Philip Spiess

Dale:  Thanks for your very interesting memories of the Gehrum property.  I first learned about George Remus from my grandfather, who mentioned him to me when I was young (perhaps 10?) while passing the entrance to the property on Queen City Avenue (the name, "Death Valley Farm," stuck with me).  Although I have a vivid memory (I think) of that entrance, I have never found it since; I assume it must be long gone, probably turned into subdivisions.

My references to George Remus's story on this Forum were on 12-30-2018 (Post #3780), the main story; on 1-16-2019 (Post #3822), giving some additional information (including addresses of his homes); and on 9-13-2019 (Post #4297), noting that two new histories of George Remus and his career had come out, specifically:  (1) Karen Abbott:  The Ghosts of Eden Park:  The Bootleg King, the Women Who Pursued Him, and the Murder That Shocked Jazz-Age America (New York:  Crown, 2019); and (2) Bob Batchelor:  The Bourbon King:  The Life and Crimes of George Remus, Prohibition's Evil Genius (New York:  Diversion Books, 2019).  I found the former book more interesting reading, but the latter book has more pictures.

Paul Simons

American bluesman, Russian kids. There's hope!

Becky Payne (Shockley)

An updated version of a favorite Christmas poem

‘Twas the night before Christmas, but Covid was here,
So we all had to stay extra cautious this year.
Our masks were all hung by the chimney with care
In case Santa forgot his and needed a spare.
With Covid, we couldn't leave cookies or cake
So we left Santa hand sanitizer to take.

The children were sleeping, the brave little tots
The ones over 5 had just had their first shots,
And mom in her kerchief and me in my cap
Had just settled in for a long winter's nap.
But we tossed and we turned all night in our beds
As visions of variants danced in our heads.

Gamma and Delta and now Omicron
These Covid mutations that go on and on
I thought to myself, "If this doesn't get better,
I'll soon be familiar with every Greek letter".

Then just as I started to drift off and doze
A clatter of noise from the front lawn arose.
I leapt from my bed and ran straight down the stair
I opened the door, and an old gent stood there.

His N 95 made him look pretty weird
But I knew who he was by his red suit and beard.
I kept six feet away but blurted out quick
" What are you doing here, jolly Saint Nick?"

Then I said, "Where's your presents, your reindeer and sleigh?
Don't you know that tomorrow will be Christmas Day?".
And Santa stood there looking sad in the snow
As he started to tell me a long tale of woe.

He said he'd been stuck at the North Pole alone
All  his white collar elves had been working from home,
And most of the others said "Santa, don't hire us!
We can live off the CERB now, thanks to the virus".

Those left in the toyshop had little to do.
With supply chain disruptions, they could make nothing new.
And as for the reindeer, they'd all gone away.
None of them left to pull on his sleigh.

He said Dasher and Dancer were in quarantine,
Prancer and Vixen refused the vaccine,
Comet and Cupid were in ICU,
So were Donner and Blitzen, they may not pull through.
 

And Rudolph's career can't be resurrected.
With his shiny red nose, they all think he's infected.
Even with his old sleigh, Santa couldn't go far.
Every border to cross needs a new PCR.

Santa sighed as he told me how nice it would be
If children could once again sit on his knee.
He couldn't care less if they're naughty or nice
But they'd have to show proof that they'd had their shot twice.

But then the old twinkle returned to his eyes.
And he said that he'd brought me a Christmas surprise.
When I unwrapped the box and opened it wide,
Starlight and rainbows streamed out from inside.

Some letters whirled round and flew up to the sky
And they spelled out a word that was 40 feet high.
There first was an H, then an O, then a P,
Then I saw it spelled HOPE when it added the E.

"Christmas magic" said Santa as he smiled through his beard.
Then suddenly all of the reindeer appeared.
He jumped into his sleigh and he waved me good-bye,
Then he soared o'er the rooftops and into the sky.

I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight
"Get your vaccines my friends, Merry Christmas, good-night".
Then I went back to bed and a sweet Christmas dream
Of a world when we'd finished with Covid 19.

Becky Payne (Shockley)

Phil: Thanks very much for your narrative on finding the "wet" spots in dry counties. Very interesting! I do remember eating dinner at a convention in Salt Lake City at a restaurant in Cathedral Square, and I think you had to join a club there to order wine as well...

