The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me , by Shawn M. Cohen

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

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

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

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

"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

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