By Walter Darian. 1970
Three decades had passed, the building was the same, only the signs were different. A modern 1970s sign said, "Rivera." It felt strange climbing that long straight stairway again, but it was just as I remembered it. Inside, however, it was no longer a typical sailor joint. It was now a reconstructed Disco joint (albeit a seedy one.) The bar to the left of the door was gone. Gone too were the booths and tables on the perimeter of the dance floor. In the center of the room was a circular bar with the standard disco lights over head - which instantly brought me to the present.
A lone bartender handled the near empty bar. There wasn't a sailor, marine, doggey or hooker in sight. I ordered a drink, then turned, searching for "it." It stood in a nearby corner, a modern jukebox, squat, dark and non-descript - unlike the original with its attractive oval shaped top. Hoping to find a familiar tune I walked over. A quick glance at the selection in the first panel had me shaking my head in disappointment. I returned to the bar. Alone with my drink, my thoughts drifted back to 1942. Once again, the joint was "alive" and jumping. Still only nineteen, but no longer a boot I was at the bar with my buddies.
White hat on the back of my head, (to show my wavy black hair, which too, was gone now.) I ordered another drink. That familiar mellow feeling was starting to take hold (with me, it never took more than one.) In my reverie, I could almost hear Jimmy Dorsey's great hit record "Green Eyes" with Bob Eberly on the first vocal. Followed by that great "swing part" by the band with Jimmy on Sax. Then Helen O'Connell coming in - very quietly - with "soft light"- and building to her sexy, unforgettable description of those six little words - "those cool and limpid green eyes." I finished my drink and left.
Three decades had passed, the building was the same, only the signs were different. A modern 1970s sign said, "Rivera." It felt strange climbing that long straight stairway again, but it was just as I remembered it. Inside, however, it was no longer a typical sailor joint. It was now a reconstructed Disco joint (albeit a seedy one.) The bar to the left of the door was gone. Gone too were the booths and tables on the perimeter of the dance floor. In the center of the room was a circular bar with the standard disco lights over head - which instantly brought me to the present.
“Social dancers believe that hope does not leave without being given permission.”
A lone bartender handled the near empty bar. There wasn't a sailor, marine, doggey or hooker in sight. I ordered a drink, then turned, searching for "it." It stood in a nearby corner, a modern jukebox, squat, dark and non-descript - unlike the original with its attractive oval shaped top. Hoping to find a familiar tune I walked over. A quick glance at the selection in the first panel had me shaking my head in disappointment. I returned to the bar. Alone with my drink, my thoughts drifted back to 1942. Once again, the joint was "alive" and jumping. Still only nineteen, but no longer a boot I was at the bar with my buddies.
"Green Eyes" by Jimmy Dorsey
White hat on the back of my head, (to show my wavy black hair, which too, was gone now.) I ordered another drink. That familiar mellow feeling was starting to take hold (with me, it never took more than one.) In my reverie, I could almost hear Jimmy Dorsey's great hit record "Green Eyes" with Bob Eberly on the first vocal. Followed by that great "swing part" by the band with Jimmy on Sax. Then Helen O'Connell coming in - very quietly - with "soft light"- and building to her sexy, unforgettable description of those six little words - "those cool and limpid green eyes." I finished my drink and left.
“Social dancers believe there may be spiritual solutions to most of life challenges"
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