Philip Spiess

Becky:  Remember that Utah is a Mormon state, and that Mormons are supposed to be teetotalers.

Now, first let me say that the version of "The Night Before Christmas" -- updated -- that you posted is infinitely better than many a parody of it I've read over the years (and I have a whole book of them).

Second, let me note that this is not the first time Santa or someone in the poem has been sick:  I refer to certain lines in the original poem, such as "Away to the window I flew on a hunch / Tore open the shutter and threw up my lunch," coupled with the lines that follow shortly thereafter, "As dry heaves before the wild hurricane fly. . . ."  Nor is that all:  there was the time Santa slipped going down the chimney and came down with the flue, and the time he slipped on the roof-tiles and came down with the shingles.

But there are more sinister allusions couched in the poem:  I refer to the fact that this old man sneaks into the house under cover of darkness, tempting the kiddies with sugarplums (and who knows what those really are?) and leaves them "presents" in their clothing!  If you think this isn't dubious behavior, recall the poem's lines:  "The stalking was done by the chimney with care. . . ."

On that note, I'll leave you with my favorite Christmas folklore, The Legend of the Angel On Top of the Christmas Tree [you will see that this is easily adaptable to COVID times]:

"Once upon a time, many years ago, at the North Pole the elves went on strike.  They complained of cold rooms to work in, long hours of labor -- particularly at Christmas -- too many specialized tasks:  carving, gluing, painting, packing, feeding reindeer, harnessing reindeer, cleaning up after reindeer, packing sleighs, etc., etc, and so on.  And what were they paid?  In cookies and funny little hats and boots!  They'd had enough!  What to do? thought Santa; with the elves on strike, I'll never be ready for Christmas Eve!  Then he had an inspiration:  he'd hire angels to finish the job!  A great idea in theory, yet it didn't work out:  angels are well-meaning creatures, but they just don't have the job skills necessary to replace elves.

"So it was suddenly Christmas Eve, and nothing was done:  there were toys to be painted (and paint takes time to dry), packages to be wrapped, the sleigh to be loaded, and reindeer to be harnessed -- and Santa was tearing out his few remaining white hairs!  Just then, the littlest angel of them all came in and said," Hi, Mr. Santy!  Here's the tree you wanted decorated!  Where do you want me to put it?"  And Santa told that littlest angel just where he could put that Christmas tree -- and that is the legend of how the angel came to be on top of the Christmas tree."  Isn't that a touching legend?

You all have a Merry Christmas or a Happy Chanukah, or whatever holiday you choose to celebrate at this time of year, and have a very happy -- and safe! -- New Year!

Paul Simons

First - what a fabulous rework of "The Night Before Christmas" Becky! Even better when read aloud! And next my contribution to the canon or perhaps the depleted uranium stockpile:

It was Christmas morning and when I awoke 
I remembered JFK and the way that he spoke 
"Let me say this about that" is how he would start
And whatever came next it was right from the heart.
A good way to start so right off the bat 
Allow me a moment to say this about that.

First about whiskey as Philip has noted 
We had insurrection right after we voted
Much has been said, it need not be quoted 
And on top of that more than two years of Covid.
It's been pretty rough, that's what I think 
It's more than enough to drive me to drink

Speaking of that these days when I drive
Towards Cincinnati on 75
I remember a time when the scent so rare
Of sweet Bourbon mash would fill the air
Those were the days, before the buzz killers
When booze was still made
At National Distillers.  

But it wasn't all bad, all brutal and cold
At the Olympics our country won gold
Led by a swimmer named Katie Ledecky
Whose freestyle's as good as the poem from Becky
So don't lose heart, love will find a way
It's Christmas y'all! Have a good Christmas Day!

Becky Payne (Shockley)

Phil and Paul: I am overwhelmed by both of your responses!!

Paul: you are a real poet (!) and I am tickled and deeply honored to be mentioned (in such a positive way!) in your amazing poem! Thanks!

Phil: I am glad to know that you rated my poem so highly, but your other parodies and legends are are pretty hysterical! Thanks for the laughs!

Nelson Abanto

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all.  

