Five Trains Rollin’

Posted on August 20, 2007 by Jim

We didn’t take and pick him up from the station everyday.  But it happened enough… so I think it was within in reason for me to think that my Father worked for the railroad.  If he didn’t drive our 1952 MGTD to the station in the morning, Mom or Mommie Soph would drive him and then pick him up in the evening on his return.  I loved tagging along.  I thought that it was cool that my Father worked for the New York, New Haven & Hartford (I would learn later that he did not).  What little kid doesn’t love seeing trains moving in the yard?  And my Dad was a part of that, or so I thought.

I think I was 7 when I took the 8:02 Bankers from New Haven’s Union Station to New York’s Grand Central (non-stop to 125th St.).  I am not sure that we took the MG to the station; but for the purposes of this story, let’s say we did.  I loved driving in the MG with my Dad, he would let me beep the horn.  On the way there, we would have stopped at Moriarity’s Garage… picked up a mechanic (maybe Mr. Moriarity himself?), I would have hopped in the tiny back and we would have proceeded the quarter mile down the hill to the station.  The mechanic would take the car back to the garage for safe keeping, and then would bring it back to the station for our return.

Dad and I boarded the dinning car of the train.  It was all new to me.  But I was impressed.  The tables had thick white cloths on them.  The Steward, in a starched white jacket, greeted my Father with a smile and a hello.  Perfectly natural, so thought I… after all my Father worked on the railroad… he probably knew everyone who worked on the train.  Dad got a cup of coffee and opened his New York Times, folding it lengthwise (in the manner of others who travel the rails)… the Steward brought me a coloring book and crayons and a glass of orange juice & a bowl of Cheerios.  Obviously, my Dad was very important.  I was in heaven.

I sat at that table.  Had my cereal… the thick cloth giving me a great surface for my book, as I carefully remained within the lines… coloring in pages that had related railroad themes… scenes of trains rolling thru the countryside, that sort of thing.  Dad caught up on the days’ news… and maybe chatted with other commuters.

It was my first ride on a train, that I can recall.  I was happy.  I had breakfast in the dinning car! I felt important… and after all my Dad worked on the railroad!

******

I would eventually learn how prestigious The Greenbrier was.  For me, back then, it was simply a destination for a short family vacation.  Paul was in College, and Lynn not… so I had to be 8 or 9 when we traveled by train from Penn Station to a station that was close to The Greenbrier… a luxurious hotel in West Virginia.  I remember very little of our stay at the Hotel itself.  Somewhere there is an old snapshot of me in jodhpurs and a small tweed hacking jacket, either on a horse, or about to get on a horse.  Improbable to say the least.

But, I do remember the train ride.  It was an overnight trip… and we had a private compartment (maybe two?).  I can remember thinking that my berth (really a lower bunk) was perfect… small and cozy.  I buried myself in the blankets… there was a small night light near the bed.  I lay still, simply letting the motion of the train ease me to sleep.  I listened to the steady sounds of the wheels clacking along the rails and the occasional squeal when we traversed an interchange.

I am sure that in the nearly 50 years since that train ride I have enjoyed other nights’ sleep that were as good.  But none were better.  Nothing can surpass the lulling motion of a train combined with the repetitious sound of rolling steel wheels crossing rail joints.

******

In 1960 Yale’s Varsity Football Team went undefeated and untied.  I was 10.  The team was captained by Mike Pyle (who became a All-Pro Center for the Chicago Bears), the QB was Tom Singleton (like Pyle a graduate of New Trier HS in Chicago) and Guard Ben Balme made All America (but washed out in the pros as an Eagle).

Our home was but five blocks from the Yale Bowl, and I saw every home game.  Yale’s final home game alternated between Harvard and Princeton.  And my parents always hosted a cocktail party for the final home game.  In 1960 it was Princeton.  And when Princeton came to town my parents’ friends, the Hiltons were invited.  Not the Hotel Hiltons… the Clothing Manufacturer Hiltons.

Norman Hilton was a grad of Princeton… and he added to an afternoon that included both Elliot and Marty Gant (the shirtmakers) & Izzy White and Henry Miller who owned men’s stores in New Haven and West Hartford respectively.

Norman was more than a supplier of my Father’s business.  He was one of his closest friends in the industry, one of his closest friends period.  And our 50 yard line seats that afternoon (albeit on the Princeton side) were due to the pull that Norman had as a distinguished alum.  I was warned not to cheer too aggressively for the Yales that afternoon, since we would be sitting behind enemy lines…

But that didn’t stop me from launching into some pre-game bravado in our living room when I told Norman that the Bulldogs were going to murder the Tigers that afternoon.  And to prove my point I was willing to bet a HO Train set that I had seen in a catalogue.  It think it cost all of $25.

