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Show Wednesday, October 25, 1 978 5 Page 13 jj What's Up Doc? By Doc Murdock The back seat of a Chevy is a tiny place to try to sleep, crowded even without my old guitar, a pair of hiking boots, books. Two shirts are hung strategically, nervously, over the windows. Outside, Out-side, the big city hums; with the smoggy dawn the traffic on the nearby freeway increases dramatically. As I said, back seats are not made for sleeping; but with an almost full thermos of luke warm coffee, flashlight, some magazines (slick paged ads, throw away ideas), the night will pass. Eventually, the night does pass. Maybe I don't need to explain why I would get into my car and drive, in the middle of the night, to Los Angeles, California ; or try to describe how a late night party can turn sour the booze, and the people making talk, making woozy signals with their eyes, making moves on each other and put me on the road again like some ; restless night driving Mr. Hyde, playing out a ; delicate balancing act with the controlled daytime requisite behaviors of easy Dr. Jeckle. No work, no school 'til Monday afternoon: three days, why not drive? How easily I fit into that controlled environment: Two days, or three, I can sit inside that little glass and steel box and be alone with my thoughts, the bump of the ; highway under the wheels, my good tape player. And if at the end of all that driving I find myself parked at a litter strewn curb in east L.A. next to a tiny park with worn green benches, less than a square block of trampled grass, and shattered shat-tered wine bottles glistening green across the sidewalks, well then, I guess I have to get out and take a look at it. The thing that makes it a park (instead of a ball field) is that it has a lake, a lake that probably has a name but I don't know it, a lake with busy ducks, kids fishing for crawdads with a string and a slice of bread. I got out and took a turn around the lake. I tossed in a rock which scared the ducks. Once more around and I was feeling good. As good as can be after one night with no sleep on the road in a big, big city. Crossing the street, I started to walk through the surrounding neighborhood. It was neither Oriental nor Mexican although they were represented there. There were Puerto Ricans there too, but all the little mom-and-pop businesses were apparently owned by 0tib.aitjSj 1950s takeover of the neighborhood By 'Castro ' refugees? Still evolving? I found my way back to the park. I walked twice again around the little dirty lake. The ducks gave up on me: If I hadn't thrown them any bread by then I must be without in the same general catagory as them, waiting for castoffs. I stopped walking and stared into the muddy water. I thought: I'll have to finish writing something soon, something that pays real cash money. Or else it's time to get a job again ; one of the castoff jobs that nobody else wants, anything, as long as it doen't require my thinking, distractions that would keep me from writing. I kicked at a few dark brown pieces of broken beer bottle. They splashed into the water and sank curving to the bottom leaving quick trails of white bubbles. They disappeared into the lifeless mud. I stared after them. "Lose somethin' did ya bud? " I looked up and found a dried up little old black man next to me. He was peering intently into the water. His eyes were squinted almost shut and lost in wrinkles and his mouth hung open as he use all his energy on the staring, not concerned at all about how he himself looked. He had only a few teeth, brown stained and not all in a row. These surviving teeth were on the lower jaw. He didn't seem to have any uppers at all. Then, without a noticable movement of his face, he spit into the water. It was a gesture of finality and I was surprised that I had realized how he meant it.: .::-. :vv;.-'V;"-:;. "v,"';-: "Forget it bub, it's gone," He turned away and shuffled over to the bench. On it, stacked in careless disarray, were four fishing rods. I had to remind myself that I was still in east L. A. , in a one-block-square park that was a receptical for all the blowing and abandoned refuse of humans. And this old fellow was going to attempt to catch fish in the dirty circle of water; in four feet of muddy, dead water? He began to prepare his equipment. He did it slowly, with patience. Like a good fisherman. He squeezed a tight ball qf cheese onto each hook and carefully flicked the line out into the water. I looked beyond him at the old men who were still sleeping in the grass. They jerked in their uneasy sleep. One man slept with a. newspaper wrapped around his shoulders; not one of them noticed the fisherman. fisher-man. Joggers ran by puffing, staring at the ground. They all ignored an old man who was going fishing in Los Angeles. I wondered if the old man was just a bit crazy hoping to find the fish of his childhood in this