Charlie & Other Matters
RIP Queens-born Robert Walker Jr., 79, son of Hollywood royals Jennifer Jones and Robert Walker. Equally at home on the big or small screen, there are 79 titles listed under his name at IMDb, the most significant being Easy Rider (1969) and Charlie X, Season One, Episode Two of the original Star Trek. Here’s a quote attributed to him: “I would like to develop as an actor in obscurity.” Married three times, he fathered eight children. Here he is, almost obscure, in Easy Rider:
Who knows how many times his most famous turn has been run since its debut in October 1966:
More bad news for leftists: the economy added 266,000 jobs in November, much better than the 187,000 forecast by “experts.” And the unemployment rate ticked down to 3.5% from 3.6%, the lowest since 1969. This is encouraging, but I don’t understand why GDP growth is still relatively weak. Liberals have two hopes: impeachment and, if that doesn’t work out, recession.
Since I went out well before the end of the alternate side regulation expired and sat in my car waiting in the prime parking spot, I figured it would be an easy work day. Wrong! Local porter Rob brought over a massive donation of books and DVDs. The movies were copies, about a hundred spread out in five canvas carriers. I opened each up to display on the ledge that surrounds the building at my usual nook. I would’ve sold each carrier for a buck. No one expressed interest, so I put them in the lobby on my way back to the apartment, along with a couple of magazines and a dated financial book. Andy F-Bomb donated a bag filled with large paper backs, repaying me for the never-opened rack I gave him yesterday. A master electrician working for the city, he retired a week or so ago. Peter is also recently retired. A salesman, I’d heard from many that he did very well. He almost always passed with just a hello, but today he was talkative, going on for at least a half hour about his experiences. Two stood out. He often dealt with a guy who’d fled Iran and opened shops in Bed Stuy, where he raked in big bucks. He paid Peter in cash. One day it was ten grand — all fives in a box. As he was driving away, he noticed a foul odor. It was the money. Turns out it was from Africans, who often buried valuables and put feces of top of it to deter thieves. In Chinatown, a merchant who spoke no more than a few words of English would circle the items he wanted in a catalog using a magic marker. When the economy was good, he paid in hundred dollar bills. When it was bad, small denominations. My mom pronounced it “bizaneese.” I loved hearing her say stuff like that.
My thanks to Andy and Rob, and to Frank, who purchased Joe Hill: A Biographical Novel by Wallace Stegner; and to the gentleman who bought three DVDs; and to the woman who selected a carrying pouch and a huge Italian cook book. It took me a lot longer than usual to get the wares squared away. My back was aching as I walked home carrying one of those post office baskets, which was filled with the aforementioned and boxes that had broken apart. I left the basket in the lobby, hoping the mailman will take it with him. I was bushed. Although it was only a little cold, it’s not kind to my 69-year-old bones. The lack of sunshine didn’t help.
My Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/Vic-Fortezza/e/B002M4NLJE
FB: https://www.facebook.com/Vic-Fortezza-Author-118397641564801/?fref=ts
Read Vic’s Stories, free: http://fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza
