Bob Deakin Short Stories

Cars heading to the Davenport tag sale clog traffic.

Police responded to a disturbance at 111 Northrup Street early Saturday morning when a traffic jam formed in front of the Davenport home as dozens of people showed up for a much-anticipated tag sale. Police were called by the homeowner, who claimed he had announced no such event.

“I never arranged for a tag sale for today or any day,” said angry homeowner Vincent Davenport to police, who were forced to direct traffic in the rural neighborhood for several hours. “Why would I invite a bunch of strangers to my house on a Saturday morning?”

Davenport was initially awakened by knocks on his door and startled to find several dozen people milling about in front of his house. When they refused to leave he grew angry and returned with a baseball bat to scare them away, only to receive several offers for the bat.

Respondents produced an ad in the local newspaper showing a tag sale slated for 7 am at that address on that day, which police took into evidence. Several attendees also produced a printout of the notice posted on Craigslist for the same event, which police quickly discarded as fraud.

The disturbance erupted at approximately 6:55 am when a prompt group of veteran tag sale aficionados, or ‘taggers’ as they are known in the trade, arrived to peruse the wares at his home at the start of their well organized day.

Mr. Davenport awakens early to find 'taggers' in front of his home.

Tagger Hank Zeppo was typical of those who showed up.

“We were following our itinerary through the southeastern quadrant of town – based on the rising sun – before moving on to northeast quadrant number two at 41°31′33″N 73°21′39″W. From here we move on to central sectors one and two, then to the north and west, as is normal for our coverage pattern launch at dawn on Saturdays.”

These experts come well prepared for the weekend missions armed with food, water and generic soda rations, GPS devices, dubiously-claimed amounts of cash (depending on the item discovered) and small slips of paper known as ‘checks,’ formerly used as a form of currency now used only by women over 50 at grocery stores.

Veteran tagger Ray Hornig was none too pleased with the goings on at 111 Northrup.

“Jannie and I were all set to start here as part of a busy day of tagging and we get this,” he said, incredulously. “I don’t know what’s going on but we were going to designate 20 to 30 minutes to this place and 15 to the next and now we’ve got to make adjustments on the fly all day. This world is going to hell in a hen basket.”

The analogy was later corrected to ‘hell in a hand basket,’ which still makes no sense, but his point was made.

Tagger Justin Mitchell, whose first name belies his age – estimated in his late 60s – intends to approach city hall to crack down on the tag sale ordinance in Springfield.

Mr. Davenport takes a stronger stance against the uninvited guests.

“We must have an ordinance for police to identify permitted tag sales,” he stressed. “My wife and I came here looking for Wacky Packages, Partridge Family and M*A*S*H memorabilia, as any tagger worth his salt would expect to find in a neighborhood like this. We just heard a minute ago he didn’t plan this sale but since we’re all here and traffic’s backed up can’t he just pop open the garage door and let us have a quick look around?”

The ad printed in the local newspaper welcomed early birds and boasted of vintage clothing, Hammond organs, HDTVs, cocktail glass sets, 1970s memorabilia, classic furniture from the 1960s and much more.

All anyone got was disappointment.

“I’ve been searching for a Hammond B-3 organ for the last ten years and I thought today might be my lucky day,” said Troy Dufiss, oblivious to the fact that there was in fact, no tag sale at the house. “Is he going to open that garage or am I going to have to open it for him?”

Davenport continues to guard the home throughout the day.

After several hours of research police determined that the announcement of the tag sale was a hoax concocted by an acquaintance of the homeowner. It turns out Ed Maloney, bartender at the local tavern, “One For The Road,” submitted the advertisements as an act of revenge on the part of Mr. Davenport.

Davenport and his wife – both regulars at the tavern – were there earlier in the week and gave Maloney yet another in a series of extremely poor tips after spending several hours at the establishment.

“What comes around goes around,” is all Maloney is reported to have said to police during questioning.

Mr. Davenport declined to press charges but Springfield Police Sargent Duke Morris confirmed that several of the taggers filed complaints. Asked how residents can prevent such scams in the future, Sargent Morris gave only one bit of advice.

“Tip your bartender.”

This story was originally written as a guest blog piece for Greg Van Antwerp’s Video Martyr Blog.

Copyright 2011

Southbury resident Jon Norris speaks to the board of selectmen Thursday night. Photo by Bob Deakin

The Southbury Board of Selectmen took on a light agenda Thursday, discussing the promptness of police reports from the resident trooper supervisor, a proposal to enter into an agreement with the Greater Waterbury Transit District (GWTD) for senior transportation and whether or not to change the locations of some of the voting areas during elections.

Police reports from the resident trooper supervisor have allegedly not been promptly filed with the town according to selectmen. The issue was initially addressed by Selectwoman Carol Hubert and the first selectman concurred.

“That has been brought to my attention before and I told them that they had to get these reports [to the town] in a timely manner and I haven’t heard anything since so I assumed it was being done,” said First Selectman, William Davis. “The resident trooper isn’t at my beck and call – he’s not at anybody’s beck and call – he’s not a town employee.”

Selectmen discussed ways in which to rectify the problem or perhaps go to a higher-ranking member of the state police to do so. They also questioned whether the town is getting the service that it needs from the resident state trooper program.

“Are we getting what we’re paying for?” Ms. Hubert asked, “and is the contract being fulfilled?”

“Yes,” Mr. Davis replied, later stating that the issue of whether the town is getting its money’s worth is a “whole other ball of wax.”

Mr. Davis stated that he has not been in regular contact with Resident Trooper Supervisor, Michael O’Donnell, but that he had a meeting with him planned for the following day and that he would address the issue.

