It was a simpler time, when life was easy and a man said what he meant and meant what he said. When we wanted to know about the rest of the world, we bought the New York Times. Our local newspapers accurately reflected what our neighbors were doing. In those days, people actually worked at their jobs with pride and dedication. Starting out like everyone else, I needed a plan, some direction, and a job.
So, sit back, and relax, my friends and I will take you on a ride you’ll enjoy. As your conductor you should know, I’m Angelo Cataldo, but you can call me Angy. I’m formerly of Revere, just outside Boston. My five foot nine, one hundred and thirty five pound frame makes me average, but my willingness to learn, I believe, elevates me to a higher status. At seventeen years old I’m not very precocious, but I am hard working and always try to do the right thing, well, maybe not ALWAYS, but at least most of the time. I like being an average guy who feels a little bit special. So, pay attention and hang on tight, my friends. I will take you on a tour. Next stop Boston, 1964.
The year is 1963 and the place is Revere Beach, Revere Massachusetts. Revere was named for Paul Revere, but that’s where history leaves off. Revere is a working class town just outside Boston and the beach is one of the most beautiful natural beaches in the world. It is inside a natural bay. Although the beach itself is several miles wide the bay opening to the Atlantic Ocean is only about a half mile wide and the natural grey sand slopes down very gently from shore to sea. At low tide a swimmer could walk out almost a half mile before the water was over their head.
When I think of the beach I naturally think of Joe Russo. Joe is a good friend and school mate from Revere High School who worked at the beach. After school Joe worked at his brother’s place, Russo’s Pizza, on Revere beach. I could count on Joe to make me the best pizza pie in the world. By our senior year at Revere High, Joe could make pizzas faster and better than anyone else in the world. During the very early spring I would take a bus to the beach and Joe would join me sitting on the sea wall across from the pizza place while I ate my slice. We talked about everything, but being young guys we talked about girls.
“Wow, look at that girl crossing the street over there. I’d marry her if she’d let me get a word in edgewise.” Joe confided.
As pre teenagers we just notice it was tough talking to girls they had a lot more to say than we did.
“Come on Joe, she’s so beautiful she wouldn’t look twice at either of us.” I countered.
“You sure have it made Joe, working here at the beach. You get to eat all the pizza you want and see all these beautiful girls walking around in their bathing suits.”
“It sounds better than it is. The only time I spend looking outside is when one of you guys from school show up and I take a break. I spend all my time tossing pizza dough and pouring tomato sauce. After high school is over I’m going to college to get away from this.”
“Really, I thought you would love to work here.”
“Angy, I’ve been here 5 years, gees, that’s almost a third of my life. I want to do something with my life, don’t you?”
“Sure Joe, you know I love doing weddings, though, the pay is never enough.”
“Gees and you of all people, I thought you’d be a photographer forever.”
“Lately I’ve been thinking, as much as I love photography, I can’t make much money doing it. I mean, I can make the best money on weddings, but I can only do them on the week-ends. Usually, I can’t do more than two weddings a week-end and that is very limiting for money. If I charged enough to make it worth while, I’d price myself out of the market.”
“I guess your right, I never noticed that before. Both our families are in the food business, maybe that’s the way to go.”
"I’m beginning to realize that I need to find something. Joe, I need to make a list and look at all my options. The food business is looking better and better. I guess something I know will be easier than trying to learn a new trade.”
The list I made included:
It has to be easy to do or learn.
- It cannot have babies sitting on tables. Although I love babies, photographing them is the pits. I learned that in high school.
- It has to be cheap to buy or get into.
It cannot be owned by anyone I’m related to.
It has to be close enough to commute to.
And, last but not least, it must make money, a lot of money.
Eventually, the idea of a submarine sandwich shop became my immediate solution for the future. Joe was a help with this idea because his brother’s place sold some sub sandwiches and Joe told me how much money you could make with each sandwich. My own personal love for sub sandwiches also helped me decide to buy a sandwich shop in Spring Hill MA and while I studied the sandwich business Joe went off to college. I didn’t see him again for several years after that.
The sub shop was a grind at first, it was filthy and took all I had to get it cleaned up and running smoothly. The first few months in the shop, every store around me got robbed by gunmen walking in and sticking them up. I decided to protect myself with a gun of my own. I got a police pistol permit to carry a firearm for protection. To this day, I’ve never shot the gun in anger but it’s nice to have when you’re walking down a very dark and lonely street. The biggest danger was when moving the receipts to the bank at the end of the day. I first had to apply to the local chief of police in Spring Hill and then I had to approach the Massachusetts State Police for the permit. In MA they handle all pistol permits. During the permit qualification process, I met and became friendly with Sergeant Robert Long of the Watertown State Police Office. After this meeting I bumped into him again at Russo’s Pizza on Revere Beach one night; we talked and discovered we shared tastes in food and many other things including a friendship with Joe Russo. Sergeant Long informed me that he would be more comfortable if I addressed him as Bobby. Bobby is still a friend to this day. We both loved Russo’s Pizza and go there for a slice whenever we can. We grew up in adjoining Winthrop and Revere and actually had several mutual friends, starting with Joe Russo. Bobby lives at the south end of Revere Beach in a town called Winthrop, MA and Russo’s Pizza is at the north end of the same beach in Revere. Also, we both spent a lot of growing up time on the beach enjoying our favorite pastime, watching girls swimming and frolicking. Bobby and I have made it a point to get to Revere Beach about four times a year. We usually meet at Russo’s especially when Joe’s working and drag him out for a break, to sit on the sea wall with us and enjoy the pizza.