Mr. Hilton, loyal alum that he was, said I was on.

Yale won, and the victory was its own reward. The thought of that train set didn’t enter my mind.  I also didn’t want to let a side bet put a hex on Yale’s chances against the Harvards the following Saturday… and I don’t recall ever bringing up the “bet” during the post game festivities back at the house.

But some time later a Tyco HO train set that had been advertised in the catalogue was delivered to our door… Norman had honored that side bet.  I had another train set at the time… a Marklin; but that set had a European look due to its German manufacture.  Tyco was American.

The set had a simple oval track, the Diesel bore the NH and color scheme of the New Haven RR and passenger cars were New York, New Haven and Hartford rolling stock!  I had 3 passenger cars and an observation car (to my knowledge, there never was an observation car on the line).  And the best thing?  It was New Haven RR!! The best thing in New Haven other than Yale!! I loved that set… and eventually added additional track, switches, other engines & cars… and built several Revel models to decorate my lay out.

But it all began with Norman’s gambling debt.

******

1969 was the Summer of Woodstock… and of our Lunar Landing (more of the latter in a minute).  It was also the summer I hosteled thru Europe with a group of other college students.  The highlight of the trip was 10 days in the Soviet Union (my first of two trips there).  Also on the itinerary were two other stops behind the Iron Curtain: Prague and Budapest.

Vienna was to be our “jumping off point” for those two cities, and to get to Vienna we planned on traveling by train from Berlin.  Our route to Vienna would cut across Czechoslovakia… and while we had visas for our stay in Prague later that month… we were detained at the Czech border because we didn’t have transit visas.  Sound fishy?  I felt like saying that the “letters of transit” were hidden in the piano at Rick’s American Cafe… but what were the chances that the Czech border guards would know about Casablanca?

The train proceeded without us while the border officials sorted out this crisis.  After all, this was the era of the War in Vietnam, Eastern Communism was still a viable force and American College students were clearly CIA operatives.  We watched the American Astronauts landing on the moon on a TV in the border station with the Czech guards.  We were congratulated for our achievements… and then informed for twenty-five dollars American each, we would be provided “temporary transit visas.”  And that’s why being a Czech Border guard was considered to be a desirable job.

The next train we boarded, nearing the midnight hour, was a local train.  It brought a new definition to the word “local”.  It made as many stops as a bus traveling on Fifth Avenue.  Each station that we pulled into looked smaller than the next.  And we were traveling in the wee hours.  Where the hell were people going?  We were crammed into the spaces with fellow proletarians… each carrying one small valise and two large shopping bags… and another bag containing food… obviously there was no dinning car set with thick white cloths on this train.  Fat salamis, onions, cloves of garlic (I think it was used as a deodorant) and the smell of warm beer filled my traveling compartment.  The only thing that was missing was a goat and an open latrine.

The added charm to this train was that it was pulled by a coal burning locomotive.  How’s that for nostalgia?  Traveling the rails the way they did in the 19th Century!  The American West, the Orient Express, eh what?  I guess I was too exhausted to appreciate this romantic form of travel… but I tell you what wasn’t lost from the train ride… coal dust.  They don’t show you that in the movies!  Did you ever see John Wayne smeared with soot?

When I got off the train in Vienna I was coated with coal dust.  I took off my sport shirt and it looked like I had a good “tan”.  So this is what Al Jolson felt like in black face?

The journey had taken four times its scheduled length… but then again, I have always enjoyed trains… I guess I was just lucky.

******

I think I was on I-84 late at night traveling back from a wine tasting when I first heard it.  I was cruising along, but just had to crank the tune up.  Maybe it was my mood?  I knew that this song… a song that I did not recognize… had that special feel.

Well, on a train, I met a dame
She rather handsome, we kinda looked the same…

I drove into the darkness.  More volume!

She was pretty, from New York City
I’m walkin’ down that old fair lane

Good guitar.  Good vocal.  No, great guitar.  Terrific drums.  Booming bass.  The road opens up.  The music demanded speed.  I loved the way the drummer changed beat half way thru the song.  The song picked up speed…

I’m in heat, I’m in love
But I just couldn’t tell her so…
I said, the train kept a rollin’ all night long
Train kept a rollin’ all night long

There are times that music captures you… you become enveloped… and then you can’t be held responsible for your actions.  You slip the jacket off your shoulders, stand on the table, move your feet as if nothing mattered but the pulsing music in your veins… or, if you’re driving in a car late at night, you just push the pedal to the floor.