Selectmen discussed joining the GWTD for the Dial-a-Ride between Southbury and Waterbury funded by the New Freedom Initiative. The program provides low-cost rides, door-to-door for elderly or disabled residents. The annual dues the town would pay for the program is $250, which selectmen expected would be covered by a nonprofit group associated with the Southbury Senior Center.

The district currently includes the municipalities of Cheshire, Middlebury, Naugatuck, Prospect, Thomaston, Waterbury, Watertown and Wolcott. Selectmen were prepared to vote to join the GWTD until a number of questions came up concerning potential unexpected costs and liability. Selectmen eventually decided to invite Director of Elderly services, Sharon Gesek, to the next Board of Selectmen meeting to answer questions about the program before proceeding further.

Selectwoman Hubert brought up voting sites around town and said she’d received some complaints about voting irregularities. She suggested that all voting sites should be on town-owned properties for better enforcement of rules.

The First Selectman said he asked for input from the registrars.

“Carol and I have asked the registrars to make a report to the Board of Selectmen stating the reasons why they feel these polling places should be changed or why they shouldn’t be changed if that’s the conclusion they come up with,” he said. “Hopefully we can get all of the polling places back under town properties.”

He speculated that polls on town properties may even reduce labor costs for the town.

“It was our perception that most of these polling sites were underutilized,” the first selectman added, saying a consolidation to three voting sites (from the current five) might be ideal.

In the only public comment, Southbury resident Jon Norris asked what progress has been made with regards to promotion of a corporal in relieving some of the trooper overtime and if any effort had been made to prepare for the supply of salt for the roads during the winter.

“Are we going to wait until winter or [is there] some move in that regard to be made now,” Mr. Norris asked. He did not receive a reply to either of the questions.

Selectmen also approved the Road Foreman job description, which will be utilized in the search for a new foreman to replace the retiring Ronnie Metcalf. The position will be publicly advertised in the near future. Mr. Metcalf is slated to retire on August 12, 2011.

Originally published on Patch.com in July 2011

Copyright 2011

I’ve heard of big asses, fat asses, tight asses and lard asses, but I’ve never known anyone to have a long ass.

Not the case anymore.

I saw a woman at a town meeting last night who had such an appendage. She was a pretty woman of about 55-60, not fat and not unusually tall but she had an unusually long ass. It’s hard to describe it, in that it extended from the bottom of her back to the top of her legs to a length of nearly two feet.

I couldn’t tell anything was amiss at first when she was seated but then she stood to speak to the room and holy cannoli, there it was. Again, she was not deformed in anyway and didn’t look as though she’d been the victim of an accident or surgery gone wrong. It was as properly proportioned as a long ass should be, I guess, not that I’d ever seen one before, but it was just so damn long.

How can that happen? Had she spent in inordinate amount of time sitting down through the course of her life? Perhaps she’d done a lot of driving or row-boating. Maybe she’d been overseas in the Peace Corps in the 60s and 70s and spent too much time sitting Indian style?

Speaking of overseas, she had an English accent which, strangely enough, made the long ass make more sense. How, I’m not sure but the elegant speech patterns and extended vowels seemed to match the longness of the ass. I easily imagined that she might have made the scene at many a “high tea” in England and scoffed down her share of scones and crumpets.

I can be certain she was a stranger to the soccer, or futball field in jolly old England but she’d probably been on a horse or two. Come to think of it, maybe she’d been a horse in a past life or closely related to one. Her ass was like that of a horse without the bulging muscles. She didn’t have a horse face by any means and I wouldn’t ask her “what’s with the long face” but I might ask her “what’s with the long ass?”

Perhaps, “A little long in the bum wouldn’t ya say, ma’ lady?” might be more appropriate.

She probably wouldn’t like that and I wouldn’t ask her that for I wouldn’t want her to kick my bum. Would it be proper to tell her she’s a little long in the bum or is it bad manners to say that to a woman? I think I’ve answered my own question.

I wonder if she spends more money over the course of a lifetime on seat cushions and undergarments? Stands to reason. And where the hell does she buy underwear? The Big and Tall Store? I don’t know of any Big and Long Stores. Does she wear underwear? I certainly hope so but she doesn’t wear panties. Nothing that covers that rig ends with “ies.”

She seems like a very nice woman and very intelligent too. After all, she’d brought up a good point at the meeting, which was organized to address the disproportionate, uncontrolled growth of her pretty little town.

The irony of it all.

Copyright 2009

There she stood, long hair dangling in the warm breeze as she writhed like a snake, to the pleasure of the small group gathered to watch. All the people came to stop and stare, including me. But it wasn’t her belly I was staring at, it was the bells on her bottom.

“Did you hear the music?” Did you see her body sing that song?” the wise man next to me asked.

“I was too busy watching the bells on her bottom,” I replied, feeling foolish and narrow-minded.

I was struck at how the bells on her bottom were the perfect accompaniment to the tabla and other Middle-Eastern instruments. Her veil echoed the winds while her belly played the bass.

A man with a curiously intelligent beard then sidled up to me and asked, “Do you know the meaning of the music?”

“No, I don’t,” I said, pensively, feeling ignorant and shallow. “I was too busy watching the bells on her bottom.”

Her hands and arms were floating in the sound waves of the main theme, while her hair changed directions with every measure.

“Do you know why it is that she is performing this dance?” another man asked me, conspicuously awaiting my reply with raised brow.

“I was really taken with those bells on her bottom,” I replied, sheepishly and embarrassed.

I couldn’t get my mind off the way her hips played a frantic rhythm, uninterrupted and even. Everything on her moved in concert, but I couldn’t get my mind off those bells on her bottom.

“Did you notice those bells on her bottom?” a young child asked, innocently.

“What bells are you speaking of?” I replied, feeling deaf, blind and immature.

Copyright 2010

Nothing like a good cardboard box to make the world a better place.