I was moved to respond to Phil's and Becky's comments anout Utah.  We are celebrating Christmas out here with our California family and that always includes skiing at this time oy year.  I am happy to report that Utah has modernized there alcohol laws quite a bit over the last 20 years.  You don't have to join a club to get a drink anymore.  Because all wine has to be sold through State stores, the selection is sparse to say the least.

It used tp be that, if you ordered a cocktail or a beer before dinner you could not get your wine until you had finished the first drink (I am not making this up).

Utah, by legislative fiat, still teaches abstinence in high schools, and it works just as well as it did when we were young ( Utah leads the nation in teenage pregnacies).

Enough about Utah.  If you want a good tip, go see the new version of West Side Story.  It is sensational.

Again, best to all.  I pray we can get together this summer to celebrate our 75th (or is it 76th).

Nelson

Becky Payne (Shockley)

Just so everyone knows, the updated version of Night Before Christmas was not written by me, but was sent to me by a friend. But I thought it was quite choice!

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

Merry Christmas Everybody!

Phil: While listening to the radio show WAIT WAIT DON'T TELL ME yesterday, one of the multiple choice questions given a celebrity guest (this one being Symone, famous from having won the last season of Ru Paul's Drag Race) was about a plumbers.  The second question was about a plumber in Alaska.  I didn't have to listen to the other two choices for "plumbers' hidden talents, after having read your post about salad dressing. The choices were: A.) Invented ranch dressing; B.) Personally mothered a flock of orphaned herons; C.) Was a notable tenor at the Juneau Lyric Opera.

Nelson: I took my stepdaughter and granddaughter to see West Side Story on the big IMAX screen.  I enjoyed it but, knowing the original Broadway cast album that I listened to until the grooves wore out, and after having watched my all time favorite movie, the 1961 version, for at least 100 times ( based on twice a year for 50 years), there was something lacking in Spielberg's version.  The cinematography and choreography were great, although some of the scenes showing tenement buildings partially remaining from the wrecking ball reminded me of bombed out buildings from WWII movies.  The lyrics were changed in some of the songs, as was the order of songs, I'm sure for story purposes.  I'm still not sure If I liked the new character, played by Rita Moreno, as "Doc's" widow.  It was great to see Rita and she did her part well, but she didn't need to be in the final scene, 
My granddaughter, who is 28, and obsessed with Broadway musicals, having been hooked by Wicked as a youngster, and has watched performances in London, Chicago, NYC, Louisville, and Cincinnati, had just returned from a weekend in New York, had NEVER seen any version of West Side Story (or Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet for that matter).  She loved it!  However, at the end, as I was passing out tissues to her and her mom, she said, "You didn't tell me it was going to be so sad." 
Of course, West Side Story always reminds me of the excerpts we did in the Peanuts of '62...BEST PEANUTS EVER!!!!

Bonnie Altman (Templeton)

Becky, what a wonderful poem!

Nancy Messer

The WHHS Alumni page of upcoming reunions shows our reunion in 2022 is cancelled.  What's going on here?

Philip Spiess

To help you welcome in the New Year (which, we can hope, will be infinitely better than the old one, at least COVID-wise), I offer two classic elixirs, aimed at those who like the taste of chocolate:

BRANDY ALEXANDER:

1 oz. Brandy     1 oz. dark Creme de Cacao (or you can use light)            2 ozs. Heavy Cream     Pinch of freshly grated Nutmeg                         [1 1/2 tsp. Port Wine (optional)]     [3 drops of Chocolate Bitters (optional)]

Shake all of the ingredients except the nutmeg with ice and strain into a cocktail glass; garnish with the grated nutmeg.  (The port wine adds a deliciously long finish to this drink.)

20TH CENTURY COCKTAIL:

1 1/2 ozs. Dry Gin     3/4 oz. Lillet Blanc     1/2 oz. light (or dark) Creme de Cacao*                     3/4 oz. Lemon Juice

Shake all of the ingredients in an iced cocktail shaker and strain into a cocktail glass; garnish with a twist of lemon.  [*  The amount of Creme de Cacao you use on either side of this measurement depends on how prononced you want the chocolate flavor to be.]

HAPPY NEW YEAR, CLASS OF '64!

Paul Simons

How well I remember riding on the 20th Century Limited, enjoying that very cocktail in the club car!

