The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me

FRANK SINATRA - ANGEL EYES

2010-08-24T10:47:00.001-07:00

For our many ups and downs, break ups and reunions, while Art was managing the Encore Jazz nightclub. This haunting song says it all.

FRANK SINATRA - ANGEL EYES, posted with vodpod

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-08-24T07:35:00.000-07:00

Hello fans of my blog, "The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me". Greetings from the author, Shawn M. Cohen. If you have not ever read this blog, and want to read an incredible epic love story, then do go to the archived entries on the right hand side. Scroll down to the beginning, dated "FEB. 28,click on that to begin, read and enjoy, then continue up by the next date until you reach the end, more than 20 entires. Don't forget the videos that are selected on the right, as they accompany our story. Beautifully, poignantly atmospherically, the music provides so much of what was essential between Art and myself, our secret code to dream upon.
If you have read all the entries to this incredible true story between my beloved Art Swiden, an ex- Heavyweight boxer, who fought some of the very best in his day, and myself, his secret love, than you know our story...but our story is a continual journey, even after his death. Yesterday, August 23, 2010, was the 6 year anniversary of Art's passing. To honour his memory, I put up on my Facebook page 3 days of stories about Art, actual press clippings of his boxing history, and music videos. Art loved music, and spoke to me often, as our secret code, through the lyrics of Sinatra, Matt Monro, and so many of his time. This blog entry is the last shout out to him and my readers, for now, as I plow on with the book.
People wonder what happened to us, why did we seperate and not stay together? Well, there were many reasons. I did not even know he had passed away for a whole year, being 10 years away from him, living in London. We had an almight argument that set us away from each other. So, no connections to him, or anyone who knew him meant I had no way of being informed of his death. The very last time Art and I saw each other was in Hollywood, Florida in 1994. That time was our first meeting in 14 years, and I had already became a Metaphysician, developed myself psychically and spiritually, from attending The American National Institute for Psychical Research and Development, in Westlake, California, earning my BSc. Metaphysics. I would go on to teach esoteric subjects, consult clients using the tools I was educated in; Tarot readings, Astrology, Past Life Regression, years of training towards becoming a psychotherapist and much knowledge earned through my Nursing certificate (L.V.N.)in allopathic and in natural medicine. Brought over to London, England, in 1985, by my best friend Robbie's older sister, Harriet, a psychotherapist herself, and asked to conduct a workshop in Montecorice, Italy at the Pellin Institute with Harriet and all British therapists and participants was my way in to deciding I wanted to live in London. I would make London, and many working trips to Europe, my home, some 25 years now.
In the meantime, opening up to my own gifts as a psychic was an epic journey in itself. It seems to me what we gain is usually born of some kind of challenge, trauma or pain. And this, too, was opened up to me with the tragic death of my very first boyfriend in 1979. I had been with Art after Glen and I broke up, and that was the way it was. I had left California, where I had lived with Glen. We had dated all through High School in Pittsburgh, he was 2 years older than me, and it seemed right for us to be together once I graduated from High School. The times were defiantly changing, as Rock and Roll was belted out from every car window, and the messages of freedom calling, breaking all the old restrictions, fighting social injustices, Vietnam and its impact on the youth of America was paramount in the early '70's and 1974. The hippy movement brought consciousness in. The psychotherapists would analyse and develop it, and the Mystics proclaimed it, "The Age of Aquarius". "Hair" had been on Broadway, as well as "Jesus Christ Superstar". Life as we knew it was becoming a far cry from the set values of the 1950's and our parents, and the 1960's would usher in a new dawn of equal rights for women and minority groups, and the technology for much more free time. By the time I became 18, Jim Morrison was already dead by 3 years, I had witnessed on TV, as a child, the Moon Landing. Images of Vietnam ransacked our TV's news nightly. I was to hear, again as a young child, of the brutal deaths of Martin Luther King, Jr. and our President, John F. Kennedy. These experiences floating around my psyche and all about my person had a huge impact on me. I knew my life would have to be a contribution, have meaning, and above all help those who were helpless. It would take me to many wondrous and heartbreaking experiences before I saw Art Swiden again in 1994.
The way of the world is as diverse as it's topography. The way of love can be even more mountainous as each individual finds their way home again, to the beloved, the Soul Mate.
Sometimes, if you are very lucky, you both wake up to what is most important on this journey called "Life", and sometimes you just stubbornly fight all the signs.
Fear is the opposite of love, always has been and always will be. This is a Universal Truth. When we wake up to who we really are, and what we are really doing here, the road gets clearer.
We are all Divine Spiritual Beings having a (yet another!) Human experience.

This is the real truth of all of our existence. And this is what I have learned.
My book, and the continue writing, researching and editing process that I have been submersed in for the past four years is ultimately what ,
"The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me," is all about.

Here is, for the fans, one more excert from my book, "The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me".

It is said that the path to true love is never easy. Believe me when I tell you, that is true. But there can be so much joy, love, even bliss and Heaven on Earth on that journey. Discovering what we are all meant to ultimately discover, as Art said to me when his spirit came to me after his death... dressed in a white suit, looking more handsome then ever before, (if that was possible!) surrounded in a blindingly beautiful white light. As my eyes looked on, glazed and fixated on what I knew to be "that moment" when my life would never be the same again, mouth agape, breathing shallow, just afraid to move should this vision of him leave. He leaned over my ground floor apartment balcony, just like Rhett did when he first caught a glimpse of Scarlett at the top of the stairs, dressed like Rick from "Casablanca", he leaned his arm on the balcony and spoke to me. Not in words, but in thoughts, which I clearly heard, and with so much love in his eyes, he said, "Shawn, love never dies." I heard it, I consumed it in my brain, as I watched with my own eyes, afraid to blink, at his brilliance, his dazzling display of coming back to me, across the sea, across the dimensions, from Heaven itself to bring me this message. My eyes welled up, afraid to blink, so I would not see him, I dared not to cry. The key to the back door was across the living room, and I cursed that I did not have it right there in my hand so I could go out to him, there leaning in, standing on the grass, gazing at me with that smile, that look which I came to know so well in my days before when he was mine, so long ago.
Slowly, the light began to fade, and just like he had teleported here, his image began to be swallowed up, as if Scotty had just began to, "beam him up!" I saw him fade, slowly, bit by bit, the white light diminished and I heard myself breathing again. I stood motionless for a minute, to see if he would reappear. The key, I must get the key! I ran across my living room floor to the bookshelf which safely housed the magic key. Snatched it and ran back, ripped the door open as fast as I could and stood on the opposite side from where he had been standing.The 3 inch black wrought iron railing between. It was broad daylight, about 11:30 am, and the usual goings on were there, people walking by, etc. I wondered for that second if anyone else had seen him? It mattered not, as I was too consumed to care. "Art, Art, come back to me, Art! Are you there?" I knew I looked like a lunatic should anyone see me calling to thin air off my back balcony, but I did not care. Just then I felt a breeze rush by me, blowing my hair right in front of my eyes. It was October, a nip was in the air. I took my hands which were wrapped around the railing, the railing where Art had leaned his arm on, and I pushed the hair out of my eyes. I want to see! I wanted to see him again. The breeze quickened, then warmed and I felt a swirl of love surround me, as if the breeze was embracing me. I called out softly, "Art, Art, Darling is that you? Don't leave me, come back to me!"

This would begin the final 3rd of my book. It is this part where, believe it or not, the real action begins. Thank you to all the many people, researchers, and friends who have helped to make our story come to life. My plan ( and you know the saying, "the best laid plans of mice and men") is to complete my epic book, edit, rewrite, edit again and make ready for submission to the right publisher by the end of 2010. It may take a little longer, because my work as a professional psychic medium and my daughter all come before, but I will get there. As Art would say, "What's the rush? We have all eternity."

Hopefully, someone out there will enjoy this blog so much they offer me a deal. Hey, it could happen! Not only a book deal but a movie deal as well. Art always wanted to be an actor. I know that no one could play him better then himself, but since that isn't possible, he'll have to be one "helluva guy"! These are the dreams and ambitions of this author. Thank you for reading and being a part of our story. Look for ,"The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me" in bookstores worldwide, and online, in 2011, if my swarthy, handsome heavyweight boxing Angel in Heaven and I have our way!

Miss Shawn M. Cohen, London, England, August 24, 2010.

"The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me", by Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. All events are true, some names have been changed to protect people's privacy. All video content is copy righted to their perspective artists, musicians and composers. No copyright infringement intended.

A SONG FOR YOU - Leon Russell & Friends (1971)

2010-07-03T10:36:00.000-07:00

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me By, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-07-03T07:32:00.000-07:00

A heartfelt message to all my readers of, "The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me", By, Shawn M. Cohen, author of this blog and the book to which these excerpts belong to.

Today I am sad to learn that the rules of blogging by some publishers of written books, may consider this blog as my book (because of the content, excerpts) being an "already published" item. That may mean that I would not be able to submit "The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me" as a manuscript for Publication, in the first instance, only as a "reprint" as a book to be sold and marketed in the world.
Now, please don't misunderstand, because I myself had to get my own head around this and took advice from two different editors and book advisors. This means that this will be the last time I will be writing excerpts of my book, and that also means I will give myself and "Phantom" the dignity it deserves to be published worldwide, and have an audience that all my hard work, and Art's continuous love and influence deserves.
The publishing world is a true mystery to me! I can speak to the dead, foresee the future, as a Psychic Medium, and yet, I stumble myself through the writer's journey! It has been a delightful and emotional journey with all the love and support coming from my readers and their comments, and encouragement, and so I am forever grateful to you all.
I will be blogging now about the process of writing my book and its own journey as it makes it to the final stages of , after nearly 5 years of intense research and uncalculable hours of writing, rewriting, and onward to its final draft for submission. I hope you will stay with me, and enjoy the snippets of the writing adventure along the way. Meanwhile, for all your love and attention, here is just another little episode which happened along Art and mine's journey through love.

Autumn came in with the leaves falling into the most spectacular display of color. I always loved this time of year. The air was fresh, crisp, the sky filled with scarlett and gold, hanging off every branch of tree. Driving into see Art, after hours in the Encore II, downtown, I had on my pink jacket with the white fur around the hood. It was a lined cotton jacket, I was not quite ready to get out the winter woolens. Art and I were so very much in love. We had spent months in blissful delight, laughing, loving and having fun together while fooling the entire public with our secret relationship. Art wanted to announce it to the world that we were together but it was me who told him it was better for us both if we were discreet. That upset him, but he knew I was right. The Press might have a field day, not to mention my parents! Along side that we would be endlessly teased by the people who we worked with, and all I needed to hear was some loud mouth say that I was, "sleeping with my Boss." Art told one bartender, named Bobby, a newcomer to the Encore but a friend of Art's. He was also younger but not as young as me. When I confessed my age to Art he almost fell off the bed! After the shock, I finally asked him his age, it was 48. My parents were 4 years older than him. But it didn't even affect me. That was the night we decided we didn't care, it didn't mean anything to either one of us, and as Art said to me, "Well, you have always been older than me, huh? Between the two of us, you are definately the older one!" He wasn't wrong there either, Art always kidding around and being playful. I told my best friend, Robbie. That was all who knew of what was going on between us. We worked together most nights, along with those precious hours after the Encore closed we spent upstairs, in the make shift apartment he was living in at the Encore downtown. Tonight, I would be taking that elevator ride with him upstairs again to his private domain. To a rather rand sack room with a mattress on the floor, some blankets and pillows, his boxing memorabilia all stashed away in one big cardboard box, his shirts hanging off the back of restaurant chairs, cigars in the ashtrays, his clothes astrew, no heat and of course, his music and Hi Fi system. His best buddies; Sinatra, Matt Monro, Elvis, Aznavour, all there waiting to be turned on, creating his romantic moods we dreamed to. We had made love to them all, but there was always something more he wanted to show me.
I knocked on the big door of The Encore II as usual at 2:30 am. Art opened it with much joy on his face, "Come on in, Baby, where ya been, been waiting for you, come here." He grabbed me, kissed me then picked me up. "Art! Put me down, right now!!" I yelled and laughed at him all in the same time. "No, you're mine now, and you can't get away!" I was hanging with my butt in the air over his shoulder, and he slapped my butt. "ART! I mean it, put me DOWN! I'm getting dizzy, come on, NOW!" Art was walking around the empty Encore II with me hanging there like he had a small sack of potatoes over his shoulder! He just laughed. "Promise me something and I will think about it!" he teased me. "Ok what is it?? I promise!" "Ah, but you didn't hear what I was going to ask you, did you?" I was now hitting his back with my arms, "PUT ME DOWN, NOW!" I screamed, light headed and laughing. He was still adamant..."OK, OK, but where I want you!" and he walked over to the bar and gently swung me over his shoulders to his arms and sat me on the bar stool. "ART! what are you doing?!" I unzipped my jacket which was up around my neck and took it off, pushed my hair out of my face, and watched him giggle as he watched me fix myself.
He went behind the bar and got us both a drink. I noticed that there was a big black baby grand piano on the floor by the stage. It had been brought in for Duke Ellington who was scheduled to play there this week. Art had put our drinks on the bar, and a song came on the radio which had been playing. He walked out from behind the bar, and went over to the baby grand. He stood there , leaned on it with one arm and looked at me. Really looked at me with so much love in his eyes. As if Divinity itself was there, to bear witness, the next song came on the radio, and Art started to sing it to me. He never sang but "said" the words, which was his way of singing. I watched him, mesmerized. The song was by Leon Russell, and it was the first time I had heard it. Art sang this entire song to me, which was:

"I've been so many places in my life and times,

Sang a lot of songs, I've made some bad rhymes.

I've acted out my life in stages, with ten thousand people watching,

But we're alone now and I am singing this song for you.

I love you in a place where there's no space and time.

I love you for my life, you are a friend of mine.

And when my life is over, remember when we were together,

and we were alone and I was singing this song for you.

You taught me precious secrets, the truth, withholding nothing,

You came out in front while I was hiding.

And now I'm so much better, and if my words don't come together,

Listen to the melody, cause my love is in there hiding.

I know your image of me is what I hope to be,

I treated you unkindly, Girl, but can't you see,

There's no one more important to me,

Baby, can't you please see through me?

We're alone now and I am singing this song for you.

We're alone now and I am singing my song for you."

Art told me that night that he would always love me. He made me promise him that I would remember this song all my life, and his love for me. I promised him right then and there. "Yes, Art, I promise." as he stroked my hair and looked into my eyes. I did not think that our time would be limited but it was. We stayed together , up and down, for 3 years, under so much duress, till eventually the pressure would get to us both. It was never our intention to hurt other people but we lived and loved in the times when divorce, age differences, were still very upsetting, people's judgements were less forgiving. I stayed with Art until things got very difficult for us both and by 1979, I was mourning the unexpected death of my first boyfriend, Glen, he was all of 25 years old. That shock reeled me into another zone. I had seen his Spirit on a bus in Copenhagen, Denmark. It was a place I escaped to from all the pain in Pittsburgh and I did not know he had been killed. It would be the moment that would change my life forever. Art still begged me to come back to him, but I knew his daughter needed him more. Or so I thought at the time. I left Pittsburgh for California to begin the path of my own discovery. It would take me to a Metaphysical University, where I would become a Professional Psychic, Counsellor and Healer, Holistic Nurse, Astrologer, and Past Life Regressionist. I graduated with a BSc.Metaphysics, and as a Liscensed Vocational Nurse. That was 1983. I had left Art to the past and his life in Pittsburgh.
However, having studied and worked with my dreams as part of my own psychic development for years, and having travelled and worked in many countries as a Psychic and Metaphysics Teacher, opening up people's consciousness and helping them to heal their souls, by 1994 I was tired. My mother had divorced long ago, was happy and well living in Florida, so I went home to spend some time with her. One night, out of the blue, at about a month shy of age 38, I had a dream about Art. I had also wondered why so many of the men I had met and dated just were not right for me. I had thought about my "Soul Mate" and wondered, "where could he be?" and then I had a dream about Art. "Oh my, Art! Art!" Just to say his name again made me feel warm inside. "I wonder how he is doing? He would be about 66 now, " I pondered this. I wonder if he still lives in Pittsburgh? I called directory inquiry and gave his name and sure enough, there was his phone number! I braved a call to him after not speaking to him for 14 years. He was absolutely delighted to hear from me and arranged to meet me in Florida, across the State where I was currently staying with my mother, in Hollywood, where his old friend and another Encore bartender lived, one who did not know about us, but was now learning. Art was so excited and insistent, so we met within a couple of days. Here is one of the photos that was taken on the day we met again and that is what you see above. We were happy, even though it was, on that day, 100 degress F. outside in the Florida sun! I had become blonde, and a little rounder around the edges since Art last saw me, and had my hair was tied back and up off my neck, sunglasses on too, because of the heat! It was March 3rd, 1994. April 6th I would become 38 years old. Art still looked good, handsome as ever, even at age 66.

The story continues between us. Art Swiden passed away in his sleep on August 23, 2004. He was 76 years young. He had seen a double by pass operation on his heart and had had his voice box removed from cancer in 1999. I had come back to London when Art told me he thought my psychic work was "the Devil's work", as he had become a "Born Again Christian", but had neglected to tell me that when we met in 1994. His last words to me on the phone were, "I never want to hear from you again!" I felt betrayed and so angry with him, I never wanted to speak to him again, either. He was still living with his wife, the one he did not love and only returned to when he got sick and seemed to think, by accounts of his friends who revealed this to me after his passing, that he had "nowhere else to go."
For me and for us, our story begins on a whole other level, after his death. Art Swiden laid in an unmarked and unpaid for grave for nearly three years. I did not know this until my return to Pittsburgh, where I see to it that he is buried with the dignity of not only a great human being but a great boxer deserves. This, too, was another beginning to our never ending story.

If you have enjoyed my excerpts, then you will see why when the book is finally published. This is where Our Story as two Soul Mates continues and Art contacts me from Heaven and the astral plane, first, to let me know he has passed on. He wanted to set the record straight about us, his feelings for me and so much more. Because of Glen's death, when I was 23, I became a Psychic, my own gift of psychic ability opened up. Because of Art's death,when he contacted me at 49, I became a Medium. Because Art wanted to speak to me so much, I was opened to this understanding that there truely is no death, and love is everlasting, for all Eternity. I want to thank all who helped me in my research and to my beloved Art for still being there, in all ways, while I hit the keyboard daily. It has been a true joy being here with you, my readers and friends. Look out for my book in your favorite bookstore one day in the near future, and if Art has anything to say about it from where he is, it will be "One helluva film!" Peace, Love and Light to you all, Ms. Shawn M. Cohen
July 3rd, 2010, London, England, U.K.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me, by, Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010.
These excerpts are from the book I am currently writing of the same name. All events are true, but some names have been changed to protect people's privacy. All video content is copyright to their perspective composers, artists, performers and no copyright infringement is intended.

