Baby Beatniks in “Yet Another Reason Not To Smoke”
April 14, 2006
One night in the summer of 1960 the Baby Beatniks are driving around San Mateo in Bear Matson’s lowered ‘49 Merc, wondering what to do with the night. For beatniks, they look suspiciously like four normal eighteen year old guys. Radio’s on, they’re being treated to yet another encore of ‘Aleey-Oop-Shoop He’s The King Of the Jungle Jive’, and the streets are deserted. Parma from the back shouts Hey Willy, change the stupid station, will you? but the other Top 40 provider is spewing up sickening Teen Angel:
What was it you were looking for
that took your life that night?
They said they found my high school ring
clutched in your fingers tight.
Quick, Way Out Willy (named two years before from the song Willie and the Hand Jive) turns back to the King of Jungle Jive.
Kids, this was the dark night of rock and roll. All the heart-pounding soul, the glorious chromatics of doo-wop, all gone. Elvis was in the Army, Buddy Holly was smashed, Jerry Lee Lewis was in jail, Little Richard had become a preacher. The Beatles were four years in the future. Instead we had promoters trying to move product, and squeamishness, mawkishness and white bread had won the day. There were no FM car radios yet, so no cool jazz was available to beatniks cruising through the American summer night.
The American summer nights of 1960…the Baby Beatniks got home just before dawn, having gone nowhere and done nothing. Roaming and roaming, looking for a party, looking for someone to buy them beer, driving up to the City and walking around North Beach Telegraph Hill Chinatown, back in San Mateo rambling from Curt’s house to Mickey’s house to Buzzy’s house to see what was up, but nothing ever was. Making up songs (often obscene, always funny) and making each other laugh. And just really digging being together. Pals, you know? They weren’t bored at all. In fact, it was a perfect life.
On this particular night, it’s still early, before midnight. Rounding the corner from Palm Avenue onto Ninth, Toot (that what the Babies called The Pondering Pig in those days. His last name Newton got shortened to Newt, which was misheard by somebody as Toot, which was funnier, so it stuck) ) he asks Matson if he can “borrow” a smoke. Bear hands it over and Toot puts a match to it.
Unfortunatly, Toot’s forgotten he has a piece of surgical cotton in his nose. He’s been having trouble with nosebleeds. In fact he had the problem vein cauterized that afternoon. The doc told him to leave the cotton in overnight.
So, when he lights the Camel up, his nose lights up too. The Baby Beats turn and stare. Is this a trick to get their attention, to get more laffs? A fire on Toot’s nose! If so, it works pretty good.
Toot though is, like, “I don’t think this is funny, okay?” There is a big pink welt where his skin used to be.
Parma suggests it might be wise to get Toot to Emergency before gangrene sets in. So the Merc rumbles to life again. They roar around the corner onto the El Camino heading north towards the hospital — for about fifty feet. Then the big car sputters and comes to a dead stop. They’re out of gas.
After a hasty conference, they all decide the best plan is to push the Merc seven blocks to the Chevron station up on Second.
I did eventually get to the hospital – pushing that big Merc nearly the whole way. Fortunately, we had a dollar between us for three gallons of gas. Oh yeah, I had to call my mother again…”Mom, I’m at the emergency hospital. But I’m okay! Really! It’s only a second degree burn!”
My, oh my. How come I never heard either of these stories before (the fire in the nose or the rowboat)? How wonderful. Too funny! Horrible at the time I’m sure, but I think I’m going to be chuckling all day thinking about it! Thanks for sharing!