Trad Noir

I have an old friend who writes crime fiction. He also works for a newspaper. And he doesn't know a 7.62mm from a 5.56mm but he's a much better writer than I am. For years Wally has turned me onto some great books and some strange music. I'll save the music for another time but check his blog out here http://www.wallacestrobycom.blogspot.com/.

This book is outta print. Published in 1967, I can just see Trad Dad reading this in the Team House bunker as he sips at his can of Ballantine and flicks the ash off a hot boxed Marlboro.

In addition to being a brilliant writer...Wally or Wild East as he is known in some circles, really knows writers. He's interviewed lots of living ones and knows everything there is to know about a lot of dead ones. You could say it's his passion. He'll send me an interview on tape with a writer and the writer's new book. I call this "Wally Mail."

I thought it made sense to share this recommendation from Wally. It has one of those opening lines that grabs you right in the button fly area of your plain front khakis.

"Parker spent two weeks on the white sand beach at Biloxi, and on a white sandy bitch named Belle, but he was restless, and one day without thinking about it he checked out and sent a forwarding address to Handy McKay and moved on to New Orleans."

I spent four weeks in Biloxi and would have killed for a white sandy bitch but I sure as hell never thought of putting one in a sentence. Not like that one.

-30-

Trad Memorial Day

Two great views. One outside and one inside.

The outside view: What's that old saying? Oh, yeah. "What do you call two boats on the water? A race." So, we had a race over the weekend. Lots of tacking and scrambling around on the deck. A beer. Sit on the bow. A beer. The captain thought beer kept his crew from getting nervous. Hence, the offer for a beer was stated as, "You nervous?" I answer, "Uh, yeah." And suddenly there's a cold beer in your hand. Lots to be nervous about in a boat race.

The inside view: That's the club house. They call it a Yacht Club but who's kidding who. We amble to the bar. And just as I'm ready to order another "nervous" I see a six pack of Barritts Ginger Beer. "Holy Crud!" I lean over to the bartender. "You have any Goslings Black Seal Rum?" He holds his arms out like he's Jesus and says, "Of course. Although some people like the Barritts with Mt Gay Rum." I reply, "They're philistines." We had a number of Dark & Stormies (Barrits and Goslings with lime). We won our class. And I calmed down.

Trad Art

The very best Trad Art is - - Well, I once heard it perfectly described as, "It don't cost nothin'. " Yes, indeed. That would mean a friend or family member did it. By did it - - I don't mean they bought it. I mean they made it. We start with my Trad Dad and his oil painting with firecrackers. Brilliant.

I watched him as he did the painting above and numerous others. He'd take a long string of firecrackers and squeeze tubes of different color paint down the length. Tack the firecrackers under the seat of an old bar stool. Prop the canvas in front of it. Throw an old piece of carpet over the whole production. Reach under the carpet with his Ronson cigarette lighter that was engraved with, "Fuck Communism" (long story) and light the fuse. And there it is. Not bad at all.

When I lived in Chicago, I could've thrown a shoe out of my apartment window and hit 22 bars and restaurants that would've have paid a fortune for this. Or, I could have had an open tab for a month. Same thing. I'm not sure if I have it right side up. I'd ask my Dad but I don't think he knows either.

Trad Orange & Green

Summer is about color. So is Fall, Winter and Spring but this is when you can knock it out of the park. Which reminds me...I work in sales and every manager I've ever had (except for a woman) used horrible sport metaphors (like, knock it out of the park) in order to motivate me so I could pay their mortgage. I'm not going there today. Maybe some other time.

I love Orange and Green. I must admit, I never gave it much thought until I saw, "The Tall Guy." Emma Thompson (hubba - hubba) played a nurse who was in a relationship with Jeff Goldblum. I think I speak for every woman in the world (or those whom I've dated), that Jeff is a creepy guy. Maybe. But I liked him in this off beat British comedy. Any screen writer who manages to insert a musical based on the Elephant Man is a genius in my book.

So, Emma tells Jeff on his first visit to her place, that her favourite colours are Orange and Green. You know, in that wonderful, clipped accent of hers. And then they have wild sex. That scene alone is worth the purchase of this movie. As I watch them having wild sex...I thought about the colors of Orange and Green. I think about colors at church. In meetings. Stuck in traffic. Anytime I'm really bored. Not that I was bored with the sex scene. It's pretty easy to follow.

