Tape title stories

 Open City       Open City was held during a ten day absence of parents from the big house at 9230 Annetta in July of 1969. High schooler Greg was following in the older boys missteps, drinking beer and  thinking about spreading his devil's wings. He tried one vice but kept his lungs clean for a while longer. He had finished his junior year and was doing well as a Warrior of Pius X.  The Times Were a Changin' and we all wanted to be cool. My parents had left on a cruise to Alaska and in a  rare poor choice had put me in charge of keeping the home place in good shape. All I did was invite every kid I knew to show up, drink, play loud music and try to have sex with eachother. Christine had just graduated from Pius and her crew was also aboard this sinking ship that made the alcohol intake all the more precarious since it involved 17 to 18 year olds. I was in a relationship with dear Nancy who was always up for a good time but was not a real abuser of sub...

  One tin soldier...       For a man who had so many permanent dislikes in popular culture there was one early film that may have taken the rotten cake for Greg. My aged memory cannot recall the particulars about how we ever watched the thing the first time but we thought it reeked of foul horseshit. It was trying to be another "Easy Rider" which ages like bad enough cheese but Billy Jack was a phony hippy tale full of stilted love lingo and bogus martial arts beatdowns where the peace hero kicks the asses of dozens of bullies. It was 1971 which was actually the 60's to anyone who was there and the peace sign was being flashed alongside the bird all around the town. Rotten Tomatoes succinctly describes Billy Jack as  "A part-Indian Vietnam veteran (Tom Laughlin) kicks around bigots who pick on his girlfriend's (Delores Taylor) so-called freedom school"  Laughlin as Billy  spouts one withering catch phrase after another while his GF Delores whines for a...

The Case of the Burglarizing Beagle The Case of the Burglarizing Beagle      I must include this tale of intrigue that took place up in Bear Cove some years ago during a typical New Hampshire Summer's day helped by a typical Ziesing attitude. It was one of those utterly splendid afternoons when Squam lake was soft and inviting while storm clouds gathered above frolicking Bone swimmers bobbing up and down between the float and the dock. Kit Kat and Ed were the seal pups who had already distinguished themselves by recovering my sunglasses that had sunk to the bottom of the lake after an ill-advised dive off the dock. One of the greatest feelings in all of vacation time was the rare event when rain came down on the lake while temperatures remained balmy and literally demanded bathers to jump in and swim. I was paddling about when I noticed my boon companion heading up the path to the kitchen where he had a bead on a dagwood sandwich for lunch. Meanwhile, Kit, Ed and I tossed...

 Greggo!      He encouraged this nickname that dated back to his time delivering flowers for Uncle Johnny Tassano at the Athletic Club FLower Shop. Greg or Craig had a successful career as an architect while working for some very prestigious firms in the city of Los Angeles (pronounced in the Sam Yorty style with a hard g). When he went off on his own I used to marvel at the thick sets of plans that he would go over with a fine tooth comb to find design blunders that would cost beaucoup francs (term used by his father) to fix once construction was completed. He had skills and a temperment that was suited to such close work. This was part of why he was a patient cook who could follow any recipe and even as a cartoonist that he never tried to develop. Still, I don't think he ever loved any job quite as much as delivering flowers around the city since it gave him freedom to explore and an ability to study the true soul of LA. He told bittersweet tales of visiting the o...

  August 8, 1974...It was a perfect Summer's day for taking LSD and looking at the beautiful Pacific Ocean for three young men named Sheehy, Creason and Smith. Kent was living on the seaside in Ventura county, as part of his putting down Ventura county roots (pronounced like soot). Greg had driven up to Church lane where I was in my second month of unemployment after getting canned by the Central Ticket Office. In my gloom I turned to drugs to treat my depression. In this case it worked.  There was some blotter acid floating around and we felt it would be ideal to drop and drive north where Smith and the sea awaited. The psychedelic day was everything you would want in a trip with sympathetic pals, sunshine, cigarettes and an ocean that was presented as a hundred different colors. The underrated drive up through the sun-splashed Conejo was thrilling and Smitty's beachfront pad was just the thing for hippy gents like us. There was laughter and music including a blasting "Bl...

 Sheehy at the Universal Cast Iron Manufacturing Company     Looking back at growing up in the Gate there were rites of manhood that had to be accomplished by boys and often they were very unpleasant. I am not talking about smoking cigarettes, drinking or looking at cheesecake photos. These were jobs arranged by our fathers with the intent to "make a man  out of him." I was always a little allergic to hard, physical labor and sometimes felt guilty about my cakey paid gigs. The Knowltons worked at a factory called Preco, my brother endured a construction job as a young teen and Greg took on a challenging Summer job at Universal Cast Iron Manufacturing at 9430 Rayo not far from Tweedy school.  Greg toiled in the part of the business called Univco where cast iron fittings were stored and shipped. The place was founded by Zalick Familian back in 1946 and handed over to the nose to the grindstone Al Familian during the time Greg worked in the yard. Greg had no choic...

