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LITTLE JACK’S CORNER
by Jack Clements
May 2010
It’s been so long since my last column for a time I forgot what it was about, until I remembered something about Sandy Marshall’s trying to read me parts from “Beating a Dead Horse”- his biography of his father Jay. This was before I bought it. I didn’t want to hear anything as I wanted to come across the stories myself. It got so that I had dreams in which Sandy would hide in back of a tree and when I passed by he’d leap out and say , “You’ll love this one about the London Palladium,” or “Look at this picture of Jay in his underwear.”
Well, of course I bought it and thoroughly enjoyed it and found it informative and entertaining as I expected it to be. So many people I know have read it, and more than one has asked me to write a column of stories about Jay that weren’t in the book. I thought this was a tough challenge. For one thing, as a writer Sandy has two more Emmys than I have, and for another of course he knew Jay for all of his life.
But then it occurred to me that there were times when I was around Jay when Sandy wasn’t. He didn’t come into Chicago as often then, and I was at the store every day, while Sandy was doing his world travels, producing something here, directing something there, and doing both here AND there.
So - here are a few memories that come to mind. First, though, I must tell you that Jay had the same effect on me that George Burns had on Jack Benny. Jack was known to go into fits of laughter at a mere hello from George, if the latter flicked his cigar a particular way when he said it.
I was walking with Jay on a spring day and I said "There are some really slow bloomers this year,” and Jay said, “I once knew a woman who had the fastest bloomers in town.” I almost fell down.
Another day we were walking and encountered a lady from the neighborhood who was notorious for stopping people and talking and talking. When you tried to move away she’d stay right in your face until you escaped. So on this occasion she was going on and on and on, and finally Jay said, “Well, it’s always nice to talk to you, but I must be getting home. I’m defrosting some salmon.” It was sheer will power that kept me from hysterics right there.
I said, “What made you come up with that one?” and Jay said, “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
Once a local magician, (I'll call him Alfred; not his real name) gave a lecture at Magic Inc which was, by consensus, the worst lecture ever given in all of the years of Magic Inc hosting lectures. This was on a Saturday. On the following Monday Jay and I were sitting and talking in our usual chairs as we did most every day and this fellow comes in. I said to Jay, “Now there’s an example of “Undaunted Courage”, the title of a best selling history book at that time. Jay thought this was terrific, and when he laughed he often looked as if he was crying . As Alfred was leaving the store Jay recovered to say, “We were just saying how much you have in common with Lewis and Clark” which started both of us all over again and the poor guy in question left with a befuddled expression.
Some of my favorite incidents happened outside of the store , during restaurant dinners that Jay hosted for people he called “The Saturday Night Indigents.” Sandy has written about this, and how the number of guests ranged from as few as six to as many as fifteen or even twenty.
Jay always sat at the end of the table and Elliot Cutler ( a regular) and I tried to sit on each side of him so he’d have someone to talk to and to listen to because he often said how bad his hearing was.
One night Elliot and I were farther away, halfway down the table, and it was noisy. Elliot and I were talking about the great old movie “Gunga Din” and I said,it wasn’t until I saw the movie that I knew the correct pronunciation of the the water boy's last name didn’t rhyme with IN but was pronounced Deen. Without looking up from his soup, Jay said “Gunga Din got a bullet in the spleen.” If I had had something in my mouth I would have needed the Heimlich Maneuver.
We usually ate at a place called O’Donovan’s. One time, though we ate at a different restaurant and as we were in line we looked at a photo of the Hindenburg going up in flames. I said, “It’s a miracle that there were any survivors.”
Jay said, “Yes, I knew one of them. He was an acrobat. He broke his leg,” and told us his real name. He said he had a stage name, and Elliot Cutler asked what it was. He couldn’t think of it and all through dinner he was trying to recall it, but couldn’t, and that was driving him nuts.
A full week later we were at O’Donovan’s and as the waitress was laying down Jay’s plate Jay looked up and in a loud voice said “BEN DOVER dammit!” and she froze for a second and I spilled my iced tea and Jay said, “That was the stage name of the acrobat.”
There were so many more that I could think of but if I wrote them all this column would be as big as Sandy’s book.
I have no idea how these come across in print and maybe they don’t strike anyone else as funny. Maybe you had to be there.
Well, I WAS there . . . and I’m so glad, so very glad that I was.