2010-06-26T05:33:00.001-07:00

Elvis Presley - Welcome To My World, posted with vodpod

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me By, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-06-26T05:31:00.000-07:00

I finished my shift at the upstairs bar and cashed out. Art pulled me aside and whispered, "Just give me time to get down there, so see you about 2:30? You won't forget now, will ya?" he asked me with some hint that maybe I wouldn't show up. "No, Art, I will be there, about 2:30. See you then." He gave me a big smile and off I went, out the door of the Encore in Shadyside, to the parking lot and in my mother's car bound for home. I could have gone out until then but this gave me the perfect opportunity to relax and change before I drove to Downtown and Liberty Ave. I didn't want to over do it, just casual, so I had a quick shower and put some jeans on, a pretty buttoned down pink cotton shirt and some open toed sandals with wedge heels. Casual but Chic, I thought. I did my make-up and put on my favorite perfume from Lancomb which was "Magie Noir". I loved the smell of this, and only used it for a special night out or a special date. Before I knew it, it was coming up to 2 am. Time to leave now. A bit nervous, I quietly made my way out of my house, not wanting to wake up my mother or my younger brother. I gently closed and locked the front door. I started the car, slowly backed out of the driveway, and I was finally on my way. What would happen tonight with Art? I didn't know but I did know that first I would also have to find a place to park downtown. There was a 24 hour parking lot across the street and slightly down the road of the Encore II but the area was not very safe. I thought about Art getting everyone out of The Encore II quickly so he could have his date with me and that image put a smile on my face. He always made me smile to myself, he is such a character! When that realization finally dawned on me that he had been doing all these attentive things for me not because he was a nice Boss but actually because he really liked me, wow! That look on his face when he tore into those guys who were harassing me, the tenderness in his eyes when he ran up the stairs to make sure I knew he was not an ogre but that he did that for me, to defend me because he liked me! It took my breath away even now as I was driving in the dark towards Liberty Ave. I wonder what will happen with him now? I thought along the long empty streets, just lit by a street lamp here and there. I put on the radio, the DJ was playing Neil Diamond singing, "Forever in Blue Jeans". I sang along..."maybe tonight, maybe tonight by the fire, all alone, you and I, nothing around but my heart and the sound of your sighs..."
I finally pulled into the well lit 24 hour parking lot across the street from The Encore II, about a block away. I took the ticket as I went in and found a space right away. Not many people parking in there in the middle of the night, in fact, it was almost empty. I locked the car up, with my purse firmly tucked under my arm, I quickly walked across the empty street. Nothing was open but maybe some After Hour Clubs around the corner. I knew of them, I had been to them by now with Robbie and some of the waitresses at the Encore I. But it was still scary out here. A lone yellow cab went by, no traffic at all on the road. I hoped Art was there. My heart started to pound in my chest. God, I pray he is there. I had now crossed the street and came to the big red door. I took a deep breath, fixed my straight long hair, which the hot summer night wind had blown all over the place, and knocked loudly on the door. Quickly checking my watch, it was exactly 2:30am.
The door swung open by Art, whose eyes lit up, still dressed in his suit, as he said bowing to me like a butler, "Welcome to my world, won't you come on in..." I recognized it right away as an Elvis song. His hand holding the door open and the other gesturing for me to "come in". I giggled because I got his reference. He was smiling from ear to ear. His tie was now loosened up around his neck and he was clearly "off duty". "Come in, Shawn, so glad you could make it, would you like a drink?" He walked me to the long, now empty, rectangular bar. The back lights of the bar were on, and the house lights were on too but very low. "Sit down here and make yourself comfortable, what would you like to drink?" He offered me the bar stool and I put my purse on the bar, taking out my cigarettes. He went behind the bar and put on the stereo with one flick of a switch. It was Sinatra, who I was beginning to realize now that Art really liked. It was soothing and intimate, one of his love songs. "I'll have a glass of dry white wine, thanks Art." I said as I took out a cigarette. He was so happy and clearly glad to see me. However, I had to think how it was weird, strange, like a step out of time, to be in the restaurant with no one else but us two there. I had to have a quick glimpse around just to see what it looked like empty. "Comin' right up!" Art took off his tie and put it in his jacket pocket, opened up his top shirt button, as he poured my glass of white wine. He put a cocktail napkin down in front of me, put the filled wine glass on it and then lit my cigarette with his lighter and its enormous flame. I laughed. "Why do you have your lighter flame up so high?" I asked him. "Don't know, I like it that way." he said, smiling at this question. "So, Art, what will you have?" He took off his jacket and laid it over the far end of the bar. He was clearly getting comfortable. "I never drink, ya know, but today, well this is a special occasion, maybe a Chevis".
Sinatra was singing away in the background, "When somebody loves you, its no good unless they love you, All the Way..." Art poured his Chevis on the rocks and came out from behind the bar to sit next to me on the next bar stool. "Hi, Baby." he said to me, "Hi Art." I smiled back at him noticing he called me "Baby",( and I liked it, too.) He raised his glass for us to clink them together, which I did with his. "Here's to Shawn Cohen, who has the bluest bedroom eyes I have ever seen, and the prettiest face, too." I blushed from here to China and back. "Thanks Art." I managed to say. He looked at me, stared at me, scanned my whole face, my hair , while I took a sip of my wine. "You do know that about yourself, don't you?" he asked me searching my eyes. "No, Art, not really but thank you." I didn't want to go there but Art clearly wanted to. "Listen, Shawn..." he took my hand in his and held it as he continued..."you know from the minute I saw you, I don't know what happened to me, I just couldn't get your face, those eyes, out of my mind!" I laughed because he said it like he was as perplexed as he was ardent. He continued, "I just hope maybe, you like me a bit, too?" He searched my eyes again, to see any sign of it. "Art, I wouldn't have come here tonight if I didn't think you were someone I wanted to get to know better." I took a sip of my wine. He grinned again satisfied, for now, with my answer. He took a sip of his Chevis. "Good, cause I wouldn't want you to do anything you wouldn't want to do!" he said it in such a funny way, commanding and cute, like a comedian giving a punch line. I laughed again. "I won't, don't worry... so what now?" I asked wondering what we were going to do here in the empty Encore II. "How about we just talk and get to know each other a bit more." I was glad he said this, he wanted to know me more and he wanted me to go first. "Tell me about yourself, Shawn." That was it. I talked and he talked and we talked about everything. First work, then eventually we got to more personal stuff. Art listened to me, commented as he went, asked me another dozen or so questions. He was interested, not just making conversation. He wanted to know about my hopes and my dreams and my opinion about various things. I got the distinct impression my thoughts were important to him so I told him that I really wanted to go back to California. Turns out he also loved California and told me how much he also longed to go back there. "That is where I always wanted to live. I fought there a couple of times, when I was boxing and I always liked it out there, so pretty, can't beat it, can you?" We agreed on this. Art poured us two more drinks, the music was playing soft and low, a backdrop to our conversation. It never crossed my mind to ask him his age. I looked at his handsome face, dark brown eyes, black, thick, somewhat curly, almost wild hair, sideburns just like Elvis, and the stature of his big frame. He was sweet, warm, funny and intelligent. His eyes seem to say much more then his mouth but he had the quirkiest expressions, too which he could "act" or put on. He confessed to me that his life was, "All an act! I'm the Great Pretender." I asked him what he meant by that. "You know, people expect me to be "The Boxer, The Champ", give 'em the old One, Two, make 'em laugh, act dumb, punchdrunk, all that crap...but I'm not like that, really, I am also a person, Shawn." I realized that it must be hard to be "on" all the time. I was touched he shared this very private part of himself with me. He was now not the person he was at work. He was more relaxed, and much more there with me, in the moment. Articulate, intelligent, the Macho Boxer Champ was not there. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I was seeing him differently with each passing moment. He told me he was married once before the current one he was in the process of divorcing, to a woman who, in the end, wouldn't let him box, didn't want him to get hurt, so in the end, they divorced because he wanted to prove himself to the world as a boxer. It was a long time ago. He also told me where he was from, New Kensington, and that he grew up in Whitaker, near Kenny Wood Park; Pittsburgh's answer to Disneyland. He reached his hand across to my face and touched my cheek gently, he also squeezed my leg with his two thighs quickly as we sat there. "Art, it's getting late and soon the Sun will be up. I better go." It was nearly 4:30am and in the summer the Sun would be up any minute. "Gee, I wish you could stay longer, it's so nice to be with you, Shawn." He stood up and helped me off the bar stool with his hand, like a true gentleman. "I know, Art, me, too but when the sun comes up and the birds are just singing away, I can't sleep, can you?" He smiled at me, "Depends who I am with!" and I laughed. He walked me to the front door, holding my hand. It was warm, felt so nice in my hand, like it belonged there, although bigger it fit like a glove, making me feel even more connected to him. By the door, I looked up at him, and said, "Thanks for a nice time, Art." He took my face in his hands and looked into my eyes. "I hope to have a lot more of these times with you, Shawn Cohen." and he tenderly pushed my hair back away from my face with his big hand. He let his hand glide down my hair, touching it, feeling it down my back. Then he closed his eyes and slowly kissed me. It was a gentle but firm kiss on my lips. A kiss I felt the whole drive home. A kiss when I got into my single bed in my home, in my summer night gown, when I had laid my head on my pillow, I still felt on my lips.

"The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me ", By, Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. All events are true, some names have been changed for privacy. These blogs are installments from the book I am currently writing of the same name. All video and song lyrics are copyrighted to their perspective songwriters, composers and performers. No copyright infringement intended.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me By, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-06-19T02:05:00.000-07:00

The next three weeks went by like a whirlwind. I was training with Gilbert every day from Monday to Friday. Because of my request, I asked if I could have another week's worth of training. Gilbert understood and let me. I was faster in my second week and now I was taking cash as well, from my small corner of Gilbert's bar and the waitresses, serving their station. Learning to use the register, how much all the drinks cost, and adding it all up in my head, when necessary, was a real challenge. Thankfully my math skills worked, even if I was not great at math in High School. During this time, the summer came in, and you could fry an egg on Walnut Street. We had air conditioning, so this was not a problem for us working at The Encore nor our customers but when you stepped outside, day or night, it was a warm humid blast of hot air that hit you, 80degrees plus were the constant temperatures.
In my sessions with Dr. Rivers, I had read the book he gave me and I learned what it meant to be in an "adult state" from the psyche, and also what it meant to be in a "parent state" and a "child state", as Transactional Analysis had described. The best, I had learned, was to come from an "adult state", when you are an adult, that is. I was trying my very best to understand this, and implement it. However, I could now see that my mother was lost to a "child state" in her malaise of being abandoned by my father. It was beginning to look like Miss Havisham's house from "Great Expectations", every time I entered our home. The den where my father's office was, where he had his own private red business phone, which we were never allowed to use, was still there along with his desk, file cabinet and swivel chair. But my older brother had taken down all his pictures,at my father's command ,and brought them to his new home. The ones of him fishing all over the world, catching the biggest fish with his buddies and his big stuffed marlin were not missed by me. He was gone but still some left over remnants remained. "Ma, why don't you take Daddy's stuff and throw it out?" Was what I wanted to say. But she could not cope with this. She was furious with him and this fight, I feared, would go to the bitter end. She talked to her girlfriends, who all agreed she was better off without him but to no avail. She was going to be taken to court for divorce, and he, having the money and power to get the best lawyer, was going to win no matter who was "at fault". He would owe her alimony and child support for my younger brother, Jake. But she was already informed he would fight not to pay it. When my Bubba was alive, my father's mother, she could only speak Yiddish. Yiddish was her language, she never learned to speak English in all the years she lived and raised her 3 children in the United States, in Pittsburgh. When my father would bring her over to the house, as she didn't drive, she would start baking from 6:00am, kuggle and raisin cookies and cholla bread and all manner of delicious Jewish foods and pastries. It was Jake she loved the most. He was the baby of our family and he was cute and funny. Now, as I walked into our kitchen, the one my father's Aluminum Siding and Home Improvements company built, had added on to this house, I got a vision, a memory of her short round body with her white apron on, flour on her face, hands, flour on the counter where she had been preparing what she was baking. Her saying to my little brother when he, and all of us kids, woke up to the delicious smells which filled the whole house, of her wonderful and love filled cooking. We'd run into the kitchen to see her, to see what she had made for us and eat her wonderful food, "Dance, Kin- da- la, Little Jake, Dance!" She would clap her hands in rhythm for him, and he would move and twirl to her delight. She loved to see my younger brother dance, when he was 5 years old. I wondered, as I made the coffee, and the nearly empty fridge which held no trace of her ever being there, what she in Heaven must be thinking now? I wondered what she would say to Jake now...."Dance, Kin da la, Dance"? What future did he have? Or any of us for that matter without a college education? The irony hit me, as I poured my coffee, for that is just what I am doing to help my family...dancing...but not at the Disco, not that kind of dancing but at the Encore bar where I will be making my "debut" as their upstairs restaurant's bartender next week. If my mother hadn't been suffering from her heartbreak, I might have been able to ask her, the actress, for advice. But no, my mind somehow drifted back to my "Bubbie", for that is what we kids all nicknamed her and called her.
It was Annie's birthday and Judi and Anne and I were getting together to celebrate. She was turning 20, like me and Judi already had. I had the evenings free, so this was a good time to finally catch up with my other friends who didn't live the night life, like I had. We all went out to dinner and gabbed away. It was great to see my old friends, they always made me feel like I belonged to them, even if our paths were shifting faster than Bubbie's baking flour. Judi would go back to Penn State again, studying horticulture, and Anne would go to College here in Pittsburgh, starting September. I would be working at the Encore, as far as I knew and that was that. I didn't talk about what happened there, as I knew they would not understand. Yes, I spoke of training as a bartender, and my parent's divorce. I grew up with these girls, I was like the adopted sister in Judi's family. We were the first to be friends, in 4th grade, and her mother was very loving and kind to me. Her father paid for me to go horsebackriding with Judi, and when Judi got a horse, I wanted one so badly, too. "Daddy, can I get a horse, like Judi has, Please, Please!" I braved it one day to ask him. "Are you out of your f***ing head??!! NO!" was his reply. I was 10 years old and heartbroken. Judi's parents must have known something was wrong, as they took me in as their own. I loved them and Judi. I was invited to synagogue with them. They took me every Saturday to shul, and on the High Holidays, I also attended and sat with them. It was something I would have never experienced in my own home, nor did any of my siblings. I heard the Rabbi recite his prayers, and the Cantor's beautiful and rich voice sing his songs, but because it was all in Hebrew, I really didn't understand. Judi would tell me when to stand up when God's name was mentioned and then tell me when to sit back down. That is all I knew. But I went religiously, when I was a kid as all my Jewish friends did. This is why I had a Bas- Mitzvah, because Judi and all my friends who were Jewish were all having one. Kalvin had one, two years before me, too but he was a boy and it was expected. I was surprised when my father agreed to my request, and he enrolled me in Hebrew School, like he did with Kalvin. We went to the Hebrew Institute, in Squirrel Hill. I don't know how they accepted me or my brother, since our mother had never converted to Judaism. It was always my suspician my father paid off the school with some big donation, so they would keep stum, and let us do it. Children are what the mother is, in the Jewish religion. The Catholics believe you are what the Father is. Clearly we were in No Man's Land, according to both. So we kids joked that our Dad must have paid off the Rabbi to turn the other way, when we came along to get Bar and Bas Mitzvahed. The event was a success. My father let me keep my presents, after I stood there in my 1968 styled, flared sleeved, white with lace short dress with the yellow bows on the elbows. I was singing the words of my Hav Torah with the Rabbi, " Baruch ata Adonia", but I really didn't understand what they meant. Judi and her parents came, and so did all my friends from school or the Jewish community center, which is where I met Reva, Rae- Gayle and Robbie, also the non Jewish side of my family and my cousins. It was a real mixture of Jewish and "Goyam". But I did it and to my knowledge, I did it well, the Rabbi told me, "Good,no mistakes!" I had recieved much money, through checks as gifts. When it was over and we were back at home, after the party, I was upstairs in my bedroom, looking at the sealed envelopes, some already open with cards saying, "Congratulations Bas-Mitzvah Girl!", and taking down the names of who gave me what, to send thank you cards. My father came into my bedroom, still in his Armani suit and Italian leather dress shoes. He said to me, "Give me all the money." with his hand out stretched to me. "Why? I am just writing down who gave me what for thank you cards." I said back explaining myself. "Just give it to me!" I didn't understand why he wanted this. "Why do you want it?" I braved it once again, figuring he had to be nice to me, it was my Bas- Mitzvah day. He answered me back in a raised, angry tone of voice, "Your Grandfather needs it, I have to give it to him to get him back home, he hasn't got any money, so just give it to me NOW!" I handed it all, checks and cash, to my father, thousands of dollars, who took it away. My grandfather was my mother's father who lived in Brooklyn, New York. An older Scotsman, nearing 70, with the thickest brogue you ever heard. No one understood him when he spoke but mostly he was also always drunk whenever we saw him, and he never had any money. I felt the tears run down my 13 year old face. I knew I would never see that money again, money for my future. And I never did. I told my mother at the time, but she argued that I had had a party, which was true, and I had received some other presents, which was true, and that was enough. It was patently clear then to me that they had no concern for my future. I knew then that I was truely on my own. Which is why I left home to Los Angeles to be with Glen the very next day I had graduated from Peabody High School at 18 years old. I figured my future was with him, but I was wrong again. These were the things I was telling Dr. Rivers. These thoughts and memories about myself and my family. It wasn't that I didn't want to help my grandfather, or my mother, or my younger brother but why me? My father was wealthy, we all knew that and so did everyone else who knew him or heard of him, so sayeth his friends at the bar also. Trying to be a grown up and come from an "adult state" is good when you are a grown up but can be very damaging when you are a child. Now I was a grown up. So what would happen now? I drove to work once more, only this time, it was the early evening of my "debut" at the upstairs bar at the Encore. It was now the beginning of August. I made sure I was dressed for success. I had opening jitters to say the least, but there was Art, who I hadn't seen now in weeks, waiting for me. He greeted me with a huge smile, "Hello Shawn. How ya doing? You ready for your big debut??" He came close to me, enclosing me with his big presence. "I hope so Art, I have been training like a soldier!" he laughed and corrected me, "No, like a Champ! Now don't be nervous, I will be right here, sitting at the end of this bar, so don't worry! Let's see what you got, Kid!"
I went under the bar,as it was the only access in, by the waitresses' station and started the routine of making the bar ready. The waitresses were beginning to come in, and greeted me with a big smile and hellos, and a few funny ribbings as well. I saw my hands shaking a bit, as I cut the lemons and limes for the fruit tray for the cocktails and Art, who was sitting staring at me from the corner of the bar, asked me for some coffee. Terry poured it, passed it on to me and I walked down to where he was sitting and placed it in front of him with a nervous smile. "You'll be alright, Shawn." He said winking at me. "You look very pretty tonight, too." he added. I blushed. "Thanks, Art." was all I could say, getting my heel caught in the wooded slats again. I knew I shouldn't have worn them but I wanted to look my best. Now I thought that that was silly since no one saw them, however much taller (and hopefully thinner!) I looked. The customers came in, and I started to fill the orders. Art read his paper when he knew I was up and running. The waitresses were all nice to me, and forgiving when I forgot a beer, or didn't mix the drinks as fast as they wanted. Art ruffled his papers and watched me all evening, never leaving his post. I was really surprised. He actually did what he said he would do and I couldn't believe it.
My second evening went well too, until a wine glass slipped out of my wet hands and went right into the ice well, breaking in there. We were busy, too, and I just looked over at Art. He jumped up as quick as lightening and said to me, "It happens, and it happens to the best of them. Just clean it out, I'll get you new ice." I was so disappointed in myself. All production behind the bar had to stop until this was emptied out, cleaned of any broken glass and then refilled. Art helped me and it was done very quickly. I just looked up at him , feeling like I had let him down, as he was standing next to me pouring the big bucket of ice in the well. He winked at me, "Now, don't do it again!" and I laughed.
The third night was like no other, and never will be. I was giving Art his coffee, again as he sat there, as he had done now each night, all evening. He was dressed in a very stylish suit and lovely tie and shirt. I could smell his cologne which was heady and strong, but pleasant, just like him. The evening began with customers coming in, and there they were eating at the tables. There was alot of noise downstairs and you just knew that part of the Encore was filling up. I had on black tailored trousers and a pretty light blue, flowered patterned silk shirt, with the top two buttons undone. Three men in their late 20's came in, drunk. You knew they were drunk as you could hear their rucuss on the stairwell as they came upstairs. I saw Art sit up, alert. They came in staggering and set eyes on me behind the bar. As they came to sit on the barstools in front of me, one spoke, "Hey Baby, you come along with the drinks, too?!" he slurred his words at me, looking at my chest not my face. The other men sniggled. I caught Art's eye glaring at them, ready to pounce but I let him know quickly I was ok with a wink and said, " Now, Gentlemen, settle down, what drinks would you like?" The next one said, "Let me see those tits!" and with that I heard this big BANG as Art jumped up, lept over and knocked down 4 barstools, grabbing the one who said that to me by the back of his shirt with his big boxer hand, yelling at him as he threw him down the stairs! "Don't you EVER speak to her like that again!! Get Out of my Bar!" He took the other two and pushed them down the stairs as well, "GET OUT OF HERE!" I heard him shout as he ran down the stairs after them and threw them all out on the street, screaming "You fucking bastards, who do you think you are, talking to her like that?! NEVER come back here again, YOU HEAR ME?!!"
I stood frozen holding on to the back wood of the bar behind me. Art ran up the stairs and came right to me, leaning over the bar, out of breath saying, "Don't be afraid, Shawn, don't be afraid..." For that split second it was as if all time had stopped. I noticed my hands were actually holding on to the back of the bar, from fear and I released them. I saw Art's face, as if it was the very first time I had ever seen it. I never in my life saw anyone do that, just to defend and protect me. The look on his face, it said it all...."I did this for you, I did this because I care about you, I like you, don't be afraid of me, I like you more than you know..." The restaurant had completely stopped as if stuck in a time warp, and Art looked over at the restaurant and said, "Show's over now, Folks!" straightening his tie, and fixing his hair out of his eyes. The people went back to eating and the waitresses went back to serving. I thawed at that moment as his eyes looked deeply in my face for some sign, some hope that maybe now I would realize just how much he cared for me. I smiled, first to myself, thinking of all the antics he had done along the way; the bringing me up to the Encore from Downtown the day after he met me, the wining and dining me when I arrived, the way he got me to go in his car, saying he was afraid, which I knew wasn't true but thought he wanted to see me safely to my car, the way he stared at me, all along thinking he was just watching over me, how he always introduced me to the best tippers, most famous patrons, and finally, he offered me this bartender's job, where he sat, true to his word, every single night, all evening during my shift, talking to me, laughing with me, helping me....that lightbulb was finally over my head! He likes me! He has been coming on to me all this time and I didn't realize it, oh my God! I walked toward him, with a big warm smile and a new found feeling in my heart. I leaned over the bar which seperated us and I said, whispering to him, "I'm not afraid, Art." He lowered his eyes, and he blushed. I couldn't believe it, he was blushing! He looked up at me and in a voice that no one else could hear but me, he asked, "Would you like to have a private drink with me this evening, after work?" He was asking me out on a date! My mind raced. It dawned on me in that moment that he was married. Oh, no! I had to be sure, so I asked him. "Art, aren't you still married?" He replied with this, "I filed for divorce last April, over a year ago, I am living alone and I haven't been with my wife for over a year. I am getting a divorce now, so will you please do me the honor of having a private drink with me, Shawn?" His eyes were hopeful and I looked at him, standing there, waiting for me to say Yes. "Yes, Art, I will. Where shall we meet then?" I was excited. His face lit up. "Meet me downtown at The Encore after it closes about 2:30am. We'll have it there, ok?" I was a bit surprised and asked, "Why there, why not somewhere else?" and he said to me, "By the time I finish cashing out everything will be closed. Don't worry, I have the keys, so since you'll be done first, can you come down there later on? Then we can talk in private, no one else will be there but me." He was right, everything would be closed except any after hour clubs which I gathered he was not into going to. He wanted us to have our drink alone. "Ok, Art, what should I do, knock on the door when I come there?" I asked him. "Yes, I'll be there to let you in, see you there then." He said with a grin. The rest of the evening Art kept looking at me as he resumed his barstool vigilance, protecting me. I couldn't believe it, I smiled to myself all evening, and him whenever our eyes met. How could I have missed the obvious gestures he was making towards me? I was really looking forward to seeing him later on, just us two, alone.