Next comes the clothes hunt. Long story short... I have three orange shirts (two stripes and one check) and half a dozen green ties. What can I say, The Tall Guy was a long time ago. I bring this up for one major reason. Pink and Green. It's such a cliche now. Like owning a Lab and a Jeep in Lake Forest. Try out Orange and Green. Goes great with a Blue Blazer and khakis...even better, with white ducks and white (banged up) bucks. I'm not a big fan of the pocket square but if you are...leave it at home. This speaks pretty loudly. No reason to fop it up.

God, Crab & Montrachet

Crab cakes and white wine. How's that for not burying the lead? But the details are very important. It must be the right crab. And that is becoming an issue. Fresh and hand picked, Jumbo Lump is getting expensive. But once you've tasted it - - nothing else will do. $32 a pound. If you can find it. Not as good as it was but better than it will be. NAG-AIW-BBT-IWB (TM).

Just a few years ago the season for crab (now) was met with these beautiful, clear containers nestled in chunks of ice. Oh, what a site they were. Some Old Bay Crab seasoning and a little mayo and you had a ticket to Nirvana. But it gets better.

Chassagne Montrachet figures into this in a big way. A white Burgundy that must have been created by God to pair with crab cakes. "Okay, I just created the crab." God wipes his hands. "Now, is'a time (I always think of God as an Italian) for the perfect a'wine to go with them." Poof! Chassagne Montrachet. God takes a bite of crab cake, "Oooo, thas'a nice. Nutty, clean, I taste'a the sea." God swirls his wine glass - - sniffs and takes a sip. "Oh, my God! Wait a minute. I am'a God." God takes another sip. This one is a little longer. God sighs and says, "Damn, I'm a good."

Chalk up another one for God.

We live in a world of entitlement. Every once in a while God slaps me upside my head and I remember to be grateful. Granted, this ain't cheap grateful. All in, we're talking a hundred bucks or so. But if you've lived in Nebraska your whole life...you probably don't know what I'm talking about. God would be upset about that.

Pickers, the people who do the very hard work of picking crabs have always been hard to find. They're getting even harder to find. Gas, which is getting more expensive, keeps fisherman from fishing. If you're not grateful now for this experience - - you will be in a year or two- - 'cause it may be gone. Pasteurized crab from Vietnam and Thailand will be our options. And God will not like that one'a bit.

Ralph Lauren and the US Army

I came across these shorts in Florida. Now, I don't want to beat a dead horse but what is happening at Polo? I love their Madras shorts. I'm the proud owner of three Purple Label suits. If it wasn't for Polo a lot of wonderful Trad clothing would disappear. However, what is their obsession with Military inspired clothing during a war? Some designer has decided to take The Old Guard patch and sew it on the posterior of a pair of "Emergency Sustenance" shorts.

Who is the Old Guard? Ever see the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier? That's the Old Guard. The Old Guard buried my Grandfather at Arlington National Cemetery. Is this some one's idea of a joke? I'm a pretty liberal guy. Never voted Republican. Hell, I've worked on two Democratic campaigns but I'm not taking this crap anymore.

I have to assume since the people who serve in the military would never wind up a designer at Polo that some idiot did this while flipping through a book of unit patches and thought, "Wow, cool patch."

It's not just Polo. Someone out there saw the XVIII Airborne Corps unit patch and decided that it looked cool. They've sewn it on the right shoulder of a "puffer" coat. A unit patch on the right shoulder has some pretty heady meaning in the Army. It's the unit you served in combat with. I saw this coat at the corner of 57th Street and 2nd Avenue a couple months ago. I was with the girlfriend when I approached the young man wearing my old unit patch to ask him when he was in XVIII Airborne Corps. The girlfriend tugs at my arm and says, "Please don't." I replied, "What?" She says, "I know what you're going to do and I beg you...please don't. Not here."

So I didn't. But I'm gonna start. Fair warning to those of you who wear this shit.

The Trad Woman

C.Z. Guest circa 1956. Man- O- Manischewitz. No dyed hair and nail extensions here.