Whenever I’m feeling down or losing sight of my soul, a couple minutes inside a nice big cardboard box always sets me right. It’s like when I was a kid and dad brought home something big and new, there might be a wonderful cardboard home for me to get away from it all.

Just something about the privacy, the comfort in knowing no one could know what I was doing. Or more importantly, what I was thinking.

I know my brothers and sisters and parents couldn’t read my mind, but it felt like they could if they could see me and hear me. Not if I was in a big comfy cardboard box though.

The box always took me to all these places I wanted to go. The acoustics were such that the music sounded cozy, the words from the vocalist’s mouth making more sense in my big cardboard home.

It protected me too. Even if I brought it to the dreaded basement and hopped inside; I was alright. And back in the 60′s and 70′s, cardboard boxes lasted for a long time – built from the wood of freshly fallen rainforests.

I long for the comfort of that big cardboard box again. Just a few moments, maybe just a song or two. A hop back in that big box might just do me a world of good, and some good for the world.

Just as long as no one can see me inside, or know what I’m thinking.

Copyright 2010

Very important couple Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon.

In a closely contested vote this week, the Senate approved the dissolution of the relationship of celebrity couple Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins. The couple credits the liberal majority in Washington for the ability to officially end their unofficial two-decade relationship.

“Our work here is done,” stated a satisfied Robbins on the steps of Capitol Hill following the pre-Christmas vote, the Senate’s last act before the Holiday recess. “We had a great ride and feel we have changed the world in ways we never imagined.”

“We didn’t accomplish everything we set out to do but this does not end the story of our pursuit of freedom for all peoples,” Sarandon declared in a prepared statement. “We will merely be taking different roads toward the same ultimate destination.”

The couple paid homage to several groups for years of support in their efforts to help the plight of the common man in his fight for justice and fair treatment in the face of opposition from “oddball factions” such as heterosexuals, the middle class and military veterans.

“This great nation would not be what it is today without the heroic efforts of people like William Shakespeare, Madonna and Oprah Winfrey, and we wish to thank them, our fans and the Academy for all they have done to further our causes,” Robbins shouted, provoking a long ovation from a sympathetic crowd of reporters from most major news sources. He did not specify which nation to which he was referring but the ovation continued nonetheless, with camera flashes popping like fireworks at a Disneyland celebration.

Sarandon and Robbins each made a point to celebrate the tireless efforts and funding of various government programs that benefit drug addicts, repeat criminal offenders, illegal immigrants and global warming, which may never have existed without the guile of the liberal media and the entertainment industry.

Sarandon laughed at a hypothetical question posed by an NBC reporter – playing devil’s advocate – asking if such programs wasted valuable taxpayer dollars to benefit those who didn’t need, want or deserve Federal assistance.

“I think your presence here this evening is the best answer I can give to that question,” Sarandon giggled as she stepped off the podium before planting a long kiss on the mouth of Rosie O’Donnell.

Sarandon and Robbins added that they will continue to provide assistance and support for the two children they bore during their time in office as a celebrity couple. 

Copyright 2010

I watched Michael Jackson’s This Is It at the local movie theater this past weekend and walked away struck first and foremost by the sadness that I’ll never be able to enjoy his talents anymore. When any entertainment superstar that was a part of our childhood passes on – whatever the circumstances – a part of our youth passes with them.

None of us knew him personally, even the few I’ve met who did know him personally, but I feel as though I’ve lost something; like someone took all my Michael Jackson and Jackson Five albums off the shelves and sprinkled a thick layer of dust on them. All of mine are in mint condition but they just aged 25 years overnight.

For me, the same thing happened with John Lennon, Elvis Presley, George Harrison and Dennis Wilson of The Beach Boys. I grew up with these musicians staring at their photos, lyrics and liner notes on albums as I listened to the music intently, sitting on my bedroom floor, on the living room couch with headphones on, driving around in my car or lying on the beach or in an open field. Their music created visions that would last a lifetime, but once they were gone those visions became memories, which are nice but sad.

I could live by quotes such as Neil Diamond’s “Used to be’s don’t count anymore, they just lay on the floor ’til you sweep them away” from “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers” (I can’t believe I just quoted that song) or Ricky Nelson’s “If memories were all I sang, I’d rather drive a truck” from “Garden Party.” I choose not to however, because the songs I’ve loved are too good to sweep away or abandon. Listening to them or watching the videos may be sad but they still bring joy. I just now will be forever separating the past from the present.

This Is It provides an effective and original insight into the planning of the concert tour of a megastar and the way Michael participated, albeit we don’t see how often he was actually at rehearsals, which was probably not as often as suggested judging by the cheers from the cast and crew when he did show up. Nonetheless, the footage of his performances at rehearsals is at times, nothing short of spectacular.

The quality of the images is very good and the sound is excellent. Most of the film is shot onstage at Staples Center in Los Angels with a live band playing and much of the lighting and special effects in operation. It begins with an opening montage of interviews with the dancers who are being chosen for the tour, a la American Idol, but fortunately it quickly moves on from there into the rehearsals. I felt that this introduction to the dancers actually took away from the film, as from there on, I got the impression that they weren’t seasoned professionals as much as amateurs star-struck by Michael. In addition to that, compared to him, they looked like amateurs, as anyone would.

There is a scene late in the This Is It where Michael is blocking the dance steps for “Billy Jean,” then lets the drummer vamp the rhythm as he goes through an extended series of steps based on the famous video. It was unrehearsed, as he bypassed much of the singing to focus on his moves. Michael is at his best here and moviegoers see the best of his dancing, and the scene is a great show by itself and the reason Michael Jackson was who he was. There may have been better acrobats, better singers and better choreographers, but no better performers than present in these few minutes of film, from a 50 year-old at that.