(Please see the video on the bottom of the page,"Someone To Watch Over Me", it will take you to You Tube to view it, when you click on it because of embedding laws. It is from the 1954 film, "Young At Heart" where Doris Day finally gets that Frank Sinatra is into her in a big way! The look on her face is priceless...mine was exactly the same at this time!)

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen (c) 2010. All events are true but some of the names have been changed to protect people's privacy. All video and film content is copyright to the writers, composers, and performers. No copyright infringement intended.

2010-06-12T14:55:00.001-07:00

more about "70s Disco Hits - A Video Compilation ...", posted with vodpod

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me By, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-06-12T13:05:00.001-07:00

If there was a place I could be other than in Dr. River's office, I guessed I would have been there. I sighed as I knocked on his door, here I am again. He opened the door with a warm smile, shook my hand and guided me to the chair where I would spill my guts. I asked him what should I talk about and his response was, "anything you want." I thought about the myriad of issues floating around my head, but the one thing that was puzzling me was my new job at The Encore,however the training with Gilbert was going well. I worked every day with him behind the bar, and I was learning so much more. How to make a drink in a shaker, like a martini, and what goes in a Pina Colata, just for starters. How to pour the perfect draft beer, and so on, Gilbert was truely a Master Mixologist. Mixing drinks was fun, even if the dirty old men at the daytime bar were getting their rocks off watching my breasts shake under my blouse as I mixed the drinks. I saw it, it was obvious when their tongues were hanging out. "I'm now training as a bartender at my job." I offered him up for questioning. "Is that something you want to do?" he asked me with interest. "Well, I can't say it was ever in my plans of what I would do, but it seems to be going ok." I could not brave it to tell him I was being ogled by the daytime "alchies" who perched at Gilbert's bar; their second home. "I feel embarrassed sometimes when they stare at me." I said in a softer voice. Dr. Rivers looked at me, and pondered this. "Why do it then if it makes you feel uncomfortable?" I thought about how Art said he would watch over me, when I make my big debut on my first night but I never factored in the training in the daytime where Gilbert, who was nothing but sweet and polite to me, could take over from Art...especially when Art wasn't there. Somehow, it wasn't the same. "I know my Boss will watch over me when I finish my training, and I think it will be ok, anyway, I'll make more money." Dr. Rivers thought and didn't say anything so I quickly changed the subject. "I guess if I could I would go back to school, it's summer now anyway... but this is it for now." He nodded. "Shawn, I wonder if you would like to read a book that I found very useful. It is a book I base all my therapy with clients on, and it might give you some insight into yourself and others." I was interested, "Yes, what it is?" Dr. Rivers went to a shelf and took off a book, which he then handed to me. I read the title aloud, "Games People Play, Transactional Analysis, By, Dr. Eric Bernes." I looked up at him. "It will help you to understand that we all relate from three places in our psyche, which are: the Parent State, the Adult State, and the Child State but not all together and often not when we should. You'll see what I mean, will you read it and let me know what you think about it next week?" "Yes, ok." I agreed and I was curious. I asked him questions about this book. He answered them all. Then we talked about my family. And my time in California. And some of my dreams. Then that was it, our time was up for that day. I went to the car, put the book down on the front seat and drove home. I had another day of training and I had to be at the Encore by 11:30 am. I was not used to the daytime again. I changed into my black slacks and a striped cotton shirt for behind the bar. This time I would not wear my heels as they kept getting caught in the slats on the floor. There was always a wooden slatted floor that bartenders walked on behind the bar. I didn't know why it was there but I guessed so when the water or booze or ice went on the floor the bartender wouldn't slip and break their neck! I entered into the blackness which was The Encore, Shadyside. "Hi Shawn, how ya doing today?" it was Gilbert giving me a big hello. I smiled at him when my eyes adjusted from the hot July morning sun to this darkened room. The waitresses were all getting ready for the lunch crowd and were there before me. I spent just 3 hours there with Gilbert. He was the boss here, and I his meager assistant/trainee. I crawled under the service bar and put my purse under the shelf behind the bar. "You take the service bar today, Shawn, any problem, just shout, ok?" I hoped I was ready for this. So far my training was for 3 days. Was I ready for the fast lunch crowd and the waitresses who I did not want to screw up their orders for their customers? I could feel my face getting hot. "INCOMING!" shouted Franny to me. She must have wondered what the hell I was doing there. In fact, they all must have, but nevertheless I was there, acting like I knew what I was doing with the bravest of bravado. "What do you need, Fran?" "3 Miller Lites, 2 Drafts- Coors, and 1 Coke." I reached down to the bottles beers and opened 3 Miller Lites, she took the glasses from me as well. I iced the Coke glass and poured it into the glass from the well. I then got out two draft beer mugs and set one under the beer tap and leaned it in as I poured it, to get the right amount of head on the beer. So far, so good. "Not bad, you're learning but a bit faster." Fran took her drinks on her tray and went speedily to her tables. " A dry Martini on the Rocks and two Manhattans and one White Wine Spritzer, please," was the next waitress's call to me. I got the shaker, filled it with ice and took the shot glass and as Gilbert had taught me, to a long 3 count or a short 10 count...in my head I counted as I poured the Gin into the shot..".One...two...three.." then into the shaker and then added the touch of dry Vermouth. I shook the mix, held the strainer and poured it into the Martini glass, now the Manhattans.. I mixed two shots worth of Rye Whiskey, added the sweet Vermouth and then a dash of bitters, strained and into two glasses with ice in them. Now, the White Wine Spritzer; a tall glass filled with ice, added the white wine from the well, added a bit of soda. Done. The waitresses all dressed the drinks, with cocktail straws and cherries or lemon twists or olives. The day went on and it was touch and go, I was learning but not fast enough. I had to whip those drinks out in seconds, and I wasn't even taking the money yet, or adding the costs up in my head! "You'll get the speed, it will come, don't worry!" Gilbert assured me. "Hey, whose the sexy new bartender, Gilbert?!" One guy called out as I was pouring drinks for my waitresses. "That's Shawn, and she is a great gal, I am training her..now be nice!" Gilbert admonished him. Gilbert was very nice to me and protective of me but I had to get used to this and I knew it. I had to find the way to "quip back" or I might get slaughtered here. Luckily I had made some plans. The daytime music in the Encore was from the Hi Fi, 70's classics of soft rock, easy listening and what was in the charts. The live jazz was at night.
I was looking forward to tonight. Robbie and I were going out for the evening, hitting this new disco which opened downtown called, "Heaven". We heard it was great and wanted to check it out. Since I was training during the day, I wasn't working nights but I was being paid as a bartender, so that was ok. My tips were from the waitresses, just like I used to give the bartender, but I told Gilbert, that this was his money. "No, I insist! You earned it!" he said. I had gone through the ropes, spilled a few drinks, dropped a few glasses and broke them and cut myself when I was slicing more lemons for the garnish boxes. Some of my Dad's cronies were in there, too, just glaring at me. Gilbert gave me a wink and we just kept working. I had earned it all. I left there stinking of booze with a bandage on my hand. But Thank the Lord for the Night Time...as I was going out dancing, and I was going to have a good time with Robbie. "What time will you pick me up?" I called her when I got home. "About 10:00? Don't want to get there too early. Hey Shawnny, what are you wearing?" she asked me also excited. "I don't know, it's hot as hell, what are you wearing?" I asked back. "I'll find something cool, but the air conditioning will be on, too." She was right, everywhere was air conditioned. I was thinking about our electric bill now, as I enjoyed the comfort of our air conditioning at home. Something I never thought about before...wondering what that will cost me? I left that question hanging in mid air. Had a shower, washed the smell of booze and bar off me. I took out a black twirl skirt with a big belt, which I had also bought at "Yesterday's News", the length was to the calf and a red cotton sleeveless top, which had a sweet round collar with little pearl buttons. I wore red heels with little white ankle socks, and a clutch bag which was also red, put my make-up on with red lipstick, too. Robbie beeped for me and I came out to her mother's car which she was borrowing. I was so happy to see her.She looked great, too. It was her night off from the Top Shelf and she didn't want to waste it. I knew I had to get up early but the heck with it, we were going out to dance, maybe meet some guys and enjoy what all girls our age were doing. We entered the gates of Heaven as if we had landed in Gay Heaven. I looked around this vast place with 3 floors and I shouted in Robbie's ear...above the Disco music which was pounding the heaving dance floor, "any straight men in here??" Robbie looked around..."Not a one!" We both laughed. "Screw it, let's get a drink anyway." I said, watching the men dancing with each other. She nodded and we headed for the bar. We weren't the only women there, there were many, probably just as perplexed as us, but the music was brilliant and so was the dance floor. "Well, the music is great...let's dance anyway, and we'll head over to the Rhino later." Dancing on the disco floor I never saw so many gorgeous looking men. "Robbie, look at him." I was pointing them out, one by one and some you would never know if they weren't holding another man's hands to dance. "Yeah, oh my God! He's beautiful! Well, at least we'll be safe in here!" She shouted back as we danced away. I had to laugh. The music was the real star of this show and what the heck, we might lose a few pounds, we got up and boogie oggie, oggied, till we just couldn't boogie no more! This Gay Disco knew how to throw a heck of a party!

(See The Disco Video on the right and all the 70's Videos to get an idea of what music was playing on the radio during this time besides the Jazz at The Encore.)

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me By, Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. These excerpts are from a book I have been writing of the same name. All events are true, some names are changed to protect people's privacy. All Video content and the music therein is copyrighted to the musicians, performers and songwriters. No copyright infringement intended.

2010-06-04T07:48:00.001-07:00

more about "Neil Diamond - Girl, You'll Be a Woma...", posted with vodpod

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-06-04T05:51:00.000-07:00

What did I want? That question reeled in my head, as if it was the very first time I ever heard it. I asked myself as Dr. Rivers looked at me, waiting for my answer. I did not know...well... I knew what I didn't want. I didn't want this responsibility. I wanted to be my age, and to be able to live like my friends. I wanted to be in L.A. and in my apartment with the little bits of furniture Reva and I had, and finish my finals so that term was not completely lost to my college credits. I wanted safety, security, and a chance at life like anyone else..and I wanted my parents to GROW UP, and handle their own problems instead of dumping them on me! That is what I wanted. But as I relayed this to the teary eyed Dr. Rivers, he announced that unfortunately, "Our time is up now." and I was cast off to announce my revelation in next week's time slot. I left there dazed. Was this what therapy was? Someone who listened and actually heard what you said? Then offered advice? In the end, as I left, and heard myself say, "yes, same time next week." I wondered what I was getting myself into. Yet, it seemed this was always the way. I had gotten myself in too deep with Glen, who had gotten himself in too deep with me. I was working underage at this Jazz nightclub in Shadyside, and although it was working out, I knew I was lying to them about my age. Now maybe that was incidental, maybe this was just a "who cares?" technicality but I didn't like lying, nor being lied to. In the meantime, while my little world was collapsing, America was celebrating its Bicentenial, 200 years old as of July 4, 1976. Celebrations were planned all over the USA, including Pittsburgh, Shadyside and The Encore. I walked into work, with banners displayed all over in red, white and blue, saying, "Happy Birthday, USA!" People came in with tall hats on like "Uncle Sam" wears in those old WWII posters imitating America, saying, "I WANT YOU" and there was general all around excitement building for the coming evening's celebration. Every bar, disco and restaurant on Walnut Street and in Shadyside has their own celebrations. I worked upstairs again in the restaurant and that was less noisy and crazy as the crowd downstairs got more into the night, fun, and the drinks. Art came upstairs to check everyone was stocked and ready for a busy night ahead early on and then I didn't see him the whole night until we were done, and the restaurant closed about 12:30am. The bar downstairs and the band were still going strong. I cashed out, making out pretty good tip wise and Art stopped me as I was ready to leave. In a raised voice he asked, "Did you do ok tonight, Shawn?" I nodded my head, "yes," as the band was playing loudly, a jazz standard I had come to recognize as "Around Midnight". The place was packed, 4 deep at the bar, people everywhere. "You in tomorrow?" he asked again. "Yes" again I said it but you could not hear my voice, nodding. "Ok, see ya then, come in early, I want to talk to you, ok?" he was surveying the crowd with quick glances and then back at me as I stood by the front door, ready to leave. "Ok, why, what's up?" I asked, loudly,thinking maybe I did something wrong. "Nothing, just want to talk, not bad, now, don't worry!" and he winked at me and smiled with that grin. A grin that told me he could be up to something. Next thing I knew the bartender was shouting, "Art, I am out of Barcardi, Glenfiditch and Zambuka!" Art signaled to him, and he was off to go to the liquor storage cabinet which only he had a key to. I walked out into the July night air to the huge display of fireworks blasting off from everywhere. BOOM! I walked over to my mother's car, parked in the parking lot in the back, and got into the front seat. I was wondering, as I drove home watching the sky light up here and there with brilliant displays of color and screething sounds, big booms, and crackles, what on earth Art wanted? Tomorrow is, as only Scarlett O'Hara would know, another day!
I was scheduled downstairs for my next shift, but I showed up at 4:15pm, and asked Gilbert if Art was in. He said, "Yeah, he is upstairs, I think he is waiting for you." Now I was worried, what could he want? I went upstairs, with a bit of tightening in my chest. Art was sitting in the empty restaurant, at the bar reading his newspaper, as if nothing was happening at all. I approached him by his left side and he spun towards me on the bar stool, as I stood there, facing him. "Hi Art, I am in early, like you wanted." smiling at him. I had worn a tuxedo jacket I had found at "Yesterday's News" with a man's tuxedo shirt and a black clip on tux bow tie, black trousers with a tuxedo strip down them, even a red cumberbun. He must have liked what he saw, as his eyes lit up. "Wow, you look very nice in that, Shawn." The 70's had the greatest liberation of fashion, and I loved mixing different styles, wearing various "outfits", like a look, a costume, an old style from the '40's, '50's, '60's brought forward, even mixing men's clothes with womens as a fashion statement. All done for a song, at Yesterday's News, which was my little secret. I blushed, as usual but was glad he got the look, and I said, "Thanks, Art, you wanted to see me?" He put down his paper, and asked me this, "How do you think you are doing at The Encore? I mean, do you like working here?" Uh-oh, now I was going to get fired, I was sure. "Yes, Art, I like working here, and the people are nice, too." That was all I could think to say. I held my breath. "Listen, Shawn, how would you like to be a bartender here?" the sound of those words were like he, the ex heavyweight boxer, hit me with his best shot. For a moment, I was stunned...what, a bartender?? I just looked at him like what he just said didn't get absorbed by my ears. " I, I, I don't know.." was all I could offer, but relieved I wasn't about to be fired. "Look, we need a bartender for upstairs and I want you to have the job, what do you think of that?" His face beamed with excitement offering me this postition. "But Art, I have never tended bar before, I mean, I don't know how..." I wanted to be honest with him. "Honey, I know, that is why I am going to make sure you are trained by the best in the business, Gilbert, downstairs. You'll come in for a week, work with him behind the bar, watch him during the day, learn all you need to learn from him, and he is the best this city has! Then start upstairs here, on a regular shift of 4 nights a week, you can still waitress, too, other nights, what do you say??" I could feel my cheeks burning with the redness of embarrassment, yet again. He seemed to have notice it, (how could you not!?) and asked, "What's wrong, don't you want to be a bartender?" How could I tell him? It was bad enough some of the men downstairs thought YOU were on the menu with the drinks. I put up with this night after night men looking at my chest, instead of my face, or pinching my rear, while the whole table laughed. I saw them stare at me, as if I was on display just for them, and it all gave me the creeps. But now, as I saw it, I would be on permanant display. Bars were like this, I told myself, just ignore it, I told myself, the other girls go through this, too, I told myself, and I convinced myself it was the way it was, and it didn't matter. But the truth was, it did upset me and I didn't like it. Art asked me again, "What is it? You can tell me, now, come on..." his voice was sweet, caring. Still I couldn't tell him that, so I said, and it was true, too, "How can I become a bartender, when there are so many other waitresses who have been here so much longer than me? It wouldn't be fair, and then they might not be happy and blame me, you know?" Art stood up. "You let ME worry about that, ok? Now, what else is bugging you?" he sat back down, lit his cigar and took a puff while I thought again. I couldn't tell him, what would he think of me? "No, Art, I don't want to, thank you but I am happy as I am now, please give it to someone else, ok?" He pushed his thick black curly hair out of his eyes, and he said, in Marlon Brandon voice, "Listen,Kid, I am making you an offer you can't refuse! I laughed out loud, and that seemed to calm my fears a bit. "You are helping your mother, right?" He asked me. "Yes" I said. "So, you need money, right?" I nodded again. "Bartenders get paid more, Shawn, so take the job." I thought about this, and it hit me that that would be a good reason to do it. I never saw any women bartenders here. I knew it was uncommon and maybe, if I could get over this sense of being on "display" maybe this could be something that would help me and the remnants of my family. "Ok, now, one more time, are you going to do this?" He was smiling, waiting with baited breath for me to say, Yes.He looked straight in to my eyes, staring, waiting. And I stood there,frozen. "Say it now, right now, what is it you are afraid of??" He could see I was holding back. His black eyebrows raised, waiting for my real answer. I took a deep breath and out came the truth, "Ok, this is what I am afraid of... I don't like being on display, ok? I know it kind of goes with the job but if I was a bartender it would be even more so, and I just won't feel comfortable." He stood up and said, "Is that it? That's what you are afraid of??" He laughed a bit and offered me this, "You take this job, Shawn, take it, and don't be afraid of nothing, ya hear me! I am gonna sit at this bar every single night you work, and if any asshole, any jag off says something off color to you, or even looks at you the wrong way, he'll have ME to answer to! Now, that's it, take the job, please." I thought about just how busy we get, how much running around he does from the upstairs to the downstairs but mostly he is downstairs and I had to ask, "How can you sit there every night when you have a whole bar downstairs to run as well?" He stood up, faced me and leaned into me, with assurity and a smile he said, " You trust me, don't you? I haven't steered you wrong yet, have I? You leave that to me!" I had to surrender now, he had conquered my every fear, and now all I had to do was say what he was waiting for..."Ok, Art, I'll take the job!" He shook my hand as if we had made a business deal and said, "Whew,(wiping his brow) You drive a hard bargain! Welcome aboard, Champ!" I had to laugh. Me, a female bartender...go figure?
(see video by Neil Diamond...Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon)

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me, by Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. All events are true but some names have been changed for privacy. All video content is the copyright of the respected artists, musicians, composers and performers. No copyright infringement intended.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-05-29T08:25:00.000-07:00

The Story thus far...most of which I didn't know upon my arrival at The Encore and meeting Art Swiden.... Just click on the videos on the right, one by one for the music that Art loved. He wore his side burns like Elvis in 1976, and he loved Elvis, Sinatra and Jazz. There are no need for words, as the songs say it all. Scroll up or down as the videos play so you can see the slideshow of newspaper clippings. All newspaper clippings are copyright to their respected newspapers and journalists and authors and the music videos are also copyright to their respected artists, songwriters and performers. No copyright infringement intended.
The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me, by Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010.