Years ago in Manhattan (I should rename this blog, Remembering the 80's), I was walking with a friend and as we approached the Sherry Netherland Hotel I saw a woman exiting the lobby with the doorman leading and hailing a cab.

We were next to her when the doorman opened the taxi door. I'm pretty sure it was a Checker. Mid 50's in a Chanel suit with a short skirt. Hermes scarf. Her hair was up. Beautiful legs and the same face as C.Z. but just a little older. Walking by, I took off my Ray Ban Aviators, looked her in the eye and said, "I think I'm in love." She smiled at me and said, "I'd break your heart." She got in the cab and as the doorman closed the taxi door he looked at me and laughed...that NY kind of laugh. Like New Yorkers laugh when they see someone slip and fall on ice or fail as a hedge fund manager. You know what it sounds like.

Fast forward a lot of years to the Winterthur Museum in Delaware. I'm in a class on early 19th Century furniture with the "then" wife. She had a thing for the Federal Period. I was always fond of the late 18th Century but that's another story. Has anyone figured out I use a template for writing these posts? No? Anyway, things were not the best between us then despite 13 years of trying and earlier in the day she commented that I would wind up with a wife in her mid to late 20s pushing a baby carriage in Lincoln Park and looking like all those other old farts in their 40's doing the second go around.

In the front of the class are two older women (mid50's) wearing embroidered slippers. One with Napoleon Bees and I can't remember what was on the other pair. The one with the Bees's, a perky blonde with a Bob'ed cut and a starched Brooks Brother's stripe OCBD-- unbuttoned one button too far says, "How will humidity affect the veneer of say, tiger stripe maple in a climate like Palm Beach?"

I leaned over to my then wife and whispered, "Don't sweat the 25 year olds. That..." I pointed to the Bees, "is what you need to worry about."

"The" Trad Catalog

Some months ago I discussed these very catalogs with a senior type from Press. He said they had found tons of them during the recent move from 44th St. I said, "You should gather them all up and publish them in a book. Same size as the catalog. Soft cover. It would sell like crazy." He looked at the floor and shrugged his shoulders. Couldn't be less interested. What was it Butch told Sundance? "I got 20/20 vision and the rest of the world wears bifocals."

These are from a great blog, The Continuous Lean. Go check it out. Some fascinating Charlie Rose interviews with Micky Drexler and Alan Flusser plus other Tradly items and pursuits. Go here: for more images and hi res scans.

Not so Trad visit to Pinehurst

I was visiting the blog of Ms. Bunny Tomerlin when I saw these two images and had a flashback. Not the one you may be thinking -- I never played golf at Pinehurst. I didn't have G&Ts in the bar while wearing a Lilly P blazer. It was... different.

My last year in the Army I had a somewhat cushy job in XVIII Airborne Corps G-2. Still, I was an operations sergeant (E-5) and was in the field a decent amount of time with Warsaw Pact stuff. T-54 Tanks. BTR 60. A BMP. I later learned we were in violation of the Geneva Conventions but that's another story.

I was a short timer on my first enlistment. Had no desire to reup since they wouldn't assign me to the 504th Abn Regiment in Italy for six years... You're probably wondering what in the hell this has to do with Pinehurst and a Lilly P madras blazer. I'm getting there.

I was sent on a recon for location of a training area with all that Warsaw Pact stuff. Two of us are tearing around fire breaks in a jeep around Camp McCall... not paying particular attention to the map when we got lost. Anyone who spent time with me in the Army is not surprised to hear that.

I had the great idea to get off post and to go into Southern Pines and get directions at a gas station. I had a one over fifty thousand map and knew the locals could help. We wound up pulling into the driveway of the Pinehurst Country Club. I told "the" driver to wait and sauntered into the main entrance with my map case. A very nice man at the front desk helped me with my map and re-oriented me. I turned to walk out and saw "the" driver standing in front of the club's Pro Shop scratching his head with one hand while holding his Ranger cap in the other.