He appeared to have lost nothing over the years, and his audience – his backup dancers in front of the stage – were in awe, as the film displays.

Also a very touching scene is his rehearsals for “Human Nature.” His voice sounds great, and the tenderness of the song is aptly reflected in the light show and the emotions of the cast and crew as they watch.

The film also gives insight into the creation of an updated version of a film sequence for “Thriller,” shot in 3D, once again with the Vincent Price voice-over, as well as new film vignettes for other songs. We get a lot of concert producer and director Kenny Ortega barking orders to the cast and crew while nurturing the star – a common contradiction experienced by anyone who has ever been part of a major label film shoot or recording session.

Michael appears healthy although gaunt, which has been the description of him for the last 25 years. He is seen watching playbacks of video, coaching musicians and dancers and we see a touching explanation of his views on the environment as he discusses the recording and film footage for “Earth Song,” from his HIStory album. It’s a bit trite, following four decades of environmental concerns from musicians, but the footage is well produced, typically in line with Michael’s touch.

There are no shots of him away from the stage on his own time, but the film is a documentary of the preparation of a concert tour, so as much as I wanted to see that, it may not have been available for the film.

All in all, This Is It gives an effective insight into the production of a major tour that is not rife with the usual rock & roll eccentricities seen in many other ‘tour films’ such as fights, drug use or legal battles. Michael is portrayed as a gentle soul, extremely prepared, compassionate and demanding of himself. Not a surprise to anyone, but in the past tense a somber finality.

I was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the production and the concise editing and organization of the piece as a whole, which runs just short of two hours. I’m not a Michael Jackson fanatic, nor a dance aficionado, but I have been forever taken with his artistic genius, and am sad for the passing of part of my youth and the new found layer of dust on my albums.

Copyright 2009

Written by Bob Deakin and originally published in the Orlando Sentinel on September 24, 2005
Photo courtesy of Terri Latner

Copyright 2005 Orlando Sentinel

Hidden deep in the woods of Warren, Connecticut, on Keith Road are massive steel sculptures created by the late abstract artist Alexander Liberman. In the early 1960s, the painter and photographer needed help venturing into a new medium and neighbor Bill Layman lent a hand.

Originally from Maine, Mr. Layman had a repair shop nearby, down the hill from a shop owned by his brother-in-law, Ed Keith.

“I started branching out on my own little construction company, and had a couple pieces of equipment and I built that building to repair it,” Mr. Layman said. An internationally known artist and the editorial director of Condé Nast Publications, Mr. Liberman lived in the area and needed help holding the metal pieces he was welding together for sculptures. “After a while I could see that he couldn’t weld so I made a couple suggestions and he asked if I could weld.”

Mr. Layman, a quick study, became proficient with the craft, and his assistance soon became a full-time occupation and stayed that way for the next 30 years. Eventually, he would bring two of his sons into the business and they, too, worked for Mr. Liberman and occasionally for other artists. Mr. Liberman passed away in 1999 at the age of 87, and the Laymans have since moved on to help artists and non-artists alike.

The family has worked on, or repaired, the works of sculptors from around the globe as word of the quality of their work and their precision has spread. They credit New York art conservator Steven Tatti for some of the connections, and modestly acknowledge their own attention to detail and quality. They have assisted local artists such as Dave Colbert, Cheryl Smith and Peter Woytuk, and have repaired or helped restore works by Mark di Suvero, George Rickey, Isaac Witkin and many others.

Mr. Layman’s two sons, Ken and Keith, learned the craft from their father, but all three are otherwise self-taught, though Ken and Keith are both certified structural welders. Ken is now president of W.J. Layman & Sons Inc. and Keith is vice president.

The senior Mr. Layman still owns the business, though recent health problems have forced him to cut back on his work. He still helps out, however, and can be spotted at the shop every day.

“I don’t weld anymore,” he said recently, with a chuckle. “I think my days of the hard work are about over.”

Welding, custom fabrications and repair and refinishing of fine artworks are the services provided by W.J. Layman & Sons, Inc., though no two jobs are ever alike. On a recent autumn day, a large mower attachment for a farm tractor sat in the middle of the shop, its owner depending on having it back soon to keep up with chores on the farm.

Not lacking for work, the family recently hired a full-time welder, Woody Rahm, to help keep up with the projects and added a heavy duty, high-precision cutting machine a couple years ago.

“We’ve been to a lot of major cities in the United States and Dad’s been all over the world for Alex, either overseeing projects or going to look at a particular project with a sculpture,” Ken said, adding that he met his wife in Seattle on such an excursion.

Most projects now come to them in Warren.

“Mr. Tatti has clients all over the country and if it’s a job they want him to take care of, he brings the work to us,” Keith said, adding that the Laymans have worked with the conservator for the better part of 15 years.

“He’s got the type of clientele who calls him up at 10 o’clock in the morning and says, ‘I’ve booked you on the Concorde for two o’clock,” Ken chimed in. “You’ve got to fly to Italy and look at this piece for me.”

Keith Layman described how a sculpture by Daniel Chester French, who created the Lincoln Memorial, was damaged during an attempted heist.

“It was sent to Steve from the Midwest and was damaged. Somebody tried to steal it and ripped the base. It ripped right through the signature so Steve had to bring that to us and we worked about three days on it. When we were finished you could not tell there was ever any repair done to that piece.”

“When we were working for Alex, a lot of the time he didn’t want to see welds or bolts,” he noted. “He just wanted this thing to look like it had grown there.”

Sculptor Denis Curtiss of Kent sells his steel sculptures all over the country and uses the Laymans’ services to cut his steel and make an occasional weld. With their teaching, he has become a skilled welder himself.

“They are wonderful,” Mr. Curtiss said. “We’re both mechanics and we’re able to speak a common language.”