Joni Mitchell - All I Want (Live) 1974

2010-05-23T09:28:00.000-07:00

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-05-23T07:04:00.000-07:00

I worked my nights at the Encore, making more money and having a good time with the other waitresses. There was gossip about Art, as usual but I always found him helpful, funny and sweet to me, so I just ignored it and got on with my job. I went upstairs and worked the restaurant of the Encore in Shadyside, discovering that all the food was sent up by a dumbwaiter from the kitchen downstairs. This made for some hilarious episodes by the kitchen staff sending up joints instead of food, and all manor of goofing around! The girls laughed as we witnessed the series of funny things they would send up to us. Funny drawings, food that looked like body parts, you name it they did it in between the real food orders. I was enjoying the fun. People came upstairs to eat as an evening out, enjoying the quiet meals, mostly before the band came in. The upstairs bartender was one from downstairs. The bar was smaller and rectangular like the main one downstairs but half the size. Joni, Terry and I were working a Thursday evening when Art came upstairs to read the paper and smoke his cigar. It was mildly busy and he just seemed to want some space to chill out. I didn't think anything of this as I was busy serving my tables. I went to the service bar and asked John for my order. "2 Rolling Rocks and a Bud", I called to John as he came towards the waitresses' service bar. He nodded his head and went towards the small fridge to get them. Suddenly, the upstairs phone rang. John picked it up, saying, "Encore, Upstairs Bar, can I help you?" He looked over at Art and said in a low voice, "It's for you, Art." The phone cord reached over to where he was sitting at the end of the bar. I was still waiting on my 3 bottled beers for my customers when I heard Art's raised voice, "Leave me alone, I told you, we are divorcing now, don't call me at work!" He gave the phone back to John as if it was a snake and ruffled his paper as he sat down to read the Sports section. I was still waiting for my beers and John turned and said, with his hand on his head, "Oh, yeah, here's your beers, sorry, Shawn." I took them with their frosted glasses and put them on my waitress tray and said lowering my voice so Art couldn't hear me, "Is Art OK, what was all that about?" John said to me in another whisper, although the soft jazz music on the stereo sound system muffled our conversation, "Yeah, that's his wife, she torments him, he is getting a divorce but apparently she's a bit nuts and won't leave him alone." He rolled his eyes when he said this. "Oh, I didn't know that." was all I could say as I turned to serve my thirsty customers. The night went on. Art came back to the waitresses station in the back where the food came up from the dumbwaiter downstairs. Art had a playful grin on his face, seeing the marijuana joint left on the side, he said to Terry. "Where'd this baby come from?" He held it, smelt it as if it was a cigar. "The kitchen, where else?" Terry answered back laughing. Art looked at me, raised his eyebrows with a grin as I was taking off my food for my table. When the dumbwaiter was clear he winked at me and yelled down into the dumbwaiter using his lowered, gruff voice.."I better not find out who has been sending illegal substances up through this dumb waiter cos if I do, their fired!!" He turned to me and Joni, who was now back there and said, "Mmm, don't mind if I do!" and slipped it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. We all laughed and so did he. "I'm coming down there right now, ya here me!!" He was giggling like a naughty boy to us but scaring the begeezus out of the kids in the kitchen. You could just imagine them all scrambling for a story of defence! Meanwhile, it was the mid 1970's, everyone was smoking pot. I mean everyone but no one did it out and about. The hippy days and all it's music, the counter culture and it's Baby Boom in the '50's leading to the "Me Generation" which was now still going strong. I know because I was part of that and grew up in that. When the Doors were playing at the Civic Arena, my friends went when we were in 8th grade. The famous story was that they had older sisters who took them, and they waited for Jim Morrison to come out from the stage door. They waited for an hour, diligently, and they would not be disappointed. He appeared with a brown suede fringe jacket on and one of my friends...was it Reva, Robbie, or Rae-Gayle, I can't remember, grabbed a bit of fringe and yanked till it was firmly in their hand! The many nights we all went to the Civic Arena and saw The Moody Blues, Jethro Tull, Black Sabbath, Yes, The Who, during those years were still fixed memories in my brain. But how when the whole arena was high on pot, was another story! When we were all Usherettes at The Syria Mosque, a smaller venue for concerts ,and got the grand sum of $4.00 to usher in the first act, we could then sit and watch the main act anywhere there was a seat. This was to us, the best job in the world. Judi got me that job, and I got the rest on board. That went on most of High School so in 4 years time, we got to see a heck of a lot of headliners. While the whole arena was filled with the whiff of pot, we saw, Joni Mitchell, Crosby, Stills and Nash, sometimes with Young, Van Morrison, Jim Croche, and Carly Simon and James Taylor, (before they married) and so many wonderful others. It was a music lover's dream. One night Anne and I went to work to see the Bee Gees. Saturday Night Fever hadn't come out yet. We saw two seats in the front row and grabbed them after we had Ushered in our black skirts and white top uniform. We had changed quickly into our jeans and got our pay and were up front watching them. I reached my hand up, like we all did and Robin Gibb shook my hand! Afterwards, we went to eat in a restaurant within the Hilton nearby and guess who walked in to eat themselves? Yep, the Bee Gees. We tried not to stare, but God knows we did. It was a lot of fun. That era was clearly leaving. Soft rock would still have it's day, and here I was now working in a Jazz Club. Afterwards I might go out to the Gaslight, or a Disco with my friend Robbie, or now some of the other waitresses. That was my life, thus far. Reva and I would catch up on the telephone, which was always expensive. And there was little news of Glen. Mike had seen him not long ago, she told me, and he was thinking of leaving L.A and moving to San Diego. That was it, sadly, no mention of me. I was wearing my 1940's suits like an actress playing a part. The part of a grown up, who somehow was leaving behind whatever dreams and childhood I had and one evening my mother came to me again and said, "Please go back and see Dr. Rivers." We had another argument about it. I wanted to say, "Why don't you go and leave me alone!" But children didn't speak to their parents like that then. There was a line to how much you could say and how much you could get away with saying. In fact, it dawned on me that people don't often say what they mean or maybe mean what they say. My older brother finally showed up to mow the lawn. He was out in the hot early July sun and I did feel sorry for him. He said my father was living with this woman now. He couldn't say any more, because I might tell our mother, and she could use it against him in court. I tried to argue that this was all crazy and it had somehow fallen on me to take care of her. "Your Problem!" was all he could say, aloof and not interested, as usual. My sister would also be coming home. Living with her again was not what I wanted to do. I never got along with her and this summer her now coming home was certainly no exception. She must have felt the same way because she told me over the phone she would be moving into her own apartment when she came home. "whew", I thought, although I wondered where the hell she got the money from to do that? Meanwhile, the day came where I was again sitting in front of Dr. Rivers, the Episcopalian Minister turned Psychotherapist. The threat of never being able to use my mother's car again put me there. I was furious when I went. I had worked the evening before, and we were so busy, I hadn't had enough sleep, so I was cranky as hell at 11:30am. Now that I was serving the public at the Encore, I really saw no sense in wasting his time. "I have nothing to say, and I am sorry that my appointment will probably be as before, my mother made me come here, and said if I don't I won't be able to use her car. I need it for work." He commented this way, "This is your space to say what you feel, what you want to say, or just say nothing, either way, I am here for you." I didn't know where to put my eyes so I just looked down at my shoes most of the time. The time went slow but eventually I noticed there was about 10 minutes left as I was also watching my wristwatch. He asked me where I was working and I answered, "The Encore, waitressing." He asked me if that was a job I enjoyed, and I answered "yes, for now." He asked me if I had gone to college or were thinking about it because I was so young. Something in me when he asked me that question snapped, my face felt like it would explode in tears but I fought them back. I don't cry easily and when I did I certainly wasn't going to do it in front of him! But I thought I would just give him the low down of my life, and then I could just get out of there, there were 5 minutes left. "Look," I began, "I was dragged back to Pittsburgh kicking and screaming, ok? My father ran off with his secretary, a real piece of work, too, he is, always a bully, never nice to us but I told my mother you are better off without him and yet my mother is paralysed by it and by the way he left my mother with nothing, no money, took it all. Now she is on food stamps. She has never worked, only as an actress in local playhouses, which pay zilch! And get this, the secretary isn't even much younger, and she is ugly, too. My mother at least is beautiful! But I was 19 years old, had a great apartment in West Hollywood with my best friend from here, she and I went to Santa Monica City College, I get a call from my mother in mid March, as I was approaching finals, that I had to stop everything and come home! And home to what??! My parents hate each other, my older brother is a head case who beat us all up when we were kids, spoiled by my father but crazy because he has some fucked up problem! He has to touch things, anything, all the time, back and forth, could be a 100 times, but if you tell him not to do it, he hits you, see? And my sister who is about to come home now, oh what joy! She is a year younger then me, dresses like a man, talks non stop about a load of bull shit, non stop, can't stop. Even when I walk out of the room, she is still blabbing away...another nut case, so you see, why I am here, is a fucking joke! And my younger brother, the only one who I think is normal, he is 17, trying to finish high school, what hope does he have now?!!" Dr. Rivers did something after my rant that I never saw before...never saw a man do...he bursts into tears! He whiped them off his face and blew his nose with the box of Kleenex nearby but he could not stop crying. I was so shocked by this all I could ask was, "Why are you crying?" He cleared his throat and tried to speak, still crying, "Because your story is so sad, so upsetting. I could not help myself." Now I did not know where to put myself, was this my fault? "I am sorry I made you cry." I hopelessly offered. "No, Shawn, you didn't make me cry, your story touched me deeply and it is I who wonders why when you tell such a sad and painful story, that you don't cry." he blew his nose again. "I guess because I have heard it a million times, and because I am so used to it, it doesn't affect me like that, I don't know why." I was wondering why now. "Your brother who "touches" things, this is a form of mental illness, and your sister who can't stop talking, this is another form of mental illness. I know you see this, and now I am going to tell you something." I listened with intent, because here was someone who actually realized what I had been screaming to my parents for years but to no avail. "You must be an awfully strong person to have got through all that. And now, with the responsibility of what's left of your family falling on such young shoulders, how will you go on?" I didn't know, I didn't like it but I didn't know, so I just said, "I don't know, working and giving my mother what I can?" I offered quietly. "Shawn, it is not your responsibility to take care of your family. You are a young woman, a woman who should be in college, not picking up the pieces from your parent's divorce and your siblings lives." I sighed. I guess it was relief, because he seemed to be on my side. He was the only one who ever said this to me. Everyone else seemed to think this was what I was suppose to do. My mother, my father, my siblings and my Aunt. As if he read my mind, he added, "What about what you want?"

see Joni Mitchell's Video, "ALL I WANT" taken from her 1974 album above. It is also on the link on the right of this excerpt. All copyright of music to the musicians, singers and performers.
The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me, by Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. Excerpts taken from a book of the same name I am currently writing, a non-fiction memoir. All events are true but some names have been changed for privacy.

Boz Scaggs, "What Can I Say?" from his 1976 hit album, "Silk Degrees"

2010-05-19T03:19:00.001-07:00

From his 1976 hit album:

more about "Boz Scaggs ~ What can I say", posted with vodpod

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-05-16T04:58:00.000-07:00

I walked into the Encore in Shadyside with a renewed feeling of hope. It was the end of June, I was ready for something better to happen. I was greeted by Gilbert who asked me why I wasn't at work for the lunch shift. "I'm now working nights, Gilbert." "Ok, Shawn, just glad you didn't leave, you hang in there, and I am sure it will all work out." Gilbert was a nice older gentleman, Jewish as well, with a family at home. He was like a rock to the other younger bartenders and waitresses working under him. A master bartender with a heart of gold. His shift would soon be over and the night time crew would be in. I was in at 4:30pm as Beatrice, the secretary had asked me. She called me and told me my new schedule at the Encore I. I would work 3 nights downstairs for the evening shift, 2 would be 4:30pm to start and one night I would come in at 7pm, after the cocktail hour. Then for 2 other nights I would work upstairs serving dinner, and that shift was 5pm to 11pm, with last call for food at 10pm but on the Saturday it would stay open to 11pm, and the upstairs restaurant closed by 12 midnight but the downstairs bar was always opened until 2:00am. So, I had a shorter shift when I was working serving food upstairs. It all seemed great to me. I knew it was better financially, and that was the reason to continue working there. I put my purse away, as tonight I was on the downstairs, serving cocktails and our live Jazz was by Harold Betters and his Quartet. He was a staple to the Encore and the people loved his band. I got my waitress tray, filled it with fresh cocktail napkins and clean ashtrays and took over from Fran who was leaving now. "The guy on table 3 is a cheap bastard, never tips,so don't worry about saving me a tip!" Fran said as she untied her black apron, grabbed her bag and raced to the door. "See ya, Gilbert!" she waved her hand and was off before Gilbert could reply, "yeah, see ya Fran!" I was the only waitress on for an hour, or two. I lit a cigarette and kept it by the service bar, which we all did. Gilbert made me a Diet Coke and I sipped it waiting for a customer to come in. I made fresh coffee, put away the lunch time salt and pepper shakers and made sure all my tables were ready for the cocktail hour. Gilbert was restocking the bar for the night time bartenders as a few of the daytime regulars slowly sipped their beers, watching the end of a baseball game on the TV. The TV was small and hung up by the far right of the bar, as you came in the door. Apparently, the Pirates were losing this game. I heard the announcer scream, "It's all over for the Pittsburgh Pirates today!" and the regulars that lingered to the end, slapped down some money and left. Gilbert cleaned his bar as usual, and rang the big cow bell behind it every time he got a tip. It made me laugh. "You gotta celebrate it, Shawn, when it comes in!" Gilbert leaned over the bar and whispered to me. He turned off the TV, put the music on from the radio which was an FM station with no adds. In walked the night time bartender, John, then right behind him Art. I looked at my watch and sure enough, it was 5:00pm, on the dot. There were no customers on my tables yet, and I stood by the waitress service area, wiping down the waitress trays for the other waitresses who would be in. Art slammed down his keys, a huge array of keys on a big key chain and handed them to Gilbert. "How ya doing, Gilbert? Give me a cigar." Art didn't look my way, he was watching Gilbert. "Here ya go, Boss." Gilbert handed him the box and let him choose. "Where's my night time waitress, Gilbert?" I smiled at Art, as I was watching him. "She's over there, Art, it's Shawn." Art stood there, lighting his cigar with a massive flame from his flick lighter, puffing on it to get it lit. Once he had it lit, he walked over to me. "I didn't let you down, now, did I?" he said with a big smile on his face. "Gilbert, give me a coke, will ya?" he turned to ask Gilbert. "No, Art, and I am very happy, thank you again." He turned back and looked at me, offering. "Tonight, if we are busy, you are gonna make some real money!" he said in his normal voice, then he changed his voice to a lower, deeper register and said, "I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help you!" This made me laugh. It was true that he could look threatening because he was so big, and with that reputation that always seems to precede him, but he had conquered that with a sort of "catch phrase", and that was it. He seemed to like me laughing at him, because he giggled himself. A couple came in and asked for a table, the hostess sat them at mine. They were all mine until Terry came in. "Now, go get 'em Tiger!" Art shooed me away towards them with his hands. "Ok, Here I go!" I went over and as charming as I could be, I welcomed them to the Encore, suggesting that it was indeed Happy Hour, and the drinks were 2 for the price of 1. "We'll have two Vodka Martini's please." said my customers. I asked, as a good waitress should, "Straight up or on the Rocks?" "Straight up for both, please." replied the male with an eager smile. "Olive or Twist?" I said while writing the order on my pad, which read, in bar shorthand," 2 VODMART ^, O" "Olives, please, and some nuts, too." "Thank you, Sir, very well, I shall be right back with your cocktails." And I put the slip down on the service bar for John to make. Gilbert was done, wished me ,"Good Luck", and as he left, crawling under the service bar to get out. Terry came sauntering in. "Hey, look who it is??! You finally got here!" she came over with a big grin on her face. Terry had long straight light brown hair, like me, only she wore hers down and I had mine pulled back in a pony tail. "Yep! I made it, at last!" I told her as I was putting the cocktail sticks in the olives, and then placed them in the 2 Martinis. "Be right back." She cracked a few jokes to John the bartender as she put on her waitress apron, and got her tray together. I delivered my customer's drinks and came back over. Art had disappeared, "probably upstairs having his dinner before the crowd comes in", Terry explained when I asked. Terry and I worked really well together. The night got busy and we were cracking jokes at the service bar, talking about our lives when we could and basically watching each other's back. When John or Daniel, the other bartender who came in at 7:00pm needed anything like appetizers or some more ice, we could relay it to the kitchen or the bus boys. Art sat at the bar, reading the newspaper with one eye peeled for any nonsense or problem. By 9:00pm when Harold's band came and had set up on stage for their first set, the place was packed. Now Art, like the rest of us were running on our toes. I heard him yell at a bus boy for not clearing a table fast enough. But he was always cracking jokes with the customers. Lenny Litman came in. Lenny was a writer for the Pittsburgh Press and their entertainment section. Art had mentioned this earlier and seemed nervous about it. But when Mr. Litman came in, Art made sure he had a free drink at the bar. He was an older gentleman. I remembered the name because my mother also knew him, I had guessed by the plays she had acted in and he must have written the reviews for. His name was more then familiar as a writer for a newspaper. "Lenny, how you doing?" I heard Art approach him with a big hand out to shake. I was serving a table nearby, and when I was done, Art signalled for me to come over to him and Mr. Litman. I walked over holding my empty tray smiling. "Lenny, this is our new girl here, Shawn, Shawn Cohen, the Irish Jew, this is Mr. Litman, please see to it he has anything he wants, ok? On the House!" Art was smiling and had put his arm around me when he said it. "Hello, nice to me you, Mr. Litman." I said, and turned to Art and said, "Yes, Art. I got it, whatever he wants, on the house." Art whispered right in front of Lenny, "Got to keep the press sweet!" and chuckled as he walked away. Mr. Litman looked at me and said, "Aren't you Peg Cohen's daughter?" I was shocked. How did he know? I just shook my head, "yes." "Oh, geez, I know your mother and your aunt for years! They worked at my Copa Club downtown, in the 50's before she married your father! I've seen many of her plays, wrote about them, too. She is a fine actress, please tell her I said,' Hello'." And with that, I just said, "Yes, Mr. Litman, I will." The red was hitting my cheeks again. That is where I had heard his name before. "Is there anything you would like from the kitchen, a nice appetizer?" I braved asking him. "No, sweetheart, just the drink is fine, thanks." He took out a $5.00 bill and handed it to me. "I won't be here long, just wanted to see the band for a moment so I won't need anything else, but take this anyway, and how is your mother?" I took his very generous tip and mustered a huge thank you and said, "Oh, she is just fine, I will tell her I saw you, and you said, Hello." "Good Girl, thanks." he replied and then turned to his left to watch the band. Art had gone off to do what managers do, see to the customers, help the staff who need it or just schmooze with the customers. He was always doing something like the rest of us. I went on to my tables and served them, thinking how weird that some of these people here know my parents. Terry asked me if I wanted to get a drink after work tonight. I was rushed off my feet and knew I had to get my mother's car home in one piece so told her I would definitely take up her offer another night. More local celebrities came in. Stood at the bar was a friend of Art's. I was busy with my tables and again, Art called me over. "Honey, I would like you to meet the one and only Billy Conn, he is a Heavyweight Boxer, like me...but I'm better!" Art was kidding with his friend. I had never heard of him but there he was, a tall man like Art. "Hello, young lady, nice to meet you." said Mr. Conn. Art had his arm around his neck and was pretending to hit him in the midriff, which Billy just stood there as if he was non plussed. The bartender came over and Art said, "Give Billy a whiskey on me, the good stuff now, top shelf!" Billy smiled at his old friend, "Thanks, Art." is all he said. "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Conn." and I raced off to take care of my tables. I met Terry at the service bar and asked her who he was. "That's Art's old buddy, he was more famous than Art as a boxer, he made a title." I just said, "oh..." not knowing what that meant. "He comes in every once in a while." Terry continued as she dressed her drinks with fruit and straws." Harold told me a story once about him, and it goes like this, "Harold said, between sets one night, as he stood next to him at the bar, 'Hey Mr. Conn, was Art really as good as a boxer as they say he was?' and Mr. Conn just turned around slowly and answered,'You don't see me making any trouble in here, now do ya?!" I laughed and so did Terry. I got it, two boxing buddies. The night moved on. Art was always watching our backs, making sure we got our tips, knew when a new customer sat down, the night went by fast and furious and when it was last call, I had to admit, I was tired. It was nearly 2:30 am when the last person left. I was seated at the bar, taking a load off my feet, counting my tips. A whopping $75.00! Terry had cashed out and so had the bartender. Art was behind the bar, taking off the register. I was counting my tips out by putting a percentage to the bus boys (10%)and the bartender(15%) in their envelopes. Terry said her good-byes and said it was great working with me, and I agreed, we had fun. The register was done and Art counted up all the money. I went upstairs to use the ladies room before I was going to leave. I came down, purse in hand and said my good-byes to the bartender who was the only one there. I walked outside to the dark night. A big, black car pulled up right in front of the Encore and me. For a moment I was scared, then I saw it was Art! He opened the window and said, "How are you getting home, Shawn?" I was a bit startled but then said, "I have my mother's car tonight." He asked me where it was parked." Oh, it's just around the corner, in the parking lot." The outside light of the Encore had just gone out. All that was on was the street lights. "Get in and I'll drive you there." Art motioned with his hand. "No, its ok, it is only around the corner." I replied politely. Art looked away for a second and then said, "Listen, do you know where the bank is at the corner of Walnut Street, you know the Equibank?" "Yes..I do." I wondered why he asked me, surely he must know. "Well, I have to go there now and make a deposit, and it is late at night, and I am a bit scared, will you drive there with me?" His big brown eyes looked at me forlornly. I laughed and said, "How could YOU be scared to drive down there by yourself??!" He laughed back and said, "Em mes! I am!" (em mes was Yiddish for, "it's true" and I laughed at him, to my knowledge he wasn't Jewish, and he knew that Yiddish word.) He put on this act as if he was frightened. I did not know what this was about, but I gave in. He opened my door and I sat next to him. He put on the radio to a well timed Frank Sinatra song. He turned the radio up slightly and asked me, "Do you like Frank Sinatra?" I didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable and say the truth, that it was what my parent's listened to, so I said, "Yes." The song was "You Go to My Head". Art slowly drove up the empty street, and when we arrived at the bank, he said, "wait here." and I listened to Frank sing, "You go to my head and linger there like a haunting refrain, and I find you spinning round in my brain, " Art made the deposit, in the night box, with the Encore's takings for the night. He jumped back into the car and put the gear in reverse and backed out of the bank's driveway. "You can never be too sure, robbers out late at night!" I was sure he must be kidding, but just in case, I said, "oh, ok, true." The music and Frank continued, "The thrill of the thought that you might give a thought to my plea, casts a spell over me, Still I say to myself, get a hold of yourself, can't you see it never can be." Art drove behind the buildings into the Shadyside parking lot where my mother's Pontiac was sitting waiting for me. He didn't say anything else, just the music was on, and as he parked next to her car, the lyrics came in again, "You go to my head with a smile that makes my temperature rise, Like a summer with a thousand Julys, You intoxicate my soul with your eyes. Though I am certain that this crazy heart of mine hasn't a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance..." I thanked Art for the ride to my car. "You are welcome, " he looked at me, smiled right into my eyes, looked right into them and then said, "You did good tonight, Shawn, now get home safe, I will wait till your car is moving, ok? See you tomorrow night." as the last words of the song came back into my ears as I got out of his big black Chevy Impala..." You go to my head...you go to my head." True to his word he watched me as I started the car, and then I waved him "bye". When I left the parking lot I was still trying to figure out what that was just all about. Is Art so caring about his waitresses that he makes sure they all get home ok? It must be that, I reckoned, then turned on my own radio, finally listening to my own music. My favorite singer was on, Boz Scaggs, from his new album, "Silk Degrees" with his new song, "What Can I Say?" I was singing along to it all the way home.
(See Video above..."What Can I Say?" By Boz Scaggs.)