About our columnist:
Jack Clements is a noted boxing authority, comedy writer and greeting card writer. He has a great love for jazz, and fortunately for us... MAGIC. Jack is ”The Wizard Bouncer of Magic Inc.” Little Jack's Corner is updated as often as we can get a column out of Jack.
Previous Issues of Jack’s Corner may be found below.
LITTLE JACK’S CORNER
Jack Clements
December 2009
When I intend to see a movie I want to know as little as possible about it. I don't want to know the ending, and I don't even want to know that it is a "trick" ending, because then I'll try to guess it, and I usually guess right. My wife and I put our fingers in our ears and look away from the screen during the trailers.
However, we do have problems with people who insist on telling us things about the movie we do not want to hear. The worst, and unforgivable example was the time a guy who was leaving "Psycho" just as I was buying my ticket said, "It's really a shocker. Tony Perkins dresses up like his dead mother and kills people. He stabs Janet Leigh to death while she's in the shower", and for years I've hoped the same thing happened to him.
Same with books. I don't want to hear much about them, and it's not just mysteries. It's books in general. I want to read them as a whole. I do want an idea of what the book is about, but I don't want to read excerpts from them, or if there are pictures I don't want to see them. I want the book to unfold with everything in context.
This has been a running problem lately at Magic Inc. Sandy Marshall, owner of Magic Inc., has written a book about his father Jay's life. It was a three and a half year effort for him and his wife Susan, who had the huge job of editing, checking sources, helping to find the many photographs and other chores that go along with a project like this, and without whom the book wouldn't have come out in its final form, neither in quality or as soon as it has.
The title of the book is BEATING A DEAD HORSE, a title Jay himself wanted to use because he said he did the same act for fifty years.
I have seen the book. I see it every day when I walk into the shop. It looks marvelous. But I won't be buying it until January, after the post-Christmas bills are paid.
Sandy knows this, but he doesn’t want me to wait that long to see or hear parts of it.
I explain this to him on a near daily basis, and on a near daily basis he comes to me, book in hand, and says, "Just let me read you this section, or show you this picture."
He approaches with book in hand, and I back away, covering my eyes and saying, “No! No!”
It's a scene like Dr. Van Helsing holding up a cross in front of Dracula.
I got to know and love Jay in his later years, and in conversations he told wonderful stories which were just suggest from a larger mine and I always wishes I heard more; that I knew more about what happened in all those earlier years.
And now, thanks to Sandy and Susan, I can.
But I want to have the experience of reading the book from the first of its 540 pages on and let the story unfold in context and I want to come across those parts that Sandy especially likes as they occur. The same with the pictures.
So I'm glad that I'll be getting it soon. I don't know how much longer my refusals and Sandy's enthusiasm can keep up the battle.
On final note. In full disclosure I must admit that I did look at two pages; the Index and the Acknowledgments to see if my name is there. It is. That's one thing Sandy didn't tell me. I think he wanted me to find out for myself.
(Note from Sandy to Jack: "Rosebud was his sled.")
LITTLE JACK’S CORNER
by Jack Clements
Summer 2009
There are two times when I almost fell out of my chair at Magic Inc. Once was from laughing so hard during a Jay Sankey lecture. The second time was more recent. It was when a thirteen-year-old boy came in. He was standing by the DVDs and when asked what he was looking for he said he'd like something on coin magic. When Head Demonstrator Ben (that title sounds like Ben demonstrates his head, but I'm digressing) started to show him some DVDs, the boy said "No. DVDs are okay, but I do better learning from books," and he bought the redundantly named but superb "New Modern Coin Magic" by Bobo. Now if this wasn't startling enough, Robert, who is fourteen and is a regular at the shop, was also there and he also prefers books to DVDs.
Astonishing and virtually unheard of. Two boys in their early teens who read books being in the store at the same time! The odds of that happening are bigger than the chances of winning the state lottery.
I don't know what the demarcation line is but I know it's partly generational. Somewhere there's a point where hardly anyone wants to learn from a book. They want DVDs. There was a time when they wanted video cassettes, but now these are considered something their grandparents watched years ago, when somebody named Frank Sinatra was a famous person.
The idea of reading a book just for pleasure is inconceivable, though some will read what are called graphic novels, which are really just comic books, but more expensive.
