***Out In The Be-Bop Be-Bop 1960s Night- Take Three

When Sammy Russo Ran The Skee Ball Lanes

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

Scene: The then, 1960s then, in all its teenage night glory newly built Gloversville Amusement Park located just west of the old home town, Clintondale. The park created out of abandoned farmland since farm children were fleeing the land like the plague after picking their last string beans or whatever truck farm product was produced on the ever rocky ground like the plague and the bulk of agriculture for family tables was not done by family farmers but giant corporations was a mecca for miles around, especially Saturday teen date all around. Of course the place had all the latest rides, including two Ferris wheels, two different-sized roller coasters (one for the faint-hearted, the other for the brave, or fool-hearty) refreshment stands seemingly without end such as plastic hot dogs, greasy French fries and watered- down soda served to hungry patrons who almost trampled over each other to get at the fare. There were other refinements such as Gypsy Rose’s fortune-telling parlor, including her young daughter selling plastic roses for the ladies passing by. Most importantly for our particular purposes not one by two game pavilions anchored by rows of skee lanes. Skee lanes that Sammy Russo claimed kingship over and over which Laura Smith sought to be his queen. If she could handle the gaffe, Sammy’s gaffe.

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“Christ, Laura how many of these damn, god awful kewpie dolls do you need anyway?,” yelled Sammy Russo, the King Of The Skee Ball night (capital letters no typo here since that was the way Sammy wrote out his title for all the world to see and we, for many reasons but mainly to hear the end of it, went along with the scheme) at Gloversville Amusement Park and also a 1960s king hell king of a corner boy at Doc Sweeney’s Drugstore (Doc’s complete with soda fountain, natch, and a juke box too else why be a corner boy there, or anything else) out in the Clintondale be-bop night to his wanna-be sweetie, Laura Smith. And it was a question that he expected an answer to, a prompt, no sass answer, newness wearing off or not, newness of their “steady” hood-ness, that is.

See, Patty had gotten big eyes for Sammy right here at the FUNland game pavilion (no that is not a typo either that is the way the name in front of the game pavilion read) at the beginning of summer, right after school let out. School, of course, being North Adamsville High in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and sixty if anybody asks you, and they might. And, for that matter, how else would I know of the Sammy-Laura love story, I ask you, if that wasn’t so. I am one of Sammy’s Doc’s corner boys, uh, associates. Gloversville proper, by the way, is too rural to have its own high school so kids from Gloversville come over to North Clintondale where there is some extra room just now. But Gloversville kids, farm boys and girls mainly, are strictly squaresville. No dispute. The only reason that anybody from North Clintonville High, any corner boy (or his girl) would even set foot in Gloversville for one minute, no, one second, is to pass ever-loving Main Street (really Route 16) through to the edge of town seeking the newly built Gloversville Amusement Park. And that is the reason why Sammy and Laura are standing here in front of the FUNland skee ball lanes having their first“argument.”

Well, kind of an argument. Laura was either in some high funk, or did not hear Sammy the first time over the din of Gene Daniel’s A Hundred Pounds Of Clay followed immediately by The Chieftains Heart And Soul, blaring over the loudspeaker. A loudspeaker that we finally figured out was used by the management to juice up the pinball/skee ball/games atmosphere so no one could think so he repeated himself. And Laura faux-demurely answered (as was her way when Sammy got this, well, this Sammy Doc’s corner boy way)-“Until I get the whole set of twelve, and not before.”

[Jackman: For those who are breathlessly on the edge of their seats waiting to know why there are twelve it is simple. There are twelve kewpies representing twelve different nations/major ethnic groups, natch, they had that part of the soft sell down easy]

“Christ,” said Sammy under his breathe, “We will be here all night.”

All night skee-ing when Sammy, king of the skees or not, had other things, other wrestling in some secluded spot out back by the artificial lake that formed one of the edges of the park things, on his mind. With one Laura Smith, of course. And that would not be the first time, the first wrestling time. Funny, just then the newest Shirelles' hit came over the speaker, Tonight’s The Night. But now Sammy knew deep in his bones, knew as if he had been married to Miss Smith for fifty years, that tonight was not going to be the night if she did not go home with not ten, not eleven, but exactly twelve f—king kewpie dolls.

Now this skee thing, on an average night is nothing but a sure thing when Sammy has his motor running. When his mind is on skees, okay. But playing enough games to “win” twelve dolls, or for that matter twelve rabbits’ feet or twelve leis (lesser prizes in the skee universe) requires a certain perseverance and good aim.

[Jackman: For those who do not know skee it is like bowling, candle-pin bowling (small balls for those not from New England) in that you roll the bowl up a short lane and is like darts or rifle target shooting in that you have a target. The idea is to get as many points (and hence coupons) with nine balls as possible. The points convert to coupons which are dispensed near where you place your money to start a game. Get enough coupons and you win prizes from those lame leis to kewpie dolls. Simple.]

But, like I said before, Sammy’s mind had been elsewhere, especially when Laura, yes, Laura brought up the subject of wrestling down by that lake if things worked out at skee. And as if to punctuate her sentence Brenda Lee’s You Can Depend On Me came on while these “negotiations”were in progress.

But this night Sammy, king hell corner boy is whipped, just plain whipped by the task before him. It is almost closing time (11:00 PM) and Sammy has won exactly five dolls. And Sammy, while he can be as smooth as any Doc’s Drugstore corner boy, except maybe Fritz Gentry, or as cold as any hard-boiled Hell’s Angel motorcycle corner boy from the Dublin Bar &Grille in the hard-night part of Clintondale is ready to explode at Laura.

Not for her foolish girl desire for the damn dolls. That is how girls are and what makes them tick. On a good rational night he wouldn’t have it any other way. No, this night Sammy is fed up that his prowess at skee had to be put in play by Laura’s silly notions. So come eleven o'clock and defeat Sammy, cold as ice, says to Laura, “Okay, we are finished, I’ll take you home now but I have had it.” So they walked, walked pretty far apart for two people on the same planet, back to Sammy’s father’s car and he did not even open Laura’ s door for her. Bad news, no question. since Sammy is nothing but old time on such matters. She got in and as the car radio heated up wouldn’t you know in a night filled with omens and portents that just then the local all-night rock‘n’ roll station would be playing Connie Francis’ Breakin’ In A Brand New Broken Heart. And both Sammy and Laura were absolutely quiet while that song was being played.