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me, by Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. These are excerpts from my non-fiction memoirs of a book by the same name I am currently writing. All events are true only some names have been changed to protect people's privacy.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-05-10T01:55:00.001-07:00

I called the secretary of The Encores, who dealt with all the scheduling, the next morning. Her name was Beatrice, and she was a very nice woman, 40 something, who seemed somewhat out of place in a swinging nightclub. Her demeanor was quite straight, polite, and sweet. I asked her again if there were any openings, and I would work when someone was off sick or needed a night off , even at the last minute. She took into account what I said and said she would see what she could do. That was it. It was a waiting game now. Meanwhile, I went back to work on the day shift as usual. I walked into the dark Encore in Shadyside with my head held high. I didn't care now if the whole world knew I was working there. Maybe I was in defiance for all the bullshit that was going on around me. I was clearly in a place where, unbeknown to me, my parents had frequented. I can't say that I never knew them to go out, obviously, they did, and many times during our childhood. If not together, then separately, and that was evident to all us kids. The nights I wondered if either of them would ever come back was another story. But somehow they did, either in anger, or in my mother's case, drunk. My memories of picking her up off the bathroom floor at 3 in the morning, are too many to mention. It was her anger at my father, she would later tell me when she had slept it off. "Sure, OK, Ma." was all a young teenager could say. I was sure that she would somehow wreck the car and we'd never see her again. But when I woke up to her jamming the parking brake so loud I could hear it out my closed bedroom window at 4 am, then I was relieved. She wasn't a drunk, no, just out with her gay actor friends till the wee hours of the morning, after their play had closed, or when she had enough of my father's tirades.
Here I was now, walking into a place that was beginning to show me things I wasn't sure I wanted to know and today's surprise would really take the cake!
I set up the lunch tables as usual, Gilbert sorting out the bar for the fast and furious lunch trade, me in my Yesterday's News suit, another one, with a silk blouse with a big, black satin tie and puffy long sleeves. It was almost the end of June and finally getting warmer but the air conditioning always made it very cold in there. The hostess was seating people and my tables were filling up. I was working with two other waitresses and we were all running in our heels soon enough. While I was at the service bar, getting drinks for my tables, I didn't see a set of new customers come in. I delivered the drinks to one table and took out my order pad and approached the table filling out the table number and my name on it, so the chef, Al, would know it was me. Automatically, as I was writing, I said to my new customers, "Welcome to the Encore. Can I take your order?" As my eyes left my pad and looked down at the customers seated in the booth, I had another shock. There was Henry, an old friend of Glen's! He was sitting with a rather meager looking girl who was clearly his girlfriend. How embarrassing! My cheeks must have blushed blood red. "Hi, Henry! " was all I could say. He was just as shocked. I could read the sentence in his mind before he even spoke..."What are you, a nice Jewish girl from Stanton Heights doing in a place like this??? What happened to you and Glen, weren't you living together in L.A, that's what we heard back here? Isn't your father rich, waitressing is a low life occupation, close to prostitution, what the hell are you doing here? Remember when you and Glen were broken up for a while and we had a kiss and make out session at one of the parties we all went to in High School???!!!"
But he didn't say anything like that. He was so gorgeous then, all the girls from Peabody, all my close friends had a crush on him, too. Glen's friends, like him, were 2 years older and so he thought as he met my girlfriends, they'd like some of his good looking Jewish guys from Allderdice. Henry was one of them, along with many a motorcycling crew Glen road with, bringing his friends to my friends. It made High School interesting, to say the least! As I stood there feeling like I was in "The Twilight Zone", Henry spoke. "Shawn, wow, nice to see you again. Let me introduce you to my girlfriend, her name is Sherry." They were seated together on the same side. "Hello, Sherry, nice to meet you." I heard come out of my mouth. And then Henry offered me this. "You know I am studying Law, you know my mother is a Judge, right?" I shook my head, "yes", "and well, Sherry and I had our problems, you see....I hit her. " I stood frozen, listening, thinking to myself, "what???what did you say, you HIT her???" But I said nothing. He continued, as if I was now his therapist..."Yes, well, that was terrible, and her and I went through some counselling, and it is all OK now. " Sherry hugged his arm, holding it tight, and smiled at me as if she had won a prize. In High School, yeah, she would of but now...? "Oh, wow, so all is OK now?" was all I could figure out to say. "Yes, Shawn, and how about you and Glen?" I had my own shame there, needless to say, but I wasn't about to spill my beans, especially to him and at work. "Well, we lived together in L.A for a while but we went our separate ways. I lived with Reva out there and went to college there for two years. Just home for a short time now, and hope to get back there." I lied through my teeth. He really didn't need to know how Glen hurt me, cheated on me, made me sick with him accidentally infecting me with hepatitis because he didn't wash his hands properly after working in his part time job in the Vet's hospital. He was a lab assistant working with blood, and obviously blood that was dirty. No, I wasn't about to tell him all that...woman beater!
I told him it was nice to see him (shocking and embarrassing and who would have guessed, he was so gorgeous, yet the schmuck beat up his girlfriend!) My other tables were waiting, so I suggested I take their order. Henry asked for a Manhattan, and his girlfriend ,a glass of white wine. I brought the drinks, they had a few rounds, then had lunch. I really couldn't wait for them to leave. I felt exposed. I had to get on night shift. Maybe my Dad's Siding buddies, what I like to call the Jewish Mafia will show up too and really make my day! But as the hours went by, they didn't. Henry asked for the check, it was $35.00. I wondered what kind of tip he would leave me? It didn't bare thinking about. How many adventures we had together, in High School, me with my girlfriends and those Allderdice boys. How he turned out, who would have guessed? And even sadder, how Glen and I turned out. He left with a big smile and a big thanks, and how nice it was to see me again. His meek little woman still clinging to his arm as they went out the door. Miss Mouse roars with Power on the Mighty Man's arm, even if he belts her once in awhile! I cleared their table, picking up the huge sum of a $5.00 tip Henry left me. Well, at least the therapy session and the memories were worth something! As I turned around, I caught a glimpse of Art walking through the door. We had been so busy, I didn't realize the time. It was 4:30pm and Art was in early. It had been nearly 3 weeks since I started in the Encore in Shadyside, and I hadn't seen Art since I first started. I was wiping off my table when he come in. He went over to Gilbert, the bartender, and asked for a cigar. "Coming up, Boss!" said Gilbert, kidding with him. The next waitress came in to cover for me, and it was Terry. I was done with my shift. Art went upstairs, I took off my waitress apron, and got my purse. I told Terry what I did, calling the secretary, she said there was nothing available but she would keep it in mind. " I gave Terry the outstanding tabs and she wished me a good evening. I had to use the bathroom and it was upstairs, so I took my bag, and went up there. Art was sitting at a table in there alone, enjoying the quiet before anyone else came in, smoking his big stogey cigar.
"Hey, Shawn, How are you, Champ!? Sit down, now and talk to me." he invited me into the booth, with a big, warm smile on his face and his big, boxer hand offering me the seat.
"Hi Art." I said as I slid into the booth , sitting opposite him. His cigar smoke swirled in the air.
"So, Shawn, tell me, do you like working here at The Encore?" His tanned face was clean shaven and I could smell his cologne. It was nice, not over done like some men. His three piece suit clean and pressed for the night's work to come, his crisp, white shirt and big tie, matching his suit and well presented. His eyes and smile seemed eager to hear positive news and I wanted to say, " yes", he was, after all, my Boss. But he must have seen the momentary look on my face of despair, because he immediately sat up and said, "Come on, you can tell me the truth. Someone mistreating you? Something you're not happy about? I want to know, so tell me." He touched my hand on the table for a second. He had opened the door, and I walked through it, grateful I could now be honest.
"Art, I know you don't know me, but I am not really a waitress, you know. I am a college student who because my father took all the money and ran off with his secretary, I had to come back from L.A. where I was living, going to college and look after my mother, who is devastated, and my younger brother. I am working to pay the bills at home now. That is why I am here. It is not a career move for me." Art's mouth was agape. "Really, Kid, that's too bad. You mean he left your mother with nothing!" He was shocked, too. I said, "Yes, and if you want to know the whole truth, my father has loads of money, he didn't have to do that. You know what it is like for me, to see my mother with Food Stamps?" The tears came into my eyes, and really I couldn't help myself. "And here is the best part, when I was working last week, day shift, there were my Dad's cronies, all his friends, sitting at the bar, and they recognized me. One of them, the Jewish Mafia, I call them, all siding guys like my dad, pulled me aside, and asked, to my utter embarrassment, what the hell I was doing waitressing in this place when my father had money! They went on to say that they knew my father and my mother, and therefore, made it out like I was some sort of low life to be working here!" I could see Art getting agitated, his nostrils flared, and he pushed his thick, black, curly hair out of his eyes, leaned in towards me, listening with intent. "Yeah, go on, what did you say to those Bastards??!" he wanted to know, so I told him. "I told them I was here to work, make money to help my mother and my younger brother, who is still in High School, and pay the bills, which my father ran out on! And that seemed to put them in their place, but Art. I don't ever want to see them again. Please, can you put me on night shift? I know they probably won't come in here at night, and the money is better, too, which now you know, I really need."
Art, was like a race horse held at the gate. I could see him thinking, feeling everything I said, then digesting it. "Shawn, why didn't you tell me this from the beginning?" he asked in concern for me. "Because it was no one's business, I just wanted to work like anyone else." I told him the truth.
His eyes stared into mine. He looked at me in a way that made me want to hide my face. He was looking deeply into my eyes, my face, surmising it, searching it, as if he was exploring it. I was sure he was going to think badly of me now, maybe even fire me because I told him I wasn't here for a career move. Maybe I shouldn't have shared my problems to him. But instead, with great tenderness in his voice, he said this, "Listen, Shawn, no on is gonna treat you like a chump here! You are doing a good thing for your mother and brother, and I, for one ,am gonna make sure you get all the work you can handle, make some real money, not that chump change you get on lunches! You leave it with me, and I tell you right now..." he paused, took a puff of his cigar, and spoke assuring me, "from now on you are working nights with me!" My face lit up! "Thanks Art, thank you so much!" I was relieved. The night crew came upstairs to prepare for the dinner crowd. The waitresses and the bartender. It was time for me to go. Art and I got up together to let the girls set up the tables. He walked downstairs with me, asking me if I needed a cab to get home. "No, I have my mother's car." I told him. Outside on the pavement, in the 5pm sunlight, he said this to me. "If you need anything, you come to me, Shawn, you here me? I never want you to feel that you are in a bad position. If someone bothers you, harasses you, like some of the assholes we get in here can, or says something off color to you, you tell me, you hear me and I'll sort them out!" He was using his cigar to point to himself, as he said this. I knew he meant this, and I found myself feeling safe. "Now, when you go home, Beatrice has your number, I am gonna call her and tomorrow night, you work with me. Forget that lunch shift, that's over for you now. I'll see you tomorrow night, OK, Kid?" I couldn't believe it, I was so happy. "Yes, great! OK, Art, and thanks again, see you then." I was smiling. Someone had heard me, listened and helped me, someone who I never expected. I felt moved by Art's compassion. I drove home, stopped to pick up my dry cleaning at the local shopping center, and bought some groceries for the house but all the while thinking about how nice he was to me.
The next morning was my appointment with the therapist my mother was forcing me to go to. It was in East Liberty, near our favorite Chinese restaurant where all my Jewish friends and their families went to. Many a night, when my Dad was home and he took us out for Chinese, we would see all our friends and their families having dinner there. It was the place for Chinese food. Now, as I was pulling the car in the parking lot, I couldn't believe how long ago that seemed. It was in the late 1960's and early 70's, but it seemed a life time ago. I had a fight with my mother when I left, too, arguing I was now on night shift, starting this night, and did not want to go. She told me that she made the appointment and I must go. End of story.
I walked into his office, "Dr. Ralph Rivers", it said on the door. There was no secretary, only him waiting in a leather chair that faced another leather chair. There were some degrees on the white walls, and that was it. He stood up and introduced himself, shaking my hand. He asked me to sit down and I did. I was furious but I said nothing. "This is your space to share with me anything you would like to talk about, anything at all." he began. I said nothing. He waited and waited. I said nothing. I had on jeans and a t-shirt, with gym shoes. All of a sudden I felt like I was back in High School being scrutinized by a teacher. He waited again, then offered this, "Maybe you would like to know something about me?" I didn't but said, "OK". He told me he was an Episcopalian Minister who was a counsellor, and he was married and had 4 children. He left the Ministry to work with clients privately. I was curious so I asked, "How is a Priest married?" I had no idea what an Episcopalian Minister was about, and he smiled and said, "No, we are not Catholics, we can marry." "Oh?" I said. The hour went by and I said nothing. I did not want to talk to him. I wanted to be anywhere else but there. My older brother should be here, my sister could be here, but me? Not too mention Henry the woman beater! What a Joke! The time ticked away and finally he said, "OK, well, our time is up." I got up to leave and he asked me if I would like to make another appointment. "No, my mother made me come here, and I am not coming back...no offense but this is not for me." He just looked at me, "Oh, OK, then." and I walked out the door. I got into my mother's car and banged on the steering wheel with my hands screaming obscenities. What the fuck was going on? I really hated my mother for that. It was humiliating! I went home and handed her the car keys and said, "I am NOT going back there again, so don't even think about it!" I ran upstairs and slammed my bedroom door. I turned on my stereo to WDVE, soft rock, to calm down. How many times had I done this in High School? The music always took away the pain. The words always filled me with far away dreams, as they infiltrated my anger, calming the myriad of injustices around me. I started to paint my nails for tonight's shift at the Encore. My mother stayed downstairs in the kitchen, just letting me be.
The words that Art said to me came back in my head..."If anyone bothers you, if anyone gives you a hard time, if anyone says anything off color to you, you come to me and I will sort them out!" He was so nice to me and I was looking forward to seeing him tonight.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me. Copyright 2010. These are excepts from a book I am currently writing of the same name. All events are true but some names have been changed to protect people's privacy.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-05-03T07:40:00.000-07:00

Get down, Boogie oogie oogie,
If you're thinkin' you're too cool to Boogie,
Boy, oh Boy, have I got news for you,
Everybody here tonight must Boogie,
Let me tell ya, you are no exception to the rule,
Get down, Boogie oogie oogie, listen to the music. By, A Taste of Honey

Play that funky music, White Boy
Play that funky music now..
Lay down the boogie and play that funky music
Till you die, till you die! By, Wild Cherry

And when you feel the beat, you are the Dancing Queen,
Young and free, only 17.
Feel the beat of the tambourine, oh yeah!
You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life,
Watch that scene, feel that beat, digging the dancing Queen. By, Abba

It's the last dance, the last chance for romance tonight,
Yes, it's the last dance, the last chance for romance, tonight...
Oh, yes, I need you , by me, beside me, to guide me, to hold me, to scold me