The Laymans can work from simple sketches or complex, computer-generated drawings.

“What Denis brings me is a sketch on a piece of paper, and I take that and I digitize it through the computer system and with our computer-controlled abrasive waterjet cutter, I’m cutting exactly what he wants,” Ken replied. “I give him finished pieces ready to weld together.”

The waterjet sprays a variably controlled stream of water and crushed garnet with more than 50,000 pounds pressure-a kind of accelerated erosion-to cut the material.

“It doesn’t melt the material, it erodes it,” Bill said. “No heat. No distortion.”

The expensive piece of equipment takes up about a 15-by-20-square-foot space in one of the two shops the Laymans have, and it can cut a 6-by-12-foot piece. The pieces to be cut rest on a slotted grate that floats above three feet of water. The waterjet can cut steel, glass, stone, marble, titanium, wood and any material-except tempered glass-up to four inches thick.

Ken handles the computer setup of the waterjet, which is accurate within ten-thousandths of an inch. The garnet does the cutting and is recycled while the water is filtered and brought back into the tank.

As for the projects requested by their clients, the Laymans said the majority are ornamental, though not always for an artist.

“The waterjet has been a real boost to the business because [there are] so many different mediums that we can work [with],” Keith said. “Before, it was basically steel, bronze and aluminum. Now we’re incorporating more stone and tile.”

“We’ve always worked with the artist, and we felt that our business was stagnant the way we were operating it and we needed to get into a wider base of clientele,” Ken divulged. “We needed to be able to handle the contractor who is building $2 million homes. We needed to handle the structural steel and the decorative stuff that was going into those homes. We needed to be able to handle the artists who have a $500,000 piece of art that needs repair.”

Yet the Laymans can still take on work from the local contractor who damaged a piece of equipment or is building a railing for a porch.

“That was one of Woody’s comments,” Ken said, referring to his fellow welder’s observation about fabricating metal pieces by hand as opposed to buying ready made parts at a Home Depot. “He said, ‘I never realized what it took to put together a railing-all the steps that go into it to make it look the way it needs to look for a particular client.’”

“Vilma Kurzer is an excellent case,” Keith said of the Kent artist who has made sculptures of birds and other beings from found objects. “When she came up here we kind of got a kick out of it because Liberman started out the same way. She said people were saying, ‘What’s that junk?’ or ‘What are you doing?’ but we understood what she was doing. This was what she wanted to do and we helped her get there.”

A six-day work week is often the norm at the business, but there are also children to bring to soccer games and other matters to take car
e of. Ken Layman is a selectman in Warren and Keith is chief of the ambulance crew and a firefighter.

“It’s tough to run a business in a small town and volunteer because there are so few people,” Keith said. “The last five years it’s been Kenny and I-Dad’s more or less retired-so when you lose 50 percent of your workforce for two and a half hours in the middle of the day that hurts.”

“Living in a small town, you’ve got to have it,” Ken said of the volunteer service.

It seems that the Laymans are simply a dedicated family, in all their endeavors, which explains why the business has plenty of projects in the works. “The phone keeps on ringing,” Ken said. “One job goes out the door, two more come in.”

(Originally published in The Litchfield County Times in 2004)

Copyright 2004

Donald Fagen during the Heavy Rollers Tour in 2007.

Saw Steely Dan’s Heavy Rollers Tour the other night at the Hard Rock in Orlando. Nice venue, seats about 2,000 in a pretty cozy setting with balconies and standing areas surrounding. Much smaller setting than I would expect for a Dan show, and a much worse sound system.

I realize it’s not 1977 anymore so I wasn’t expecting a polished, cutting-edge performance with hot new material. However, they played “Two Against Nature” which has a nice, shuffle beat, which was the title song from that album in 2000. It was the best song of the night even though most in the audience probably thought it was a new tune.

Familiar songs included “Hey Nineteen,” preceded by Fagen explaining a fun experience with some chick on the beach with a bottle of Cuervo and some “other stuff” a long time ago. Soon after, “Bad Sneakers” went over big with the crowd, which sang every song, word for word, with him throughout the night.

I dressed in a bright Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sneaks and, not so surprisingly, fit in perfect with the rest of the crowd, only younger. Every guy in the place looked like Barry Gibb with a Hawaiian shirt and a girlfriend/wife with big blond hair. There was no pot smoking at the show, as you would be immediately cuffed and arrested if you did, but I venture that almost everybody at the show would have lunged at a joint if busted out. By rough estimation, I would imagine that the crowd had a collective hundreds of thousands of pounds of dope smoking experience.

Music fan’s intuition.

The band was good but not great. Good bass player, but the Dan is not about the bass guitar. Jon Herington played lead and rhythm guitar throughout the show but didn’t stand out, partly because the sound system didn’t let him. Walter Becker showed up but wasn’t in top form, and I honestly don’t know what top form is for Becker in a live setting. I said the same thing after I saw him in the mid-90s at a Dan show in Boston. I bet people said the same thing in the 70s. He nails it in the studio with hours to kill on each bar but doesn’t do it live, not that there’s anything wrong with that.

I have no problem with that. I would much rather listen to a polished, rehearsed and calculated performance on tape than I would live so I’m never going to hold that against him.

Four-piece horn section for the show: Trumpet, alto-sax, baritone-sax and trombone. They were okay. I wasn’t expecting the Brecker brothers, Chuck Findley, Tom Scott, Jim Horn, David Sanborn, Wayne Shorter and all the rest, but it’s Steely Dan, and they set the bar high a long time ago. All of the sax solos sounded like somebody just blowing notes in the key of the song. Not the first time I’ve seen that at a live show. As a matter of fact, that happens pretty much every time I see a live show. That’s why studio musicians are studio musicians. That’s also why recordings sound better than live shows.

