Cruis-O-Matic

"Mr. O did morning announcements over the school P. A. and sometimes asked trivia questions. One day he played "Leader of the Laundromat" and said if anyone knew the artist of the song it was based on to come to the main office.

I jumped out of my desk in homeroom and ran to the office. "The Ronettes!" I shouted, bursting in. "Wrong," Mr. O said, clearly disappointed in me. I turned to leave and then remembered.

"The Shangra-La's!"

Mr. O spun on a dime, pointing at me like I'd won the Showcase Showdown. "Yes!"

From then on, Mr. O, who was considered one of the coolest teachers, considered me one of the coolest students. That's when he hipped me to Cruis-O-Matic, the 60's frat party cover band that played the Double Door Inn whenever they drove up from Atlanta. "They're wild," he said. "You should check them out."

Yeah, right. I thought. I had just turned 16.

One day out of nowhere a senior handed me his expired driver's license in the locker room after football practice and said, "Maybe you can use this. We look a lot a like."

Oh man, I didn't think so, but decided it was worth a try. With a sliver of scotch tape and a Bic Papermate pen I doctored the date. I held my breath as the doorman glanced it over before taking my five bucks and grunting me inside. Like Dorothy into Oz, I made my way into the dark and smoke clouded interior of the legendary hole-in-the-wall that was the Double Door Inn, and nervously ordered a beer, waiting for someone to call out, "Imposter!"

I wandered to the side of the stage, and waited. The place was filling up fast.

The band took the stage. These guys were definitely not from Charlotte. I was at a loss. I couldn't get a fix on age, young men with old faces. A guy in a fez and psychedelic paisley blazer was introduced as Edward, aka "Mr. Vegas." His brother, Blair on keyboards in striped pants and wraparound shades. A wide-eyed, boyish looking drummer, Mark. Lead singer Bob in a Beatle haircut. Standing tall at about 6'3" was the bass player, a crop of cow licked blonde hair with a face that made me think of Mayberry's Opie, all grown up. He was introduced as Opie.

The set started and I fell into an immediate trance, bopping in front of a speaker as Bob sang "Suzie Q" through the punched out bottom of a Dixie Cup.

What in the holy hell-heaven was this?

The show took off, leaving no time for applause between numbers, before ripping into the next. Each number seemed to top the last, one-hit-wonders and to my young ear, unheard obscurities, peppered with 60's standards from the Monkees, Kinks and Yardbirds. I gaped as Mr. Vegas bit the toe of his high top sneaker while hopping on one leg to "Dirty Water", shimmied as his brother Blair did the skate to "Nobody But Me," mimicked Opie's dead serious choreography to "96 Tears", turning of his bass forward and back in time, and thumping his heart under his shirt to "I Think We're Alone Now". "Kicks." "Gimme Gimme Good Lovin.'" "Telstar." A full throttle, harmonized, hair blowing, molar rattling cover of the Outsiders' "Time Won't Let Me." Just when I thought my head would explode, Mark erupted from behind the drum kit to close the second set, leaping into the audience in a drumstick frenzy, banging "Wipe Out" on every beer mug, bar bell and bald head up and down the bar.

I would not miss a Cruis-O-Matic show for the next three years. I became obsessed, rummaging oldies bins in an attempt to own the entire set list. Paul Revere and the Raiders, the Ventures, the Strangeloves, the Syndicate of Sound.

Before long, with the confident stupidity of a jacked-up teenager losing his 17-year-old mind, soaked with sweat and Miller High Life, I would climb a barstool and hang from the rafters, kicking in time to "Wooly Bully," until one New Year's Eve the bouncers got tired of it, caught me when I dropped, and threw me out.

It's not a cliché if it's true. Cruis-O-Matic changed my life.

Genuflecting Pow Wow royalty. 

We made a PSA.

Big Date

Bigfoot prepares for a big date. 

https://silkandsmoke.com/portfolio/big-date-by-jeff-alphin/

We recorded Mr. Lucky in the men’s room for a Charles Revival Series promo. .

We entered the New Yorker caption contest every week for years.

Convinced we had it with this one. Alas, some hotshot writer for NPR won with “First I set the mood.”

WE WUZ ROBBED!

A 13 minute silent short inspired by a Baltimore rat fishing tournament.

Mr. Fuzzer and Seadog send their best.

22 minute short starring Baltimore’s hypnotic Poe impersonator, David Keltz, featuring bingo, girl-watching, and duckpins.

Be careful what you draw up on bar napkins. 

Genius and artisanship: Karl Saar. Behold at  https://www.kustomsteel.com

Beer and bad welds: Me.

Meet the Li’l Smoker.

Charles Revival Series

Coming attraction audio trailers starring the glorious non-professional talents of Baltimore. From Lucky to Mick to my 3-year-old uncooperative nephew. 

https://www.dropbox.com/sh/9ao4l3xofznjr6v/AACfUeZFvZjxEXKFt-nyrncza?dl=0

Fooling around with the vertical hold. 

Had nothing to do with this, just have a soft spot for it. 

Born between January 13th and January 19th? Congratulations, you’re eligible for The January Teens. Get to know your fellow JT’s and apply for membership here. 

Explore the site that’s as run down as the real Coney Island. Handcrafted from bubblegum and balsa wood, this dilapidated seaside playground holds many hidden treasures (and glitches.) Be patient and check out the knothole!

Mother’s Worry

We wrote a novel and released it via nine weekly installments at Baltimore locations related to the plot, including Ding How, Pimlico Race Track, a Mother’s Finest concert, and a bus stop. 

Thanks to the support of our wonderful pals, It was a hoot. Get all the skinny here. 

https://adlaidallas.wordpress.com

“Adlai Dallas is a jerk!”

Freak Out!

A short piece of historical fiction inspired by Baltimore’s Johnny Eck. https://johnnyeckfreakout.tumblr.com