I'm one of the ancient beings who does better with books. I don't like other forms much. For example, I tried a talking book once, but every now and then I shouted "The hell you say!" and it just got me too upset.
DVDs can be a good teaching medium, especially with something like Svengali or Stripper Decks, which are easy to learn from the printed instructions, which just show how the tricks are done. The DVDs go farther and suggest ways to actually perform them.
I can use DVDs too, but in my own way.
For example I have the Killer Packet; a great collection of gaffed cards. I worked out that you can do 100,300,068 different tricks, of which 209 are almost self workers. It comes with two excellent DVDs.
So, when I played one of them and Simon Lovell showed a trick and then demonstrated the sleights I kept going back and looking at it again. And again. And once more. Couldn't get it. Then I got wise and started writing down the name of the move and then looking it up in "Card College." The problem here was after I practiced it I couldn't remember what trick it went with. Eventually I figured out that if I wrote down the name of the trick while I wrote down the name of the move I could find it again. It's a tedious process but when I'm through I have instructions written down on a piece of paper, and I can read them and practice without going back and forth with the DVD remote.
I suppose I could say I can have my DVD and read it too.
I hope this helps some of you who have the same problem I have, and if you've read this far it means you have a grasp of the written word and won't have to wait for this column to come out on a DVD.
LITTLE JACK’S CORNER
by Jack Clements
Remembering Jay Marshall
May 2009
Jay Marshall left this world on May 10, 2005. I think of him a lot, but even more than usual at this time of year. I was going to write a column about some of my memories of him, but couldn't think of anything new to say. Then I recalled a column I wrote about him just after he passed away. As I read it again I thought it expressed much of what I still recall. So, I am repeating it here:
I knew him first as a neighbor.
After years of living in apartments my wife Lillian and I decided it was time to buy a house. I left it up to her to check out the ads and when she found one she thought we'd both like I'd go with her to look at it. One day she came home and said , "I found just the one. There's a magic shop on the corner, and this house is just two houses away, so I'm taking that as an omen." This was because I had always had an interest in magic. Though it waned a bit through the years, from time to time I'd dig out my battered copy of the "Royal Road to Card Magic" and practice some sleights.
So we looked at the house together and bought it.
I went from peering in the window at the magic shop on the corner, to going in and buying a trick, to "just dropping in," then to hanging out and finally becoming a regular.
Now I have to back up a bit. I didn't know anyone in our new neighborhood, but one day soon after we moved in I was walking along the street, came to a corner at the same time as an old fellow I'd seen around. We said hello and he said, "I wonder what people with dyslexia think about all these corners that have signs that say POTS." I don't know how funny that comes across here, but the way he said it, the timing, if you will, cracked me up and I actually had to wait till I stopped laughing before I crossed the street.
By now of course you know that the old neighbor was Jay Marshall and the magic shop on the corner was Magic Inc.
It wasn't long before I connected the two.
As the years went on, Magic Inc., the demonstrators, and Jay became a major part of my life. They became my closest friends. I joined two magic clubs which expanded my circle of acquaintances and I got into magic more than ever before.
Lillian and I also became regular members of the group Jay called "The Saturday Night Indigents." This was a group that varied in size, as few as six and as many as twenty, who dined with Jay every Saturday night when he was in town. Jay always picked up the check. There was no way you could contribute or pay your share. We were his guests.
I could go on and on, and usually I do, but for now let's just say as I was around more I heard more and more about this fascinating man; about his show business career, about his collection of books and magic memorabilia, about his near total recall, but these stories are all known to anyone reading here and they're being repeated throughout the magic community via Internet and phone calls and gatherings of those who knew this fabulous man.
I know many of these stories myself, but for all of that, to me he was mostly a friend and a neighbor, a man who lived in back of that magic shop on the corner. A man whom I'd run into from time to time at the local Osco store, sometimes complaining about the price of laxatives, which he thought the government should pay for for a man his age. A man who bought lottery tickets at the corner convenience store, and when asked what he'd do if he won all those millions said, "I'd give some of it to Oprah Winfrey because I know she wouldn't spend it foolishly."
So, for all of his fame, I'll think mostly of losing my dear dear friend and most wonderful neighbor.
Just today, when I bought the newspapers at that convenience store, the lady who always sold him his lottery tickets said, "Gee, I'll really miss him. But, hey, he sure had a wonderful life."
Well, Jay, yes, when it's all added up you did have a wonderful life.
