My Evening With Charlton Heston

Hi Bill 

Today I’ve been thinking about the grand opening of the refurbished Heinz Hall for the Performing Arts in Pittsburgh. It was originally Loew's Penn Theater, built in 1927 as an opulent movie house, which closed in 1964. After many years of deterioration it underwent a three-year renovation and reopened as Heinz Hall for the Performing Arts in September 1971. It remains a luxurious venue for symphony concerts, ballet, opera, theatre, and other artistic events.

I know you are probably wondering what this has to do with me and Charlton Heston. I’m getting to that. A good friend during my college years, Jorge (from Venezuela), landed a part time job as an usher at the Heinz Hall Grand Opening concert. Jorge was (and I hope he still is) a very entertaining fellow who loved to party and hosted many great ones that I somehow lived through. Anyway, Jorge got the job as an usher at Heinz Hall and he contacted me and another of our good friends, RG (from Jamaica). RG and I also got usher jobs and we reported for training a week or so before the Grand Opening. They provided tuxedoes for us, but we had to buy our own black ties (clip-on of course and I still have mine). We all went through training, which most of us did not take too seriously, but we were ready for the big Grand Opening show.

Of course the Grand Opening included local dignitaries and an ostentatious reception with bountiful and sumptuous food and drink in the lobby at the bottom of the grand staircase. However, we were most excited when we learned that Charlton Heston and his wife would be there. We all looked forward to the event, which turned out to be quite different than we expected.

On the evening of the Grand Opening, all the ushers, including Jorge, RG and me arrived early, put on our tuxes and took our positions.  Then, we were called down to the fabulous lobby for the introductions of the dignitaries (including the Hestons) and speeches,. We actually were introduced to the Hestons as a group and they were very cordial with us. Shortly after that the refreshments were unveiled and we were invited to partake of them. Of course we were pleased to enjoy the tasty food, but we were extremely pleased that we (the lowly ushers) were able to enjoy the champagne – and really enjoyed it we did!  

About a half hour and several glasses of champagne later there was a very happy group of ushers in the building. I mean very happy! Extremely happy! And what do you know - some of us were very sociable and talkative, and it was wonderful that all these rich and powerful people were there to talk to, especially Charlton Heston and his wife. I will never forget seeing Jorge skipping down the grand staircase with an attractive woman while sloshing a glass of champagne around. I also found RG conversing with the Hestons in his deepest voice and most charming Jamaican accent, while trying to hold his glass of champagne in front of his usher nametag. I joined him and we had a most enjoyable conversation with the Hestons. At least that’s how I remember it. I must say that Mrs. Heston was very charming and extremely tolerant. Mr. Heston was civil, but I can’t help but wonder if he was thinking “Take your stinking paws off me you damn dirty ape!”

The evening was a fun-filled debauchery, but somehow we managed to keep our jobs.

Sincerely Clark

Charlton Heston

Camping On The Acreage

Hi Bill

This week I’ve been thinking about when Dad was working to get our house on the acreage livable. I’m not sure about when that was but it must have been the early to mid-1950s. I’m pretty sure that you were not thrilled by the plan to move out of the city to “The Farm” as we called it. You were a teenager and had lots of good friends in the city, especially Ernie and Eddie. I was 4 to 6 years old when Dad was trying to get us moved out of Grandpap’s house and into the seemingly endless construction of our soon–to-be home. Okay, it eventually became a very nice house on a very nice property. However at that time it was stressful for all of us, although I was too dumb to really understand the long-term implications of what was going on.

As you probably remember, that acreage had a small rustic cabin on it and Dad rehabbed and enlarged that cabin over many years even after we had permanently moved into it. I have complex and conflicting memories of the parents dragging us to that property during summers to campout in that cabin for weeks (or what felt like an eternity to me). I suppose Dad used his vacation time from work (or was he laid off sometimes) just to work his butt off on that property. Again, it eventually became a wonderful large home but back then Clarkie’s time on “The Farm” was not all that wonderful. 