This is Steely Dan; not the Grateful Dead: Have I made my point? I understand if you don’t like my cynicism.

The drummer was great. Keith Carlock. Never heard of him but he carried the band with his energy. I hate to say that had to happen at a Dan show but it did. He didn’t play all of the licks like they were played on the albums (historically a problem of mine) but he was really good. They actually played “Aja” and his solos made for the most entertaining moments of the night. Not exactly Steve Gadd but it was good and very powerful. The crowd was leaning on his every move.

Overall, not such a great show. I saw them in ‘94 and that was great show. Classy, reserved and restrained. Last Saturday night it was an attempt at a rock show and it didn’t need to be. Steely Dan fans don’t need that. They want sophistication, precision, brilliant instrumentals and Donald Fagen. There’s no reason why this show couldn’t have provided that. It would be the perfect tonic for every other concert out there; which is what Steely Dan has always been about.

Fagen looked really weird, which is cool. He leaned, peculiarly, over his Fender Rhodes electric piano all night looking like a white Ray Charles. He looks pretty cool although I’m not totally convinced that he’s not blind. He wears these heavy, dark sunglasses and grimaces around at the audience as if he’s on drugs, which I pray that he is. He conducted the band all night long with hand cues and that made me feel better. He’s still in charge.

What it comes down to is, if you’re going to charge $50 to $150 for tickets for your show, give your fans a show. You’re Steely Dan. Act like it. I want to see ugly guys playing great instrumentals, not hot chicks singing “Dirty Work,” which one of them was allowed to do, singing lead. I realize David Palmer hasn’t been with the band since the early 70s but Fagen could have sung that lead and done it well.

Do I sound like a Dan snob?

Guilty as charged.

Walter Becker sang “Monkey in Your Soul,” which was good to see. If he wasn’t at the show I would have felt cheated. Steely Dan songs ain’t exactly “You Are My Sunshine” so I can’t fault anyone for not playing the licks like they sounded on the album, but I want to. They played “Kid Charlemagne” and Becker and Herington did okay but how do you nail that song? We all know that Larry Carlton played lead on that recording and now we know why: He was remarkably better than pretty much everybody, not that there’s anything wrong with that.

I wish that one of these days we could see a Steely Dan concert of Fagen, Becker, and the rest of the studio legends that produced these tunes. I want to see Lee Ritenour, Carlton, Chuck Rainey, Michael McDonald, Sherlie Matthews, Venetta Fields, Clydie King, Victor Feldman, Steve Gadd and all of the rest of the studio cats on stage, making like they did in the studio.

I’m very demanding but Steely Dan created this monster that I have become. I am sorry for that but it wasn’t me, it was they who stepped upon the platform, telling me about the man who gave me the news.

“He said you must be joking son, where did you get those shoes.”

When I stop trying to figure that line out I’ll stop going to see Steely Dan.

(Originally published on Bob Deakin’s Blogspot Site in 2007)

Copyright 2007

Doug Branson setting up a video shoot.

Some of the barns in Litchfield County still hold hay, but so many others have become workshops for those with creative minds. Doug Branson of Kent can be found in such a place, leaning over a Macintosh computer with a synthesizer behind him and an army of guitars hanging on the wall nearby.

“I create digital media,” he said when asked for a simplified explanation of what he does for a living. “I can do it through radio, television, film, print and the Web.”

He divides his business into three entities: one for video, another for virtual tours on the Web and the third for music.

Rather than keeping a narrow focus on each service, he considers himself a producer. He firmly endorses networking, particularly within his own community, and is spending his time getting to know what talents are hidden in Litchfield County and beyond.

Nearly every question about his services leads to an endorsement of someone who has tried it before, or someone else who can help make it better.

“Artists and the people I’ve worked with often have a lot of great ideas that they never implement, or they have a tough time,” he reasoned. “I’m hoping that with the new communication techniques we’re using in new media that there’s nothing that people do that other people shouldn’t know about.”

He has renovated a barn on his property, which also contains one of the oldest homes in Kent, and equipped it with a digital production studio. Far from being a sterile environment of computers and fluorescent lights, the comfortable room with the big fluffy couch also works as a small recording and composing studio.

Mr. Branson can often be found lugging a Cannon XL1S mini DV camera-broadcast quality-around, recording an event to be put together as part of total multimedia package.

He recently captured the ArtDogs benefit in Kent, featuring an all-star lineup of artists putting their talents together for a common cause. At the unveiling of a roomful of colorful sculptures of dogs, he came with the camera, took shots of each of the works, interviewed the artists and sponsors and produced a half-hour ArtDogs presentation to preserve the event for posterity, complete with original background music and a tastefully designed cover.

Mr. Branson also recently became involved with several local chambers of commerce and a visitor’s bureau to offer virtual tours. He has shot extensive digital video footage of local roads and scenic areas to make available on the Web. A potential visitor who wants to take a look at Mohawk Mountain before making the trek from far away can simply click on a virtual tour and decide for themselves where they want to go.

In the coming weeks, he is to embark on an experimental plan to digitally videotape a fly-over of the Kent area for bigger and better views.

“It’s an easy way for people to take a look quickly at points of interest because traveling around here, it takes a while to get places,” he said.

Mr. Branson’s primary focus is on multimedia, particularly the post-production end, recording voice-overs and audio and video overdubs, but he can handle most aspects of audio recording as well.

For the singer/songwriter finally ready to lay down tracks for a high quality demo tape, Mr. Branson’s small studio is ideal. He has a wall of CDs recorded by local musicians at his studio, and if the project grows beyond his scope, he has close ties with a fellow studio owner with a more room, instruments and even musicians if necessary.

He sympathizes with those caught in the corporate downsizing trend, but experience has taught him to value the worth of the individual.

