Hot Diggity Dog

The Old Man loves a good hot dog.    I've had golf course hot dogs, baseball game hot dogs, backyard cookout hot dogs, hot dogs you ordered through a little take-out window, so-called "gourmet" hot dogs, cheap hot dogs, and the king of them all, a hot dog from a local legendary joint in Roanoke, Va. called The Texas Tavern.  I've eaten at such hot dog emporiums as, Willie's Weenie Wagon, Yum Yum's, The Texas Inn, The Varsity Grill, The Roanoke Wiener Stand, The Lynchburg Wiener Stand, and nameless push carts. I've had them at Grant's Grocery, Tyler White's Store, and Moore's Store where the chili revisited you for several hours, and in a couple of days made you feel like you'd sat on a cactus.    I've even fantasized about a cross-country trip where we would sample as many regional favorite hot dogs as we could manage.  But, I've never had a "bowling alley" hot dog.  And therein lies my story.

Sometime back, a Facebook page dedicated to those of us from our little home town of Bedford, carried a thread of conversation about a long-forgotten bowling alley there.  On a trip back there a few years ago, we ended up in a little gift shop.  The owner was explaining that there was a bowling alley up on the second floor.  She let us go up for a look-about.  Amazingly, it was just as if time had not passed.  Although it hadn't been used in years, if you tried just a bit, you could hear again the voices and clatters in your head.  For some reason, during my growing up years, either that bowling alley was not in operation, or I just wasn't in tune, but yet, there it was.  It really set me to remembering a story my mother told me.  A story about when hot dogs first came to Bedford.

Mom said that a "feller" she was dating before she met my dad would take her bowling.  When she told me this, my attention wandered for a minute.  Hearing your mom talk about dating someone other than your dad is kind of like hearing that Fats Domino has recorded the Hallelujah Chorus....it just doesn't seem quite right.
They would go bowling and from what I could gather, Mom was pretty good.  I think I recall that she won a couple of tournaments or such.  After bowling, they would go and find a "bite to eat".

One night, he said he had something new for "you, Miss Alma".  It's called a hot dog.  Being a sport and, I'm sure, wanting to impress, he made the offer, "I'll buy you all you can eat". So, Mom had at it.
I asked her, "How many did you eat, Mom?"  She said, "I ate five".  Then she giggled and said, "I cost that boy a whole quarter that night".

Here's to you, Mom....on my best day I couldn't manage five hot dogs.

I don't know whether the hot dog feast was actually in the bowling alley or not, but one of these days I'm going back.  And I hope someone will let me in there, because I'll have a bag of hot dogs with me, and I'll need a quiet place to eat and remember.

The Magic Touch

The Old Man is still sort of in the "Deltaville mood".  You will recall my ramblings about the fishing trip to the Chesapeake Bay.  Even with Milburn's sunburn, and the dog-tiredness of a bunch of kids running on soda and junk food, with little sleep, there was time to sit out under the Spanish Moss draped live oaks, and listen to that radio wonder-of-wonders, WLAC in Nashville, Tenn.  Late at night, its 50,000 Watt signal drilled through the dark and found its way to even little Deltaville.  Disk jockeys, Gene Nobles, "Hoss" Allen, and John R. "spun the platters and laid down the patter" until dawn.  It was on that trip that I first heard, "In the Still of the Night", the seminal song that gave Doo-Wop its name.  Listen to it carefully and you'll hear during a bridge, "doo wop shu waa".  That late-night signal faded in and out just enough to enhance the magic.  To this day, that song, more than most others, causes in me an inner transport to the hood of that car, drawn up in the yard of that ramshackle old house, where I lay stretched out dreaming teen-age dreams.

I found out that back on June 4th Herb Reed died.  Herb was a founding member of the '50's vocal group, The Platters.  If you can find a picture of the original group, Herb is the short fellow on the left end....he sang bass.  Along with Paul Robi, David Lynch, Zola Taylor, and the soaring tenor of lead singer, Tony Williams, The Platters created some of the most enduring and beautiful music of the era.  While many other artists of the day "rocked the house", The Platters sang love songs.  Their first hit was "Only You"....find it, and you'll see what I mean.  And I challenge you to ignore your feelings when you hear, "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes".

In Bedford, the Battalion had very limited access to hit music.  Our radio station, like most small town stations of that time had a wide variety of programming.  Everything from hog prices, to the location of the fire when the town siren went off, left precious little time for "our music".  Couple this with the general attitude of those pesky adults toward rock-n-roll, and we were a pretty deprived bunch.
There was, however, an island in the maelstrom for us.  A little radio/TV shop down on south Bridge St. sold 45 RPM records.  They had a couple of turntables and some headphones so we could actually preview the record we were considering.  That's how I found The Platters second hit, "The Great Pretender".

For nearly 400 records, Herb's booming and pure bass voice brought The Platters signature blend to life.  They're all gone now.....Paul, David, Zola, and Tony.  Life after The Platters took many turns for them, some good and some not so much.  But they left behind a legacy of pure beauty.  They indeed did bring to the music, "The Magic Touch".