Well, we made a stop in Albuquerque
She musta thought I was a cool jerk
Got off the train, and put her hands up
Lookin’ so good I couldn’t let her go

But I just couldn’t tell her so…
Train kept a rollin’ all night long

I drove further into the night fueled by the music.  No fatigue, I could have driven to the end of time.

Train kept a rollin’ all night long

******

Trains keep rollin’… oh yeah

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The Angels Wept

Posted on August 10, 2007 by Jim

You could say that I was planning the afternoon for a year (actually it was 53 weeks).  A year ago we hosted a wine tasting of White Grand Cru Burgundies… and it was one of the most successful tastings we have ever put on.  It was doubly rewarding because our guests were, by and large, big red aficionados… and by evening’s end they stood in awe of the wines that had been presented.  The lesson had been a simple one: truly great wines know no “colour”.

Organizing a flight of White Grand Crus is by far our most difficult undertaking of the year.  So little Grand Cru is produced.  2% of the total vines planted in Burgundy are classified as Grand Cru.  Of that total, less than 2% is White.  Five of the six Grand Cru White vineyards are nestled between the villages of Chassagne and Puligny.  Together they could fit inside of the Red Grand Cru Clos du Vougeot vineyard.

In the course of our business there is a “give and take” between importers, distributors and merchants.  Favors done, and favors due.  To put on the Grand Cru Tasting this past Saturday, our owner, John Caplan had to call in on all past favors due, and went into debt on future favors owed.

Yes… I was looking forward to this Tasting.  As much for the folks attending (one couple traveling from Arkansas) as to the wines themselves.  When John had put the finishing touches to the flight we both knew something… you would be hard pressed to find a Tasting its equal in America.

We began the afternoon with William Fevre Chablis Grand Cru ‘Les Clos’ ’05.  Unfortunately, too many Americans hear “Chablis” and they think of Paul Masson in a jug.  The California wine industry has stolen a name to add “saleability” to their product — although it has nothing to do with the original product other than they are both liquids.  I love Chablis.  Its unique version of Chardonnay is a product of the distinct clay and limestone soil that gives Chablis its mineral character.  The sub-soil is built on a shelf of crushed pre-historic oyster shells… no wonder pairing crisp Chablis with oysters is considered one of the classic food and wine combinations.  Grand Cru Chablis ages beautifully, too and the Fevre was stunning… a great way to launch the afternoon.

There is no Grand Cru Meursault… but there are great wines produced there… certainly wines that would merit inclusion in any Tasting covering the best from Burgundy.  Our choice was Domaine Francois & Antoine Jobard Mersault 1er Cru ‘Poruzots’ ’04.  Jobard wines have the reputation of taking years to open, and this wine certainly ran true to form.  This was the most “closed” of the wines on the day.  Behind the cloak of youth, you got the glimpse of a beautifully made wine, rich flavors touched with the characteristic minerality of Meursault… although I didn’t detect the hint of smoke that I love from this region.  The wine needs at least 2 to 3 years for it to begin showing its best.  Classically styled, it commands “Grand Cru” pricing.

The wine that followed was the only repeat from the Tasting a year ago: Domaine de la Vougerie Le Clos Blanc de Vougeot 1er Cru ’02.  We put this wine into the flight a year ago for its novelty.  A tiny parcel of the Grand Cru Red Clos de Vougeot vineyard had been planted to Chardonnay to make a white wine, although white did not gain the Grand Cru status of its “red brother”.  We returned the wine to our flight this year, in part  because we could still access it, and in part to see how the wine had progressed.  The wine did not disappoint.  The aroma was lush with ripe fruit well balanced by oak.  A smooth palate followed and lead to a beautiful finish.  For those who had tasted the wine last year, this was a true treat… it shows how well Burgundies improve when we practice a little patience. 

We tasted two Cortons next, side by side. Domaine Bonneau du Martray Grand Cru Corton-Charlemagne ’03 and Albert Bichot Corton-Charlemagne Grand Cru Domaine du Pavillon ’05.  The Bonneau du Martray had the advantage of an open bouquet that was breathtaking… it covered the nose of the younger Bichot.  But it was the Bichot that took honors on palate and finish.  And particularly on finish.  The wine combined the best of elegance, blended flavors and a persistent finish that continued to caress the senses.  The Bichot is headed for stardom.