About Nancy's post - at the bottom of the Alumni page it says "Copyright 2020" so it's probably referring to the 2021 cancellation.

http://www.walnuthillseagles.com/news.cshtml?n=2831&s=6#gsc.tab=0

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

Phil: Your mention of cocktails with creme de cacao ingredients calls to mind a drink I loved in my earthly adult days, when I only drank sweet mixed drinks, long before I acquired my taste for a fine single malt scotch or the EXTRA DIRTY vodka martini. These days, I don't drink much alcohol. Something in it triggers the same oral allergy syndrome that I have after eating pineapple, kiwi, melons, and cucumbers, although I did have a celebratory frozen margarita for my granddaughter's birthday in July. 
My Uncle Dick, had a Playboy key card, and often took my mom and me to Cincinnati's own Playboy Club for dinner. I had a friend who was a Bunny, and despite all my efforts to convince my parents that I should change my career from a caseworker at the welfare department for something more glamorous, they never relented. So, I had to be content going to dinner, and being served a Black Russian, on the rocks, in a souvenir mug that my uncle always bought for me. I had a full set of those things!!

Ingredients: 1 part vodka 2 parts coffee liqueur 

Philip Spiess

Ann:  As you probably know, it was President Franklin Roosevelt who intoduced the "Dirty" Martini to the world. (He served them to Churchill and Stalin at the Yalta Conference; Stalin's comment:  "It is very cold on the stomach.")  I, in turn, seeing FDR's martini set up in his bedroom at his Campobello estate (now International Park) in Canada, asked the guide if it was a "Dirty" Martini.  She had never heard of such, so I introduced the concept to the Campobello staff.  (Although I usually have a stuffed green olive in my martini, I prefer a marinated mushroom in my "Dirty" Martinis.)

And what is your favorite single malt Scotch?

Gene Stern

Phil asked to comment on my days in Winton Place since his mother spent two years there so I responded and he thought I should share on our forum:
 

Good Morning Phil: I lived on Derby Ave. in Winton place and walked to Winton Place Elementary (about 1 mile up Epworth Ave. Two of my closest friends also went to WHHS (Dave Brockfield who was President of the Class of 1963) and George “Goose Gossling.
At the end of Derby was Winton Road and the large stone wall surrounding Spring Grove Cemetery. My Mom and Dad both worked at P&G Ivorydale which was not far from our home.
Winton Place was surrounded by factories and railroad tracks-Formica and P&G being the two most prominent. I recall walking to the corner of Edgewood and Epworth to a drugstore owned by two Greek brothers and sitting down in the booths that had connctions to the juke box and ordering vanilla phosphates.
My Dad insisted I go to WHHS and being a Ukranian task master, gave me “homework” to stay fluent in our native Russian language, every night!
In my ninth grade year we moved to College Hill and I became eligible to drive on Jan 4 1962, and my Dad sold me his 1956 Ford Station wagon (for $200) with a three speed on the column and a V8 Thunderbird engine. You may recall it was blue and white.
Gennadij Victoravich Suttschenko. (My name on the German Birth Certificate)
 

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

It has been so long since I've had a drink, I had to check to see what was still on hand in the kitchen cabinet. The 12 yr old Glenlivet is there but I frequently purchased a 12 yr old Glenfiddich, or a blended scotch called Monkey Shoulder, that is cheap, but pretty good for the price. As for vodka, for years I bought Absolut but when Tito's began its marketing campaign to "dog people" for dog rescue, that's the only vodka I would ever buy. 

Paul Simons

First Happy Birthday Gene - my first car also cost $200.00. A '57 Plymouth that was a piece of junk - old school definition. Alcohol - my last once-a-year-on-Thanksgiving Scotch on the rocks was about 3 or 4 years ago but Happy New Year with or without C2H5OH!

Gene Stern

Thanks for your Birthday wishes Paul! I drove that Ford station wagon every day until we graduated when I bought a 1964 1/2 Mustang. The car had a three speed on the floor with a 260 V8. The only options I bought: driver's side mirror, backup lights, AM Radio!! Total cost $2100

Jon Singer

Si, If I recall, that '57 of yours was called "The Black Beauty".  When you couldn't consistently ascend the Paddock Rd. hill from Tennesse Avenue to reach Stillpass Motors on Reading Rd, you had to have mechanics insert a new motor.  I believe it was a rehabbed motor from '56.

