05/23/2013

In the middle of 4 trips to retrieve Millie’s furniture (which is currently sitting in our garage, the former butcher wholesale headquarters, btw), we had an emergency call from Harold. The furnace flue or whatever in the nurses’ room was closed and we had a cold snap here (3o’s tonight) so he needed help getting the heat back on. We ended up sitting with him for a bit just to visit and he told us the most spectacular story of his days before he was confined to the house.

Forgive the colorful (read offensive) language to follow, i just want to be sure to capture the enthusiasm of a 97 year old man (or however old he is) and recount it how he told it.

He said that in the days that him and Deloris used ta go out on the town dancing, "some friends of their’s turned them on to this seedy joint in the Pollack part of the city". He said "it had 3 stripper polls and some broken down girls dancin on them all the time". There was always a three piece band playing there, and they went so much that  it got so when ever they walked in the door, the band would play a polka and the dance floor would clear and make room for the two of them to cut a rug. He played the numbers and the horses whenever he went. Soon, his money was no good there and everything was on the house whenever they went. 

He told stories of being introduced to a boss and the fancy dames that the "whatever you wanna call ’em"  brought with them that had fur coats and diamonds everywhere. He said the owner, Lottie, used to run money for the "Syndicate" and alot of ’em went to her joint. Once, his overcoat was stolen, and Lottie said someone probably took it by accident. The next time they went in, Lottie told him she felt real bad and wanted him to buy a new one,and promptly put a roll of cash in his hand "bigger than he’d ever seen". He had other charming stories and details as well.

The very last thing he told us, which had us puzzled, was this: "Ya know, Lottie, the owner, was a he-she. Never married, never had kids". We decided that probably just meant she was a lesbian or something, in old man lingo. 

Hours later, we’re finally at home. I just did a little research, and came across the Lottie’s Pub website. The place is still in business, and everything old Harold said was absolutely true, right down to the "He-She" part. Turns out, Ol’ Lottie, may she rest in peace, was rumored to have been a hermaphrodite.

You can read about it here:

Harold, you old bastard, I enjoy your company more and more everyday.