The driver points to a Madras Blazer proudly displayed in the shop window and turns to me. "What in the fuck is that, Sergeant T? " "That's a madras sport jacket, Mayne." Mayne was around 6' 3" and towered over me. He was a hunter and fisherman from the Midwest and had I listened to him we would never have gotten lost. "Two questions," Mayne asked, "One, who in the hell would ever wear that? Two, why in the fuck do you know what it is?"

Friends, family, co-workers, an ex-wife, a current girlfriend...they all want to know, "Why in the fuck do you know that?"

Trad Wedding

How often do you see the Stroller anymore? Granted, these look rented but who in their right mind is gonna buy a Stroller? A short morning coat, it was popular for day weddings some time ago. I say that because the last few weddings I've attended have been sartorial train wrecks. Tuxes at noon. Guests wearing dockers and golf shirts with sunglasses on top of their head. In reality, it is "her" day. So you have a good time anyway...and take notes.

Here, the groom was wearing a nice pair of black cap toes while the fellow on your far right wore black cowbow boots. He's a Hollywood screenwriter so go figure. The man on the far left wore a black suede-like running shoe. He's a crime fiction writer. Go figure again. The groom's father wore a beautiful pair of corrected grain paddock boots. Now, corrected grain is usually a big no-no but for this event it was perfect. According to Hardy Amies, he was the only one who nailed it.

Southern Trad

If ever there was an icon of Southern Trad in the 80's it has to be Duck Heads. This unique brand is found only in the southeast. Popular in Georgia, Virginia and The Carolinas. Cheap, good quality and as cool as cool could be. These trousers hit my college campus in the early 80's and raged in popularity until the early 90's when there was a change in company ownership. And sure enough, some smart guy decided customers wouldn't notice the move off shore to Costa Rica, El Salvador and China. The Olive Ducks are circa 1989-90. Notice the detail of the sewing.

Still, what's not to like for $2.98? They retail for $40 but they're always on sale. I found the Breton Reds at a Goody's outlet. Best worn with cuffs and without socks. Blucher's if you have them and a button down oxford with surcingle belt. Grab a red plastic SOLO cup full of cheap beer and you're suddenly 21 again. Like shrimp and grits...they're all about comfort. Even though I always liked 'em starched.

More Brits

Doing what they do best. After work drinks where everyone gets tanked on White Tops followed by a late night Curry. It was after one of these nights of Curry I invented a new product. Butt sized chap stick. It should be sold in all Curry houses. Next to the cash register (till). One time use only. I could make a fortune in London.

Brits

Look at these cheeky bastards, yeah. Right away the stripes give them away. Always have. That and the double breasted suit and the Hermes tie.

These are two gentlemen who work in the "city" with the uniform of banking or insurance. Double cuff shirts are never called French cuff and are preferred for work. Button down shirts are too informal for the city and usually frowned on. Plus, you can't wear them with a DB suit so what's the point, yeah?

The mixing of stripes is popular and the wilder the better. A good friend of mine was asked to leave Lloyd's of London for wearing a Khaki poplin suit. He was told that he wasn't on Safari and to go home and change.

Shoes are usually Monk Strap or Cap Toe with metal taps on the heels. It's a sound I love hearing on the sidewalks near Lime St. Socks are Marks and Sparks. And on POETS day (Piss Off Early Tommorow is Saturday), brokers spill out of the Lamb Pub in Leadenhall Market and take over the sidewalk drinking pints and smoking B&H Golds.

I love it and I love them. Have for some 22 years now. Nothing gives me more enjoyment than to wear a single breasted sack blazer with an oxford cloth button down, a Repp tie with flat front trousers and shell cordovan loafers. But, when in Rome, yeah?

Trad Lunch

Fraunces Tavern is at Pearl and Broad down on Wall Street. I loved this place back in the '80s. The history first attracted me. Washington resigned his commission and said goodbye to his general staff here. The fireplace was always welcome on a cold night. Along with the giant bowl of soft Port Wine Cheese and a plate full of Ritz crackers at the end of the bar.

It was my favorite place to meet a date for drinks before heading uptown for dinner. Artifacts, mostly reproductions, were crammed into the place. The food wasn't that great then but the place had real soul. And dust.

