Advice from A Crusty Old Fart
I haven't watched the Oscars since Julie Andrews, having just announced some previous award, was in the 'wings' and, when Best Actress was announced, she heard, "Julie...." and started to walk out. To her dismay, it finished "...Christie, for her stunning role in Doctor Zhivago." Most of the audience and all of TVland watched her ego take over as she committed the faux pas. She gracefully made an exit...as graceful as one could anyway. People think these stars are nice people, and some are; but I watched Julie Andrews absolutely debase a Hawaiian redcap because one of her bags slipped off the pull-tram and fell about 8 inches onto carpet. You would have thought she had lost a child. While she "dressed him down", I – a mere passerby - picked up the bag and returned it to the tram, saying, "Lighten up, lady. It's just a suitcase and they're made to take real abuse." She looked at me, then glanced around at others who were listening. She turned to the redcap and said, "I do apologize." and got into the waiting limo. Not impressed.
On the other hand, a crusty old guy bought me a cup of coffee and a Danish one night about 1 am at the Rigger restaurant on the ground floor of the Outrigger Hotel in the center of 1968 Waikiki. I was pondering life with a fairly negative attitude, allowing temporary and fairly meaningless situations to mean too much to my young ego. You know…a lot of “poor me.” He drifted over from the booth I had seen him occupy many nights before. He always wore baggies (shorts) and a large Lahaina Whaling Spree t-shirt of one design or another that would accommodate his little pot belly. His hair was a little shaggy and a little unkempt for an old guy and his whiskers were pretty grizzly, making him look even older than he was. His whiskers helped to hide old acne scars on his cheeks. Nonetheless, the waitress seemed quite familiar with his needs. He plopped down on the swiveling stool next to me and gave her a nod. She came over, filled my coffee cup, left a peach Danish on a saucer beside the coffee, and picked up my tab. He winked at her. The first words out of his mouth were,
“Kid, if you think you have a crummy life, you have a crummy life.”
A relationship began that night and, while I did not take all his lessons to heart as soon as I should have, he got me to think about life differently. This same crusty old man left several lessons on the counter for me to pick up or leave behind. Some I’m sure I did not recognize, but some I grasped tightly and let them change me.
That particular night, I was regretting not having the nerve to ask a particular girl for a date. There was something about this girl that kept me hanging back. From what I could see, something kept every guy hanging back; but I wanted to be the one, the one with nads enough to give it a try. I was pondering my lack of courage when the crusty old man sat down on the stool. After his initial amenities, we talked in earnest. He mostly listened. I expressed my frustration about a girl. He knew which girl. He explained he had observed that, in fact, ALL the guys were hanging back. She was considered ‘untouchable’. She was a successful model with Alfred Shaheen Aloha Designs, THE aloha print designer. She was a stunning beauty, tall and ethereal. She was cute and beautiful. She was built like a goddess and her movements were almost like a dance, so graceful……but she always walked home ALONE. About 9 each evening, hippies and surfers would be sitting on the lava rock wall in front of Duke Kahanamoku’s, Don Ho’s home club. Oh, they might drift around the entrance to the International Market Place to watch the girls and the tourists go by; but when she came out of Shaheen’s, you could hear the murmur start at one end and work its way along the wall….”Here she comes. Here she comes.” Even passers-by noticed her beauty and grace. I saw women look admiringly, along with their husbands. She truly was stunning. The crusty old man seemed to know her. He said she lived alone and had never made time for a boyfriend. When I asked how he knew her, he deftly evaded the question and said,
“Think about this, kid. If you don’t squeeze the trigger, you can’t kill the bear….and sometimes the bear will eat you.”
I knew most of what he was saying. Take the chance. That was plain enough. The second part took more thought. He was saying that my lack of action would create regret and that regret would gnaw at me, change me… for the worse.
