Left: ‘Welcome Dodgers’ headline, Los Angeles Evening Herald Express, 1958. Right: My 2nd Grade class photo
My Real Memoir: Newspapers and Talking Birds
Dad Was Ambitious to a Fault
But he’d dropped out high school to shoot bad guys who surrendered before he got there. And his only real job to date had been as an unskilled loading dock worker for the Los Angeles Herald Express. So, when he was offered a coveted Herald Express newspaper dealership in a brand-new suburb, he and Mom considered it a life-changing opportunity! But…
It would be some time before enough customers lived there to put gas in our two cars and tuna in our two cats. Newspaper dealers were expected to not only hire paper boys and collect subscriptions, but to build up “their” territory — if they wanted to keep it. So, along with knocking on doors, Dad found another way of growing our little domain:
He Took Over the Local Newsracks
Every day, he’d stock the racks with newspapers, put new headline cards in them (“Space Race Heats Up!”), and empty their cash slots of shiny new dimes and nickels. Which helped cover our huge $100 a month mortgage payment. But it also meant, he worked sunrise-to-sunset seven days a week. So, if I wanted any Dad-time, I had to go to work with him.
For a while, that meant riding along on this rack route. We’d talk, sing “My Friend the Witch Doctor” along with the radio, and shout “Tequila!” each time the sax solo stopped. And then I’d help Dad restock the racks, and get a cold Dr. Pepper (my drug of choice) as a reward.
My Absolute Favorite Stop…
…was “Gus’s liquor store.” Dad would greet the owner while I talked to Pretty Boy the mynah bird, who blithely greeted customers as they entered. But the preeminent event always came when I asked Pretty Boy, “Where’s Gus?” and initiated the greatest recurring comedy bit in cross-species history!
Pretty Boy would screech, “Here, Gus!” in his best mock-human voice. And a moment later, Gus the hound dog, dubious protector of the storage room hooch, would come loping in, and look groggily up at the owner. The owner would say, “Don’t look at me, Gus, I didn’t call you.” And then Gus, who to his dying day never dreamed that birds could talk, would–after I gave him a sympathetic head pat or two–lope lazily back into the storage room. At which point, Pretty Boy would guffaw “Ah-hah-hah-hah-hah!” till the cows (and other gullible species) came home.
No one will ever convince me that bird didn’t know exactly what he was doing. And so did I when I spent time with Pretty Boy, Gus…
And Dad.
I love the Pretty Boy story!
🧡
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Mina birds are a hoot! One of my high school friends had one, and it could mimic her mother’s voice and accent to perfection. It could also swear like a sailor. Visiting her house was always a fun experience.
;>)
Great vignette.
Thanks, Christopher.
Mitch, I could read your parents’ biblical guidance, “Train up a boy from infancy….” Seen in the man you have become.
Enjoy this post, pretty boy! 🙂
Have a great day.
Thank you, Anonymous friend.
Very much enjoyed this story from those days you shared with your dad and Pretty Boy all the more because we had a parakeet with the same name who would ride around on my head or shoulder.
Awww!
how are you today
Hello, you have such an incredible presence and your profile is truly beautiful.
I thoroughly enjoy reading about all your childhood experiences, Mitch. 🗞🐕🦜❤️
That’s lovely, spending time with your dad that way. I love your childhood memories. Thank you for sharing them
My pleasure.
Thanks for the laugh, Mitch! Years ago, I had a nursing colleague who had an African Grey Parrot for a pet. That bird mimicked the telephone and doorbell rings exactly and would do a laugh each time she’d run to the door or the phone. To this day, I believe the bird trained her for its amusement.
;>) Humans are amusing creatures.
I tend to forget how much has changed, until I read a piece of nostalgia like this. Quirky little shops and eateries make such unique childhood memories. Thanks for the detour down Memory Lane.
My pleasure, Annie. 🧡
My town also had a ‘store bird” when I was a kid – a talkative mynah. He was somewhat hidden at first. and he’d start out with a wolf whistle, then a ‘Hello, Cutie- how about a kiss!’. . . It freaked me out the first time – ”Who said that !’ . . But clever of the shop owner to park his bird there, because it would draw people in – new potential customers.
;>)
My great uncle was a member of the Audubon society. He would capture and tag birds for research. He has a mynah bird too. It would always welcome us and then say random things, which I can no longer remember. His name was Joe. You help me remember so many childhood memories.
There was some store my parents and I visited as a kid that had a bird that we could interact with.
I don’t comment here very often, so if you don’t mind, just click the link and send me a message on Telegram. I’d be happy to hear from you there.https://t.me/lindsayvonn3
Somehow I envision the bird scene as a vignette from The Andy Griffith show—kind of a running gag with Floyd behind the counter. LOL
Mitch, I always find myself riveted with everything you write! My self-dialogue goes something like this: “And then what? And……..then what?” LOL I see that a lot of people have commented on Pretty Boy and Gus – however, guess what I was thinking? It must have been so amazing to live in California with no snow! LOL Believe me, I realize that has utterly nothing to do with your post, Mitch! Cher xoxoxo