Back in the Day

No baseball worth reporting on. July a major step backwards. Will post on this past month’s developments in a day or two. Right now, I have a more enjoyable topic for this post.

I have a friend in town, another lawyer, SU grad in the 60s, lived in the Sammy House, who is a collector. Has old newspapers hanging in his office, pictures of JFK, New York sports memorabilia. We were talking the other day, and I came to learn that he has an extensive collection of LPs and 45s from the 50s and 60s. One thing led to another, and I got a call from him informing me to stop by his office and pick up two records which I have longed to add to my I-Tunes collection: Don’t Put All Your Eggs in One Basket, by Otis and the All Night Workers; and Give Me One More Chance, by Wilmer and the Dukes. I raced home, and used my turntable gizmo to turn them into MP3s, so I could load them into my I-Tunes library. And now, I can report, that as I compose this post, Wilmer is in the background, asking over and over for just one more chance.

In return for his kindness, I told my friend that I would make him a playlist from his days at the Sammy House. He told me they partied to 60s R&B, Motown and the Atlantic stars, so I began to put together a playlist from that era. Only I couldn’t locate one particular song, my favorite Supremes song, Back in My Arms Again. I have thousands of songs on I-Tunes, no exaggeration, including albums from all the great Motown artists, but somehow I didn’t have this song in the library. So I went searching through the house, because I absolutely knew I had it somewhere. Sure enough, I found a Supremes Greatest Hits double album from 1967, in good condition, with Back in My Arms Again, along with a couple dozen other early Supremes songs. And I uploaded it, along with a few other songs that weren’t otherwise in I-Tunes. So the playlist was finished, and delivered to my buddy, and it’s now available for publication.

But here’s a weird detail. When I opened the old Supremes album, it had a name inside. In fact, the name was written not only on the inside of the jacket, but on the two record labels as well. Probably to preserve ownership in a dorm or other residence, because one never knew exactly where the album might end up at the end of the night. Only thing is, the name in this album wasn’t mine; it was Prissy Rambar’s. I can’t figure out what I’m doing with Prissy Rambar’s Supremes Album. My best guess is that it was in the Matlows' basement, and was offered to me, free for the taking. Maybe when Hattie was moving south. Who knows? It’s not like I could ever figure this out any more.

Anyway, when I returned the records, and delivered the play list, we reminisced about those times. Back in the Day, when we had dances at the Brookside; when we had Otis play at one of the Aronian parties - I think it was at Drumlins; when you could get everyone up and dancing at a mixer just by putting Midnight Hour on the stereo. My buddy was under the misimpression that this occurred some forty-four years ago, but I told him that was impossible. Forty-four years? You’ve got to be kidding. Oops, have to run now. All Night Workers starting to play, and I need to find someone to dance with. Later.