You probably remember that rustic is a way-too-elegant description of that cabin and the property. I believe there was a well with a hand pump outside the cabin for water. However, there was no plumbing inside. Now, little Clarkie was not at all enthusiastic about “doing his business” outside.  Yes, like most little boys, Clarkie was already down with peeing outside. No problem there. Just find some bushes to hide behind and let it drain. However, the number-two function was a little trickier to handle. Ah, but we didn’t have to “go” outside. No, there was an “Outhouse” on the property. What a relief, huh. Well, that was one cold creepy, crawly, crittery, and stinky little building, especially at night. Using flashlights in that tiny building while sitting on a splintery toilet seat over a hole in the ground did not foster a satisfying bowel movement. Ah, but at night we had a chamber pot to use in the cabin. Who the hell wants to use a chamber pot inside a small cabin! Please Lord, give us a real bathroom! Also there was lots of wildlife on the property, which added to nighttime experiences in the outhouse. 

Speaking of weather, even though it was summer it sometimes got cool (even cold) at night and we had no heat source. Then there were those summer rain/thunder storms and the roof leaked. So we had to have pans and buckets catching the leaks, etc. I believe we slept on cots and sleeping bags, which was fine for me. I believe we had electricity in that cabin, but I’m not sure. I didn’t have to worry about all those circumstances, but I did have to endure them. I suppose those experiences contributed to my life of insecurities and compulsive toilet habits. I know you helped me cope with those camp-outs, although I think maybe you (a teenager at the time) sometimes bugged out back to the city with friends.

However, it wasn’t all bad. When it was warm and sunny I was able to roam the acreage, which was full of trees, overgrown vegetation and wildlife, although I had to be careful to avoid poison ivy, bees and wasps. Unfortunately, I hadn’t met anyone in the neighborhood. In fact there wasn’t much of a neighborhood there at that time. Therefore I had no one to play with. However, you were there most of the time to help me get through those “camping on the acreage” experiences. Also my recollections are probably inaccurate. Maybe those camping trips were only for a few days and maybe the outhouse didn’t stink as bad as I remember.

I’m sure your memories of these back-to-nature experiences are much richer and probably more positive than mine. I would enjoy hearing them.

Please take care of yourself and your family.

Sincerely Clark 

They Tied Me to a Tree

Hi Bill

I was thinking about when Mom, Dad and you and I were living with Grandpap in the Lyswin neighborhood of the city. That would have been back in the early to mid 1950s. I don’t remember the early years very well, but I do remember some things about the last few years in that neighborhood. I wasn’t exactly the bravest little squirt in that neighborhood but I had lots of interesting times and somehow survived my life on those yards, sidewalks and streets. I also had several good friends in the neighborhood and I still remember some of them: Johnny, Stevie, Polly (I had a major crush on her, which lasted into my HS days, even though I only rarely caught a glimpse of in the city).

I felt like I owned that neighborhood when I was age 5-7 and I don’t remember worrying about much of anything. Of course, there were indications that I was not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Having to repeat kindergarten for a second year is a clue, but Clark did not sweat the small stuff. Anyway, my friends and I rode our bikes all over the streets of that neighborhood and often into the wilds of other neighborhoods. As you probably remember, we also made plenty of unwise decisions and found ourselves in some difficult situations. Luckily you were often there to rescue me or offer wisdom via threatening advice and solid physical guidance. I remember those wonderful days and evenings when the parents sent you out to find me and get my little butt home before I got into problematic situation. I really didn’t seem to recognize any danger in that neighborhood. Yes Buddy and some of the other older thugs in the neighborhood were mean, but they knew you were my brother so they usually left me alone. Of course I did have some unfortunate experiences like being tied to a tree somewhere in the neighborhood a couple of times. I think you found me and untied me at least once and I seem to remember Dad scouring the neighborhood and untying me from a tree and being really angry at the suspected perpetrators. But hey, it was all in good fun. I also remember riding my bike on the street sliding under the front bumper of car in an intersection, only inches away for injury. I scared the hell out of me and the driver of the car.