polluted lake. I thought that and decided to leave him alone; let him set out his poles and wait for whatever fish would live in a city like L.A., or let him be visited by his memories if their gentle tug on his patient lines will give him peace for even one day. . He finished casting each of the lines and sat down on the bench to wait. While I watched from the grassy hillside, he took a lump of chewing tobacco from his pocket not a fresh one but a wet chewed up ball and pushed it far back into his mouth with a jabbing finger. It was five minutes before he spit: a good eight feet to the water. After an hour no fish had visited his waiting lines. He didn't bother to check them. I got up and walked to a nearby cluster of small businesses; only one block long, just around the corner from the park. I looked in the store windows win-dows as I walked: one was decorated with a miniature religious display of the birth of Christ in a tiny manger. The scene was surrounded by dusty replicas of rolls and pastries, which was what the store sold. I went in and bought a half dozen assorted rolls, each with a different, attracting at-tracting smell. The total bill was only 46 cents. Fifteen minutes later I was back at the park. The old man was still sitting on the bench; he did not appear to have moved. Somehow, without turning around, he knew that I had returned. He turned his head and squinted at me with those hidden eyes. He raised one hand and signaled me over. I strolled over with my hands in my pockets. "How 'bout a fish, bub?" He opened his eyes just a little wider as he waited for my reaction. For a moment I was sure he wanted me to give him a fish. Then I realilzed he was offering me a fish ; that he would catch one for me. "Do you really think you can hook a fish in here?" I asked. He sat foward on the bench and looked at me in surprise. He seemed unsure of what I meant. He reached down under the bench and his old wrinkled fingers made a loose circle around a length of twine. I hadn't noticed it. It was tied around the metal leg of the bench and led across the grass and into the water. He let his fingers slide along the string until he reached the edge of the pond and with a jerk he pulled up a trio of flopping fish. They were catfish", big ones, yellow and black and making the string jump, with their struggling. "Hows about this one?" he said. He slid his hand along the slimy slick belly of the largest. "Did you really catch those fish inhere?" He looked at me oddly. Didn't I know that fish came from water? . "Five bucks," he said. His eyes were opening even wider now; he was getting ready to make a deal, watching me to see just how much I might Inosoi hrs "I don't want a fish," I said apologetically, I looked out over the water and tried to imagine those fish lurking along the muddy bottom with th,e bottles and the paper cups, swimming through the castoff garbage of a careless city . "Four bucks for the smaller ones. Take your choice." He held them up higher and their smooth bodies glistened in the sun. "How 'bout this one," he said and poked the eye of the fish. It flopped excitedly in response. I don't have any way to cook it." I shrugged helplessly. "I don't live around here." The old man looked at me, questioning. Then he dropped the fish back into the water and went back to the bench. I went back to my spot on the grass and waited; I wanted to see him catch a fish. I watched for a long while. Sometimes he would spit into the water and I could hear the splat of it from where I was. Finally, he turned toward me again. "You could get a girl friend," he shouted up to me. "What?" I shouted back. "You could get a girl firend to cook it for you." "But I don't have a girl friend. At least not here, not here in L.A." As I yelled I tried to speak clearly, so he would understand. A young couple sat nearby in the grass and listened to our shouted conversation. The old man's response was simple, and final. "What better way to get one than with a nice fish." He looked at me, waiting. So I bought the fish. He held firm on the price but I bought the big one anyway: five bucks, but he cleaned it for me with the worn blade of a handeless pocket knife. He split the stomach of the quirming fish and pulled out the guts in one long string. He threw them out into the water. The ducks darted to the spot and fought frantically fran-tically for the largest pieces. I took my fish to the car and carefully wrapped it in the slick pages of a popular news magazine, Time. Then I started my car and with the fish on the seat beside me I began to drive; even further into the grasp of a great and lonely city, Los Angeles. 