I met management one night thanks to a date of mine. She was an FBI agent and while going to the bathroom her .38 fell out of her waist holster and into the toilet. Lucky for her this happened before. She fished the Smith & Wesson, I think it was the hammerless model ... I'm not sure, out of the toilet and since there were no paper towels, she unloaded it and with the cylinder open, placed the gun under the hand dryer. I think the dryer was manufactured by World Dryer, a future client of mine...I'm not sure.

At about this time I was in the harbor on a boat in one of the worse ice storms the city had seen in years. I was running an hour late....maybe an hour and a half...I'm not sure.

While Jean was drying her side arm another lady walked in. And while I'm not sure of this...I'm almost positive this woman had never been exposed to firearms. Certainly not one being held under a hand dryer in the bathroom of Fraunces Tavern. Which would explain why she screamed so loudly as she ran out.

My date, being the ever prepared agent, was ready for management when they stormed the ladies room by holding her credentials out at arms length in one hand and the .38 in the other - - still under the dryer. Management, some pretty big fellas...I do remember that, laughed and stood by the door until Mr Smith and Mr Wesson were dry.

Upon exiting the ladies, my date and management stood by the fireplace and laughed. This is where I came in ...seeing four big men standing around my date and laughing...I thought, "What in the hell...?" Which is when my date saw me and said loudly, "Where in the fuck have you been?" This caused some more laughs as well as one of my favorite phrases from management, "Drinks are on us."

Today, I come here to remember. Dates with FBI agents. George Washington saying a tearful goodbye to his Army. The fireplace. All good. But that was then.

It's pretty horrible now. Someone took all the reproductions and dust. It seems empty and cold. All the charm lost somewhere between then and now. I like to have lunch here alone and ponder what 23 years can do to a place...and to me.

More Trad Dad

Since my earlier post about my father...and thanks to all who have expressed their concerns about his health...it has occured to me that I keep coming back to him. This is a photograph I grew up with. I was seven or eight when it was taken. This was before he finished the officer's Special Forces selection course. After which he was awarded a full flash (the patch on the beret) and sent off to Vietnam.

I remember when he left. We were at Pope AFB. He kissed my mother and sisters goodbye. He turned to me, pointed a finger at my chest and said, "You screw up once while I'm gone - - I'll come back here and kick your ass. You got that?" I nodded in the affirmative. He turned, threw his duffel bag on his shoulder and walked off to a waiting C130.

As a kid, I walked a fairly straight line. That is, I made every effort not to piss him off. Growing up on Army posts was somewhat unique in that a child's actions were a direct reflection on his father as well as his father's career. As I watch children today running loose in stores, kicking the back of my plane seat from Heathrow to O'Hare, demanding everything from their parents and most recently...video taping the beating of a fellow student...I am reminded of what it was like to grow up with this kind of father. Who could give you that kind of look. Thanks, Dad. If that ain't Trad - - I don't know what is.

The Trad Museum

Some things don't change and thank goodness the Met in NYC has kept this exhibit going. I first saw these guys in the mid 80s and damned if they're not still at the Met. I remember walking into this room for the first time and seeing these four Knights and thinking , "Holy shit. " Probably not what the curator was after but it blew me away. Still does.

Is it Trad? I think it is. I mean it's the Met. And any Trad knows that if this stuff bores you there's always the Wine Bar where you can get a bottle of Claret for $40. That's a pretty good deal for a NYC museum. So sit at the bar, share a bottle of wine with a friend, cross your legs so everyone can see your socks and talk about the fact that none of this stuff would be here if people didn't have sex. You can't get more Trad than that.

The Trad Hotel on the Trad Island

I fell in love with Bermuda on my first visit. It was England...but with sun. The taxi ride from the airport to my hotel in Hamilton was magical. It was a Friday afternoon and all of the traffic was coming toward us. Men on scooters in blue blazers, Bermuda shorts, kneesocks, Rep ties and sunglasses. Quick images of the ocean outside my taxi window framed by flowers and pink houses with electric blue shutters and bone white roofs. The humid breeze was soaked up by my dry, five below zero with the wind chill flesh. This place is so Trad and I haven't even discussed Dark and Stormies yet.