But, dammit, couldn't you have had it just a little bit longer?
LITTLE JACK’S CORNER
Jack Clements
It’s April; Time for March Madness.
April 2009
Early in March I made one of my rare stops at a bar and when I sat down I was afraid I had died and gone to hell. The place was filled with screaming idiots and there were almost as many TV screens as there were people. The fellow sitting next to me asked how I was doing with my bracket. I thought that was a highly personal question, especially coming from a stranger and I told him so. He apparently thought I was joking and he lifted his beer mug and said “Cheers!”
I gulped my soft drink down and got out of there before the authorities arrived to round everyone up, and I checked my pulse and found I was still alive and not in hell after all. Actually I had stumbled into a den of the demented during something called March Lunacy or Spring Break for the Criminally Insane or whatever the occasion was.
My son called me soon after I got home and I told him of my close call and he said this was March Madness,and I said that was how I had it pegged and then he told me that was the name of what was happening and asked , “Don't you watch basketball at all?” and I said no. I'm not interested in looking at a bunch of guys with overactive pituitary glands running back and forth and bouncing a ball. It's hard to avoid so-called highlights on the late night news, and it always set my nerves on edge when they would show a ball going into the basket and call it ”miracle shot.” I'm sorry, but the basket rim is wider in diameter than the ball. Now if the ball was the wider one, THAT would be a miracle.
My son is very enthusiastic about most sports. I used to watch baseball until the strike and almost got back into it and then the drug addicts took over and former 250 hitters started hitting the ball so often and so far that sometimes it was never seen again.
Football? A game played by hulks who have their I.Q.s printed on their backs for the amusement of their intellectual inferiors in the stands.
By avoiding sports for so long I don’t know the terminology any more. In football, I don't know what the secondary is. I have no idea what a nickel defense (or is it offense?) is nor what is called a quarterback sneak, except it sounds unsportsmanlike. In basketball a player gets high praise for scoring a triple-double. I don't know what that is either but I'm sure his mother is proud.
After that call from my son I was distressed that he too was one of the rabble. My mind was all fuddled up and I headed out to Magic Inc. As I walked in Sandy Marshall, heir apparent of the venerable shop, was explaining that it's phonetically Day, not Dye Vernon because it's short for David.
Manager Pedro Nieves said he hadn't done the Braue Reversal in a while and wanted to get back to it. Head demonstrator, Ben Whiting, asked me to look at his Zarrow Shuffle which he was able to do without the slip cut, and I asked him to help me with the Elmsley. A customer said he couldn't find his Erdnase and he asked if he could look up the Erdnase system of cull shuffling.
By the time I left my mind was at ease. It was just so nice to be around people speaking in a language that made sense again.
(Note: The opinions expressed in this column are not necessarily those of Magic Inc.)
February 2009
If you are reading this in April, it means I have already broken one New Year's resolution, which was to write these columns more often. I've been wary of making these resolutions because of one I made years ago and tried to keep. It was "Learn to Drive This Year," which up to that time I had failed to do. My high school driver's education teacher offered to give me a passing grade if I promised NOT to continue taking his class. I still had faith though, and some years later I applied for a job where one requirement was to be able to drive and I lied and said I was learning.I got the job and was there for about three weeks when my boss asked me to drive him over to a subsidiary of our place. We didn't make it that far. On the way I made a right turn, bumped into a car that was waiting at the light and then went through a low brick wall and into the lawn of a factory where some workers were sitting and eating their lunches. Sandwiches flew in the air as people ran for their lives.
The results? I actually got a raise because I had to pay my boss for the damage to his car, to the other car and for the repair of the brick wall, none of which I could do on my beginning salary. By the time I had everything paid off I got so good at my job that I was transferred to a better department, one that didn't need someone who drove. On the other hand I never tried again so I don't have a driver's license; the most accepted form of identification in our car-worshipping society. Therefore officially I do not exist.
I'm not able to convince clerks and other forms of life that I am standing right on front of them but they say I can't prove it. I even had a bank refuse to let me open a bank account because I had no means to prove who I was, and I was the one giving them the money.
