever chickened out, he was immediately banished from the group and his name would be plastered all over the schoolyard the next day. "So and so is a chicken!" That was a fate worse than death - to be banished and labelled a chicken in our neighborhood.
My earliest memories are of trying to climb over the fence in our yard on East 51st Street because I wanted to get out in the world and see "what was out there." I finally made it over one fine spring day and made my way down the block to the dirt road, turned right and continued across Utica Avenue and started walking alongside Holy Cross Cemetary on Cortelyou Rd. I was on my way to my grandmother's house. She lived in a big, three-storied house on Brooklyn Avenue, between Glenwood Road and Avenue H but I knew exactly how to get there because I would memorize the route my father took in the car. I wasn't yet three years old. I knew I had to walk alongside the cemetary on Cortelyou until I saw the house with the flower pots on the stoop. That was East 37th Street. Once I saw those pots, I knew I had to make a left turn and walk down that street for five long blocks, then turn right, go one block to Brooklyn Avenue and left again. My grandmother lived halway down Brooklyn Avenue on the right hand side. I had to take that complicated route because Brooklyn Avenue didn't go all the way through because of the woods and that was the way my father drove to get there. I had it dialed in my little brain.
I had gotten a couple of blocks on Cortelyou when I noticed a squad car out of the corner of my eye. I knew they were cops and I knew they were looking for me. I tried my best to act non-chalant but to no avail.
"Hey, Billy, where are you going?" one of the cops called out to me. They called me Billy back then because even though my name is Richard, my middle name is William and I had an uncle they called Richie so I went by my middle nickname of Billy. Follow so far?
"I'm going to my grandma's house," I answered with authority.
"Well, get in and we'll drive you there."
Something told me they weren't going to do that. "No you won't," I said. "You're going to take me back to my house."
"No, we won't. We'll take you to your grandma's house. C'mon and get in. It's a long walk and we can get you there much faster in the car."
Well, that made sense. Still, I wasn't sure I could trust them. "You promise you'll take me to my grandma's house"?
"Sure, don't worry, we'll take you to your grandma's house. We promise."
"Okay." I climbed into the back seat of the cop car, kind of relieved that I wasn't going to have to walk the rest of the way there. It was a little longer than I thought and my little legs were starting to get tired. This was much better and I couldn't wait to see my grandma.
The door closed behind me and the cop who was driving made a quick u-turn and started heading back towards my house.
"No!" I protested. "This isn't the way!"
"No, Billy, we're taking you back home," one of the cops said.
"But you promised!"
"We know, but we had to say that to get you to come in the car. You mother is worried about you, Billy. You don't want her to be worried, do you?" the cop asked in a kind voice.
"No," I answered, meekly. "But I really wanted to go vist my grandmother, though."
"We know, but it's better if you let your father drive you there. We're friends of his and we'll tell him how much you really want to visit your grandmother. He'll take you there when he gets home, okay?"
"Okay."
Well, he didn't, not for a long time. My mother was so relieved to see me that I didn't get scolded but after that she started tying me to the clothesline so I couldn't escape from the yard, anymore. Try as I might, I couldn't undo those knots she used on the rope. She must have been a girl scout or something because she really knew how to tie a good knot.
This is Richie D., The Kid From Flatbush. We'll talk again, soon.

"THE KID FROM FLATBUSH REMEMBERS"

I thought I would take this opportunity to welcome all of you BROOKLYNITES to this BLOGSITE. This marks the beginning of a new era, "BROOKLYN". Only those of us who were lucky enough to have been BORN IN BROOKLYN can know what that feels like. BROOKLYN RULES THE WORLD! It always has and it ALWAYS WILL! NEW YORK CITY is a very special place in its own right, but of it's five boroughs, BROOKLYN is the GEM. BROOKLYN is the KING! You know it, we know it and now, EVERYONE ELSE IS GONNA KNOW IT!
BROOKLYN GUYS are the COOLEST, BEST-LOOKING and MOST TALENTED and SMARTEST of all other guys, anywhere else in the world. Yes, you heard me. I'm not being conceited, it's JUST THE WAY IT IS!
On the other hand, BROOKLYN GIRLS are the MOST GORGEOUS, MOST BEAUTIFUL and MOST DESIREABLE when compared to any other woman, anyplace else in the world. They are GODDESSES!
Now that we've got that out of the way I want the rest of you to know that because we're from BROOKLYN - WE LOVE EVERYBODY and you can hang out with us, if you want. We'd like to hear from ALL OF YOU with STORIES AND MEMORIES
OF BROOKLYN - All of Brooklyn, not just FLATBUSH. That just happens to be where I'm from.
Till next time, this is RICHIE D., "THE KID FROM FLATBUSH"