The Brandon File: The Skatin' Rink...

Of all the mill villages in Greenville County, Brandon, as far as I know, was the only one to have a combination skating rink/bowling alley. The Mill owned and operated the place and William Donehue was the manager. William ruled the "skatin' rink" with an iron fist...and a whistle that helped convey his absolute authority. One short "tweet" - you still had a chance to avoid his wrath provided you ceased whatever foolishness you were in to. One long, shrieking warble - and you were on the way to expulsion. And the expulsion could be lengthy depending on the offense. Of course, being a good little boy, and having the good fortune to live next door to William, I rarely ever felt the sting of his admonishment.

Sherry, Sherry baby Sherry,
Sherry baby Sherry,
can you come out tonight?
(come, come, come out tonight?)

Outside, kids are milling around with their skates hung around their shoulders, getting in a quick smoke before hitting the rink. "Give me a drag off that Lucky". "Get ye own." "Dayum, you got a whole pack!".

Inside, the hum of the florescent lights is barely audible over the din of eager kids lining up to rent skates or bowling shoes. A long shriek of the whistle is followed by William scolding a fat kid he spies on the approaches without said proper shoes. "I'll throw ye ass outta here"! As I said, William Donehue drew no quarter and took few prisoners. The fat kid's bad judgement is followed by stares and condemnation from the older guys. "Hey boy, am I gonna have ta stomp you"? Across the way in the rink, a pretty girl wearing bobby socks is gliding solo on the hardwood , flawlessly switching from forward to backward skating in a graceful pirouette. Soon, her performance is marred by a gaggle of R.A. kids from the local church, pushing and shoving one another; their chaperon oblivious to their roughhousing. Before long, the chaperon was in William's office getting an ear full. A few minutes later he appeared on the rink, red faced and warning his hellions of their impending doom.

The pin boys are showing up now, talking the usual nonsense about girls they didn't know and money they didn't have. "You setting up for Gazaway?" "No, I got Sorgey." "What did he roll last time?" "Bout 275". "Did he tip ye"? "50 cents". "You a lying dog"! By the time the league bowlers start to arrive the place is smelling of buttered popcorn and lane oil. Donehue is spraying the shoes with disinfectant when he spots a boy and girl in the shadows of the rest room engaged in a lip lock worthy of Bogey and Bacall. The sharp warning of the whistle is followed by, "now yall cut that stuff out! This ain't no damn hotel. Yall's mamma's know yall down here doing that?" A group of giggling mill hill girls surround the jukebox and feed in enough nickles to saturate the evening with Soldier Boy, Leader of the Pack, Down in the Boondocks and the entire Four Seasons song book - whether you like it - or not.

They called her, Rag Doll. Pretty, Rag Doll.
Such a pretty face Should be dressed in lace.

The crash of pins signify the real beginning of the evening's festivities. The league bowlers go first and they are serious. I loved to watch theses guys; the pained expression of seeing the 7-10 split, the contortions of body English, and their under the breath cursing (William allowed no outward profanity - save his own). The frivolities are shattered by Benny Sorgey yelling down lane number 1 at his pin boy who has done the unpardonable: He has pulled the string on the automatic pin sitter just as Benny had released the ball for his spare attempt. The clang of the ball hitting the metal framing brings Donehue bounding from his office with veins popping. The pin boy hunches in horror as a stream of profanity hurls toward him from up the alley (the league guys did have some latitude with William concerning their language). "I guess you won't be gittin' 50 cents tonite you dumb aice".

Going to the chapel
and we're Gonna get married

As the evening dissolves into night, activities slow and William counts up the register, readying the place to close. A small kid with a stutter sweeps the rink and cleans the bathrooms. "Wh-wh-where's the dang Pine-S-s-sol?" Two older boys sweep the lanes and apply the oil whose ever present fragrance lingers forever and always. The passionate pair that drew William's ire slink from the shadows of the rink and walk hand in hand towards West Greenville. The pin-boys rack up the pins and clean up after themselves; their alleys littered with soda bottles, uneaten nabs and dozens of Viceroys smoked down to the butts. After rolling a 263, Benny Sorgey changes his shoes, bags his 16 pound ball and leaves the building, still cursing his "worthless" pin sitter who, as predicted, went home tipless this night.

10 minutes later Donehue locks the door and chases away a teenage boy loitering outside the building."We're closed now, you can go home", William says with authoritative urgency. Cutting through the mill yard, I walk home with William and listen as he tells the story about seeing Ted Williams play baseball against the Yankees. I had heard the story many times, but I never tired of hearing him tell it; or of his trips to New York with Fred Mcabee, and their ribald post war exploits in the "apple". It was hard to imagine so much world out beyond the village.

Two hours later, homework finished, I was fast asleep and dreaming of impossible spare saves and bobby socked girls swaying to yet another song by Frankie Valli. My small slice of the world fast asleep with me.

Report from Molly's Rock

Like my esteemed brother-in-mallets Mr D., I'd like to take a moment to comment on the latest (and last?) of old man winter's assault.
This snowfall was supposed to be a big event here in the midlands. The weather report from Columbia on the eve of the projected storm was dire: WINTER STORM WARNING.
Columbia school officials took this warning seriously and called off the Monday school bell by Sunday evening. Alas, the expected 4" of snow never materialized. In fact, the area served by said school districts never saw a flake, due to a troth of warm air from the south. The area most affected was just north of Molly's Rock in Newberry county. While we received a ton of snowfall (and it was gorgeous!), we only saw about 1 inch on the ground, with roads as clear as a summer day. Anything north of us (Clinton, Laurens, Greenville, etc.) got a respectable amount.
Columbia parents of school kids were pissed because of the early call. Most had to lose a day's work to stay home with the non-snowbound kids. Letters to the editor of the State newspaper lambasted school officials for this meat-headed call.
Need I remind those irate parents about their previous letters to the editor of a few years ago when, after an ice storm forecast, the school board failed to call school early, which resulted in kids being on busses during the storm, which in turn resulted in accidents involving school busses, which in turn led the irate parents to lambast said school officials with the charge of incompetance.
What's a homey to do?

The last vestige of winter down south...

The March sun is doing its damage to Sunday's snow. By tomorrow the temps will be hitting 70 and even the protection of the Hemlock's shade won't be enough to forestall the inevitable. The little patch of snow seen here is all that's left of our unusual March "blizzard". On cue, the days are getting longer. Soon, the fragrance of honeysuckle will drift through open windows and "lightning bugs" will illuminate the balmy Summer nights. I can hardly wait.

Feeling a little bit like Robert Frost...

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Stopping by woods on a snowy South Carolina evening....

Update at 8PM: stopping by the refrigerator on a snowy evening too.

Update II: lights flickering...power will likely be a goner soon. 3 inches so far of heavy, wet snow. Trees (in the woods in photo above) are snapping like matchsticks under the weight of it. Oh the humanity!