O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again!

I don't know what Jones thought about Thomas Wolfe - probably not much.

This is where Conder's used to be - or close by. A yup place, as Bill says.

Beer Joints & Haunts #4

Conder's Sundries was like Cardinal's annex building, a sort of liquid cafeteria. If Big Daddy couldn't be located in the office, chances are he was there (and Jones too) having a cool one.

Boarders at the YMCA down the street also used it as a convenience store.

You could take a brief walk over the South Blvd. overpass and get a cold beer or a can of soup or chili patiently served up by Jim, the proprietor.

After I left Cardinal, Jones made a point of telling me that gentleman Jim sometimes "asked about me." He knew such a remark would always embarrass me.

Several times I met Jones there again, and on one occasion we ran into several members of the Cardinal annex crowd.

This is Jones' depiction of that day (click to expand picture).

Wm P's words are cut off, but it basically said "I didn't wanna see these f--kers." Not sure what Jones' "decision" refers to. It could be his periodic internal debate about wanting to stay employed with Cardinal.


Some other details:

• Tom W has his empty "spoit" pipe and a "Stewart Granger" beer
• Big Daddy is wearing his 1970s plaid pants and has an "Effete" beer
• Morey Amsterdam (Head of Sales) is doing his cello act, and has a "Rickles" beer
• Jones has a "Bayreuth" beer, a tribute to his Wagner opera obsession

Conder's has long since been closed and its space converted into some sort of sprawling tavern for Charlotte's Yup crowd.

Wm P's Supplement Video: Fear & Loathing in New York

(this is a companion piece to "Tom's "Fear & Loathing in NYC " video and cartoons)

This narrated video features Wm P's gnarly Tidewater accent.

Excerpt: "Tom's studies of the Teachings of Don Juan by Carlos Castaneda had apparently saved his life.. "

Jones at Work

Here is Jones operating the machine that transferred slides to film strips.

He is being watched by the accusing image of O Donald. As Wm P noted in a previous post, the depiction of O Donald as stern authority figure might be a sort of shorthand for Jones' father.

I am the Tomas of various stobs.

Spectres

Jones spells it "specters" which must mean something.

Something haunted the old man.

I think that's Wm P in the upper right but maybe not because the character seems a little too cheerful (even though wan).

Treplow (Manny) is there - gleefully sardonic.

O Donald is present - stern and shadowy.

I think that's K and me down at the bottom. We both seem angry - at Jones or just in general - it isn't clear. One of us says, "Nyahhhh".

Beer Joints & Haunts #3

The Boulevard Sundries on East Blvd. showed up in my old box of Cardinal pictures. I must have taken the shot when me and Jones were on a gump, driving through Dilworth.

It seemed Jones had a beer hangout in every sector of town. Barkeeps knew him and would automatically bring out a can of Schlitz.

As I recall, Boulevard Sundries was sparse and empty and beat to hell inside. There was a big counter that looked more like a food counter than a tavern bar. The heat worked pretty good though, and on a rainy winter day the place was cozy enough. Jones was hungry and scarfed down some sort of impossibly lame looking sandwich.

I went back to the location several years later, and it had been gentrified into a fine little cafe with fine old grinders and fine little micro-brews served by with-it people. Or maybe I dreamed that. Whenever I went beer-drinking in Dilworth, it was usually at the White Horse, a nice but slightly snobby white collar place with even more expensive grinders, conveniently close to Wm Wilkerson's fine old house of restoration and unabashed trendiness.

Beer Joints and Haunts #2

In the days of yore, there were two beer haunts in a two story building (since torn down) at this location on E. Morehead in Charlotte. Cardinal was located maybe a half mile to the right, toward town.

The haunt on the first floor (I don't remember the name) was the more acceptable place. We usually went there straight after work. Sometimes McGaughey and other management people joined us (or, more correctly, we joined them). There was something tartan or plaid about the place. But maybe I'm just dreaming that.

After an hour or so downstairs, we climbed the foul smelling stairs to the Upstairs Lounge. It was a topless joint and pool hall. You entered the place into the pool hall. Sometimes we played pool with the girls. A few, despite their attire (or lack thereof) were gimlet eyed pool sharks, not to be fooled with.

To the right was the place where the girls danced. For a time Jones announced the performances for free beer. Slick Eddie knew all girls. Maybe he had a professional relationship with some of them. Two were memorable, Little Miss Concord and a mountain girl whose name I don't remember. Little Miss Concord was small and exquisite. She could dance well. The mountain girl had a pretty face and large silicon breasts. She wore soiled lime green underwear. Generally the whole thing was dispiriting and sad.

Beer Joints & Haunts #1

In the heart of Central Avenue High Society, The Penguin offered cold beer, greasy burgers, and no pressure. You could hang around in there all afternoon, and some of us did just that, back in the 70s. It was a bland little place, reminding me of a sad and ancient snack shop at some ne'er-do-well golf course.

Jones always stopped at the Penguin en route to my old rental house several blocks away on Kensington. Sometimes I went back with him to the Penguin, or to the Happy Days (or was it Happy Times?) farther east. The head shop was not too far away either, where Jones and I bought underground comics. There was another tavern up the road where a lot of us hung out too. I think it may have been called the Swayback Mare. Slick Eddie hung out there sometimes. Big Daddy CEO had lunch with us one day at the Swayback and raved about their fries. Jones didn't care for the Swayback because they played loud rock and roll, and there were no topless dancers to make the music tolerable.

I think the last time I was in the Penguin, it was with K. We pounded Budweisers and muttered about life at Phoenix, Inc. We came to no conclusions. Everything in those days was about loose ends. Nothing seemed to get resolved.