Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: Broken Arrow (Page 38 of 141)

That was then.

He was the old man at the piano. Musicians gathered around him on the stage at S. Arch Thompson Auditorium. Playing the classical pop stuff. I was in tenth grade. But I liked music.

Every kind, pretty much.

It had to have been one of the first legitimate concerts I had ever attended. I mean, he was an out-of-town guy. Had to have been, with a name like Peter Nero. Like I said – he was the old guy at the piano. I had seen my cousin Bill and his band at the high school prom, and he was older. But not old, older.

And what a difference a little perspective makes.

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A song just played in the shop, and it was credited as being a Christmas-medley by Peter Nero. Hey! I thought, “I remember that guy.” And I wondered how long ago he had died. Googled him.

Turns out, he hasn’t.

Another thing. I guess he really wasn’t as old as I thought, way back then. I figure he was about the same age as my boss Marshall, who ran a corner grocery in McAlester – probably in his early-thirties. Back then, I figured Marshall for an old man too.

All these years later, I discover that I was surrounded by a bunch of young whippersnappers, and I just didn’t know it. Peter Nero (and Nero is his real name, just spelled a little different than his birth certificate. It’s the first name that he changed…), well – he is eighty years old as of last May and probably still pounding away at the piano keys.

Mr. Nero attended the Juilliard School of Music and later won a Grammy and has all kinds of credits to his name. I have a hard time imagining him playing our little school auditorium, and I could be confused about the pianist, but I distinctly remember Craig’s mother asking us what we thought of it as she drove us home. (We were still pedestrian age high-schoolers.)

Craig was non-committal, but I just blurted out that I liked it. It was out of my mouth before I could be non-committal cool, too. Heck. I did like it.

The shop was empty when the medley began, so I was able to belt out, in various accents, the various holiday tunes all mashed into one. Loud and proud.

It’s helpful, I think. Remembering people in a new light. Humbling too – in a way.

Gives me a better idea of what my younger reader-customers must think when they plop their books on the checkout counter in front of that ancient old man.

Geezer-up!

We’re still raising the roof in song, Peter and I, and there are music books on the shelf ready for a lyrical journey, so…

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

Baby, I’m not foolin’

Fortunately, I haven’t lost my touch for electrical repairs. That’s because I never had the ‘touch’ to lose. But – nothing ventured, and all that – I decided to give it a go. The project?

My Fender guitar rebuild.

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Some of you will recall my earlier antics, trying to put a music-store-reject guitar back in playing condition. It met with some degree of success. I really enjoy playing it. But it looks a bit of a Frankenstein on closer examination.

It is an acoustic – a Fender Sonoran model that I picked up on the cheap in an eBay auction. It arrived with the guitar body and the neck, complete with the headstock and the tuning keys. I had to find and install all the other parts, including the electronics.

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Got it assembled and love playing it.

Occasionally, I’ll plug in the cord and run the sound through the store’s music PA system, harkening back to my days playing with Led Zeppelin. (What? You don’t remember that? I was in high school, they were on the record player and I was in the bedroom playing along. Badly.)

I plugged the cord in the other afternoon and there was a crink and a snap, followed by nothing. The jack would not go in completely.

It was, as they say…Broken.

In for a penny, in for a pound, so I ordered a five dollar replacement, Genuine Fender Parts. Put the soldering iron on standby and at the ready. Opened the package on arrival, and low and behold – wrong part. As you can see in the image, it is considerably shorter than the broken one I removed. Too short to reach through the body of the guitar, in fact.

As I had already passed my patience-threshold, I decided to connect it up anyway. Figure I can get the right piece later.

There was no mistaking where the first of the three wires connected, so I soldered it into place. There were only two ways for the remaining wires, the right way and the wrong way.

Naturally, after unhooking the first try, I made the connection the only other way and plugged it into the amp. Bingo. Da-da, da-da, dum, da-dum, da-dum, Whole Lotta Love…

So. It has to be considered a partial victory, anyway. It has a lovely tone, which would sound even better in my brother-in-law Dennis’s hands. But there’s that wire hanging out with a soldered-on connector. Not so princely.

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Since the guitar and I won’t likely be making any stage appearances soon, the dangling cord connector really doesn’t matter much. And when Led and the boys call, I can get the little Fender all gussied-up to go.

We had a busy Small Business Saturday! Thanks to all who came out and supported us ‘little guys!’ We’ll be cooking again on Monday, so…

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

Ghosts in the Daylight…

Workers have uncovered a ghost on Main Street, while chipping away at the façade of the former credit union near Dallas Street. Not a scary sort of thing. More of a look into the past.

They are referred to as Ghost Signs – the painted ads on the side of a building or wall that promote something long gone. Sometimes they simply survive in faded style. Others are preserved by some circumstance or another. When the workers knocked the bricks loose, behind the facade was another wall. Painted on that now-exposed brick are the words PONTIAC – TEMPEST.

Even though Pontiac is a ghost itself these days, having been discontinued by GM in 2010, it isn’t so long-gone that we don’t remember it. Tempest, on the other hand, I haven’t a clue. There was a Pontiac Tempest introduced as a model in the 1960’s, and I suppose a dealer could paint the name on the building (although most dealers advertise their make, rather than individual car types).

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Carl Lea was the Pontiac dealer on Main.

He grew up around the corner on Dallas Street, the son of Charles Lea, who had moved to Broken Arrow from Coweta and managed a hotel – could have been the Hotel Mains, which was at 202 West Dallas, and just down from their home. By 1930, Carl was working as a department manager at the lumberyard. Not too many years later he was selling cars at Main and Dallas, the Carl Lea Motor Company.

In the early fifties, Mr. Lea was at the controls of some heavier machinery and his business was listed as Carl Lea Earth Movers, at the same 311 Main Street address.

He may have still been selling cars, but there was stiff competition on that block of Main. Fred Boren sold Fords across the street, and the Strader-Foster Motor Company gave test drives from their showroom in that same stretch of businesses.

Mr. Lea isn’t on Main Street any longer, but he left a little reminder for us, that came to light on a crisp November morning in 2014.

Those kinds of ghosts don’t worry me one bit. Then – there was the call from Lori at the BA Historical Museum. I’d called to ask who the Pontiac dealer was. She confirmed my research about Carl Lea, and passed along a little extra information I hadn’t found.

“Before Carl Lea, it was McHuston Pontiac,” she said, before moving on to something else.

“Whoa,” I said. “McHuston is the name of my store.”

“Mac-Oosten,” she repeated, and then spelled it for me. “M-little-c, C-U-I-S-T-O-N.

“McQuiston,” I said.

“Except they pronounced it, Mc-Ooston.”

And that’s close enough to McHuston for me. A distant ghost-relation maybe, showing up from behind the brick façade. Now, that’s spooky!

Changes in the air, so come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

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