It is with great pleasure that I present the first Bohemian Club of Crockett Award to my Man in Irving…….Mr. Spooky Noodles!
Mr. Noodles refuses to give up his Bohemian Lifestyle, no matter how much he has suffered at the hands of his family, and society at large. Just today, he lay on me a fantastic scheme where he purchases an old boat in Sausalito for one dollar, and has it towed to Crockett where it will be secretly moored. He thinks he can borrow electricity from a Southern Pacific signal light, and lay his fecal matter along the tracks. Brilliant!
Living the Free Life is the goal of all Good Bohemians. Spooky says he might be able to get some free Wi-Fi while the Amtrak train in in the station. That’s just enough time to send off a Twitter of two.
This award is a prototype. It will soon have an illustration of Victor Presco kicking his father’s remains off a peer into the bay, after he wrapped Hugo Victor Presco, in rusty chains. After a collection was made to bury Hugo by his 5,000 friends, my father disposed of the cardboard box required to bury Hugo in, and went looking for some old chain. To hell if he was going to pay $500 dollars for a hole in the ground. Having been in the Merchant Marines, he and his Socialist Captain had thrown several men overboard after working them to death, or, they did poorly in the boxing ring roped off on deck.
“Never give a sucker a decent burial if you can help it!” Captain Vic told his wife, who was not invited to the thee day binge down at Oscar’s Bar and Grill on Lakeshore in Oakland.
Mark and I were not notified of Hugo’s passing because we had grown leery of our father. We had seen murder in his eyes – more than once! We knew he had it out for his Dad. We feared there was a link of rusty chain being stowed away somewhere – just for us!
Here’s Captain Vic about to board one of his Chris-Craft boats docked in Martinez a couple of miles west of Crockett. He owned Acme Produce that was located in an old Victorian warehouse in Jack London Square. Vic emulated Jack, who was a member of the Bohemian Club in SF, and London’s character, Wolf Larsen. Jack hung out with Bohemian Journalists, and his words appeared in their papers.
The Souza brothers, John Souza, Frank Souza, Mac Souza, Jim Souza, Carl Souza, Tony Souza and Clyde Souza, enjoyed their mournful windfall, and bought extra Christmas toys for their Children. Vic had lost his father – Oh boo-hoo! Captian Vic was very generous to all the barflies who recited their best poerty and tales of woe in an attempt to cheer him up. Spread the Wealth Presco was like a member of the Souza family. Good cheer was had by all. Vic might have invented the corpseless Bohemian Wake.
Meanwhile, at our real home, Rosemary put together a meal of sauerkraut and old potatoes that had taken root in our built-in cooler on San Sebastian. It had screens for shelves, and drilled holes to let in the cold outside air. The only time we ate well, was when we went to Melba’s house in Roseville.
The Souzas fed Vic – like a lion! They ran Oscar’s during the 1940s and 1950s. It was in business from 1945 until about 1984. Love that kidney-shaped table. After delivering produce all day, Vic parked his Ford flatbed in front of Oscars, and went inside leaving his two sons in the truck shivering, sometimes – for hours! One son’s artwork would tour the world twice in a Red Cross. It’s a fucking lie Vic’s daughter hid in a closet and drew by flashlight.
Sometimes Vic would not pay the electrical bill and his children and wife would eat in the dark – while the Souza’s are serving their adopted brother a bloody rare steak bathed in moody bar lights! Vic also had a special tool for turning the water back on. It was forged down in his bar-buddies shop. He kept a couple of spares in his trunk, just in case. You could purchase one for twenty bucks, and it would last a life time. My alleged father paid off at least one Souza mortage.
“No asshole turns off my water – and gets away with it!”
President: Royal Rosamond Press Co.