While I spent much of my local traveling on the 3 speed Schwin that Schloss permantly left at our house and never reclaimed, I did inherit our family's 54 Plymouth.  It had fluid drive (whatever that was) such that you could use it as a stick or as an automatic.  That car, if in pristine condition would bring a price of $200 at a current Mechum Car Auction.  My next vehicle, acquired fom Uncle Will Goodman in '65 with 9,000 miles was a '64 Plymouth.  With the exception of a shotgun door that sparked when first opened, it served me well until '72. My bride sold her old, wobbly steering and smoking Corvair.  My Plymouth went to everlasting on a barracaded lot by Lunken on Eastern Avenue.  We bought a brand new hatch back Vega stick($2,500).  I taught my wife to shift in the empty parking lot at U.C. I did such a good job as a student driver educator that we had to have the transmission rebuilt within the first month of ownership.  

Thanks for stirring up memories on a New Year's Day.  Wishing you all well, Jon

Paul Simons

Jon you have some of the history just as I remember it. Some a bit different. My dad had a green Rambler that I drove at times, which Bill Waxman named "The Green Goose." Besides being one of the acknowledged leaders of our class Bill was good at coming up with names. I know he lives in that area of land between Louisiana and New Mexico known as the Lone Star State, about the same size as and lately very similar to Afghanistan. Anyway I remember one of the names Bill made up that contained your Schwinn bike too.
 

I don't know if my black Plymouth had a name but it did throw a rod and needed a new motor. I was negligent replacing oil it burned. Remember oil cans and the metal spout which had a sharp bottom cutting blade that you had to push through the top of the can? I didn't do that often enough. The new motor was put in by our classmate Fred Jones' father who had a garage in Avondale, maybe it was on Harvey Avenue. He charged me $100.00. Mr. Jones was a saint. That car didn't deserve to get worked on by Mr. Jones. It also broke a torsion bar - I had nothing to do with that - they were suspension parts Chrysler used instead of springs which they had to stop using. I bought the car from a lot on Reading Rd. owned by a stereotype-confirming used car salesman named Sandy Leach. A pure coincidence of name and vocation. 

Philip Spiess

I'm so happy:  my son gave me a t-shirt from "Skyline Chili Parlor -- Clifton" for Christmas, issued in a limited edition when then President Obama visited there (location:  northeast corner of Clifton and Ludlow Avenues).  As I've noted earlier on this Forum, in my childhood I sometimes had chocolate Cokes or nectar ice cream sodas at the soda fountain there when it was still Stier's Pharmacy.  (And it's next to what was formerly Virginia Bakery, of immortal fame.)

David Buchholz

Phil, I spent three years living in Clifton, a short walk to Skyline.  I had only begun to use a camera in 1968, and I began by taking photographs of people I knew then.  Here are Pete and John, the four-starred Michelin chefs who nightly prepared the most elegant and delicious fare.

Philip Spiess

Just down the street from Clifton's Skyline Chili Parlor there is (or was -- is it still there?) the Sohio Gasoline Station (southwest corner of Clifton and Howell Avenues).  It is what we call, in the "historic preservation trade," an example of "commercial archeology" (a.k.a. "roadside architecture").  This little gem of a gas station, designed in the "English cottage style" ("Anne Hathaway" -- though this way ain't it!) in 1930, was the inspiration of the president of Standard Oil of Ohio (i.e., "Sohio"), who at the time was trying to establish the company as a top retailer of gasoline throughout the state (despite the fact that the Rockefellers of Standard Oil came from Cleveland), and who thought that having on outstanding building, an American flag, and an updated uniform for attendants (yes, gasoline service station attendants wore their products' uniforms well into the mid-1950s) would be a great first step in creating a favorable public image.  The architect of the station was Roy Heaton, who was recruited by Sohio's president from a group that designed religious structures.  Evidently Heaton was a freelance designer, and there is some question as to whether he was a registered architect.  Nevertheless, the building is a charming example of "commercial archeology" (unless it's disappeared or been severely altered -- I haven't been by it in years), and particularly noteworthy are its features of the appearance of a thatched roof and its nameplate, "SOHIO," let into the gable-ends of the station in pierced woodwork (again, if this hasn't been altered).