Our next stops were in “Montrachet land.”  We would be trying 4 of the 5 vineyards… from one point to the next, they cover a mere half mile.  First up: Domaine Michel Niellon Chevalier-Montrachet Grand Cru ’03.  Beautiful hue and aromatics to match, this wine had a “sinfully” lush texture that filled the palate.  Yet it’s mark was carrying off the layers of flavor, silky feel while still exhibiting balance and restraint.  This is what makes Burgundy, Burgundy… and reduces other white wine to post script status.

The vineyard of Criots-Batard-Montrachet looks like a “sliver.”  It is by far the smallest of the Grand Cru vineyards… a postage stamp really.  Our entry was Blain-Gagnard Criots-Batard-Montrachet Grand Cru ’03.  The wine received high points for its complexity… tropical fruit, minerality and kissed with a touch of petroleum.  This was a wine to taste.  And put down.  Taste again, and put down.  Scratch out some notes on a notepad.  Taste again.  Cross out what you had written and begin again.  This is a wine that rewards the careful.  Beautiful layering.  It seduces rather than dominates.  It is why some folks say never trust your first taste of Burgundy.

We missed tasting a Bienvenue-Bartard-Montrachet; but offered instead a side by side tasting of Blain-Gagnard Batard-Montrachet Grand Cru ’03 and Louis Latour Batard-Montrachet Grand Cru ’05.  I will confess… before tasting I was biased against the Louis Latour.  In a region renown for tiny holdings, Latour is an “elephant”.  Latour possesses 71 acres in Grand Cru Vineyards.  No other producer comes close to that.  And worse than that, the Latour’s also have a “commercial side”… making a ton of every day wine… wines that never match the prestige of their name.  Taking nothing away from the Blain-Gagnard, which was outstanding, the Louis Latour was a spectacular wine.  Maybe it was the vintage?  Regardless, each taste confirmed that this was a liquid thoroughbred.  The other wines tasted were great… this was better.  More flavour.  More balance.  More power wrapped in elegance.  More length.  This was a wine to be reckoned with, and the final wine in the flight would be stretched to surpass it.

Stretched that is… unless it’s Le Montrachet.  But I am used to “upstarts”.  Last year the Batard-Montrachet put Le Montrachet in its shadow.  That was last year; but this year Louis Jadot Montrachet Grand Cru ’04 reigned supreme.  The ultimate wine.  There are a hand full of wines that “show up” every time… an outright “win” or a “near miss”… Ch. Latour, Ch. D’Yquem, Valdicava Brunello di Montalcino, come to mind.  Montrachet fits into that company.  This Montrachet was purely sublime.  It was so excellent… you didn’t even notice it.  Yes, the Latour Batard was truly great, but the Jadot Montrachet tasted of superior breeding and pedigree.  Its excellence was its routine, its nature.  Je suis le Montrachet!  The wine had perfect balance and pitch, strength wrapped in subtlety, complexity of flavours layering on the palate and haunting length… Attributes that we easily accept in our special reds; but that will catch us by surprise when we experience it in whites.

This afternoon we all agreed that the Montrachet was the most special of wines, and worthy of its lofty price tag.

As is my custom… I like to rank my favorites.  The Judge at Westminster has to do the same thing.  After all… all the dogs in the final show ring are Champions, yet the Judge has to select the Best of Show from among their number.  It’s going out on the line… but not as far as you think… can you really make a mistake picking a Champion from a group of Champions?

Reflecting on Saturday’s tasting, I guess I feel the same… how big of a mistake can I make?  Here goes: Jadot Montrachet, Latour Batard-Montrachet… and I’m going to notch the Fevre Chablis over the Bichon Corton-Charlemagne.

Truth be told… each of the wines were champions… and when the room quieted on Saturday, I do believe I could hear the angels weeping for joy.

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Barbarian Overtures

Posted on August 1, 2007 by Jim

“Hullo luv, I’m home!”

“Hagar, wipe your feet before coming in!”

“I’m only here for a minute… King Harold says we’re off with the tide and I just have to pick up a few things to take along…”

“Sure… again you’re off! And what am I supposed to do while you’re off plundering Europe? Eh? Tell me! Take care of your stinking kids! And what thanks do I get?? And I bet you won’t even get on the Pillaging Team this time! Lars always makes the Pillaging Team. Lars brings home silver and amber for Ulla!! I get smelly hides!!”

“Those are delicate under things, Helga my Sweet Flower!”

“Don’t give me Sweet Flower! Give me silver and amber!!”