“An office that used to have 20 people now has 10. When people are finding that point in their life where they’re trying to re-define, well how do you tell people what you do?” he asked, describing a position he was once in. “Why tell them? You can show them also.”

He showed footage of a recently produced industrial video, hawking the advantages of a new product line.

“Here’s a guy who has a great idea and is taking it to the next level,” he said, showing a video demonstration he shot of a new children’s puzzle, backed with music he composed and recorded. “He’s created it, manufactured it and produced it and now he is distributing the information on it through new media.”

The new media to which he refers is MP3s on the Web and digital video shown on laptops at an inventors’ convention. He can put the source material on CDs, DVDs, Digital Audio Tape (DAT), VHS, audiotape or in various formats for the Web, including graphics and old photos. Old analog tapes can be transferred to new digital sources, or the bulk of material can be blended into one format.

“I hope to repackage things that people have that have not been marketed yet and get them out there for the masses,” he said, noting that could be anything from Super 8 films from the 1960s to VHS tapes from the 1980s.

He maintains several Web sites of his own and can provide an all-encompassing digital media extravaganza, but finds more and more that clients want to control and update their own sites without the use of an outside service. He focuses his efforts on the virtual tours to plant on other Web sites and his refers to the business by the name of Exit4multimedia Group (www.Exit4Music.com) and/or (Exit4TV).

Mr. Branson’s wife, Christine, grew up in the house and the family has resided there for six years. Now 42, he is originally from the Philadelphia area and still does a fare share of work there, and in Stamford, but eventually wants to concentrate his work locally.

Affable, with a strong core of friends, two young children in local schools, a profound love for music and the arts, Mr. Branson’s strong grasp on technology may have him in the right place to benefit himself and the community in years to come.

He writes music for his own pleasure and for work, playing guitar, keyboards and several other instruments, and is a member of the Connecticut Songwriters Association.

A project Mr. Branson has been working on involves old video footage from the 1980s of his days creating and selling art in the South Street section of Philadelphia with his late friend, airbrush artist Michael Tancredi, who was killed in a car accident in 1991.

The two were best friends and part of a group of street-wise artists. Mr. Tancredi was particularly well known in the Philadelphia area and in the local music scene. Mr. Branson’s hope is that the finished product will show the life of a group of up-and-coming artists, musicians and performers in the late 80s and early 90s, and create interest in his late friend’s work and life.

“We were living on South Street, during the MTV generation,” Mr. said. “We got out of art school (Art Institute of Philadelphia) in 1984 and we were a big part of it. This is going to be reality in a rough way, but I feel that I’m obligated to show people about Michael’s life.”

For those looking to explore their own creativity on any scale, his facility and a network of associates may provide an option without leaving the beauty of the countryside behind.

(Originally published in The Litchfield County Times in 2004)

Copyright 2004

Dennis Dunaway of the Alice Cooper Band

“Let me have some coffee and then I’ll listen,” said a groggy voice-like that of a mother to a child who rises early and eager on a Saturday morning. It was 1968, and the voice was that of Frank Zappa, who was speaking from his bedroom to Dennis Dunaway and his band mates who were outside the door. Mr. Zappa got his brew, gave them a listen and essentially agreed to sign them to his record label that day. It had been a long dark road to getting there, but the Alice Cooper Group had a deal.

These days, Mr. Dunaway, 58, who played bass, sang and co-wrote many of the band’s hits, is occasionally spotted performing in Litchfield County and is in the midst of a new album project at a studio in Brookfield. He survived the rock & roll scene in the 1970s, continuing with Alice Cooper through the band’s heyday and has since played in other bands, done sessions in the studio and pursued business ventures with his wife of nearly 30 years, Cindy.

Last week, he took some time during a recording session to explain his new project, which thus far involves about 20 tracks of varying styles, all based on a quirky sort of heavy rock he’s played throughout his career. You might be able to find a couple songs that you could play back to back and say those are kind of similar, but the whole album has quite a variety, he said.

Relaxed and approachable as could be, Mr. Dunaway looks back on his experiences fondly, though he loves the laid-back feel of the current sessions as compared to the old days.

“I’ve always worked in very collaborative, almost volatile environments. When you brought an idea to the Alice Cooper Group, it was sort of like tossing your heart into a pool of piranhas,” he said. “But the best ideas rose to the top because if it wasn’t worth fighting for, it had no chance. This is much more spontaneous because we don’t have that deadline hanging over our head,” he said, noting that he is not under contract and has no deadline for completing the project.

One of the songs, titled Subway, rumbles like a freight train with Mr. Dunaway’s patented bass sound with a pick, complemented by heavy drum tracks. It is an approach taken during the Alice Cooper days, when the band’s powerful drummer, Neal Smith, needed little help with the bottom end and Mr. Dunaway filled in the gaps, playing partial chords and sneaking solos in between guitar riffs.

He is joined on the project by other veteran rockers, including guitarist Joe Bouchard of Kent, formerly of ‘Blue Oyster Cult’ and Englishman Ian Hunter of ‘Mott the Hoople’ fame. Smith, too, may join him on the project that is being engineered by Rick Tedesco in his Brookfield studio.

“That’s what’s great about this whole experience for me,” he said, joyously pointing out a song with a gunshot solo. “This is the first time I’ve ever had people who have been willing to explore every idea that I suggest.”

Originally from Oregon, Mr. Dunaway attended high school and college in Phoenix, Ariz., which is where the Alice Cooper Group originated. As a youngster, his discovery of guitarist Duane Eddy inspired him to be a musician, and bassist Paul Samwell-Smith of ‘The Yardbirds’ was the first major influence on his instrument of choice, which wasn’t really a choice at all.