I don’t consider getting a pistol permit a good thing, but meeting Bobby, who became a lifelong friend, certainly was a good outcome of a bad thing.
Unfortunately, crime in the restaurant business, or, for that matter any business, was a daily concern and protecting one’s self was an absolute necessity. As an advertising strategy I convinced the shops around me to allow their business names to be used in an advertising campaign under the heading Shopper’s Corner. There are five of us under this heading. Collectively we presented a stronger entity in complaining to the police about the crime in our area. Our new position encouraged the police to increase the patrols in our area both in cars and walking. This intense police presence effectively stopped the crime spree we were enduring.
It took a little time and effort, but the sub shop finally became a busy and successful place. After hiring a great manager in Jack Callahan, I had time to talk to customers and observe the process of my business, something I never had time to do before. I was also able to take short breaks away from work.
From the time I took over the shop, local girls my age would hang around and, much to my surprise and delight, some were even brave enough to hit on me. One memorable night it was slow and while Jack handled everything I flirted with Peggy. After a while Peggy asked me if I’d like to see her new kitchen furniture at her apartment around the corner, I said,
“Sure why not.”
For weeks before this, Peggy would come in, buy a coke and flirt for hours. I loved her bubbly personality and sweet innocent face. When we got to her apartment, Peggy proudly showed off her new purchases with pleasure. She had bought this great kitchen set made out of chrome plated metal and plastic. The chairs and table had a red and great design that brightened the kitchen.
Over tea we talked for what seemed like minutes, but were really hours. I spent the night at Peggy’s apartment and was in love. My first time was wonderful. When I awoke the next morning, she was still asleep. So, after standing and watching her sleep for a moment, I snuck out, not wanting to disturb how peaceful and beautiful she looked.
As I arrived at work my smile was so big, it rivaled the sun. Everyone at work noticed I was smiling too much. Dancing on clouds as I attempted to go about my day as usual, the help speculating that at the very least insanity had taken me prisoner. In the late afternoon, I went out to pick up some fruit for later that night. And while I was gone, Peggy came in and left me a note. She must have been watching the shop for me to leave because, when I left she entered. When I got back and read the note, I couldn’t believe it.
“Dear Daniel, Angy (the note is in pen she crossed out the name Daniel with pencil)
I’m awful sorry for the way I acted last night. I shouldn’t had let you make love to me. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. But I guess you don’t want anything to do with me.
Peg”
All day long I was dancing around the shop thinking what a stud I was. I guess my lady love thought I was more a Dud. I could feel every molecule of the blade as it plunged through my broken heart, making me suicidal. I never did find out why Peg dumped me, I never saw her or talked to her again.
Affairs of the heart obviously are not my thing. My knowledge of these things is so abysmal; I was actually staring life-long bachelorhood in the face. At least it wouldn’t hurt as much as this!
Sometimes, when things go bad, they seem to trigger bad times. Three years after I took over this business we were doing great and the next thing I knew we were being sued by suppliers of the former owner.
What happened was that the former owner was being sued by everyone he dealt with. The former owner lied and told each of his creditors I bought the entire business and was suppose to pay the back bills. When these creditors saw I was doing good business they decided to take it away from me if they could. Once we got into court the lawyers introduced the original Bill of Sale for the business and the case was thrown out, but, that didn’t mean anything to the next group.
Soon after losing Peggy and fighting a few of the pending battery of law suits, I decided it was time to sell out. The heart went out of me and the fight became more than I could handle.
The deal I made with the new group gave Jack a long term job if he wanted it. I also left with a substantial check that made my future better.
Frankly, if I had known the amount I could sell the business for before I started defending the court cases I would have sold out sooner.
Now that I have time and a few bucks in my pocket I think I’ll head for college and find something I can get my teeth into but with less hard work and less long hours.
Chapter Two
Fresh from selling the sub shop; still crushed from getting my heart handed to me, and for the first time in my life not sure what I wanted to do, I was excited when my wandering brother, Pat, arrived home. I always looked up to my brother. At ten years older than me, everything he did was new and exciting to me. Pasquale, Pat returned home from California, where he was attending college. He loved it out there and he couldn’t stop talking about it. His excitement was contagious.