'cause when I'm bad, I am oh so bad, so

Let's dance the last dance tonight.... Sung by, Donna Summer

Robbie and I were out hitting the discos, making up for lost time, wearing our great 1940's suits. It was just what we needed after her time at Penn State and breaking up with her boyfriend who was a high school sweetheart, like Glen and I. It felt good to be young and carefree again. I kept thinking of what Scarlett's mother said to her, in "Gone With the Wind", a movie Robbie and I saw together in 1973 at an old run down theatre in East Liberty, showing that 1939 classic. Scarlett was morning the loss of her first husband, wearing black all the time, and the quote in the movie was, "There's nothing wrong with wanting to feel young and be young when you are young." Robbie and I loved that movie, quoting lines from it often. And that particular line
suited me down to the ground. Here I was, supposedly the best years of my life, carrying quite unfairly, in my opinion, the weight of the world on my shoulders. Robbie coming home and us out and about was just the remedy. We hit the new disco on Walnut Street in Shadyside, called The Raspberry Rhino. It was a corner bar, disco, and the dance floor was in the middle of the room. If we got asked to dance, we did, and if not, we just danced with ourselves, laughing all the way to the end of the song. I remember that some of the waitresses at the Encore told me that the private club called "The Gaslight", on Bellefonte Street was an after hours club. By the time the Rhino was giving last call, I suggested to Robbie we go there and try and get in.
"But we aren't members, how are we going to get in there?" she rightfully asked.
"I'll tell them I work at the Encore, and you are my guest, all the girls go there, and the bartenders, so they told me. It's worth a try, isn't it? We look older in our suits, they won't know we aren't 21 yet...come on, let's go for it!" She agreed somewhat reluctantly.
"Ok, Shawnny, but I hope you know what you are doing?" Rob took her last sip of her Gin and Tonic. "Come on, let's try, worse they can say is "no!" I reasoned.
We moved off the bar stools and wandered down the street to the Gaslight. In front of the imposing steps to the front door was the Doorman, who clearly was checking memberships.
I winked at her and whispered, "Let me do all the talking, ok?"
She laughed at me and said, "Ok, I'm with you."
"Yes, can I help you, Ladies?" said the well dressed gentleman who was guarding the entrance.
"Hello, I work at the Encore and would like to come in." I said as coolly and matter of fact as I could. The two gin and tonics I had probably helped, too.
"Certainly, Ladies, Have a nice time." and with that, he opened the big leather door to what looked like Paradise inside.
Robbie and I walked in as if we owned the place. A little trick I learned from L.A. and getting into discos back there underage!
The place was a couple floors of bars, classic nudes as paintings on the walls with big Reubeneque women, lush velvet decor and an area with a stage in the back, tucked away with tables. The upstairs was a restaurant as well. We walked past the nude paintings and Robbie said, "Hey Shawnny, looks like we're in the right place!" pointing to the Reubens. I had to laugh. We sat at the huge rectangle shaped bar, and ordered a Grand Marnier each, in a snifter glass. A good bartender would know to warm the glass and put it in this type of glass anyway unless you had it on the rocks. Here were good bartenders, all class, all lighting your cigarettes and all very much attending to the needs of their patrons at the bar. The Gaslight would become our favorite place to go after hours in the months of summer to come. It wasn't long before two men in their 30's came over and started flirting with us. Suits came in here, no jeans. They bought us another round, introducing themselves as both lawyers. I checked out Robbie, while they were busy talking to themselves for a second, to see if she liked either of them. She knew just what I was thinking because she very casually gave me a nodding head, "no". Me neither, as I let her know with a wink. That was enough for us both to know that we could move on, and we did. This was the way it was in "bar land" and we all knew the rules. We went to the back room and listened to the Folk Band that was playing some soft rock music.. "Now Valerie's a Woman..." the singer was singing so sweetly and gently. We sat and listened and relaxed. "Shawn, I could get used to this." Robbie leaned over to tell me. "Me, too, Rob, me, too." I smiled back at her. We could still see who was coming in the door from where we were and I noticed some of the night waitresses coming in from the Encore. They saw me too and came over to say Hi. I introduced Robbie to them and asked them if they wanted to join us. They didn't, as they were meeting some other friends but thanked me. "When are you working now, Shawn, we never see you?" asked Terry. I told her that they had put me on dayshift and were waiting for an opening for night shift. I had already worked a week of it, and it was ok, but I did prefer nights. "You need to call the secretary again and ask her if there is any opening because we sometimes need a night off. Once you are in, you'll stay in, so keep calling her, ok? " I liked that Terry wanted to work with me, and I felt like I wanted to work with them, too. They were all nice, fun girls, more my age, well... in their 20's at least. They wished us a great evening and went off to meet their friends who were waving at them at the door.
"They seem nice, Shawnny." said Robbie. I agreed.
"You want to go to Ritter's Diner for some coffee and something to eat after this?" Robbie suggested. Ritter's was the late night place to eat after a night out. It was a diner that had been there forever, off Baum Blvd. and I know, because I worked there for one summer when I came home from L.A. ,after college let out. Robbie had worked in Eat and Park. We knew it wasn't grand but it was extra money for college. "Yeah, why not? I feel hungry," I said. We made our way to the door and I decided it would be best to introduce us to the Doorman, least he should forget us if we wanted to come back another night.
"Thank you very much." I said to him as we exited. He smiled and said, "Did you Ladies enjoy yourselves?" he asked politely.
"Yes," we said together and laughed. "Let me introduce us, this is my friend Robbie, and I am Shawn, and I suspect you will be seeing us again." I said giggling. He said, "Nice to meet you both, two beautiful ladies are always welcomed at the Gaslight!" That was enough for us. We asked his name and he said, "Tommy." We said our good-byes and he hailed us a cab to Ritters and were in there in about 10 minutes. Not a lot of traffic at 4am.
When the coffee was on the table and the eggs and bacon and toast, I asked Robbie if she thought about working at the Encore with me. "No, but I might work at The Top Shelf", she replied. Robbie's brother was a young and amazing jazz musician who had played there. She knew it and felt like she could enjoy working there. It was downtown, on the same street as the Encore II, but just down the road on the opposite side of the street. They too, had nightly Jazz there. "Oh, well, I just got to get on nights if you work there, otherwise we'll never see each other." I realized.
"If I get the job, yeah, but so far I haven't applied yet, just a thought." Robbie stated.
"My mother wants me to go to this therapist, and you know, I am going to go this week. I have an appointment. I am only doing this so she can leave me alone. It is ridiculous, but she seems to think I need someone to talk to."
"Well, tell her that now that I am home, you don't!" Robbie said with a wink in her eye. I laughed. I agreed but offered her this,
"You know I always had these strange dreams. Maybe he can make something out of those?"
"Yeah, you sure can dream, and some of them come true which is pretty strange." Robbie offered back.
"Yeah, I often know who it is on the phone when someone is calling. My brother likes to tease me about it. I just know, I don't know why."
"And isn't there some story about your Grandmother being psychic or something...the one you were named after...Maggie!?" Robbie loved to tease me with my middle name which was Margaret, named after my Irish Grandmother. Her and all my High School friends called me "Maggie" as a joke when Rod Stewart was singing "Maggie May" in 1972. The nickname stuck.
"My mother told me some story that she read the tea leaves, was interested in making herbal concoctions, and was pretty psychic herself. Aparently when I was born, she was in Brooklyn, New York and my mother and father were here in Pittsburgh, at Magee Hospital. My mother had me, and something like "I was born with the call", which is some old wive's tale that this child will be born psychic. Some Irish wive's tale, I think. And when my father called her to say I was born, calling her in New York, she said she knew because she heard a baby cry all that distance away!"
Robbie listened and said, "Wow, that's a pretty interesting story."
"Yeah, guess so." I agreed for what it was worth.
And with that, we turned to the waitress and asked for more coffee.

The next time I worked at The Encore I was in as usual at 10:30 am. I laid out my tables with the placemats and the silverware, ready for the lunch crowd who wanted to eat quickly and get back to work. These were the two martini lunch crowd, usually locals who worked nearby, or ladies who lunched, and wanted a good lunch with a drink as well. It all began as usual until Gilbert, the daytime bartender, called me over to the service bar. "Shawn, can I ask you a question?" "Yes, Gilbert." I said. Gilbert was the legendary bartender who everyone liked here. "Isn't your father Nicky Cohen?" he asked with some embarrassment. "Yes, he is." I offered back, surprised he knew this. Suddenly, I could feel all eyes at the bar on me. I walked away to serve my drinks to my table. I was made aware of many of the older men at the bar all whispering to each other and then looking at me. I took the empty glasses off my table and was headed back to the bar when I got stopped by one of the older men at the bar. He grabbed my arm, stopping me and said, so all of them could hear and even Gilbert was looking at me, "Honey, isn't your father Nicky Cohen??" I shook my head, "yes." He continued with a shocked look on his face. " Well, what are you doing here?? Your father is a rich guy, why on earth are you working here?? Geez, You look just like your mother! I know your mother and your father for years. Does he know you are working here, Sweetheart?" They were all watching me for my answer. I realized then that this was the afternoon den of all the siding guys who knew my dad. Worse than that, they knew my mother, too. But what they clearly did not know was after 22 years of marriage what my father did to my mother, how he left her, and us, to make our own way in the world! I had a moment to reflect, thinking how angry I was. And I decided to give them the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth! I pulled my arm away and said to the ringleader but loud enough for all the lookers- on to hear. "I am working here because I need the money. My father left my mother months ago, ran off with his secretary,took all his money and left my mother with nothing. He refused to pay for my college anymore, so I had to leave school or anything else for us kids. I am working here to support myself and my mother and my younger brother. Now...does that answer your questions? "
It's amazing the feeling. I felt so proud of myself! Why should I be ashamed??! Their ring leader spoke after a few whispered, "wow's" and shaking heads that turned back away from me. "Sorry, Honey, I didn't know." he offered me, clearly embarrassed and shocked. I began my walk back to the service bar thinking that most of these guys were probably at my Bas-Mitzvah, 7 years ago ,with their wives and said, "Now, you do." and left it at that.
When they all left, Gilbert pulled me to the side. "Shawn, you handled that like a "Champ", as Art would say. I know your father too, and I am sorry for you. But you are a sweet girl and a nice girl, you're all right in my book!" and he smiled at me.
"Thank you, Gilbert." I felt his genuine concern. The red in my cheeks slowly began to reside.
Now it would be all over town. My father would hear about it through these wise guys, the Jewish siding Mafia. What did I care? If he cared at all he would never had done this to any of us. I knew that, and it wasn't my problem. My biggest problem would be to get away from these guys and get on nightshift, and now I knew that was what I needed to do next.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me, by Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. Some names have been changed for privacy, but all events are true. These are excepts from the book I am currently writing.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me , by Shawn M. Cohen

2010-04-24T03:50:00.000-07:00

I am just a poor boy,
Though my story's seldom told,
I have squandered my resistance,
For a pocket full of promises,
All lies and jests.
Still a man hears what he wants to hear,
And disregards the rest.

When I left my home and my family,
I was no more than a boy,
In the company of strangers,
In the quiet of the railway station, running scared.
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters,
Where the ragged people go.
Looking for the places only they would know.

Asking only workman's wages,
I come looking for a job,
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue.
I do declare, there were times that I was so lonesome,
I took some comfort there.

Laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone
Going home,
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me,
Bleeding me, going home.

In the clearing stands a Boxer,
and a fighter by his trade,
And he carries the reminders,
Of every glove that laid him down,
Or cut him till he cried out,
In his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving",
But the fighter still remains.

The Boxer, by Paul Simon. Sung by Simon and Garfunkel

It was around midnight that Art came back into the Encore. Harold was blowing his trombone, and the people were loving it. I had four tables, and was busy serving them in the crowded bar, so I didn't notice him come in.

"How ya doing, Champ?" he came up from behind me, asking me in my ear. The music was loud but I heard his deep voice. I quickly turned around, careful to balance the tray full of drinks I had in my right hand, raised up high, above the crowd.
"Good, I think." I hoped he thought so, too. The bartender was 2 deep at the bar, and for a week day night, this joint was hopping!
"OK, Kid, go get 'em!" Art reassured me. I smiled and went out into the crowd, my waitress tray raised high above their heads, filled with 2 Vodka Martinis, 2 Pina Coladas, 1 Bacardi and Coke, and 2 Jack Daniels on the rocks, still wearing my 1940's grey suit, black tights and high heels. In this Encore, I was told, we didn't wear uniforms, we could wear what we wanted as long as it looked smart. I liked that idea so, I put my packed uniform for the Encore II behind the bar, with my handbag, for safe keeping, like all the waitresses did.
Art stood silently by the service bar and watched. He smoked his big cigar, signalled with a quick raising of his head to the bartender who automatically brought him a Coke a Cola, and just observed. I felt his eyes on me from the back of my head. I wasn't sure if he was watching me because he wanted to see how I was doing on the small but packed floor of this Encore, or if he was just watching over me, in case something happened. People had been known to be knifed here, and fights had also been known to break out. These were the times of racial integration. And many an African American patron would come in to hear the smooth sounds of the Jazz musicians, often African American themselves, just like Harold Betters who was being enjoyed by the listening crowd but even in 1976, racism still existed. It could also be the booze as well, people getting too drunk, causing trouble. Art, I was told, was a hell of a "bouncer" as well as the manager. He seemed to have one eye cocked, looking to see where trouble or a potential fight might break out. I was told all this by the night time bartender, named John. It seemed where ever I went in these two Encores, everyone talked about Art. And not always nicely.They talked about how Art could fly over the bar in a seconds notice, if he saw trouble. He would take the guy with his big hands by the back of his shirt and throw him out the front door on to the pavement, screaming obscenities! That he was "punch drunk" from too many prizefights, "crazy", "over reacted to things", "violent"! For myself, I couldn't see that at all. Art was a big man, about 6'1" tall and must have weighed over 220 lbs! How could he fly over this tall bar, "like a gazelle"?! They must be exaggerating. I figured it was best for me to just keep my mouth shut, and do my job, as best as I could. If I spilled a tray full of drinks in this crowd, and this was so much smaller than the Encore II, I would definitely be spilling it on customers, and I didn't want that! Gossip about our Boss , Art Swiden, the ex heavyweight boxer, was just that I figured, and I ignored it.
The night slipped into the wee hours. Art was upstairs, as the restaurant part of the Encore closed around midnight and he was up there, cashing out the register with the upstairs bartender. All the waitresses for the restaurant had gone home, but not before introducing themselves to me. Terry and Joni, and another Terry were the three on board. They all seemed nice, and much younger in their 20's and 30' s, then the ones who worked downtown. I felt like I could relate to them, and was looking forward to working with them.
As the bartender issued, "Last Call for drinks", Harold Betters announced from the stage, "Thanks, Ladies and Gentlemen you've been a great audience tonight and now we would like to play for you our last song for the evening, here at The Encore, "What a Wonderful World". And as he started blowing the notes into his slide trombone, I saw Art walk back into the room. He gave the money bag to the bartender, stopped for a second and watched Harold play. His eyes seemed a bit misty eyed, smiling to himself. I got the feeling, as I was serving my last orders to my customers, that he liked that song.
When it was all done, the money collected for all the tabs, and my envelopes of tips given out to the bartender and the busboy, I was glad the night was over. Art approached me and said,
"How'd you do tonight, Shawn, make any money?" I jangled my waitress apron, where I had stuffed the dollar bills and the change.
"I haven't counted it yet, but seems to be pretty good." I said happily.
"Good, now when we get really busy, you play your cards right, you'll make a lot more then that!" Art said with a wink.
"Gee, I thought we were pretty busy, you mean it can get busier than this?" I inquired.
Art just laughed, "Honey, you ain't seen nothing yet! Now, go home, get a good night's sleep, and call the secretary in the morning. I think you're gonna work day shift for a bit, and maybe a mix of some nights. She knows all the schedules, so call her in the morning. You did good, Kid! How you getting home? Need a cab?" I nodded my head, "Yes." He then motioned to John, and in a one fell swoop, John brought over the phone, and Art called me a cab. He asked for the cab in one of his funny voices. "Hello! I need a cab, RIGHT NOW, at the Encore, 5505 Walnut St., Shadyside, OK?." I laughed because it was James Cagney again.
Within seconds, the cab came and Art walked me out to the cab, making sure, since it was 2:30 am, that I was in it safely. " See ya, Shawn." I said my good byes and thanks and off I went into the night, $35.00 worth of tips in my wallet. I gently tossed my heels off, due to my throbbing aching feet, and watched the still, dark night out of the backseat of the cab, as he drove back to my home in Stanton Heights.
The next day I called the secretary who said I was put on the day time shift, from 10:30 am to 4:30pm, starting tomorrow. She would try to get me on nights, but didn't have any available right now. I was disappointed. Night time is a longer shift and better money. However, I knew two of my best friends would be home from Penn State University, and that was what I was looking forward to. Anne would be out, too, for the summer. The Penn State crew were due home today, so I just waited for their phone calls. They were Judi, who was my oldest childhood friend, from 4th grade on and Robbie (short for Roberta), who I had also known since grade school but we met at the Jewish Community Center at the bottom of Stanton Avenue. She was from Highland Park as was Rae-Gayle, Reva, and Anne. The East End girls from Highland Park all went to a different grade school but we all attended Peabody High School in East Liberty. Robbie called me first.
"Hey, Shawnny, I am home, at last! How are you?"
We talked for an hour catching up, then I convinced her to come and see that great second hand clothing shop,"Yesterday's News"with me, knowing she would love it. So we did. We spent the day talking and laughing, and trying on all manor of clothes out there. I was tired from the shift at The Encore the night before but nothing cheered me up faster then seeing my old best friend. I was like another kid in their family, as in Judi's,too. Robbie and I were really close. She loved all the clothes, spending most of her time in blue jean over- alls and t-shirts at Penn State, so she welcomed the change into more feminine suits. She bought a fabulous 1940's red suit, with a pencil skirt, and her olive skin tone and her black hair and brown eyes just shone in it. She and I had similar figures, so as she put it, "These clothes fit me like a glove!" Yep, I knew the feeling. She, like me, bought loads. "I'm going to need a job now, after this!" she said smiling. I told her all about my job at The Encore and suggested she apply there. "Not sure that is where I want to work. We'll see, I need to take some time, just being home, before I see what's out there." I understood what she meant. She was always the rational one between us. I liked to think she had good common sense. When I wasn't sure about something, I knew I could ask Robbie, and she would see it right, offer solutions that made sense. I loved her for that. Now, I had hope. I had my friends home from college, at long last, a job, although it was hard work, it was possible to make some money from it. Robbie and I were going to go out and paint the town. June was finally looking up, even though my mother was still pestering me to go to this therapist. We argued over this a couple of times, but now I was feeling so much better. Who needs a therapist when you have your best friends?!

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me, by Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. These blogs are excerpts from the non-fiction book I am currently writing of the same title. All events are true but some names have been changed to protect people's privacy.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-04-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

Baby, you're improvable,
It won't take long,
Mountains can be movable,
If the spirit's strong,
You've got possibilities,
Takes a fella to tell,
You've got possibilities,
Let me pry you from you're shell.

Somewhere way down deep in you, There's life no doubt.
It's just been asleep in you, Let me bring it out, Yes,
You've got possibilities, Maybe even a lot,
Red hot possibilities, You don't even know you've got,
You won't be shy when I get through,
I'll make you purr, you pussycat you,
Somewhere way down deep in you, There's life no doubt.
It's just been asleep in you, Let me bring it out, Yes,
You've got possibilities, Maybe even a lot,
Red hot possibilities, You don't even know you've got.