The only card I carry with my name on it is the one that shows I am a member of the International Brotherhood of Magicians. Then just a little while ago I heard a wonderful story told by Jerry Sharff, president of IBM Ring #43. He was at a big wedding and he was preparing to photograph it, but before he got all of his equipment set up he was approached by two gentlemen who asked to see his identification, because they said only union members were allowed to take pictures of this event. As a photographer Jerry had never run into this, so he started taking cards out of his wallet to see if he could find some identification that might work and as he did so he happened to show his IBM membership card. When these two guys saw the word “BROTHERHOOD” they immediately relaxed and gave him a hearty welcome because they thought brotherhood obviously referred to him as a member of a union. Great!
So now I have an I.D. card. I haven't had a chance to try it yet but I am eager to. Oh yes, the factory whose brick wall I ran into? It was, honest, the United States Playing Card Company. So, if you came across a bad batch of Bicycle cards years ago, it's probably because they were made by some shaky workers with unsettled nerves.
September 2008
It was a day like many others. I was hanging out at Magic Inc. and was just putting my cards into my pocket after manager Pedro Nieves helped me with a problem when I saw the shape out of the corner of my eye. As it got closer I could make out that it was a young guy in his late teens. I braced myself for the inevitable.“I see you have a deck of cards in your hand,” he said."Well, I'll be damned," I said.
"So that's where they've gone to. Thanks, I've been looking all over for them." The sarcasm didn't get through. It never does.
"May I borrow them?" he asked politely, and I resigned myself and handed them over.
He did a card trick, not bad, and with a few sleights. After he revealed my card, using his favorite method, he looked expectantly at me. I knew from experience that he expected me to come forth with astonishment and praise. I smiled weakly and looked at the clock and made my getaway by pretending I was late for something. It happens too many times. It's usually a nice guy in his late teens who wants to show me his awesome talent. Even if I know how the trick is done I am supposed to gush about his dazzling skill and stunning presentation. I give him another of my weak smiles as I am wondering how to get away, perhaps by faking a heart attack, as I do not want to disappoint the lad. I like to see card tricks.
I like to watch guys exchange ideas or work out moves. It's one of the things that make magic shops fun. If a guy gets too cocky though, and threatens to show me more tricks to prove he's equal to Dai Vernon and will soon be superior to him, I explain: "Bill Malone sometimes drops in and shows card moves right here on the counter."
Thanks to Magic Inc.'s long history of lectures, I've seen Richard Turner. I've seen Daryll. Darwin Ortiz. I've seen Terrence Francisco, former Magic Inc. demonstrator, practically make the aces jump out of the deck and sing "I'll Be With You In Apple Blossom Time" in four-part harmony. I am not easy to impress. One day one of the young guys who often comes into the store showed off his latest learned skill; holding the deck in one hand he cut it into five parts and then slipped them back into the pack in any order he chose. The aforementioned Terrence then fooled him with a self-worker. Then there is Max. He is not a teenager. He is hovering around middle age. If he corners you, he'll shove a deck in your face and say, "Look! Look! Four queens. Boom! Now four kings!!" And to be sure you notice this marvel, he will tell you what he just did. "I turned the queens into kings, right in front of your eyes. Now look! Look!" Max would show card tricks at a funeral.He admits he is addicted, but can't find a twelve-step program for someone who can't stop showing double lifts and false shuffles.
Since my last column, I've been in and out of the hospital again, but not so serious this time. Naturally, I didn't like being there, so I tried to find at least one positive aspect — and then felt some relief at being away from these self-styled master cardicians. When I awoke from the anaesthesia, there was an intern at the foot of my table. I've been waiting for you to wake up so I can show you this.”
Then he started to lay out the three rows of cards, seven in each one. I sighed. But at least I wouldn't have to pretend to be mesmerized by his uncanny sleight-of-hand.
Magic of the Heart
May 2008
When I'm asked what my religion is, I reply, truthfully, that I am a devout coward. It's no surprise, then, that when my doctor told me I needed a mitral valve replacement and a triple bypass I had a feeling of stark terror. More frightening than the operation was the thought of general anesthesia. Too often I've read newspaper articles with headlines like MAN DIES WHILE GETTING TOE FUNGUS REMOVED. ANESTHESIA THE CAUSE. Up to now I had avoided it all my life, insisting on a local only, but in this case local wasn't an option.