Pat was darkly handsome and very Italian looking. His wavy hair and cavalier style made him a favorite of ladies and men alike. While in California, he attended the University of California Law School at the Los Angeles Campus. Until the term “Lady Killer” went out of fashion and began to mean something negative, Pat was all of that and more. His infectious smile captured the hearts and minds of all women who looked at him. It was incredible to watch him in action. A wink, a nod and he had a pretty young thing pressing against him jumping to obey his every suggestion. My friends all envied my close position to him, the better to learn his every trick. It was like watching Clark Gable or Cary Grant. However, I learned quickly that only one such magician is allowed in any family. One of his tricks was devouring every woman within range. I discovered that if he saw me talking to someone the next morning she would be seen leaving his abode.
During the time he was at UCLA the school sponsored several publicity events every semester that brought students and local celebrities together. I’d seen pictures of Miss Jane Mansfield in the middle of a group of law students, including my brother, many times. This was amazing to a young man from Boston, MA.
He talks endlessly about studying at the pool with all the young actresses running around dressed in outfits every man on the planet would appreciate. These images piqued my interest, and had me investigating California schools for my college of choice. His fascinating stories of the rich and famous made me concentrate my search in Las Angeles. Luckily, I came across an internationally renowned video photography school that I hoped would be exactly what I was looking for. The photography school was named Brooks Institute, and the more I read about it the more interested I became. I wrote to them and opened a dialogue which resulted in an application submission from me. I was delighted when I was accepted and I was even more excited when they told me if I stayed for two semesters, I would establish residency and as a result the classes were very inexpensive for the year as well.
So I was off to California! The general plan was to arrive in Los Angeles May 1, find an apartment and set myself up with whatever I needed. That way when the summer semester started in June, I would be ready to go. I was convinced I could easily make the transition from still photography to video.
I was grateful for the money from the sale of the sub shop as I knew it would make all my dreams come true.
Already the Brookes Institute of Photography was a great opportunity unfolding for me.
The more I heard about CA, the more excited I got. After I applied to Brookes, the first thing the school did was post my pictures in the school newspaper along with a profile from my application to the school. In Boston, my home territory, I couldn’t get a date no matter what I did, or so I thought. But, before I left Boston, I got three letters from CA girls wanting to meet me when I arrived. They saw my picture in the new students section of the school paper and were interested. This exciting development suggested to me there were unspoken cultural differences between up tight Boston and jumping LA. In Boston the girls seemed to want an official certification from on high before showing any interest in a fellow. Happily as shown by the letters from CA the girls out there let their eyes do the certifying. That was a very big difference for a shy guy like me. California seemed to continue to come into my life back then. For example, while I was signing papers for the sale of the sub shop at my lawyer’s office, I met one of his legal assistants, Ben Sturgis. Ben was from San Francisco and was handling all the paper work. While we transacted the sale, we had a conversation about the differences between Boston and San Francisco, CA.
“So, Ben, you grew up in San Francisco, California?”
“Yes, Mr. Cataldo, I did.”
“Please, call me Angy.”
“Sure, Angy;”
“What do you think is the most important difference between people in Boston and people in San Francisco, Ben?”
“Well, the difference begins with San Francisco natives; they love their city. They’re always making excuses for stupid stuff done by their politicians or their police but, at the heart of everything, they love their city, and that attitude is behind everything else. The overriding truth extends to all Californians. They love their state.”
“OK, but I don’t know what that means.” I said.
“I love Boston and I know other people in the city who feel the same, but they don’t act like San Franciscans. In Boston, if you ask a native Bostonian whether he has been to the Paul Revere House or to the Old North Church, most people answer no. They figure they have their entire lives to see these things that are right around the corner and they don’t want to take the time.”
“Oh” said Ben.
“San Franciscans go out of their way to make the time for things like that. In San Francisco, you will never hear a true San Franciscan bad mouth the city. I mean in other cities, you hear the people complain about small stuff all the time, but there you don’t.”
“People in San Francisco are proud of how clean their city is. There would never be a garbage strike there because the people would clear the garbage themselves. It’s called civic pride; California has it better then anyplace else I’ve ever been.”
“But Ben, you have to admit the people are flakes to say the least. Californians will put up with some incredible happenings without a murmur. For example, where else would people put up with drug growers right next door to them. Maybe it’s just my opinion, but jeez, they sure are different from Bostonians.”
“You can say that about any city if you only listen to the odd balls and expatriates. When you get to talk to the regular Joes and Janes you see they’re not that different.”
“Well I’m glad they’re different.” I said. “I would love to visit California and I look forward to doing just that very soon. As large as this country is, it is not impossible for geographical effects to sway some cultural changes. For example, people living along the coast of either ocean, Atlantic or Pacific, develop ocean based preferences. For one thing in food, I know being from Boston, I love cold water fish and shell fish. I would miss some of the foods I grew up with and I am acutely aware of the importance of our oceans to life on the planet. Someone living in Kansas will never know the joy of the salt sea air and biting tang of the morning chill a stroll along any coastal beach in October will bring.