sung by, Matt Monro

I was still seated there at the first table as you walk into the Encore, which Art told me was known as "A1". He also introduced me to a waitress, who he said usually works daytime, named Fran. She was working late, as they were short a waitress, and here is where I think I came in. The quiet Mr. Shiner, the owner of the Encores, excused himself to get up and go. I let him out of the booth and he slid out and turned to me shaking my hand, "Nice to meet you, Shawn, I am sure you will do very well here at The Encore." I thanked him and he said his good-byes to Art, whispering something in his ear. Art laughed and he left. I didn't know whether to sit down again but Art just signalled for me to do so. As soon as Mr. Shiner was gone, Art said to me, "Shawn, are you hungry? You didn't get a chance to have dinner yet, would you like to have dinner with me now?"
At this point, since he clearly was the Boss, I just shook my head and said, "Yes." ( I was starving, most waitresses and bar staff come in and have their dinner at 4:30 then start their shift at 5:00, it was now 7:00pm, and the Encore downstairs was getting busy.) Noticing this, I then thought about the fact that we were taking up a booth, that maybe a customer needed. In the Encore Downtown there was a booth in the back and no one but the staff sat there to eat. Art signalled Fran to bring him a menu for me, and some silverware for us both. I had to ask, so I did.
"Art, are we taking up a booth, is there a staff booth where we should be sitting?" He just laughed aloud, saying, "Honey, let me worry about that, ok? Now how about a nice juicy steak?"
Usually the staff got a salad, hamburger or something similar, steaks and all other more expensive items on the menu were for the customers, unless we bought it ourselves, for a generous discount, of course.
Again, inquiring minds want to know, I asked, "Art, I think I should have a salad, ok?" Art looked at me, actually it would be more accurate to say, Art starred right into my soul, and then said, "Listen, Champ, when you sit with me, you eat steak, ya here?! SO, go on, have one, on me, ok? Have anything you want, it's ok, you don't have to be afraid, not of anything. I want you to have whatever you want, and enjoy it, ok, Champ!?" I was a bit embarrassed, because he was, after all, the Boss, my Boss now, and if he said that I could have a steak, well, then I guess I could. I laughed at him calling me, "Champ". Little then did I know, as Art was this so called famous ex Heavyweight boxer years ago, that he called everyone, from staff, customers to the musicians and et all, "Champ". It was his thing.
I braved it again, "Art, am I ever going to work tonight, just curious, if not, it's ok, just wondering, and by the way, I see people going upstairs, what's up there?"
Imitating Clark Cable he said, "Baby, that's the restaurant, down here is for the bar, band and during the day, lunch, also we do appetizers in the evening. You are with me, Baby, so don't you go worrying about any little thing, ya hear me, Scarlett!"
I was mesmerized. He was funny, charming and clearly wasn't worried about me working. Why he was treating me so nice, I just didn't know, but I just let it be. When the waitress came to take our order, Art just ordered for me. He told Fran, "We want the best fillets back there! Both rare. Tell Al they're for me! Ok, and bring us some fries and some salad, and bring us some rolls, cause I'm staving. Thanks, Fran." He did all of that in a James Cagney voice, sounding just like him. Fran just nodded her head, unimpressed. There were two other waitresses on, but Fran, who Art said was there since the Encore opened, was busy. Art got up himself and set our table, first with the place mats that had the Encore's emblems and addresses on them, which we also used Downtown, and then, the silverware. I felt bad watching him do this, like somehow I should be doing this, but he did it with a smile on his face.
Fran brought out the salads, and Art took a white napkin and tucked it under his chin, where his shirt buttoned and his big tie was, and spread it out over his chest, covering his dark pinned striped suit, with the matching waistcoat underneath. I tried not to laugh, but he caught me. He was so funny, in his moves, his voices, and just the way his facial expressions came. In that dark bar room, I saw his cheeks go red. "Better on the napkin, then on me, eh?" he offered me his reasoning. "Yep." I agreed. I also noticed that the chef here was named Al, as well. Interesting.
"So, Shawn Cohen, the Irish Jew, tell me about yourself? " Art chewed on his salad with his mouth closed, as if he was really making the effort to eat politely. His dark brown eyes never left my face in anticipation for the answer.
I wanted to tell him why I came to work at the Encore, but it just didn't seem like a good idea, being he was now my new Boss, so I decided to say this, "Well, I was living in California, a couple of months ago, going to college in L.A." His eyes lit up.
"California, I love California! Always wanted to go back there to live. I fought a few fights there, you know?" He seemed excited about it all. I didn't know.
"I hope to go back there, too, one day, and finish my degree. But for now, I am home. I grew up in Stanton Heights, and that is where I am living now, back home. Just helping my mother out."
I offered him this, nothing more, for what more could I say?
"Ah, I see, from Stanton Heights. Nice neighborhood. I grew up in Kennywood! You know where Kennywood is?!" Art spat that out in one breath, excitedly. I laughed again because Kennywood was Pittsburgh's answer to Disney Land, an amusement park that we all went to as kids. Nobody grows up there, but I got he meant near by. "Yes, I know where Kennywood is." I said smiling.
The steaks came and Art asked me if I wanted a drink. I said a Diet Coke, and he said, "You can have some wine or a beer, whatever you want, ok?" He got up to get them himself. "No, a Diet Coke is fine, thanks." I was amazed again, that he was asking me if I wanted a "drink" drink. Art got himself a lager, and handed me my Diet Coke. He talked about when he was a boxer, that he fought Zora Folley in Las Vegas, and that fight he was robbed as he had the guy "down for the count!" Then he talked about another boxer, and another. I never heard of any of them. But I just listened.He also told me that his boxing name was "The Pittsburgh Phantom." Which made me laugh again. He said because he was fast, like a Phantom and he put his "dukes" up in the air, and did the old "one, two". I guess I should have been impressed but the truth was Boxing, or any sport for that matter was as boring to me as watching paint dry. I had 18 years of my father and two brothers watching the Steelers, Pirates, Penquins and all other manner of sports downstairs in our den. There was screaming and hollering every time there was a goal scored, a ball batted and a hockey put thrown across ice. It was "male domain" and I was not interested in any of it. But I listened as Art told me more, this time with a sad grimace on his face. "Ah, I could have been a contender!" That was said as Marlon Brandon said it in , "On the Waterfront". Luckily for me (and him) that I had watched all those old movies. Old movies were my joy, the black and white, the film noir, and the musicals. I loved them all. My mother, being an actress, a dancer and a choreographer, and even directed some plays, turned me on to these movies when I was younger and we watched so many together. She would critique them all the way through. And when I was in California there was always a good old movie on. So for every voice over, or line from a movie, I did recognize it, and he so made me laugh, I was a captive audience.
We both finished eating dinner, and I was sure now that this was some sort of test. Did I pass? I hoped so, because I wanted to work. Art said to me, after coffee, "Ok, Kid, let's see what you got..Fran is going to help you, but if you're ready, go get an apron under the service bar,and a tray and she'll tell you what tables you have. Dinner is upstairs, but if a customer wants an appetizer, or the bartender needs one for his customer at the bar, you take the order and give it to Al in the kitchen back there. You'll be doing mostly cocktails. The Harold Betters Quartet will be in at 9:00, if people ask.They are our house Band." He stood up and showed me that the kitchen was behind the bandstand. He was so tall, I looked up to say to him, "Ok, Art and thank you for dinner and everything." His tanned face looked down at me, he gazed deep into my eyes, smiled at me with those unbelievably white teeth and said, "You know, Kid, you've got some very pretty blue eyes. " I really wasn't expecting that and I blushed like crazy. He must have realized he had embarrassed me as he quickly changed the subject..."Ok, Fran, take care of our new Girl. Show her the ropes, and I'll see you later, Shawn, good luck, Champ!" And with that, he quickly walked toward and went out the front door.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me, by, Shawn M. Cohen copyright 2010. These are excepts from my book, all events are true but some names will be changed to protect people's privacy.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-04-07T12:43:00.000-07:00

What a difference a Day makes,
Twenty four little hours,
Yesterday was blue, Dear,
Today there is you, Dear,
What a difference a Day makes,
And the difference is you.

I talked to the waitress at the Encore II that I had made friends with named Lisa. Lisa was a tall woman, with shoulder length, thick black hair and heavy blue glitter eyeshadow, age 42. She had seen it, done it and bought the t-shirt and then some. I liked her adroit expressions and funny one liners, especially about men. She asked me to come out to a "dive bar" but fun place with her on our mutual day off. I thought it couldn't be worse than staring at the uncut grass on our front lawn, out my bedroom window, so I went with her.
We drove past this shop called, "Yesterday's News" which looked interesting, and I asked Lisa about it. "Oh, they have some really funky second hand clothes in there. You should check it out." I liked the look of it, and even though it was closed, I made a mental note to get back there soon. In Los Angeles, at The Swap Meet, Reva and I saw many places that were selling second hand clothes and they were not rags but beautiful. And the cut, the material was always better than the nylon/rayon passing for cotton these days.
We pulled into this dive bar about 10:30 pm, and it was just getting started. We sat at the bar, and I was hoping beyond all hope I wouldn't get carded. After all, I was still just 20. But Lisa was clearly older and this made me think the bartender would assume I was too.
A friendly face with a great smile greeted us as he slid the cocktail napkins on the bar in front of us. "Good evening, Ladies, what can I get for you?" Even in that dark place you could clearly see his sparkling blue eyes. "I'll have a Tangeray Martini, straight up, with a twist." Lisa said matter of fact, as if she had said it a thousand times before. The bartender smiled as if she had said the magic words and then looked at me. What would I drink? Having had to drink in the discos in L.A. to look more grown up and being absolutely ignorant of alcohol, I used to drink a "Grasshopper". Which was now, I realized, inane. Only people who knew nothing of alcohol drank those "baby" drinks. I needed to show I knew something, so I opted for a "Rose wine." It was the only thing I thought I could drink and not feel ill by.
The bartender whipped up her Tangeray Martini with the hands of an expert. And out of his ice well, where I now knew the wines were chilled, he poured me a generous glass of Rose. Relieved I didn't get carded, I paid for the first round. I drank away with Lisa, laughing at all the stories she told me about the Encore, and even more bizarre, her life. She was old enough to be my Aunt, and maybe because I was always so close to my Aunt, I just enjoyed her company. She had another Martini and before you know it, the bartender came over and poured us two more. I was definitely getting drunk but Lisa was so funny, I enjoyed it all. The bartender was good looking enough but under the influence of Rose wine, he was looking mighty fine!
"Lisa, what is that bartender's name, do you know?"
"Oh, yeah, his name is Bobby. Bobby Delray. Cute, huh?"
"Oh, yeah, you noticed, too?" I was slurring my words and giggling.
"Hell yes! Honey, I'm 42, not dead!" I was laughing so loud, the bartender came over.
"Ladies, everything alright?" He cleared our ashtrays of the mountain of cigarette butts and wiped up the wet glass rings on the bar. "Oh, yeah, we're just fine..." I leared at him.
The juke box was playing over and over again, "Bobby's Girl", ("I want to be Bobby's Girl, I want to be Bobby's Girl....") and that, with the Rose, made me dive in where Angels never go. I opened my big Rose drenched mouth and started flirting like a Jezebel!
You know you are in trouble when the bartender actually carries you out to the car. The sheer fact that he could lift me, to be honest, was most impressive! Lisa and I hightailed it out of there laughing our asses off about how cute he was and how much I was flirting and embarrassing the poor guy. One thing Lisa asked him before my actions got out of line was if he knew "The Encore". Bobby had smiled and said, "Sure, I know the Encore and I know Art Swiden, too. Sometimes Art stops here for a drink on his way home. He lives out here, you know." Well, I didn't know, I didn't care, here was that name again and just when I was trying to be a solid member of the "Bobby's Girl Fan Club". I hadn't met him yet but he was the topic on everyone's lips, it seemed.

I somehow made it home and spent the rest of the night, what was left of it at 4 am, in the bathroom hung over the toilet. NEVER Will I EVER drink Rose wine again, NEVER! Luckily for me I had no work the next day, so I slept in. I had made some good tips that past week and I couldn't get that shop out of my mind. I woke up at about 3pm, and although my head hurt, the coffee was enough to get me going. "Ma, can I use the car? I want to go check out this place I saw. I need it for about 2 hours."
My mother was sitting in the kitchen reading the paper, probably looking for a job. "Yeah, ok, Shawn, but I have to pick your brother up from Karate by 7:00 tonight, so be home before then."
I showered and got out of there as fast as I could. Something was calling me to that shop and I drove through the Fort Pitt tunnels to get to Route 51 and that old house which was this shop. I felt excited, and with a mere $100.00 in my pocket which could have gone 500 other ways, I knew this was temptation's dream. I wasn't wrong either. As soon as I opened the door, I saw beautiful 1940's suits, 1950's coats, hats and gloves, purses and scarves, all distinct, unique like nothing I ever saw before, except in a Bogey and Bacall film. I tried on suit after suit. The woman who owned it explained to me that the gabardine, the stitching, the cashmere and so on were all de rigour of the time. I also saw a beautiful baby blue and red Japanese Kimono with wide sleeves, which she suggested could be used as a bathrobe. I found the clothes more me, fit me like a glove, too. "Women were built like women in those days. None of those skinny minnies then. A voluptuous size 14 or 16 was just what Dorthy L'Amour and Marilyn Monroe were! And the men were crazy about them!" She knew her clothes and the stories behind them but she didn't have to sell me, I was hooked, lined and sinkered. I bought as many 1940's suits as I could find. Some with pencil skirts with a slit in the front, some with a slit in the back, or side. Other suits had a pleaded skirt to the knee. I even bought a pair of jodhpurs, not knowing what on Earth I would do with them, but I had a pair of long black leather boots, and the thought of them with a black, shoulder padded jacket with ribbon pipping set my heart aflame. At last, I was in my element, and it showed as each piece I found fit me like a glove! I also took some beautiful leather gloves to match a great spring swing coat I found, grey in color. In the end, I spent the whole $100.00 and I felt I had made a great purchase with a lot of clothes in top beautiful styles, colors and conditions. The electric bill would have to wait!
Lisa and I were going to try and go out again, this time somewhere else so I could not shame myself again with embarrassment. (Actually she was laughing the whole time but reality set in the next day and "never again will I go there," I said to her.) But I agreed to meet her after work, for an after hours club she knew about. So, the next day when I got dressed to go to work at the Encore, I decided to wear one of my new suits, which was a grey suit with black ribbon piping around the collar and the sleeves of the shoulder padded jacket. The skirt was also grey and pleaded to the knee. The jacket tailored in at the waist. I wore this and packed my Encore uniform of a white shirt and black trousers in a bigger hand bag with my make-up as well, separate from my purse. I took a cab to work that got me downtown just in time to change and get on the floor, but as I came in the Hostess stopped me and said, "Bobby Davis wants to see you in the back." I wondered what he wanted? He was always nice to me, we had a little routine of reading our Horoscopes together when he had the paper. Maybe he found something funny he wanted to show me in his newspaper. I walked the length of the Encore as the waitresses were coming in to start their 5:00 shift. I saw Bobby at the end table in the back, reading the paper, as usual.
"Hi Bobby, did you want to see me?"
"Listen Kid," he started, pensively. "You got to go up to Shadyside, Art needs a waitress there."
Now that was a bit of a shock. I had just met him the night before where he talked like Clark Gable into my right ear. But I was happy where I was and I knew the routine here now and I told Bobby that.
"No, no, you don't understand, Honey, I've got a cab waiting outside for you. You've got to go! Art said so, and that is that. " Bobby got up and started walking to the door. I followed him protesting. "No Bobby, I don't want to go. I don't want to work there in Shadyside, I heard it is very rough there, and you said you would watch out for me here. You know my Aunt. Can't you send someone else??"
"No" Bobby was huffing and puffing as his big body navigated the dark restaurant towards the door.
"But they say Art is crazy, I don't want to work up there with him." I don't even know why I said that. He seemed charming and lovely, but I was being thrown out of my comfort zone, and Lisa wasn't even in yet. I was still in my grey 1940's suit to go out with her with after work. How could I do that when I was up in Shadyside at the Encore there.
"Look, you are the last man on the totem pole to be hired. I can't send anyone else. If you don't go then ..." he took a breath and looked at me , "it's your job!"
That was it. I just looked at him. I felt like I hadn't somehow passed the test and he was dumping me in Shadyside. What did he mean Art needed me? And why me? But I needed the money and the job, so I nodded my head in utter frustrated compliance.
The yellow taxi drove me back towards where I had come from. Shadyside was actually closer to where I lived. The whole way I felt like crying. Why did they not want me Downtown? I thought I was doing a good job. And what would it be like working there? I had a long history with Shadyside. I thought how my first job was there with my friend Rae-Gayle and her mother. When we were 16, we had a Saturday job stuffing envelopes and licking stamps at a club called, "The Gaslight". Rae-Gayle and I laughed and drank coffee and talked about boys, like any 16 year olds. I had my first bank account there in Shadyside, too and it was Rae-Gayle's mother who showed me how to open one. I hung out here in high school with Glen and my friends in the halcyon hippie days of the early 1970's. It was only June, 1976, and a cold one at that. But oh, what will happen to me now, working again in Shadyside, but this time at the notorious Encore I? I got out of the cab, and straightened my skirt. I pulled open the big heavy door, to see nothing but black, just like the Encore Downtown. It took me a minute to adjust my eyes, when a tall man came towards me. It was Art, and he had a big smile on his face. "Hi, Shawn, welcome to the Encore. Come here, and sit down, how about some coffee?" He signaled to the waitress to get me a coffee. I realized I was sitting next to a gentleman. The waitress brought me my coffee. I said ,"Thanks" and wondered what now? Art was busy smiling at me. He kept looking at my face, which only grew redder with every stare of his. He asked me if I knew the owner of the Encores, and I said no. "Shawn Cohen, this is Mr. Will Shiner, he signs our paychecks, he is the big boss." I smiled cordially and said, "Hello., nice to meet you." He was a pipe smoking gentleman and seemed sedate, quietly checking the room. I was beginning to wonder when I was going to start work and Art was puffing on his huge cigar talking up a storm to me. I was listening but inside trying to figure out what I was going to be doing. I decided to brave it and ask. "Uhm, Art, should I start working now? I am here to work, right? So, I would like to start now, if that's ok with you.." Art laughed, and took a puff on his long cigar.
"Relax, Kid, when it's time, I'll let you know. Believe me! Meanwhile, have a cigarette if you want and enjoy the ride." I took out my cigarettes, he must have known I was dieing for one, and reached across the table to light it for me with a huge flame on his pocket lighter. He lit each one of mine after that, too. Art was enjoying himself telling me all about Gilbert the downstairs daytime bartender, and I began thinking to myself, "Oh my God, what is this?? I have been here for two hours.... what the hell am I doing here??? "

"The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me" by, Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. This is a true story , created from the non-fiction book I am currently writing but some names have been changed to protect people's privacy.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-03-28T03:33:00.001-07:00

When somebody loves you,
Its no good unless they love you,
All the Way
Happy to be near you if you need a friend to cheer you,
Come what may.
Who knows where the road will lead us,
only a fool can say but
If you let me love you, it's for sure I'm gonna love you,
All the Way, All the Way.

All The Way, sung by, Frank Sinatra

The next 4 weeks were like a whirlwind. My Aunt left with the good news I was hired and due to start work at the Encore II, downtown in 2 days. I was to wear a crisp white cotton, long sleeved shirt and black pressed pants and high heels. I told her I had those things and she said, "Don't worry, I told Bobby to watch out for you." That was somehow supposed to make me feel better.
Anne and I had our catching up. She understood well just how much craziness went on in my family, she and I had shared this element our whole friendship. Her own family had plenty of stuff, too. Her being my only non Jewish friend, she had some Irish ancestry as well, and we clicked on that and many other levels. She was always a great confidante, too, so I told her of my mother's latest craze. She listened on the phone in amazement.
"My mother wants me to go to a shrink" I told her matter of fact.
"Shawn, What!? You're kidding! Shouldn't that be Kalvin??!" she knew full well the details of his particular "touch" of madness.
"Well, you would think, huh? But since I am the one home and he has gone off to live with my dad, guess it's me now..actually she is the one who needs a shrink!" We both laughed.
I explained to Anne my mother's reasoning. It was really insane in itself. I told Anne that my mother said she was sad to see me so upset. That she knew I wanted to be back in L.A. or going to college like other girls my age. She also told me about a friend of hers whose kid was seeing this psychotherapist. I have to say, knowing this messed up girl , I was really insulted!"
"So what did you say to her?" Anne knew the girl and agreed.
"I said, 'Ma, I am not her! Thanks so much for the offer, but NO thanks!'
She knew I was being sarcastic, but she didn't give up." I continued telling Anne.
"In the end, she told me how she was a terrible mother, that she did things to us kids she shouldn't have done, and so it was because of this she wanted me to go to therapy, and that when she started doing therapy, when I was about 16, it helped her a lot."
"Jesus! What did she say she did to you?" Anne asked.
"She told me when I was barely two years old she gave me two black eyes. Beat me up. She didn't know why she had done it, she was angry, that's all. And because of this she wants ME to go to a shrink!" I was livid.
"Oh my God! What did you say to her, after she told you this?" I heard Anne's worry in her voice.
"I told her, forget about it, because I don't remember, in fact, I don't remember any of my childhood, so who cares!"
"So, how did you leave it?" Anne wondered.
"She started to cry Anne, and begged me to try it. My mother never cries, it was awful. What could I do? I said "ok".
"Shawn, I really feel sorry for you, that is terrible, huh?"
"I know, but what else is new??Meanwhile, tomorrow, I start working at a place I am under age to work at...God help me, eh?"
Anne wished me luck and the next day, dressed as requested ,my mother drove me downtown to start work at the jazz bar and restaurant nightclub called, "The Encore II" on Liberty Avenue. My shift began at 5:00 pm. I opened the heavy door and found it took time for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I met with Bobby Davis, the manager, who was a rather short, heavyset black man who walked with a limp. I was very nervous but he put me at ease right away, kidding around with me and talking about my Aunt to me. He told me the other waitresses would help me to get the hang of it and they did. The first night I sold 100 drinks! It was like a baptism of fire! I spilled plenty, too, but I learned to carry them eventually on my waitress tray. And I learned their various names and what they were. It took me a few weeks to understand the difference between top shelf alcohol and what was in the bartender's well. I also made a few friends, all older than me, these waitresses, and most of them seemed like they had been around the block. Sauvy, funny and full of quips, they took me on as the newbie I was. One thing that was a topic of conversation where ever I seemed to go in this long, dark, candle lit, rectangular restaurant was this man named Art Swiden. The waitresses at the service bar would say to me, "Shawn, have you met Art yet?" "No." would be my reply, not knowing or caring, really. The bartenders would say to me, "You know Swiden? They say he killed a man in the ring, when he was a fighter!" I would nod my head like I cared but really, I didn't. I was too busy remembering what fruits you put on a toothpick for a Pina Collada for my customers. Then in the kitchen, way in the back of the restaurant, when I would put my order in for surf and turf, which was the main feature of the menu at the Encore, Al, the Chef, would say to me, "Hey, Shawn, did anyone warn you about Art yet?" And I would answer politely "No.", but of course many had. And Al would continue, "Well, you know he was a heavyweight boxer, and you better watch out for him! He is a bit crazy , punch drunk really, too many knocks to the head! He can fly off the handle at anything! You know he manages the Shadyside Encore?" Al felt it his duty to warn me but all I cared about was not spilling anything on my customers and making a good tip.
"OK, Thanks, Al." I took out my two hot rib eye steaks with fries , fresh from the kitchen. I learned to pour wine and champagne without the cork popping or the fizz spilling everywhere. I began remembering all the different bottled beers we sold, as well as what was on tap. It took me a few tries, but I seem to be getting the hang of it. Always the jazz musicians were blasting their instruments from the stage, in the background.There was a different one each week.Chuck Mangione was playing that week. I knew nothing of jazz, so this too was the beginning of another type of education. Each night, after a 10 hour shift, and a heavy jangle of coins and dollars in my pocket, I would go home , in a yellow cab at 2:30 am, with my feet throbbing, absolutely exhausted. Walking the miles of serving in heels while holding trays of drinks and food was not what I had intended for my young life. I was only there to help my mother, and gave her what I could from my tips. Soon my friends would be home from Penn State, and I was really looking forward to that.
One sort of slow evening, towards the beginning of June, about 7pm, on a Monday night, I had to go back to the bread bin to get some rolls that accompanied the salad as a appetizer. It was dark back there, and I was trying to find the softest rolls when all of a sudden a voice came into my right ear. I stood still listening to a man's voice, clearly imitating Clark Gable's Rhett Butler, saying, "Now, see here, Scarlett!" I started to laugh. I turned around to see who was saying this to me but realized I had to look up. There was this tall, somewhat curly and thick dark haired , personable man standing there wearing a black,three piece pin stripped suit, smiling at me with the whitest teeth I had ever seen. He had a rather handsome face, with penetrating dark brown eyes. His eyes seemed to be gleaming at me. It took me a second, but I thought..."This must be Art. Well, what are they all talking about?? He seems nice to me." And with that, I wiped the bread crumbs of my right hand on my waitress apron and extended my hand to shake his, "Hello, I am Shawn Cohen, you must be Art, nice to meet you." He took my hand and shook it firmly. It was big and warm.
Delight filled his face. He said to me in an Irish accent this time, "Oh, an Irish Jew are ye? Ah, a little leprechaun are ya?" and I laughed. Then he changed his accent again , this time to Bella Lugosi, and reached over to my ear and said, in true vampire format, "I vant to suck yur blood!" and I pulled away and said, "Listen, I really like the Scarlett O'Hara stuff , keep that coming but not that Vampire stuff, OK? I better get going now, my customers are waiting for these rolls, and since you are one of the Bosses, I know you wouldn't want them to wait. But very nice to meet you, Art." With that I turned on my high heels to walk toward the restaurant but he followed me, tripping over his own feet to say in my ear, " Now,Scarlett!" and I laughed again, waved my free hand to him and walked on. I brought the rolls to my customers, who also ordered more drinks. I thought about that funny guy, who was so tall, big, not at all scary, like they all had said. Why did they say those terrible things about him? He seemed charming and sweet. I wondered where he was. I looked up from the table I had been serving the drinks to and he was gone. I scoured the entire restaurant and bar. He was nowhere in sight! How could he be gone so quickly? Mmm, I wondered where he went, it's like he disappeared!

