The 4 Hour Struggle

Entrepreneurial Philosophy by Matt Aaron

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Being around the water

A short story excerpt from Hollywood Animal: A Memoir by Joe Eszterhas.

The Pool Man

Henry took care of our swimming pool at the Malibu Colony. He was sixty-nine years old and lived in the Valley: I knew all the big stars when I was about seventeen, eighteen. Cary Grant came into the house once and the first thing he said was, “It’s very nice to see you, Henry.”

He was really looking at me. I was a good-looking kid. They’d all come to the house to see my dad. He was at Paramount then. He’d been at RKO before then and later on went to Columbia. I went to Beverly Hills High School where I was a really shitty student.

I spent all my time in the pool at home and we also had a place out in Malibu so whenever I wasn’t in the pool I was out at the beach, riding the waves and getting a tan. Man, I had a great tan but that wasn’t what I really cared about.

Of Life and Death

On Mapping Happenings

Everybody is writing or talking about Robin Williams, and his unexpected suicide. Yes, indeed, he will be missed by me and most of the world. He was one of the few actors where I enjoyed every movie and TV series he was involved with. As a comedian, he was peerless. I won't go into the mental hell we call clinical depression. No. This has given me pause to reflect. What I want to talk about here are all the other artists and others that have left this side of life and have made a huge impression on me.

Most recently was Patrick "the Lama" Lundborg, a man in Sweden who had become a good correspondent, as we discussed our common passion for music. Like me, he was a record collector. We traded some and I purchased some from his Renaissance Faire site. Unlike me he had acquired a vast knowledge not only of obscure and rare vanity pressings of psychedelic, lounge, exotica, and unusual artists of the 60s through the early 80s, but wrote/edited the authority on these recordings, "The Acid Archives". He followed this with a huge tome, "Psychedelia: An Ancient Culture, A Modern Way of Life" which I am still reading, and trying to absorb. The book is like a textbook for a course in psychedelic anthropology, yet his writing style keeps you reading. He also maintained a fun and multifaceted set of websites under the title "Lysergia". In the five years I knew him I learned more about interesting music than in the 50 years prior. I had emailed Patrick on May 31st. He usually would get back to me within 24 hours. No response this time. On June 12, while checking personal email before leaving for work, I received an email from another party saying Patrick had died the day before. I was stunned. At first I couldn't believe it. I searched for more information and it began to trickle in. It was true; at age 47 Patrick was gone. No cause was given. Like Robin Williams, Patrick left several projects ongoing. He was so full of life. Still there is no word on what happened.

Brother Love, of WAMO FM, Pittsburgh, was one of the first DJs in the country to try the new "underground music" format in the mid-60s. His cool, beatnik whispering style enhanced the psychedelic music format, which also included obscure composers such as Conlon Nancarrow and blues, jazz, and anti Vietnam War and anti establishment folk and rock music. As a teenager I was mesmerized by this new alternative to the "bubble gums" on top 40 AM radio. I never knew Brother Love's real name until moving to San Diego and learning that Ken Reeth was living in Carlsbad. I introduced myself and we had a great series of conversations about late 60s Pittsburgh. We emailed through his move to Las Vegas, and then the correspondence stopped. I learned later Ken had passed due to a long battle with leukemia.

Holding down the weekend afternoon "underground radio" shift on WAMO FM was none other than veteran doo wop DJ and Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Famer, Porky Chedwick. Porky passed away this past Spring at the young age of 96. I never realized until reading after his passing that Porky hated the underground format, yet he sounded so convincing as he spun pro-pot and acid songs. The ultimate professional.

Don "Stu" Archer, aka "Yogi", was a fellow classmate from fifth grade through high school graduation. We both began playing guitar about the same time, but he took lessons from another instructor. I have to admit that he progressed faster than me, but he was learning shortcuts to heavy guitar riffs where I was learning a more traditional method, reading music. A friend told me he considered Yogi to be the Captain Beefheart musically to my Frank Zappa characteristics. He made a profession of music performance and later taught music. We had not spoken to each other since the summer after my freshman year in college. I remember we talked that summer about philosophy and I noted the depth of his thinking although he had taken no college classes. 20 years later I finally was going to a high school class reunion, looking forward to catching up with Yogi. Then, two months before the reunion he was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor and was dead within weeks. I blame myself for not trying to get in touch sooner, since I knew where he was but he had no way to contact me.

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