That 70’s Thing

Not that it matters, but I’m not terribly happy to have the month of March come marching in. You see, that particular month has a particular day that always ages me when I see it. It’s my birthday. And this one is a biggie, moving me into yet another category of “old.” Whoo, boy.

Don’t worry – I’m not going to whine about getting older. I’m only going to quote the late comedian Joe E. Louis, who famously said, “If I’d known I was going to live this long, I’d have taken better care of myself.” That pretty much says it all. Since I retired a few years ago, I’ve seen more doctors for more things than I did in the entire 40 or so years I was working. I’m not complaining – seeing doctors is just what you have to do as you age – to give yourself the best shot at getting older.

But it’s sobering, this getting old. As I’ve aged, I’ve noticed I’m slowing down in some areas and losing interest in others. In fact, about the only thing I can still do as well as I used to – is fantasize. No, not about THAT – I’m talking fantasizing about travel, or about gaining untold riches. Stuff like that.

And I had a really crazy fantasy recently. In this one, I was walking around the downtown park in the Central Coast town where we now live when The Guy I Used To Be drove up. He looked about 25 years old, maybe 150 pounds, with longish light-brown hair, a mustache and gold-rimmed glasses. He was driving the same bright blue ’71 Pinto I’d bought new at that Madera car dealership. My Bank of America student loan had helped pay for it, and I think that beauty cost all of $1900.

The Guy I Used To Be was outfitted the way I used to dress: long-sleeve pinstriped shirt, wide paisley tie, and garish plaid pants. “Looking good,” I told young Dennis, and I meant it. He invited me to jump into that Pinto bombshell and take a ride back to the past. “What the heck,” I thought. Sounded like a blast.

Sure enough, we soon found ourselves back in the Fresno of my youth. The Guy I Used To Be drove down Fulton Street, and there they were again – all those great department stores I remember from all those decades ago. There was the old Montgomery Ward’s at Fulton and Merced. Down the street a block, Roos/Atkins still stood tall, and catty-corner from that was the lovely Guarantee Savings skyscraper. We drove farther south on Fulton and, at Mariposa, there it was – the Pacific Southwest skyscraper towered over the entire downtown.

Man, we were cruising! And a block later, we hit the Tulare intersection with that impressive Bank of America skyscraper on one corner, Penney’s on another, Harry Coffee’s stylish men’s clothing store on the third corner and a giant Longs Drugs on the fourth.

As we drove, The Guy I Used To Be kept up a steady stream of patter. “I know this town like the back of my hand,” young Dennis reminded me. “When I was a kid, Mom brought me down here all the time, and I fell in love with downtown. I looked forward to going into the stores with her, and loved being one of the first to ride that scary escalator that Penney’s put it. It was the first escalator in the Valley, and no one had ever seen stairs moving.”

We turned east on Tulare and drove past Hart’s Restaurant. Way back when, it likely was the most famous eating place downtown, and unfortunately, those Harts were not our Harts. “When I was in college,” The Guy I Used To Be reminded me, “I used to come by Hart’s at night and pick up the late edition of that day’s San Francisco Chronicle. That was the only place you could get the late edition, the one with all the late sports scores.”

We whizzed through the green light at Van Ness and looked at the “new,” ugly courthouse that had replaced the lovely domed courthouse that had been built in the 1890’s. That old beauty had been torn down in the 1960’s after “experts” said the dome was too fragile to survive an earthquake. “So, Pops” young Dennis asked, “Do you remember what happened once the new, ugly building was finished?” Of course I did. It took the demolition crew more than a day to bring that “unsafe” old dome down because it was so incredibly well-built.

We veered north on N Street and stopped at the old City Hall, where the council happened to be in session. “Let’s take a look,” said The Guy Who Used To Be Me. “They all know me here, because I cover the council for Channel 30.” As if I needed to be reminded that The Guy I Used To Be was the youngest TV reporter in Fresno, and that he often covered the council and police beats.

And sure enough, there was the council, in session on the second floor. Mayor Ted “Bow Tie” Wills was regally presiding, and there were other familiar faces – including the council member who soon would be indicted on bribery and conspiracy charges. Young Dennis covered both of that councilman’s trials.

We jumped back into the Pinto and sped to Tulare and R streets, where the Old Fresno Hofbrau stood. “I spend lots of Friday nights there, with the other guys from Channel 30,” he said. “We drink beer, eat the best corn beef sandwiches in town, and boast about how we beat the pants off Channel 24’s news guys. 24’s guys never come here – they know this is OUR place.” Yeah. I remember. Oh, do I remember those Friday nights.

It was getting late. “Gotta drop you off and get to work,” said young Dennis. He stopped at the Greyhound on H Street. “I know you can find your way back to Paso Robles,” he said. “So long, Pops.” As his gleaming Pinto vanished in the distance, I suddenly realized that every department store and bank and restaurant we had seen is long gone – all of them – and that virtually everyone we had seen at City Hall is also long gone. Of course, so is The Guy I Used To Be.
***

Whoa! Is that some wild dream, or what? Well, maybe my fantasizing is getting more elaborate, even as my motor skills are somewhat eroding. In any case, my time is Marching on – and as the great novelist Wallace Stegner memorably said, “If you’re going to get old, you might as well get as old as you can get.” I’m trying, Steggie, I’m trying. And I hope you are, too. Happy birthday to everyone born – not just in March, but in April or May or any of those other months. And may your fantasies be as rich in detail as mine are, and in Living Color, as well.