The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

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

Joni Mitchell - All I Want (Live) 1974

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

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

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

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

From his 1976 hit album:

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

The Pittsburgh Phantom and Me by, Shawn M. Cohen

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.