I stayed at the Hamilton Princess. I was on business and it was where everyone else was staying. A nice pool. Horrible food but only idiots and the lazy ate at the hotel. I was introduced to Dark and Stormies at the hotel bar. Barrits Ginger Beer and Goslings Black Seal Rum. With a lime. Somehow this drink manages to taste like Bermuda. I was invited to tea by some locals at Waterloo House. A charming little hotel between the Princess and downtown Hamilton pictured above.

I'm sitting in the courtyard drinking Lapsang Souchong and nibbling McVitties digestive biscuts and wondering why I'm staying at the Princess when I can be staying at Waterloo. I am on expenses. What do I care. And so I started staying at Waterloo when I could. It's small. Only 30 or so rooms and tends to fill up fast. And that's the reason it is to be closed.

"Not as good as it was but better than it will be." Remember that.

Bermuda, God bless her, has managed to keep most Yanks out of her knickers due to some serious employment and real estate laws. But Bermuda has gotten the whiff of money. Insurance money. Quiet and serious stuff. It seems the footprint of the Waterloo is too small for a 30 room hotel. As it is, this charmer sits between multi-storied midrises whose tenants count insurance company money. Waterloo will close this July based on information just passed to me by a good friend. She will be replaced with office space more in line with the value of the land.

I am in mourning. Maybe the best thing about getting older is knowing that everything wonderful will be shit canned by some ass hole with an accounting degree. By the time I'm my father's age nothing will be left. "Not as good as it was but better than it will be." I'm translating that into Latin and putting it on all my Polo shirts.

Trad Sunglasses

So, were having this discussion about Trad Sunglasses over on Ask Andy about Trad. What brand do you like, what model, what you're willing to shell out...Persols and Ray Bans seem to be winning. But is going to a Sunglass Hut and dropping almost $300 anywhere close to Trad?

I found these Giorgio Armani sunglasses in a consignment shop in Chicago. Made in Italy, I'm guessing they're circa 1980 to 1985. Bought 'em for $35. Lenses were in bad shape so I took them to Friedrich's in NYC. They put new lenses in and threw in a super nice blue leather case with buff interior (I love Blue and Buff) for $50 bucks or so.

They go well with a Blue Blazer and a Rep Bow Tie.

The Trad Movie Theatre

The Paris Theatre
Over the weekend I caught the Rolling Stones Docu at the Imax in New York. $16.00 a pop. When my Dad returned from a tour in South Korea, I pestered him to take me to see the Beatle's docu, "Let it Be." Walking out of the theatre he said, "Those guys could shit in a paper bag and people would buy it." I felt the same way about the Stones. I guess I am turning into my father.

The next day I went to the Paris for some contrast. It's a lovely little place tucked between the Plaza Hotel and Berdorf Goodman. Been there for 65 years and has yet to be chopped up into some cash inhaling multi-plex with postage stamp screens, video games and the ever present 16 year old hoovering the carpet. The "Lounge" is downstairs and damned if it ain't a lounge. Plush seating and art decco details everywhere. It really is something from a time long gone. There's even an open balcony. It's civilized and that's Trad.

My Trad Dad

He's on the far left. With the Ballantine can in front of him. Vietnam- circa 1967. A quiet, no bullshit, Green Beret, A Team Leader in the Central Highlands. A fan of movies. Especially, The Wild Bunch. His favorite quote from Pike Bishop, "When you side with a man - - You stay with him. And if you can't do that you're like some kinda animal. You're finished. We're all finished." Abso-fucking-lutly.

He's not really a Trad. You'd never see him in a bow tie. Although, he was fond of short sleeve Madras button downs. Bleeding Madras of course. A Rolex Explorer he purchased in Vietnam for $200. A Randal Attack Survival he gifted me when I joined the Army. Along with a French Foreign Legion Para Jacket. Those Army issue glasses are certainly Trad but this man is hard to label.

A career Army officer, he was also an artist. Two paintings of his are in The Mint Museum of Art in Charlotte, NC. He experimented with oil paint on strings of firecrackers and subscribed to the Evergreen Review.

At 16, I earned my third degree brown belt in Judo. I told him over phone and he told me when he was in a wheel chair he'd be able to kick my ass. Adding, "I'll bite your adams apple out and spit it in your face."

He's very sick now. I love him dearly.