“Californians are open to new things, like computers.” Ben said.
“Silicon Valley is just starting out but it won’t be long before some genius will build a computer that costs less than millions of dollars. I keep hearing about guys working in their garages and coming up with stuff that works. It’s only games right now, but who knows about tomorrow? Hewlett Packard is an enormous company in the Silicon Valley and has been producing test equipment for years. In 1968 they produced a calculator that works almost like the IBM computers. This piece of equipment is being billed as a calculator because it doesn’t have an alphabetic keyboard. HP produced a computer, as the HP 2100, which was considered a mini computer to IBM’s full computers. Steve Wozniak designed the APPLE 1 while working at HP and offered it to HP under the first right of refusal regulation. Their policy at the time was they were to have First Right of Refusal on anything invented while a person worked for them. They refused because they wanted to stay in Scientific, Business, and Industrial Markets. Who knows where the Apple Computer will go from here.”
Chapter Three
I had enjoyed talking to Ben and his characterization of California added to my excitement. But, our business came to an end.
The sub shop was gone and I was feeling flush. All that money was burning a hole in my pocket. I was making all kinds of promises to myself about not spending it, after all Brookes Institute was the plan, but I talked myself into buying a new car. I’d always loved T birds and I found myself going to look at one shortly after getting the money for the sub shop. I knew that once I saw that beautiful 1966 T Bird, I wouldn’t be able to resist buying it. But, I figured, it was worth it! It was the beginning of my dream!
As expected, I didn’t make it past the Ford dealership. In the middle of a major February snow storm in Revere, I told the salesman at the dealership I wanted to see convertibles. At first they thought I was kidding and didn’t move, but when I insisted, they agreed to show me the only 1966 Thunder Bird Convertible they had. In order to show me the car, they had to drive me to it because of where it was garaged.
Although the main show room was on a major artery from Boston to the north shore, a very visible and prominent location, its repair shop and storage garage were a half mile away on a back road across the MA Transit Authority tracks. The Transit Authority is the local Boston rapid transit so the location was not very desirable or presentable.
The car they showed me had just arrived from the plant and still was covered with all the road dust and grime from being shipped over the road. I was so excited on seeing my dream car I insisted on driving it, and the salesman agreed, but said he had to ride along. I don’t think he took me seriously because he severely limited the route, making me go around the corner near the dealership and back again. When we got back to the showroom after I complained to the manager that I was not treated seriously. He said;
“Why, do you intend to buy the car”?
I said “Yes”, over my shoulder as I walked out, “but not from you.”
As the door was closing behind me, he came running out
“Wait, we can fix this.” He yelled, “I’m sure the salesman didn’t mean to be insulting. He’ll apologize and make you a deal you can be happy with,” he promised.
I said
“Try me”
Well at $4,900.00, it turned out to be the best car deal of my life! This brightened up my day, and even my month. I later learned that my car was the only car that dealership sold during the three day snow storm. Who knew at the time that no car company would come out with a better looking car, even many years later? My T-bird had Amber Glow paint and a white leather interior. Amber Glow was a new color in 1966; it was supposed to look like the red hot coals of a wood fire and under certain lighting conditions that’s exactly what it looked like. The white interior was perfect against the Amber Glow exterior. When I put the top down people would stop and stare, as the entire back of the car would rise up vertically and the canvas top would curl into the nest the back revealed. When the back was again in place, the car looked miles long. No car since has ever made me feel quite the same. Pride, excitement, on the tip of my toes anticipation, just like a five 5 year old on Christmas morning, that's how excited I was.
So, new car, new school, I was thrilled! All my new toys had me jumping out of my skin. However, buying the car had changed my original plans as I’d have to drive to CA. But, hell I figured I’d have the best looking car in Ventura. I had a small bout of post purchase depression. I wondered if the girls out there liked convertibles. I’d blown a lot of the money from the sub shop on the car, so I now need to get a job just to pay for gas. Maybe, I could be a wedding photographer while I was learning to be a movie photographer. I was sure I’d find something. LA is a big town and I am convinced there are tons of jobs I can do. I had the idealism and optimism of youth on my side.
The State House Steps Boston Massachusetts.
“The Massachusetts State Police today honored 18 state and local police officers and 3 civilians for contributions to the safety of the public above and beyond the normal call of duty. The awards ceremony, held at the Grand Staircase of the State House, was led by Secretary of Public Safety and Security Mark H. O’Rourke, and Colonel Kevin P. Shanahan, Superintendent of the State Police.” Article in the Boston Globe
“Sergeant Robert L. Long of the Framingham office was honored today for valor above and beyond the normal call of duty, for his bravery in apprehending Interstate serial murderer and escaped prisoner Ned Monday.