My chest would be cut open and my ribs pulled apart. Plus they like to stop for lunch while you're out and they don't want you to know that. The operation took ten hours and my wife said at one point the doctor said. “I haven't seen anything like this in years,” a comment I'm glad I didn't hear. Like OOPS! it's something you don't want your surgeon to say. When I came to I saw a blurry vision of a nurse and I asked “Where am I?” and she said “ICU” and I said “I see you too, but where am I?” and my wife, who was there from the beginning, and who knows how my mind works, said “You are in the Intensive Care Unit." I was surprised to learn that the operation had been five days earlier.
Because I was under so long, I lost all my strength, so when I was released from the ICU I was taken to the Rehabilitation Unit, which is like the Tower of London. I was depressed because I couldn't walk or do anything that required the least amount of energy, such as holding a glass or feeding myself. Luckily I was cheered up by visits from my Magic Inc. “family” and cards and visits from the members of the International Brotherhood of Magicians. and The Wizards; two organizations to which I belong. It was a visit from a member of the IBM that was especially helpful. He brought me a deck of cards.
And when I tried to open it I couldn't and it was even too heavy for me to hold. He laid the deck on my bedside table. Then I began to see improvement, which I wasn't sure was happening. The days went by and then next time I reached for the deck I was able to pick it up, a few days later to get the cards out of the case, later still to actually shuffle them, and finally even to do a card trick for a few nurses. It was a self worker but it baffled them and got a good reaction.
This deck meant so much to me because I was making progress in general but it was slow and I couldn't measure it, but with cards I could, plus they were a great exercise for my hands. One day the unit doctor came by while I was fooling with the cards and he asked if I could do a trick and I did. Same trick, and it fooled him too. Then I asked him if I would be able to do a perfect Faro when my therapy was over, and he said, “I don't know what that is, but I'm sure you will,” and I said, "All together now on the count of three.... one, two, three... “THAT'S FUNNY. I COULDN'T DO IT BEFORE!
Add your own rim shot.
Winter 2008
Invariably on a day in winter when the sun is shining and the temperature is above 30 some idiot will say, “Nice day, isn't it?” and my reply is always, “Then how come the beaches are closed?” The idea of a nice day in winter is a ridiculous concept. I do not like winter and I do not even like people who do. Winter brings me cabin fever, and when that goes on too long, say for about four hours, instead of sitting around the house I go to my neighboring magic store, Magic Inc. and sit around there instead, where the sitting around is much more fun.
Before winter even officially begins, Magic Inc. is lively with pre-Christmas shoppers; those looking for gift sets for their youngsters and the professionals buying new tricks for their seasonal Christmas private parties or just to update their acts. Then after Christmas those lucky enough to get gift certificates come in to redeem them and as the chill season goes on there are a lot of people who, like me, would rather sit inside and practice a new trick, read a book or watch a DVD on magic instead of sitting in a boat hidden among weeds and making sounds that go honk honk in an attempt to lure geese or whatever it is they do.
Winter Saturdays bring an especially fun sanctuary. That's when the magicians themselves come in and attempt to outdo each other and the customers keep the demonstrators extra busy. One of my favorite Saturdays was a few years ago when Jay was still with us. It was a cold, grey afternoon and Jay had gone somewhere on an errand for a friend and while he was out the store got jammed. One woman was in from Los Angeles with a group of friends and she bought the complete Tarbell set for her nephew, a wonderfully precocious 12-year-old who had begged her to stop in the legendary store to get this phenomenal gift and also promise she would come back with an autograph from Jay Marshall.
So here's the scene. Store crowded. A juggler is testing out clubs, a demonstrator is doing a wonderful linking ring routine while another was dazzling a teenager with card moves that he too “would be able to learn from a certain DVD,” three magicians showing each other new moves, and the other regular guys who, like me, hang out there on a steady basis. The woman seeking the autograph and her friends weren't the only ones eager to see the great Jay Marshall, in person.
I looked across the street and half way up the block Jay was shambling to the store.“He's coming,” I said. “He'll be here in a couple of minutes.”The crowd stood facing the door, waiting for the Great One to arrive, and, as he got there, I opened the door and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, here he is, the one and only Jay Marshall!” and everyone in the store applauded.Jay stood silent for a while, checked out the scene, held up a package and spoke to the assemblage.“Nine dollars,” he said waving the bag in his hand. “Nine dollars for rat poison.”Silence for a moment from the shoppers while those of us who knew him fell out laughing hysterically. I don't have a finish for this story. As always, it's best to let Jay have the last word.
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