Ben How are Ya

 Ben...How are ya!

     This involves the colorful but troubled Evan Sheehy in his drinking days and my Dad's small office at 538 Santa Barbara avenue, across the street from the Sports Arena. "The Office" was a place where you tread lightly and did nothing unless BC ordered you to do it. Over the years he had found reason to employ us at odd jobs from parking lot attendant to digger of theater tickets. This small office was the precursor to the spacious and deluxe Coliseum and Arena Ticket Service and Ben Creason's  Sports Museum. However, it was a professionally equipped place of business with four telephone lines and room for two large desks inside a substantial counter.The crisp signage was done by Gene the sign man and was admired by Greg for the precision and versatility. There was a spotlessly clean rest room to the left and a very large parking lot that was watched over by the great Rudy Washington who had just a shed to shield him from the elements. Next door was the legendary Fernando's Bar and Mexican Restaurant, conveniently available for underage drinking and take out enchiladas. Fernando Isais by the way was several times horshoe pitching champion of the world and was a hell of a nice man. Back to the office that was chaotic and filled with clueless sports fans on game day. It could be USC or Ram games with big crowds or UCLA games with middling crowds. I was out of high school and hanging around the office waiting to be dismissed from parking lot duty or to get a stray ticket or lost seat location to the game. At this time Evan showed up pretty loaded and came into the office bold and free of care. He casually reached over the counter, opened the sacred gate and shouted "Ben How are ya.!" Greg and I both looked up to Evan who was about as cool a cat as we knew and he was older by both years and life experience.Yet what he did was unthinkable in my Dad's ticket office. You just did not breach the counter or speak in such a folksy way to a guy trying to make a living selling tickets. The gesture was so over the top it was jarring and deeply funny. Evan managed to use the can, get a ticket, go to the game and be remembered forever by his two young mentees for his besotted shout to BC. Just an add about addressing parents at this time. I never called Mr. and Mrs. Sheehy John and Grace. I never called Mrs. Whitney or Mr. Whitney Olivia and Roy nor did I called Mr. and Mrs. Knowlton Van and Margaret. It just wasn't done.