Sergeant Long risked his life to apprehend this dangerous criminal. While Sergeant Long was on duty at the Toll Booth in Framingham MA, Sergeant Long recognized the car of escaping prisoner Ned Monday as it approached the toll booth. mindless of his own safety Sergeant Long stood in front of the escapee’s car and ordered him to halt. When the escapee attempted to run over Sergeant Long, the Sergeant jumped into the escaping car through the passenger’s open window. Half in half out of the car, Sergeant Long managed to subdue the escaping prisoner and take him into custody.
It will be remembered that the criminal Monday is one of the FBI’s most wanted Criminals. Monday is allegedly the perpetrator of a string of serial murders against unsuspecting young women from Seattle Washington to Miami Florida and states along this route. It is believed Monday is guilty of 19 murders. He was finally captured in Florida and after a lengthy trial was found guilty of two murders committed there and sentenced to death. During his transfer to a psychological observation unit for study, which Monday volunteered for, he escaped from his captors and has been on the run ever since.
He’s suspected of several additional murders along his route from Florida to Massachusetts. Monday is considered the very model of a serial Killer.
The local and State Police have been on the lookout for Monday since his escape. It was suspected he intended to head for Canada.” Article in the State Police News, Framingham Massachusetts.
“Sincere congratulations Sergeant Long, I expect the Sergeant designation will not be for much longer, I hear the Lieutenant bars are only days away. We in the Fraternal Brotherhood of State Police are proud to call you brother.”
“Thank you Captain Healy, coming from you that is high praise.” Answered Sergeant Long.
“You are having a proud and distinguished career Sergeant and are a good example to our new recruits. We in the Massachusetts State Police need more men like you. Let me shake your hand.”
Captain Healy shakes Sergeant Long’s hand and they briefly embrace. Captain Healy then moves on to the next honoree and Sergeant Robert Long continues off the dais to his waiting family.
“Bobby that was wonderful everyone is so proud of you, my heart is bursting with pride.”
“Mom, on a day like this that's exactly what your heart is supposed to do;
Calley, as my younger sister you are growing to quickly into a real beauty, thank you for taking your to time to come to this.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Like Mom, I’m very proud of you today, but I have always been proud of you big brother from your distinguished military career to your now exemplary police career.”
“Ok, that’s enough gushing you’ll make my head to big for my hat. I say, it’s time for lunch and I’m buying.”
“Not this time Bobby, it’s your mothers turn to buy. Now you follow me.”
At this the family went to the parking lot and their cars to drive to a local restaurant frequented mostly by police.
Chapter Four
The offices of Cataldo Food Distributors Boston Mass. Angy’s friend Robert
Cimino has a private conversation with Angy’s father.
Walking into the companies front offices, Robert approaches a woman seated behind a desk.
“Hi, is Salvatore here? Tell him Robert Cimino is asking for him.”
“Certainly Mr. Cimino, have a seat, I’ll tell him you’re here.” Said the secretary as she lifted the phone on her desk and dialed intercom.
Less than five minutes later, Robert was escorted into the main cooler where Mr. Salvatore Cataldo, Angy Cataldo’s father, was busy directing his crew.
A heavily built fellow, with a constantly moving cigar hanging out of his serious red face, Salvatore was in the middle of the refrigerated meat locker barking orders at his crew.
“Hi Robert, how’re you doing? Have you seen Angy lately?” The serious red face barked, his cigar bouncing uncontrollably and his hand extended in the classic handshake greeting.
“Sure Sal, I saw him yesterday,” answered Robert as they shook hands;
“That’s why I’m here. I’m looking at a night club I want to buy and I want Angy to come and run it for me for a while. It’s a great place. It was called the Executive Suite when it was open, and I’m thinking of making it into a Dixieland Club. But, before I offer the job to Angy, I want to make sure I’m not upsetting any of your plans for him. I know he wants to go to school in California, but I think this would be better for him in the long run.”
“You’re taking me by surprise,” said Sal. “I know Angy wants to go to California but this is the first I’ve heard about a night club job. Can he do it Robert? He’s very young.”
“Sal, I don’t have a doubt. Your son is smart; you and your wife did a good job. And, I’ll be only a few blocks away all the time. I intend to haunt the club at night. It’s time I made a profit on the money I spend on dates. This way I can take my girls to my own place.”
“I’m glad to hear you think so highly of Angy. I know he’s smart, but it’s difficult for me to get him to follow directions.” Sal objected.
Are you sure you’re ready to take him on as manager?”
“Sal, rebelling against their parents, is the way kids are built today,” but, in this case, it will be good for him and me. He won’t rebel against me and this’ll make him grow up overnight.”
“Well Robert it sounds good.” Sal said “If there is anything I can do, don’t hesitate to let me know. But for God’s sake don’t tell him I’m helping him in any way.”