Actually I remember those years as being exciting and even magical. The fact that my big brother was around to watch out for me and often to rescue me, certainly helped make that a wonderful time in my life. You seemed to know all my favorite hangouts including the creek that was usually very calm and shallow but became deep and threatening at times and Zimmies General Store which was across Logan Blvd, which was divided by the street car rail bed between the lanes. Zimmie (who seemed to be a very old man too me) was always there and his store building looked like it was part of a Gunsmoke episode, i.e., unpainted grey rough lumber with a small porch on the front, but he had all kinds of enticing things for sale in there. He also had one of those coffin-like pop-bottle coolers with water and ice in it. Of course my friends and I usually didn’t have any money, but we liked to hang around there, even though we were not supposed to. It was great when Grandpap or you took us to Zimmies and bought us treats. Anyway, you and (I believe) also your good friends (Ernie and Eddie) usually knew where to find me when I needed to be found and I am grateful you were there for me. 

I hope you and your family are well and prospering.

Sincerely Clark

Target Practice on the Back Acre

Hi Bill 

I hope you and your family are well and happy. Life on the plains has been good to us. Sometimes I am amazed that we have lived here for 32 years, but at some point in time we realized that this is our home and we plan to remain here. However, I wish we could get together with you and your family more often. You’re my big brother and it would be great to see each other more. We hope to make another trip to see you, but I’m not sure when that will happen. Until then, I guess occasional phone calls and letters will have to suffice.

However, I have many wonderful memories of our relationship “back in the day”. Recently, I fondly remembered an interaction with you when I must have been about 10 years old, which would have put you at 18. We were in the back acre of our parents’ property and I was doing my best to irritate you. Evidently I must have been good at irritating you! You told me to stop doing whatever idiotic thing I was doing to provoke you. Of course, my behavior only got worse. I was not smart enough to consider the BB (or was it pellet) rifle that we were shooting. However, you thought about it and told me to run as fast as I can because you were going to count to 10 and then shoot me if I didn’t get myself under control. Well I wasn’t particularly intelligent back then. Therefore I continued my behavior and I wasn’t about to run. You began to count and I believe my reactions to your counting were similar to the following:

1. - “Yeah right, you won’t shoot me.”
2. - “I’m not afraid of you!" 
3. - “You won’t shoot me.”
4. - He won’t shoot me.
5.  - “I’m not afraid of you!”
6.  - No way he will shoot me.
7.  - Maybe this isn’t smart!
8.  - He’s gonna shoot me!
9.  - Run! Run! Run as fast as you can!!!!
10. – Bang! (Clack really) - The BB/pellet hit me in my left thigh and I screamed bloody murder and hit the ground.

Of course you helped me up and comforted me. We looked at my “wound,” and it was not even bleeding, but there was a big red welt there. You were sorry and we decided that the parents didn’t need to know about this incident. I never did tell our parents and I was very proud to endure a little pain from my “gunshot” wound. I knew you were a good shot and you were careful not to hit me in any dangerous areas. Also, you may have been trying to miss me and my spasmodic behavior threw me into the path of the BB. In any case, there were no lasting effects other than some discomfort for a few days. It was one of the many experiences with you that revealed my weird personality and lack of wisdom, but it also contributed to my toughness and helped teach me to be more careful about my attitude and behavior. I learned to not ignore a threat from anyone because you never know what people might do, and that knowledge has served me well. However, I had a long way to go to get my behavior under control. I guess writing about this experience is a little unusual, but it is a good memory for me. I hope to share more good memories and present life experiences with you in the near future. You helped make me the person I am today and I am grateful.

Thanks for being my big brother! 

Sincerely Clark