Drinking Buddies

Chris Garlington of Death By Children fame mentioned Harry Crews' latest book, An American Family: The Baby With The Curious Markings. It was published by the small press Blood And Guts in LA. Chris spoke of the myth of Harry Crews. Crews hangs out with Sean Penn. Thurston Moore wrote the blurb on the cover of his latest book, and there was the short lived band by the name of Harry Crews with Thurston's wife Kim Gordon, Lydia Lunch and Sadie Mae. I told Chris my story about Harry Crews.

I lived in Gainesville, FL during 83-84. I was working at a restaurant downtown. I bartended, waited tables, was a maitre' d, prep cook or whatever they needed. It was one of the nicer places in town. Our manager was kind of a pain in the ass. He was patronizing, but had moments of sensitivety. He always arrived for the evening shift with a copy of the New York Times. I read the Times most days, but he would explain how well rounded you can become by reading the Times daily. This was a little annoying, but he also would give us chores that he was supposed to do, he was very flirtatious with most of the women that worked there, he was a good looking guy, but very cheesy. He was disliked by most of the workers, not hated, just disliked.

Harry Crews frequented the place for dinner, usually staying after to drink a little. A young woman or two normally tagged along. Our manager worshipped Harry. He was constantly trying to give him some new beer that came in or whatever. Harry didn't give him the time of day, unless a snarl or a grunt counts. Many of us found this unrequited relationship amusing.

The restaurant closed every night at 11PM. Sometimes after closing time the owners or the manager would lock the doors, and have a private party with a select few. I was never interested in hanging out. One night while Harry was at one of his favorite drinking spots, Lillian's Music Store, he ran into the crew from our restaurant. I guess Lillian's had closed, so our manager got his big chance to impress Harry. He brought him and a few others back to the restaurant and opened up the bar to them.

The next evening I came into work for the dinner shift. The manager was grumbling, "Fucking Harry Crews. That motherfucker, who does he think he is?" He repeated this several times. I asked. "What's up? I thought you loved Harry Crews." The chef had walked out to get something to drink. He despised the manager. The manager glared at us. "You want to know what's up? Come with me." We followed him out to the street. It was nearly dusk. He pointed to the building next door. It was being remodeled. Drywall sheets were covering the window frames. There was a very large hole in the sheet of drywall next to the front door. "You see that? Harry fucking threw me through the drywall. He's fucked up. He's got mental problems. He's a drunk." We laughed a little. The manager stormed back inside. He was about six feet tall, 180 pounds. It was quite a toss.

About an hour later. Harry Crews came strolling in. He looked up at the manager for a moment. "Hey sorry about last night." He kept walking and sat down.