“Thanks Sal, I’m glad I spoke to you. Angy is a good kid and will do very well. This is the type of business where a person can grow personally as the business grows.”
With all this behind the scenes maneuvering going on Angy is giving Robert’s proposal a lot of thought.
My family and friends all knew my plans to go to CA. Some were as excited as I was about the move, others, like my mother, not so much. However, before I had a chance to get away, a friend has made me a proposition. He wanted me to run a night club for a month or so in Boston. But he said we had to move on it immediately. So I had to make a decision: go to CA to study photography or stay in Boston to manage a night club?
It was lucky for me I had three months before my classes started in Ventura; I had time to do both.
The bank was hovering over the building Robert had chosen for the night club. Robert believed he had to act now or the bank would foreclose and sell the building stripped of all its restaurant equipment and great antiques, like the second floor bar or the great new kitchen fully equipped. Robert was excited to get moving and gave me a quick tour of the night club. The more I looked around the more I felt my resolve to move to CA slipping away. I became an invested in Robert’s proposition because I loved the building. My family has been in the food business all my life and I’d seen restaurants with half that much ambiance and atmosphere succeed wildly. Now, if only Robert could tailor the deal to our advantage, we could have a business venture that would make us proud!
The deal Robert made was to give the former owner money, enough to bring the mortgage up to date, and then some. In those days the commitment was a lot of money to lay out with almost no guarantee of anything except more risk.
Finally I suspended my dream of CA and said yes to Robert. After I agreed to work with him, Robert gave the former owner, Jacob Melvin, a paper job at a thousand dollars per month. He is not expected to do anything, but he’ll get paid off over time and then Robert would own the business outright. Written in the contract was the condition that in order to fire Jacob, Robert must give him ninety days notice with pay. I was insecure about dealing with Jacob as I believed he was a first class jerk. I was aware of events in Jacob’s life that made me uneasy, for example I knew that his girlfriend’s current broken arm was a result of his pushing her down the night club stairs in a drunken effort to save himself. She was a very attractive 31 year old book keeper, who was half his age. When I first saw her, I thought of a little pouting girl who cried all the time. She had that type of face, pretty but hurt by life. They met when she came to work for him. Both being alcoholics, they formed a couple, seemingly out of convenience. I’d heard they were drinking on the second floor alone one night and decided to go out to eat at another restaurant. As they were drunkenly staggering down the stairs he lost his footing. Falling uncontrollably, he pushed into her to save himself. Because she was on the step in front of him, she fell all the way to the bottom of the stairwell, breaking her arm in the process. He, on the other hand, dropped straight to the stairwell and didn’t fall any further. I wasn’t raised to treat a woman that way, using her body to break my fall, and I didn’t think much of him because he had.
I was aware of another incident that influenced my opinion of Jacob. I’d heard that before they renovated the building they didn’t have the hat check on the first floor closing off the view into the first floor, but the stairwell was open all the way up. Then, a person coming down the stairs could see into the first floor almost from the top of the stairs. Jacob, coming down the stairs could see his girlfriend talking to a young man at the bar before she was aware he was on the stairs. In a drunken fury Jacob, a former police sergeant, pulled his gun and started shooting at them. It was a good thing he couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn, or his girlfriend and they guy she was talking to would have died that night. Enough said about Jacob Melvin; I had no use for him. However, Robert was good at negotiations, and Melvin was interested in free drinks so the deal went though.
Robert paid the bank $10,500.00 up front, to bring the mortgage up to date and took over the balance. He felt with a little time from me he could interview and find a full time manager and I would be free to go to CA.
Robert was willing to pay me $2,000.00 for being his interim manager in addition to the weekly pay he paid me along the way. It was a great deal for me because I looked forward to taking my T Bird to CA and going to school with no worries about money. Robert was getting a $600,000.00 building for $24,000.00 down and a mortgage of $250,000.00, so it was a good deal all around.
Let me go back and tell you a bit about my friend Robert Cimino. He was a little older than me and I met him while I was photographing a wedding he attended several years before. He must have been impressed with me that night because he asked me to do some formal and candid photographs of his girlfriend and we have been friends ever since. Robert was 21 years old and, from the results I observed, he was handsome enough to attract any woman he wanted. He had that bad boy look that many women seem to find interesting and irresistible. At the time he had a successful wholesale meat company that he ran day to day, which is why he needed me. Although he looked forward to being there every night Robert’s meat business was too successful to give it up for something as risky as the night club, and take a chance on hurting the meat business, which was his real bread winner.
Robert was a businessman who had finished law school but never took the bar exam. He felt he had learned enough law to protect himself in business, which was his goal. Not that Robert was or wanted to be a criminal, but he sometimes walked a very thin line in business. In America’s litigious society having a working knowledge of the law is a major advantage, and Robert used his law school knowledge in some very creative ways sometimes. Personally, not that Robert was conceited, (a little irony here), but he could never get enough of himself. For Example, one day he and I were walking in the Boston meat market area, heading to a lunch room near his office. I’d managed to drag him away from the business telephone, his day time lifeline. Robert looked up at a building near us and saw a woman leaning out of a top floor window; Robert started yelling, “Don’t jump lady! It’s right here, don’t jump.”
