Dear Present Lincoln,
I’m sorry I forgot to
wish you a happy birthday the other day. But as you know, life sometimes gets
in the way of best intentions. Let me first say that you look pretty good for
your age which was 211 this week.
In recent years, people
have put your years in office under a microscope with a 21st century bias and
that’s not fair. You did things you believed in. And you were a
politician who needed to kind of sidle up to the so-called Loyal Opposition
when you did things like freeing slaves which made some citizens consider you
the enemy.
But we mid 20th Century
types have a completely different take on who you were and what you stood for
-- and against.
Before the advent of the
fake national holiday, Presidents Day, we in the real United States had a
holiday directed directly named for you. And we celebrated it the way all
real Americans celebrate, with flag-waving and its real world equivalent,
sales.
People -- especially
academics -- remember you for that seven minute speech you gave at the
otherwise unimportant town of Gettysburg. It was pretty good, and this was in
the age before speech writers and political scientists and other party hacks
existed in the number they do today. All your own work? Probably.
Meantime, back in
Commack, Long Island, we S. Klein slavvies were ready for the onslaught of
customers on 2/12. We weren’t in a Confederate state, so Lincoln’s birthday
celebrated a heroic figure … with big discounts.
The “normal” pace for
live public address announcements was one every 15 minutes. Not this day.
Every five or ten minutes.
Can’t write and deliver
a credible commercial in that short a time. What would help? A
typewriter. Could one be borrowed from
Tony, the small appliance manager? No chance, At least not without the approval
of someone higher in the food chain.
Starting at the bottom,
the hardgoods manager and no luck. C’mon, guys, you want fresh announcements
every five minutes? Give me the tools. Okay, next step up the corporate
manager, the store manager.
“No way, handwrite the
stuff.” Finally the “managing director,” a fan and a friend -- sort of.
Tony the small appliance manager delivered it to the “broadcaster’s closet”
personally.
“Don’t give this back to
me,” he said. “Give it to the big shots.”
Pounded out copy as if
it were the end of the world. World War III. And the powers that be liked that
it seemed to work. Tony Small Appliances got his damned typewriter back
at closing time. The announcer was a
hero. The store exceeded estimates by a huge percentage. We all went
across the highway to Kelly’s Bar and celebrated with the Cro-Magnon members of
the Eastern Hockey League Long Island Ducks who won a game against … someone …
at the Long Island Arena -- which was a Quonset hut … about half a mile
away.
Lincoln was a hero. But
not as big a hero as Irwin, who masterminded this sale of sales. Tony who
provided the typewriter
I’m Wes Richards. My
opinions are my own but you’re welcome to them. ®
Comments? Send ‘em
here: wesrichards@gmail.com
© WJR 2020
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