The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

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

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

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

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.