Then he started un-zipping his pants and laughing his head off, as if he believed that he was every woman’s dream.
Robert always had several steady girl friends who thought it was time to start planning their wedding with him. He seemed to be able to sit in a restaurant with the most beautiful woman in the world and flirt with every other woman in the room at the same time. As long as his date’s back was turned. When I asked him about his lack of loyalty to women, his answer was always;
“What’s the problem? What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
He once dated a legal secretary and they slept together on the first date, which wasn’t unusual for him but, apparently was for her. The following day, she was out pricing wedding reception halls, and he was interviewing a new girl friend. This one almost made trouble for all of us; she was my lawyer’s secretary and couldn’t understand why Robert wasn’t going to marry her. After all, he’d swept her off her feet with promises of a glorious future together and she’d believed him.
Amazingly women seemed to find him very convincing and believed every word he said, and men found him fascinating because of his prowess with women. He exuded such an air of confidence that people listen to him when he talks about anything. I’ve never understood his gift of getting women to believe everything he says. Me, I’m different. Girls looked at me as if I was lying when I told them my name.
Robert was and amazing salesman he’d sold Wear Ever pots and pans and the first year he sold them he became the top salesman in the entire East Coast USA. He kept that record for as long as he worked for Wear Ever, which was several years. On a visit to his apartment I discovered what he did to be so successful. I was there for dinner and saw, next to his desk, an extensive script. It turned out he only sells to women, and every word he said was written down and extensively rehearsed when he calls them.
Every year he had at least one new fiancée and one new Chevrolet Corvette, I don’t know which was more important to him the girls or the car. I suspected the car was more important, after all he could easily get another woman, the car he had to pay for. That was Robert: the good, the bad and the ugly all rolled into one person.
Chapter Five
But, back to the club. In our quest to purchase and successfully open the club, I studied every similar operation in town. Some, like Players Club, I surreptitiously scouted, both for prime employees and good working habits managing the business. I enjoyed this research after all I am a serious and hard working fellow! Players Club was a unique example, for it was a very successful franchise. They had their main branch in Chicago and a dozen other clubs around the country. Every ruling from Chicago was written in stone. The girls were treated well for the most part, but they were under the gun if they had a problem with local management. If a girl had a disagreement with the local manager, she was fired. It didn’t matter who was right or wrong. The club had been open for a very short time in Boston and they already fired a number of girls, which worked well for me. I heard a story about a girl who refused to date an assistant manger, so he took her off shift. The other girls sided with her and told management about the reasons behind the move. Instead of firing the assistant manager as they should have, they fired all the girls involved. This made the remaining girls start looking around for other jobs. The problem was no other night clubs were as successful, and the girls could make crazy money at Players Club.
I knew the first girl and thought management overreacted. But, Chicago has the last word and the local manger was god, with a little g. I filed this information away for later use as a manager of Robert’s club.
Other clubs I watched were run very differently from Players. For example the Tic Toc Lounge was one of these other clubs and I liked the way they managed their business. The club was locally owned and operated. The manager was a local man who lived here in Boston and has for years. He’d been at the Tic Toc for eight or nine years and he got along very well with the girls. Actually sometimes he got along with them too well, if you know what I mean, but the girls loved it. So, every chance I got I spent some time there studying the correct way to do things. Not only did the people at the Tic Toc teach me how to manage, but they also introduced me to one of my favorite people, Janet Lally.
The Tic Toc Lounge was located two doors from the Players Club, in Park Square, Boston. The two clubs were close enough to each other that I never needed to worry about getting lost walking from one to the other no matter how much I drank. The Tic Toc Lounge had a long narrow bar that had an entrance on Boylston St on one end and another entrance, at the other end of the bar, onto Park Square. As I said I started going in there to see how they ran their place. At the time, the Tic Toc Lounge was actually a Go-Go bar, which was a little different from a night club or a bar. A Go-Go bar was a place where they had pretty girls dancing on a stage in skimpy outfits, usually behind the bar with enough distance from the customers that the girls were not afraid of being accosted by the clientele. The Tic Toc had a small dancing platform right behind the bar, with stairs alongside of the platform for the girls, all well away from the patrons.
After spending several nights watching the operation, I noticed a particularly pretty dancer who seemed to notice me as well. On a slow night, I waited until she was on her break and bravely, sent her a drink along with my Gas Light business card. Actually, this was a first for me; I had just turned 21 and was a novice at picking up girls in bars. As you know, I committed myself to a life of celibacy and bachelorhood.
She came over to my table with the drink and asked me;
“What am I supposed to do when someone sends me a business card?”
