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Steve found most of the people。 A private eye found the rest。 The RSVP list tallied in at 99％。 One dinner turned into three。
Steve and I attended them all。 The Dining Car fed groups of thirteen； twelve； and nine。 We convened at the same long table in the same dark room。 I can't break down the specific guest lists。 The whirl of laughter and reminiscence ran seamless over three nights。
Camelot redux。
There's Berko and Jaffe。 There's Donna Weiss in a new pageboy。 Howard Swancya preacher instead of a cop。 Helen Katzoff； Lorraine Biller； Joanne Brossmanbright faces out of a big crowd thirty…six years back。 Lizz Gill and Penny Hunt from Hancock Park。 A big Kosher Kanyon kontingent that I knew by name and yearbook photo only。 Josh Trabulusa small boy； a tall man。 More lawyers than an ABA convention。 Jill Warner； in your face a la 1960。 Steve Price with the same fucking grin。 Tony Shultz in saddle shoes。 Leslie Jacobson sans bouffant and the Peppermint Twist。
We toasted the dead and the missing。 Wallet photos went around。 Nobody asked the childless people why they didn't breed。 We all agreed that J。B。 was a blast。 Anecdotes passed as insight into why。 We decided to throw a mass reunion early next year and elected a steering mittee。
One person in ten remembered me。 I recalled every name and face and could have picked half the people out of a thousand slot lineup。 It told me how hungry and lonely I was then。 It confirmed everything I'd e to believe about my cut…rate Camelot。
We agreed that we were 〃all〃 observers。 We 〃all〃 superimposed our shaky psyches against the boss bods we wanted and wished we had and came up way short。 We punted then。 We conformed or got raucous to cut the edge off the pain。
Everyone came off prosperous and well cared for。 We looked like a prophecy of affluence fulfilled。 I didn't detect much smugness。 The braggarts boasted too hard and vibed Naked more than middle…aged Dead。 I picked out two functioning drunks。 I judged as I laughed and observed。 It didn't mar my enjoyment or subvert my affection one bit。
I listened more than I talked。 I table…hopped and found the people I carried around in my head。 They told me their stories and filled in that big gap in time。
Jay Jaffe played baseball at USC and went to the College World Series。 He batted 。306 and had a three…night tryout with the San Diego Padres。 They expressed interest and never called him back。 He went to law school and gravitated to the criminal defense field。 He liked the bat and the mix of people in trouble。 He liked to explore motive and mitigation。 He'd handled some big cases。 He won the celebrated 〃Burrito Murder Case。〃 The LAPD tried to shaft an innocent Mexican kid。 Jay got him off。
He was still hungry。 He loved his work the way he loved baseball。
Lizz Gill wrote TV movies。 She fell into it。 People told her she was funny and urged her to get her shit down on paper。 She had a bad run with booze and cleaned up in '75。
She knew the Big Joke then。 She still knew it。 Other people sensed her gift and pointed her on her way。
Berko Berkowitz went to Vietnam。 He defecated in his pants quite a few times。 He returned to the States and got strung out on booze and dope。 He ran a string of businesses into the ground and cleaned up twelve years ago。 He made a big wad in real estate and watched it grow。 He works as a homeless advocate and digs on his wife and two kids。
Jill Warner was a teacher up in Oakland。 She had a daughter with her ex…husband。 I told her I used to stalk her。 She applauded my good taste and asked me if I defaced her house in 1963。 I said； No。 Jill laughed and got up in my face like she did atJ。B。
Howard Swancy played all…city sports at L。A。 High School。 He tried to get on the LAPD and Sheriff's Department and flunked the screening process。 He sold TV ad time for seventeen years and became a minister。 He had a congregation in Carson。
Howard looked hungry。 He still had alpha dog eyes。 He liked to run the show。 The raw language at the table torqued him the wrong way。
I spent some time with Donna Weiss。 I described the Big Stakeout of 1961 and the unrequited crush that inspired it。 Donna praised my stalking prowess。 She never spotted mea 6…foot； 13year…old boy…on a candy…apple bike。
I was invisible then。 The world was out to ignore me。
Donna spent time in Spain and studied at the University of Madrid。 She learned the language and came back to L。A。 She taught in the city school system and spent three years down in South Central。 Some Chicano kids were stranded in an all…black school with no English language skills。 Donna got the little fuckers fluent。
She quit teaching and went into real estate。 She's been at it twenty years。 Her husband's a voice coach and the locally lauded 〃Cantor to the Stars。〃
My crush burned out thirty…seven years ago。 Donna's presence did not resurrect it。 I was irrevocably in love with my wife。
Tony Shultz starred in the first New York stage run of Grease。 He worked as an actor for twenty…plus years and burned out behind the inherent frustrations。 He sold real estate now。 His turf bordered Donna's。
Leslie Jacobson went to Berkeley and lived two blocks down from Tony。 She became an antiwar activist and street agitator。 She got a teaching credential。
She married Husband #1。 She entered the mental…health field。 A colleague got raped。 Leslie viewed the brutal aftermath and took it as a signal。 She studied rape and post…rape trauma。 She ran a rape crisis hotline and an innovative antirape program。 She went out on rape calls with the Huntington Park PD and trained cops in rape awareness。 She ditched Husband #1 and married Husband #2。 He was a doctor。
Leslie became a psychotherapist。 She built up a practice。 She studied breast cancer and its ramifications and counseled afflicted women。 She and her husband collaborate and stage breast…cancer seminars。
I listened to my old classmates。 I felt the restrained warmth that you feel for decent people you shared a past with and don't really know。 I observed thirty…four individuals over three nights。 I detected one significant difference between them and me。
They came to reconnect with specific people and dig on a collective nostalgia。 I came to honor them and acknowledge their part in my debt。
The debt was large。 J。B。 was my first testing ground。 I learned to pete there。 I nurtured a perverse self…sufficiency。 My warped little world meshed with the real worldfor 〃one brief shining moment。〃
L。A。 was hot and smoggy。 I was wiped out behind all my time travel and the clash of old/new people。 I took a ride with Tony Shultz。
It felt like my seven…millionth hot L。A。 day。 Tony was digging it。 He ran a riff on the NEW L。A。immigrant cultures and wild cuisines and big rejuvenation。
We drove down to Howard Swancy's church。 We made the noon service ten minutes early。 The joint was jumping jubilantly high。
A six…piece bo backed up the choir。 Sixty loud voices praised God。 They soared over loud air…conditioner blasts and woke me up like six cups of coffee。
The church was SRO。 Howard saved two pew slots near the altar。 The congregation was 99。9 percent Black。 The people