The next night, I sat on the wall, waiting. I heard the murmur begin. I steeled my courage. As she passed by with all eyes on her, I stood and walked beside her. She looked at me and smiled. She was taller than me! I squeezed the trigger. “I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones concert tomorrow night. If you will go with me, I will buy you a 6 foot licorice whip and the world’s tallest ice cream cone.” She laughed and stopped walking. “I love licorice. I’d like that.” I was elated! The old man was a seer, a genius of rare ability. I bought her that licorice whip and the cone in the International Market place. The Baskin-Robbins in the market place had a special cone to hold 1 small scoop of each of their 32 flavors. Folks rarely bought one, since they were so hard to manage; but she had someone take a picture with their Polaroid. Some scoops fell off just a minute or two later. She was even more beautiful when she laughed. She kept the picture….for a while, I guess. We became an “item” and I moved in with her at her suggestion. I have wondered since how long she kept that picture and if she even remembers me.
The crusty old man………Two weeks later, he later invited me to a party at his place on a weekend when Sue was in San Francisco for a photo-op. I was expecting to go to some small house or apartment and smoke some pot and drink some beer with other young people he lured to his place. He gave me directions on a napkin and told me to “dress nice”. “Dress nice” in Honolulu means a nice pair of slacks and a pressed aloha shirt. I drove around, following the directions, until I found myself on Diamond Head, among the multi-million dollar homes. By the way, a multi-million in 1968 was a Helluva lot of money. I was sure I had taken a wrong turn, when suddenly I saw his street sign. I turned and drove a short distance. I came upon a sprawling white contemporary overlooking the ocean with guys dressed like me parking cars. I parked my own and walked up. A big Moke (Hawaiian) at the door said, “Invitation please”. I told him all I had was the napkin. He looked at it and quickly exclaimed, “You're Buzz! We’ve been waiting for you!” He took me into a room full of the beautiful people…really…actors, actresses, models, producers, artists, columnists, and rich people….truly what are known as "the beautiful people" and “the A List”. There was a band on the lanai and two expansive buffets, one inside, one out - each with a bartender. The big guy looked around and raised his hand, snapping his fingers. A smiling older man came through the crowd, speaking to almost everyone along the way. He was quite chic in his peach linen slacks, silk shirt and Gucci loafers without socks. His hair was combed and trimmed. The whiskers were gone. As he came to us, he put his arm around my shoulders and said, “Glad you could make it. You’re going to have a good time.” He laughed big. I looked at him incredulously and said, “I know you. I know you.” He said, “Sure. We coffee together.” I said, “You’re……you’re…”. He grinned and quietly said, “Wire Paladin, San Francisco”. I said, “That’s it! That’s it! You’re Richard Boone.” He laughed and told me everyone there knew that. We walked over to one of the buffets. The bartender made me a Grasshopper. Just then, a gorgeous young girl lilted in our direction. Mr. Boone said, “Buzz, this is Inga. She's a swimsuit model and will be in town for 5 days. Why don’t you show her around? In the meantime, dance. Have a good time.” A little later, while dancing with Inga, I felt something in my shirt pocket. When the dance was over, she went to speak to a friend and I drifted over to the bar. Three one hundred dollar bills and a note that read, "Show her a good time whenever she's free." Her shoot was over after the 2nd day, so I showed Inga the sights of 3 islands. When I took her to the airport 3 days later, she asked why I did not make a pass during those 3 days. I said, “Well, I have a girlfriend who would mind.” She smiled and said, “I had a great time. You’re a nice guy. Sometimes things do work out. I’m a lesbian.” I got a kiss on the cheek. I like to think the crusty old bastard knew… and knew I would not stray. I did thank him for the money and told him I could and would gladly repay him. He said, “Not on your life, kid. Eat your Danish.”
Sue and I were an ‘item’ until I left for Vietnam in early October ‘69. We had talked of marriage a couple times; but on my return, I knew I was too ‘undefined’ to be a husband and father. I had no direction, no plan….except to finish college and make whatever of myself. I was also fairly unsure of my ability to keep her, financially and emotionally. When others de-boarded for the 2 hour layover, I stayed on the plane. I read a paperback entitled “Tryst” It was a strange love story. No, I do not rue my decision at all. I would have made anyone a poor husband for a while. The crusty old fart would have been proud that I had learned something. We had coffee quite a number of times after that party. He was a nice man who taught some good life lessons.
He knew some good jokes too.
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