My brilliant reply and my first ever line;
“The drink was to thank you for doing such a great job dancing and looking so beautiful up there. I would love it if you would sit and enjoy the drink with me. The card is just to let you know who I am.”
She smiled and sat down next to me.
“My name is Janet and I’m glad to meet you.”
“Woo wee!” This exclamation was in my head and not out loud, for a change. I’m old enough now to act like an adult, no matter how I really feel.
“As you can see by my card, I’m Angelo Cataldo, and I’m very pleased to meet you as well. Please call me Angy.”
Janet was one of those women that all men loved. At five foot two inches tall and 110 pounds, she had the prefect shape. Her bubbly personality and happy smile made everyone who saw her want to know her. Both men and women found her attractive and she was always in the middle of a group of admirers. Janet’s most endearing quality was that she didn’t know how wonderful she was. She always thought people were only being nice when they said nice things to her. I found that modesty to be very appealing.
Janet told me she just moved from Cincinnati, Ohio and this was her first job in Boston. She was living with a roommate on Newbury St. which was right around the corner from the Tic Toc. We seemed to have so much to say to each other and during the next two hours we got to know each other much better. She sat with me between her dancing sets and we talked. By the time we left the Tic Toc (I drove her home) we both had had too much to drink and could barely stand. But, it didn’t really matter because both of us were happy enough to not even notice our condition.
As luck would have it Janet’s apartment was on the first floor, and we went straight in. She said her roommate would be in much later so, stripping as we went, we were both naked by the time we got to the couch. The sex was incredible. There were times I couldn’t tell where all my body parts ended and hers began. It was wonderful exploring and experimenting and I wondered if this is what it felt like to be in love.
Actually, I thought I’d discovered body parts I didn’t know I had, she had or, well, at least one of us had. I’m living my fantasy. To this day, I still don’t remember who was on top or, in fact, where either of us actually was. I don’t know if it was the liquor, the couch, or the girl but it was simply the best night of my life. That night, I liked to think it was the girl. (I didn’t know it at the time but we would do this many more times over the coming months and it was definitely the girl.)
The next morning she had coffee waiting for me when I awoke. We sat and contemplated her roommate, naked and coverless ten feet away, on her rollout bed. Janet said,
"It was a good thing we were asleep when my roommate got home or she would have attacked us. She’s into three ways.”
Janet’s bisexual roommate would be a carnal fantasy for another day. At this thought I was pretty sure I died and had gone to heaven.
Leaving quietly so as not to disturb the roommate, I went to find my car. As I walked, the nasty thought took some of my joy away, I better not enjoy this too much, remember what happened last time. I didn’t have far to walk to find my car. Unfortunately, I’d parked on the sidewalk the night before. There were six $30.00 parking tickets hanging off the windshield wipers, but still smiling despite the tickets, I drove away.
When Janet and I first met, the Gas Light Club had not opened yet. Some days, as we prepared to open Janet would come into the club with me on her days off. The first night she came to the club, I hired Janet to dance as soon as it opened. During these days and nights before the grand opening she liked to practice dancing on the bar and the tables, trying different techniques to see what worked best. Working with her like this, she and I perfected the dancing on the table’s act that the girls later used for years to great success. It was so fun being spontaneous and creative with Janet. We learned in order to stabilize the tables enough to support the girls as they danced the customers had to put their drinks on the floor and hold the table with both hands. Also, the girls had to wear rubber or soft soled shoes or they might slip off the table. The tables are a smooth marble and leather soled shoes were slippery on them. Our strategies worked well; we were in the club for years with not one single accident, with hundreds of hours table and bar dancing. Working this way Janet and I quickly became more than friends.
Usually after working together to perfect the table dancing, Janet and I would head upstairs to make love on the cot in the back office. Somehow, I was as excited and energized by her dancing as she seemed to be, at these times we only had a few drinks in us and were the most sober of any of the times we made love. But, sober or drunk didn’t matter; we enjoyed each other so much, we literally could make love for hours. After making love on the cot we would get about an hours sleep and I would drive her home, where we would begin making love again.
Later, we would get about an hours sleep and I would drive her home, where we would begin again making love. Her roommate never stayed if I was there; when we arrived, she left. Early in our time together, Janet offered her roommate to me as a threesome.
At first my fantasy world got all excited at the thought, but the reality of it turned me off. The thought of the roommate, no matter how great in the sack she might be, paled, in comparison to what Janet and I had. I enjoyed Janet too much to bring anyone else into the relationship.
I know Janet was proud of my attitude about the threesome; it made us a real couple. Over the years I have heard many men brag how they would enjoy multiple beautiful women. But, in my case, faced with the real possibility of sharing Janet with another human being this way horrified me.
Janet and I work great together. There was no doubt about that and there was nothing in our way. I loved that I could count on her to stand by my side. I loved how we worked together, created together, and shared ourselves in our own private world.