“Alice and I formed the band in high school, and at our first performance we kind of pretended we were playing instruments,” he said, laughing and referring to the band’s leader, whose real name is Vincent Furnier.

“Then we decided to really get serious about it and everybody else chose what instrument they wanted to play before me, which I think is fitting because bass players’ personalities are more like the followers,” Mr. Dunaway added.

His original band mates, including Smith, Michael Bruce and the late Glen Buxton, then went on a long and treacherous journey through bars, theaters, gymnasiums and outdoor shows, plying their trade and developing a style. The early material was abstract by comparison to the songs that later made them famous.

“We were too weird for Los Angeles when we lived there,” Mr. Dunaway said with a wry grin.

They weren’t too weird for Frank Zappa, however, and he was already a force in the music business, composing movie scores and albums of his own while producing other bands worthy of his complex tastes. At the time, Alice Cooper happened to be dating Miss Christine from the all-girl group The GTOs, for whom Mr. Zappa had produced an album. She was often at the Zappa home, baby-sitting for his daughter Moon Unit, and Mr. Dunaway and his band mates were occasional visitors. They would always invite Mr. Zappa to hear them play and he would never come. One day, they were desperately trying to convince Miss Christine to let them come over and play for him.

“She said, well he’s going to be home really late tonight, and so we’re like, come on, can we come over tomorrow?” Mr. Dunaway remembered. Eventually, she gave in and made tentative plans.

“O.K., come over tomorrow at nine o’clock and I’ll ask him if it’s O.K., and if it’s not O.K., I’ll call you, was her reply,” according to Mr. Dunaway.

“We were knocking on his door at nine o’clock in the morning; the whole band and all of our equipment,” he recalled. “She didn’t say anything about equipment [to Frank Zappa] and she certainly didn’t say nine a.m.” he said, laughing. “As soon as she opened the door, we marched in and set up all of our equipment in the hallway outside of Frank’s bedroom and we started playing. The song’s like halfway through and the door opens and a hand comes out and goes like this,” he said, motioning to quiet down.

The notorious night owl begged them to wait.

“So, he got his big mug of black steaming coffee and he’s sitting at a card table all miserable and we’re playing and jumping around and everything, and after four songs he says, ‘You guys play stuff I couldn’t get the Mothers [of Invention] to do,’ which I don’t think was true but that was quite the compliment,” he remembered.

Mr. Zappa agreed to sign them to a contract provided they get themselves a manager, which they did.

“That’s called making your own break,” Mr. Dunaway said. “But everybody in L.A. still hated us.”

The band had gone by names such as the Earwigs, the Spiders and almost settled on Lizzie Borden until they went with the Alice Cooper Group. Their popularity grew following a stint in Detroit with upcoming acts such as the MC5, the Stooges and Ted Nugent. Their on-stage wardrobes of glitter, leather, makeup and theatrics started to catch on, while their songwriting became more focused, absorbing some of the energy from the other bands they met. Their stage show and wardrobe rubbed off on others, such as Iggy Pop and David Bowie, both of whom were still trying to make it.

The first single to hit the charts was “I’m Eighteen” in 1970, written by the entire band and launched at a radio station in Canada when one of the jocks began playing the song followed by a flood of requests to hear it again. Still, it took a while for the music business to acquire a taste for the band.

“For everybody that liked us there were ten people that wanted to kill us,” Mr. Dunaway joked.

The band found out that the vitriol was real when it began a nationwide tour and concertgoers would greet Alice Cooper by throwing hammers, M80s and other surprises. One group the band always had on its side, however, was the bikers – who didn’t want to get too close to the band, Mr. Dunaway joked, referring to the mixed messages the makeup and costumes may have transmitted. But they liked the hard-driving music.

“We played the Fillmore West and [promoter] Bill Graham hated us,” Dunaway said. “He thought we ended everything that was good about music. Finally we got so big that he had to bring us in.”

Other hits followed, including ‘School’s Out,’ ‘No More Mr. Nice Guy,’ ‘Desperado’ and more. The band had a cult following, particularly with rebellious teenagers who yearned for the straightforward lyrics and heavy rock sound.

A guy band with a girl’s name was confusing yet ultimately memorable.

“It almost closed every possible door. Then we spent years with people coming to our show thinking they were coming to see Al Kooper,” Mr. Dunaway said of the keyboardist who formed Blood, Sweat & Tears. “He came up to me once and said ‘You don?t know what you’ve done to my audience.’”

The original band broke up in the mid-70s, when the members decided they were ready to make another album but Alice decided not to participate. The rest of the band recorded the album titled Billion Dollar Babies and that was the end of the road for the original Alice Cooper Group, although more albums came out with a different lineup and a more commercial sound.

Dunaway does not speak of the breakup with remorse.

“We were on the road constantly, putting out two albums per year, and we had done an extended tour and everybody was kind of road-weary and decided to take a break,” he said. “I had gotten rather disenchanted with the music business and decided to just write music for the fun of it and that’s what this recording session has been.”

In the past three years, Mr. Dunaway has performed and recorded with Joe Bouchard and Neal Smith going by the name of BDS. They recorded a studio album, Back from Hell, and a live album from a performance in Paris.

“Dennis is a really unique person,” Tedesco said. “Just his outlook on life in general, he brings this totally different viewpoint that I’ve never experienced. It’s a lot of fun. It’s just so cool to have somebody present something with the enthusiasm that comes through.”

Mr. Dunaway and his wife have two grown daughters, and the couple spends considerable time at their Wilton, CT store, Moon Hollow, selling an array of antiques, gifts and other items. The Fairfield County resident credits a sense of humor for getting him through the rock n roll lifestyle and cherishes the memories that return time and again with just the touch of a radio dial.

(Originally published in The Litchfield County Times in 2005)

Copyright 2005