'One Of The Finest' By RayRingholz Volunteer Coordinator The kiddie who runs proudly proud-ly to Mama with the ceramic pot he's just made... .knows it. The out-of-town visitor who casually peers through the door then has a 'double take' as he sees an elegant gallery with a first-rate exhibit free of charge. ..knows it. The audience applauding a live performance of the Oregon Mime Troupe or the McLain Family Band...knows' it. But howmany Parkites realize the their town boasts one of the finest cultural centers in the Intermountain West.. ..the Kimball Art Center? Cen-ter? Thursday, October 26 at 5:30 p.m. is your opportunity to get acquainted. In an effort to introduce new Park City residents or those old-timers old-timers who haven't had the chance to visit the gallery, the Kimball Art Center is issuing an invitation for you to enjoy an exhibition of art, musical entertainment, demonstrations de-monstrations of class activities activi-ties and refreshments. The Kimball Art Center is also giving you the opportunity oppor-tunity to support the visual and performing arts in Park City. Did you know that: .... It costs $20,000 to keep the doors of the Kimball Art Center open for ONE MONTH? .... In order qualify for financial grants and aid in the arts, it is necessary to raise thousands of dollars per year over the general operating expenses and mortgage payments just to receive 'matching funds'? .... In order to insure that the Kimball Art Center qualifies as a public, rather than private, non-profit organization, or-ganization, at least one-third of the financial support must come from the community? ....Although many Park City residents are taking LA earth Wcff fe P.O. Box 767 Park City, Utah 84060 (801)649-7808 (801)531.1795 advantage ot the numerous services and events offered by the Art Center, many of these are under-utilized? With more support, both financial and in-person additional addi-tional new and exciting visual and performing arts could be scheduled and offered to everyone. .... The Kimba"ll Art Center is a major assest to the Park City community by providing provid-ing cultural opportunities to locals and tourists, alike? Park City's full time and part time residents are urged to participate in Thursday's Open House. The person who takes out a new membership or increases an existing membership by the largest dollar amount will win a : trip in a hot air balloon, ' donated by balloonist, Stewart j Roberts. A beautifl original pot thrown by Art Center Director David Fernandez, 1 will be awarded to the second j place winner. ; Submitted By The Park City Chamber of Commerce Brief description of "Snow-flaker's "Snow-flaker's Ball": Friday November 10, 7:30 p.m., Grub steak Restaurant, $7.50 per person. The entire community is invited to attend the Snow-f Snow-f laker's Ball. We hope to make this a gathering of everyone in an effort to get into the spirit of the anticipated antici-pated winter season. It is also a chance for newcomers to meet and old timers to reminisce. Features: Light buffet, cocktails, raffle, Jerry Floor-Bill Crimson Big Band (said to be one of the best big swing bands around), disco contests the D.J. way, sponsored by Community Wireless for Park City-Park City-Park City's first community radio station; It'll be "The Fabulous 5" Jay Meehan, Blair Feulner, Dan Wilcox, Tom Bock and Dan Phillips; The Shuck and Jive King's will spin the stacks and stacks of red hot wax blasts from the past, savin' your soul with rock and roll, put your hands on the radio and believe. Employees Workshop Will include an intensive workshop session from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Cornell Taylor of Wilson Learning Institute will conduct the opening session from 9-1 p.m., 1-2 p.m. lunch, 2-3:30 p.m. small group orientation and discussion, accommodations, retailers, restaurants, recreational rec-reational services, service business. 3:30-5 town tours especially designed for the very new on Park City new businesses. -Fee $5 per person. Includes In-cludes 1978-79 winter infor booklet, 1 copy per business, designed for reference; lunch; workshop sessions. Notice: Park City Glen-wood Glen-wood Cemetery to be featured fea-tured on Jackie Nokes' "Face to Face" KSL Channel Chan-nel 5, Tuesday, Halloween, Oct. 31, 6:25 a.m., 12:55 after 12:30 noon news. (Grn IPnirst (Dlsiss flVoilB IPaurik (City Expert travel service now available in Park City. '' V .v.'' i Suzanne Armstrong Beverly Ross Diane Rm4 Come in and meet our travel consultants. They'll provide you with these services at no additional cost: O AIRLINE, car and..', hotel reservations O RESEARCH of air fares to make sure you get the very best rate B DELIVERY of airline tickets, itinerary and other travel arrangements arrange-ments to your door D COMPLETE vacation vaca-tion or business trip planning O ONE itemized statement state-ment for air fare and accomodations 1BUU ran avenue, rant uuy inside the new Holiday Inn) Phone (801)649-8742 ANNUAL FALL INVENTORY SALE AH Jewelry & Picture Framing Discounted Oct. 21 thru Nov. 5 Do Your Christmas Shopping Early Lay-Aways Welcome jijFAMILYjS SJEWELS5 Open daily 1(H) Sunday noon-5 591 Main Street ParkGty,UfcIi il |