 Ralph Vinci's double-barrelled hash pipe       A mention of the famed Rolling Stones concert at the Long Beach Arena in 1972 brought back memories of a day etched in Greg memory. We were all experimenting with recreational drugs and looking for thrills in this still hippy era. The word had gone out early and my Dad had fixed us up with lots of tickets for what appeared to be an event of a lifetime with Mick and the Stones, It was May 16, 1972, a glorious Spring day. I had been able to see the boys in 1965 so it was not something I could  miss this time around.  Everybody who was anybody in the Gate was there which included me, Greg, Bobcat, Niall, Ed, Billy, my brother and other important fellow travellers. The tour was called the "Stones Touring Party" or STP and it is one of the most lauded in rock history. This is all secondary to the pre-concert scene with an old Pius buddy of Greg by the name of Ralph Vinci. Ralph was a flat-out fabulous freak brother...

 Keith Richards' Roach Clip this is the style with Onk at top                                                                  Keef      Once again we return to the wonderful walk-up apartment Zeke and I lived in around 1973. My good buddy and roomate carried me a bit until I got a job at the Central Ticket Office and began to pull my weight finally. College man Greg visited often and clouds of pot smoke wafted through the rooms in the evenings as we relaxed in front of the tube or peeked out the windows to see our naked neighbors behave like they were still on a farm in  Missouri. Never, one to let grass grow between his long toes Zeke had gone out and got a job pumping gas at a very busy service station near Third and Beverly back in the Midvale habitation. The kind that had a hose that would ding ...

 Soft Hands     A type of psychotherapeutic activity among good friends is playing catch with an object while bearing your hopes, fears and ability to catch and throw. Many times I have performed this toss therapy and with Greg it was done mostly with footballs and baseball. They did not have to be regulation but miniature or nerf versions were just as good. When using whiffle balls or nerf footballs the throws could be more spirited since they normally would not caused damage in a home or office. Instead of sitting in a chair with eyes watering or grimacing you just catch, throw and talk. As a man who has been in a psychiologists chair many times I always found tossing a ball with Greg to be a healing exercise for both of us. He was not a touchy feely guy but when he let his feelings go they could gush out unexpectedly. An example was one warm afternoon in the Fall of 1975 when I was alone in my Dad's ticket office and sport museum. It was a slow day and I was fighting ...

Chrono 3 on Saturn street        The Seventies were chock full of adventures for a mostly broke bunch of guys. We left off at the expulsion from Church lane due to a lack of funds and the move to Club Virginia. In Greg time the mid-70's featured a year in Frisco, a cross-country jaunt with cousin Smitty including Chi-town after brother Jack's wedding, a move to memorable Saturn street and graduation from UCLA. 1977 was another cross-country trip that ended in the historic meeting with the great Fred Exley after hi-jinmks in Kentucky with Mister Bobcat and cousin. Yet, this era was all about Club Virginia, a diy back house near South Gate High School. While the neighborhood had its drawbacks the rent was just right at $140 per. There was always cheap wine, plentiful pot and music playing from 8456 1/2. The only thing missing was female companionship and South Gate was not exactly a prime spot for meeting nice women. Timo proved us wrong by finding his soulmate at the ...

 Chrono part 2     When the hippy crash pad unravelled, Ed headed to Crow"s Nest Colby, Zeke and I managed to blunder into a luxury apartment on Veteran avenue near Ohio. The place was spacious and a great spot for hanging out with the fellas. Greg spent a good deal of 1973 smoking, joking and watching KCET on the overstuffed Value Village couches in this upstairs pad where boys rules were in effect. We were walking distance from the Westward Ho market where bad for you munchies were purchased in an apartment without a stove. Greg was attending Loyola so the apartment was an easy stopover where the peace, love and freedom reigned. There were also recreational drugs, Westwood streets life and nude neighbors but that is another story. I do believe the sweet digs on Veteran were Greg's favorites in that period of seeking romance and adventure. Sunday nights were get-togethers to watch  America or Masterpiece Theater I worked for the UCLA Fine Arts department that meant ...

 Craig Chronology      To put some perspective on the stories here I have to check a chronology of this friendship. I am reminded of the opening lines of the movie "I Never Sang for My Father"  Death ends a life. But it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor's mind towards some resolution, which it may never find. I have always said my friendship with Greg began before we were born since our fathers were best pals before we came on the scene. I entered stage left over four full years before Greg made his bow in December of 1951. I actually knew of him as a baby but was only aware of his spirit when he was found standing on top of a refrigerator as a tot while our families visited. I was Jack's friend during our younger years but when we moved to La Habra it was a Sheehy visit that cemented the bond between my insecure but funny 13 year old and the impressionable and adventurous 9 year old Greg. It involved a small tape rcording device a...