“Yes, yes… My Treasure… it will be amber and silver…”

“You know, Lars sent his resume to the Huns. The Pillagers do very well there. They get all sort of neat and exotic stuff from the East. You watch, first chance he gets he’ll sign on with the Huns and Ulla will have a home filled with great things… perfumes, pretty silks, ornate door stoppers… not stinky hides. Lars knows how to take care of Ulla… ”

“Well, my Jewel… you know, there is silver and amber…”

“Remember… it’s amber from Kiev and silver from Paris… not the other way around, you shmecko”

“Yes, farewell my luv… Kiev, amber and Paris, silver… farewell.”

****

“OK, lads… step lively. Rapers to the bow of the ship… then the Pillagers amidships and the Burners to the stern…”

“Harold… can I be on the Pillaging Team this time? You promised that I didn’t have to be on the Burners this time.”

“That’s because you set the ship on fire the last time Hagar…”

“It was an accident…”

“Hear that boys? It was an accident!!! HAH!!”

“Harold can I be on the Raping Team, this time? Knard is always getting on the Raping Team. When is it going to be my turn?”

“Not a chance Hagar. I am putting you to the head of the Diplomacy Team!”

“Diplomacy Team? Harold, there is no Diplomacy Team.”

“There is now!”

“What Diplomacy? We come ashore. We see a village, we Pillage it, we Rape the women and the animals, and then we Burn the village to the ground. There’s no Diplomacy! And besides… I have no title that has the ring of authority… you know like Erik the Red, or Ethelred the Unready or Henry the Kissinger.”

“I see your point…”

“And besides, what am I supposed to be doing when you and the rest of the guys are out Raping, Pillaging and Burning?”

“Yes… I see what you mean…’the idle mind is the devil’s playground’ sort of thing? Right, well lads… please welcome to our company, Hagar the Horrible… Diplomat and P.L.O.”

“P.L.O.?”

“Permanent Latrine Orderly… you can tell Helga that you cleaned up… eh, boys?!! HAH! Prepare to set sail! Members of the Burners Team, please set your torches on safety… we don’t want another mishap…”

“Geeze… it was just an accident.”

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Pass the Soap…

Posted on July 31, 2007 by Jim

The American Professor Darius Arya has just finished a ten week excavation of an exceptionally well preserved Roman Bath Complex that dates to the Second Century.  Originally thought to be part of the magnificent residence of the “billionaire” of the day, Quintus Servius Pudens, new evidence has produced another theory.

The two story building which extends for at least 5 acres, comprised of several rooms, some small and others grand, and serviced by a maze of underground passageways… was merely the central piece of a greater complex with the surrounding grounds filled with gardens and sporting fields. 

Arya speculates that the Baths were in fact a type of “Club House”, and the entire complex was a “Country Club” where the wealthy had membership entitling them to use of the Baths, the gaming rooms, the Feasts and outdoor entertainments.

Emperor Hadrian was a Member of the Bath, as was most of the Senate.

A tablet with an elaborate set of “rules” was unearthed in the early phases of the excavation provides a invaluable insight to the customs of the day.

“No Running or diving”

“No glass receptacles”

“Not responsible for loss of personal property”

“No peeing in the bath”

“One towel per member”

“No reserving of stone benches”

“No bathing past 9:00PM on week nights”

“No tipping of servants”

Elsewhere in the complex remains have discovered of the Ancient Egyptian game “jackals and hounds” have been found.  Professor Arya has proposed that there were rooms dedicated to the playing of games, not unlike cards or mah jong rooms that would exist in a Country Club today.

Arya also points out that it is difficult to think of baths in our current frame of reference.  “It’s not like you hop in the tub, lather up, rinse off… hop out, towel dry, get into jammies and hit the sack.

“Romans would spend the entire day in the Baths… going from rooms that featured cold water, then hot water, then maybe a bubble bath, to a steam room, grab a snack, sit on a bench, gossip with a neighbor, take a snooze, perhaps a game of jackals and hounds, take a stroll thru through the gardens and then begin a cyle of bathing again.  This could continue to the wee hours of the day.

“But”, Arya is quick to point out “you would be hard pressed to find a bar of soap or a bottle of shampoo.”  Arya also added, “Not a lot got done in those days; but for the lucky, it was a helluva life.”

Work on the site will continue in the Spring with the hope of one day returning a portion of the Bath Complex to its original state of grandeur.  Professor Arya concludes, “it would be quite an achievement to restore the one of the rooms to working condition… I might take a bath myself!”

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