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010.
This is a true account, but some names will be changed to protect privacy.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M.Cohen

2010-03-20T08:38:00.000-07:00

"Three waitresses all wearing black diamond earrings,
Talking about Zombies and Singapore Slings,
No trouble in their faces, not one anxious voice,
None of the crazy you get from too much choice."
BarandGrill by, Joni Mitchell

My favorite Aunt came to Pittsburgh from New York. She was worried about my mother coping, so drove the 8 hours from New York City to Pittsburgh. It was good to see her. I felt like I could talk to her much more than my mother. Maybe it was because she was younger than her by 8 years, or maybe it is because she knew what I had to put up with in dealing with my mother, The Scorpio, as we both called her. One thing was for sure, she loved my mother, whatever had come and gone. When my Aunt B would come to town, there were always songs sung and little dances danced with each other, until they would finally break into a rendition of "Sisters, Sisters" and laugh their way to the end of it. Aunt B slept in my room, in my sister's empty single bed. My sister was away at school in Erie, Pa.,somehow able to stay. Aunt B was tired from her long drive and after a couple hours of dinner, coffee and gabbing to my mother and I, she went off to sleep. I was sure glad she was here. I felt less of the pressure of having to be so grown up and worried about everything. I had no understanding of how to "fix" everything but I was sure Aunt B. could.
In the morning, things began to change. I woke up to find Aunt B. starring into my mother's bedroom, looking at my mother laying there asleep.
"Mornin', Aunt B..."I said as I wiped the sleep from my eyes.
"Shh! I just saw the Archangel Michael standing next to your mother's bed! Wings and all!"
"HUH??!" I managed to grunt, needing coffee bad.
"Come in the kitchen...!" she took my arm and led me down the stairs to the modern blue kitchen my father had his company put in when we moved in here in 1965. I started the coffee and sat down ready to listen. Aunt B. got the Coffee Rich out. She and my mother only drank their coffee with that, I preferred semi skimmed milk.
She poured us coffee and sat down as if to tell me something difficult. She began...
"Shawn, I think you are old enough and mature enough to know what's going on here with your parents." I nodded "Yes".
"Look, you have got to get a job. Your brother Kalvin isn't going to help your mother, you know that. He is with your father, and your sister and younger brother aren't grown up enough..it is up to you to help her. I just saw Michael, and I can tell you, your mother is in serious trouble if He came."
"I don't know what that means, Michael..?" I knew she was right about my siblings but the other stuff...must have been the Catholic stuff I didn't understand.
"I know this is going to kill your mother. I know your father and all the problems here, but really, she hasn't worked a job since she was a dancer at the "Copa", not for real money and that was before you kids were born! You have just got to get a job, now. I think Michael came because she is not in a good way. Take it as a warning that we must help her."
"OK, but who is the Archangel Michael? Sorry, but I don't understand all that." It's not that I disbelieved her, I just didn't know who or what he was.
"Archangel Michael is the Greatest of all Angels, and when he comes to you for help, he is answering a real prayer for help. I did pray for your mom, because I know that in spite of all the upset and heartbreak, she did love your father."
I thought about this, how many arguments they had over all the years I was their daughter. I never remembered a time when he was kind to her, unless other people were around. Hell, he was exactly the same with all of us. I easily recalled how much he bullied her, and belittled her, and never listened to her. How unhappy she always was unless she could go out and act in a play, which he absolutely forbid...but the rebel in her defied him and snuck out anyway. How he would spend so much money on himself, new Caddys every year, and we, my 2 other siblings and my mother, were always afraid to ask him for money, even for the necessaries of everyday living. Not my older brother, of course..he always gave him whatever he wanted and then some which we all hated my father for, and resented my brother as well. We knew Kalvin had problems but this just seemed so brutally unfair. The only time it was different was when he was in front of his Jewish Mafia friends. Then he would be so generous, over generous in fact. It was a joke, we all knew it, so I had to question this.
"Look, you know I was away at school and quite frankly, I have already given up my apartment in West Hollywood, my college education which I left before I could even complete my finals, and my best friends in L.A, which was my dream. You know, my dream to get out of Pittsburgh and be a "somebody"! It's not that I don't want to help her, but Jesus, she is 51 years old and I am just 20, what the hell can I do to help her??" I was really angry this had all been put on me.
"What about working as a waitress at The Encore, Downtown? I am booking some Jazz acts there and I know the manager, who's a friend of mine, Bobby Davis. I can ask him for a job for you. I'm going there tonight, OK?" She seemed to have it all worked out for me but I was not sure about this.
"Don't they sell alcohol there?" I asked her.
"Yeah, so..?" she replied in that Brooklyn accent.
"But you have to be 21 in Pennsylvania to sell alcohol, even to go into a bar, and I just turned 20 last week!" I argued back.
"So LIE!" was her only reply.
It never dawned on me to do that. I did it to get into Nick's Fishmarket on Sunset in L.A, a great disco there, but it never dawned on me to do it to get a job.
"But you know the only waitress experience I have is in a diner. I don't know alcoholic drinks." I knew I was losing this battle but it was my last ditch effort to get out of this.
"The other waitresses will teach you, you'll get the hang of it. OK, I'm going to get dressed. I have Anita O'Day coming in today to sing at the Encore tonight. I'll see you later, OK?" She reached over and kissed my cheek. The deal was done.

My mother woke up, but my Aunt was already gone. I said nothing about what we had spoke of. Somehow it might not be real, if I didn't speak about it, and maybe that man she knew at that nightclub wouldn't hire me. My mother asked me if I wanted to go with her to Shadyside. I was not into leaving the house since no one knew I was back. But since she wanted my company, and the Angel had appeared to my Aunt, (whatever that meant)I figured I better go with her. I got dressed and off we went. We went grocery shopping and I saw her bring out the food stamps again. It broke my heart, and increased the rage I felt at my father. I wanted to call him and scream obscenities at him, but he was just too frightening. I didn't dare. My mother's last stop was in the Rite-Aid on Walnut Street in Shadyside. She was going to run in for a prescription and I could have stayed in the car, but I needed cigarettes, so I went with her. As we came back out of the pharmacy, there right in front of me was one of my best friends, Anne, just on the sidewalk. She must have been shopping there and probably just had the shock of her life!
"Shawn! What are you doing here???!! When did you get back??" I was mortified. Not because I didn't love her, like all my best girlfriends, but I was so depressed, so ashamed of what had happened, I just didn't have the heart to tell them yet. With my red face of shame, I put my arm around her, and began..."Hi, Annie, listen..I need to tell you something..." My mother stood back and watched as I revealed the "story" to her.

"The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me" by, Shawn M. Cohen. Copyright 2010. Names may have been changed to protect people's privacy but all events are true.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

2010-03-11T06:32:00.000-08:00

March 1976. I left Los Angeles bereft. As fate would have it, I sat crying my eyes out even before I left, there on a bench at Santa Monica City College, after I had withdrawn from school. I felt weak, emotionally raw and had to sit on a bench outside on the main campus, trying to collect myself. But it was to no avail, the tears fell by themselves. I knew this was the end of a dream for me. My mother needed me at home, end of story. Looking for some Kleenex in my purse, my eyes blurred with tears, I didn't see him approaching me. Suddenly, an arm was around me. I looked up to see who it was. There was Glen. Perched on the arm of this bench, looking very concerned, his piercing blue eyes gazing down at me. "What's all this about then? What's wrong?" he asked me. I felt like a fool, but it was too late. I just filled in the blanks of what I had been going through. He knew that madness I was going home to, tried to comfort me and told me to dry my eyes. Eventually, we talked about us and why we didn't work out. He said we were both just too young, and I knew he was right. He asked me if I wanted him to drive me home, even though he would be missing his class. I told him, no, he shouldn't miss his class. I thought how hard we had both worked to be together in L.A. in 1974. That little bungalow we rented in North Hollywood, living "in sin" as they(the Establishment) had called it, and then apart. I was 18years old, one day out of High School graduation when I came to him there and he was all of 20. We had dated all through High School in Pittsburgh. He was tall, and handsome, those deep blue Piscean eyes and that long, black, slightly curly hair showed his love for rock and roll . A poet hippy like me. He was studying Chemistry now and reading Martin Buber and Ayn Rand. His Jewish background was evident from his conversations, slipping in the odd Yiddish slang but a true rebel who championed the Underdog and I loved that about him. He taught me how to do everything, from smoking cigarettes to driving a car to all manner of teenage growing up adventures. He was my very first boyfriend . I was age 14 when we met. He was 16, and a proud owner of a Kawasaki motorcycle. He worked in a Kosher butchers for a whole summer to buy it. My mother had a fit when he pulled into our driveway with his "steed", as he called it, giving him a brutal interrogation when he came to pick me up for our date. He always convinced her I would be safe with him, somehow. He was my first date, my first kiss, my first everything. All his male friends from Allderdice High School dated my female friends from Peabody High School. So it was great when Mike moved out to L.A., also from Allderdice, a friend of Glen's who Reva and I knew from back home. We all hung out together, us four Pittsburghers ; young , free and having a ball discovering The City of Angels. They were still playing The Doors music everywhere, too, in 1974, '75 even '76. It made my day to hear Jim Morrison belting out , "L.A. Woman" from some top down, fancy sports car on the Sunset Strip.

But this was all gone now, and I had to go home. Glen offered, in one final gallant gesture, to take me to the airport. He and Mike helped Reva and I move into our Sweetzer Ave. apartment in West Hollywood with what little bits of furniture we had. I had my LPS, my classical guitar, and loads of clothes. That's what I came with and now, that is what I would be leaving with. That, a few great memories and about a dozen defunked college course books.
The day came too soon. Reva would give up the apartment and move back home. Glen and Mike came to the airport with Reva. I said good-bye to them all with a heavy heart and tears streaming down my face. It was a late night flight from L.A to Pittsburgh...known as "The Red Eye". I had to laugh at the irony. The tears never let up all 5 and half hours of the flight east. I arrived in the early dawn, knowing my mother would never get up that early to meet me. I took a cab home. The sun was barely up, and it was a grey day. Spring was trying to come through but it was having difficulty. As the yellow cab came out of the Fort Pitt Tunnels and revealed Downtown Pittsburgh and its Point, the three rivers that meet, I knew I was home. I sat back in the cab, resigned. I lit another cigarette and starred almost comatose out the window at the passing scenery to Stanton Heights, then finally to 5108 Rosecrest Drive. As the cab driver pulled up on the hillside curb to park, I saw my house. My eyes widened and my heart sank even further, if it was possible. The grass was so overgrown it nearly blocked the walkway to the door! The flower boxes were all bare, everything looked rough. It then hit me how long this must have been going on. Where was the skilled beauty from the Japanese gardener my father employed? I paid the cab driver and he helped me with my suitcases. I was so embarrassed by the state of our once groomed lawn and garden, I told him it was ok, I would take it myself and tipped him. I scrambled through the mess to the front door, hunted deep in my purse for my house keys, which I hadn't used for almost 2 years. As I turned the key to open the door, I looked around at this Upper Middle class, predominantly Jewish neighborhood I had grown up in. The Cadillacs, Mercedes and Porches parked in their neatly manicured driveways of each house. I felt sick to my stomach. What must our neighbors think?!! It looks like the Adams Family lives here!
There was no gratitute in coming home. My mother saw it as necessary, no sacrifice on my part. I went to bed and spent the better part of 3 weeks there not even bothering to celebrate my 20th birthday. Nor did I call any of my girlfriends. I just couldn't bare it. My younger brother told me what he had seen. The fighting and yelling, the threats and the name calling. "Shawn, you didn't miss a thing! That Bastard was awful to Mummy!" He was talking about our father. I was glad to see him again, in spite of the bad news he delivered. It must have been really tough on him, too. He was the youngest and the only one left at home to witness it all. I felt sorry for him, really. He was still in high school. My mother came up with an idea to get me out of my malaize. She knew a photographer who would do some head shots of me, maybe I could do some modelling, she asked me. "What? Are you nuts?!" I told her. "That's not going to get us anywhere! And by the way, I'm too damn fat to model, or haven't you noticed?" I was so angry. She didn't go out and find a job but somehow I was going to model us out of poverty! "I know you aren't stick thin, but you could be a face model, and they make good money, why not? Anyway, I already made the appointment, and it's tomorrow, so look your best, we have to be there at 1:00." My mother had made up her mind and there was no going back. "Gee," I said sarcastically, "I wish you had warned me, since I just ate myself up a dress size from depression!" Her show biz reply was, "Head shots! Head Shots! Doesn't matter!" It was clear to me, my mother was still living in the movies.

I was never so embarrassed in my life. There it is, in the picture above, one of the results.I felt like a complete moron posing in that stupid cowboy hat! I had to do something quick to get back to L.A. or get a job...fast!

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me, by, Shawn M. Cohen, Copyright 2010. This is a blog based on the book I have been writing called, "The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me". It is non-fiction memoirs of my life and the psychic and spiritual journey I took through the deaths of two men I had loved. My awakening began when I was 23 years old and the other when I was 49. How each had come to me after our relationships were through, even many years later, in Spirit form. I had no idea either had died, because I wasnt in contact with either or even in the same city, state or country as them! This is my journey, their after life, what each one showed me that changed my life forever. Ultimately learning that Love Never Dies.
When necessary for privacy, I have changed the surname of individuals but all accounts are true.

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me

2010-03-11T06:13:00.000-08:00

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me

2010-03-02T02:33:00.000-08:00

Here is Art Swiden, a.k.a. The Pittsburgh Phantom, when he was a mere 20 years old, posing for a career that would take him into the boxing world, ranking by the time he retired in 1960, 9th Heavyweight in the world. This was at a time when Rocky Marciano, Joe Louis and many of the classic all time greats were fighting as well..and Art fought and sparred with them all. Who am I? I am a woman he loved who loved him when he was 16 years retired out of the ring, and managing one of the best Jazz clubs in Pittsburgh, Pa. I had just turned 20 years old when we met, and he was a handsome, funny, 48 year old ex heavyweight boxer, who for some reason took a big shine to me. This is our story, and it was a secret love affair, for nearly 28 years. Art was a great guy, who had a beautiful big heart...and apparently was a hell of a boxer...my blog is about giving recognition to a man who deserved alot more then he got, but mostly because Art came to me in 2005, a year after his death...this is our incredible story of life and love after death. I have been researching and writing my book about Art and I, our journey together and apart, in life and in the afterlife. It has been a true labor of love for me, for a man I did not know was still in love with me for so many years after we broke up. There are reasons why we didn't stay together, and mostly they had to do with other obligations to our families, and the times we loved in. A 28 year age difference was a big deal in 1976, when we met. But the electricity was there from Art's first approach to me, way back in the Encore downtown, amongst the dark back of the restaurant as I was reaching into the bread bin for bread for my customers. I will never forget that day. Here is how I came to work in a Jazz club under age at just 20, and how it changed my whole life... My Aunt was booking jazz acts from New York City where she lived, to the Encore I(in Shadyside) and II, in downtown Pittsburgh, Pa. and Bobby Davis was the manager then to the Encore Downtown (The Encore II) . Bobby was a cool cat, a man who knew everything there was to know about jazz music, and he and my Aunt were friends.My Aunt had managed The Bitter End and The Gaslight in Greenwich Villiage in the 1960's. Her and my mother were sisters,(my mother 8 years older) and best friends. Both had been professional show girls, dancers and performed in the circus, in their day. Show business was in their blood, they never left it. My mother was a local actress who performed to great applause and awards in the Pittsburgh Playhouse, The Odd Chair Playhouse, and the Beverly Hills Playhouse, all for a song, as they say. My mother's family were from Ireland and Scotland, and Catholic.My grandparents immigrated to New York, settled in Brooklyn and my mother was first born in 1924, the oldest of three, poverty was a way of life. My father was born in Pittsburgh to Polish/Russian immigrants, in 1924, the last of 3, Jewish, and grew up in the Hill District...dirt poor.....but now he was a very successful siding guy and owned his own business, as well as a business where he took gamblers and their wives to Las Vegas, for gambling Junkets. Everyone knew my father at The Tropicana. And I know this because I went there many a time with my friends. All I had to do was mention my father's name and we got in anywhere, comp, comp, and more comps! But in March of 1976 my parents were going through a horrible seperation with the intent to divorce, still unusual in 1976, and especially in Pittsburgh. Sadly, my father was so bitter, he took his millions and ran off with his secretary, leaving my 51 year old mother to foodstamps and welfare to survive. In a town where everyone knew everyone else's business, and many knew my parents, my mother and us four kids(my 3 siblings) had a great deal of anger and shame about this. I was called to come home from Los Angeles, where I had been going to college since 1974. I had a wonderful dear friend Reva, who I knew from Pittsburgh, and her and I shared an apartment on Sweetzer Ave. not far from Sunset Strip. We didnt have alot of furniture but we were happy! I was working part time as a waitress in a diner type restaurent. My father, who certainly had more money than anyone would or should have to worry about, started to not pay for my college.I called my mother to ask what was going on. My mother told me the bad news, that he had left, taken all the money and we were truely on our own. She asked me to leave college immediately and come back to Pittsburgh where I would have to get a job to help her, and help supprt my youngest brother who was still in high school, age 17. I argued with her that I had mid-terms approaching and I was working and I had an apartment with Reva, that I had my own life now and couldn't just up and leave it...but it was to no avail. My mother needed me and basically, that won out over any rational thoughts of a life of my own. I told Reva when she got home from school. We both were attending Santa Monica City College. We had gone to Pierce Jr. College out in the hinterlands of Canoga Park the year before, and were so glad we got into the city, and all the wonders of two 19 years old, let loose in L.A , in the heydays of the mid '70's could experience together. Disco was king and we made sure we got into every club going, even though we were underage. L.A. as well as Pittsburgh had a 21 year old law that made sure no one under that age would be allowed in..however, we were sassy enough not to let that stop us! But all that would be leaving me soon, as I told Reva the sad news. It was with an aching heart and alot of anger at my father that I went back to Pittsburgh. Not before running into my ex boyfriend Glen, at school on the day I had to withdraw from my beloved classes. I loved what I was learning...psychology, writing and poetry, film and all things that made you think. I loved philosophy and art, music, too. My Major was English Lit with a Film Minor. I wanted to be a writer, you see.