Essay: Meeting The Boss

I first heard about Bruce Springsteen in 1974, when I was a freshman at Providence College. Eddie, a friend of my boyfriend Don, had a copy of "Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J." He played it nonstop. I liked the sound of it, but not enough to buy the album.

Then, in 1977, “Born to Run” catapulted Springsteen to fame. I eagerly anticipated getting my hands on the record. I shared the enthusiasm for the title track with everyone I knew, but it was “Thunder Road” that resonated with me. The lyrics, “You ain’t a beauty but hey, you’re alright…,” struck a chord with me. I was in the process of recovering from the cystic acne that had plagued me throughout high school. The song filled me with emotion.

Now that everyone knew his name, it was hard to believe The Boss was coming to PC! Yes, he was going to play in the gym! I skipped philosophy class to stand in line for tickets. The concert was everything I hoped for—and probably more, in such an intimate setting. 

In early 1980, my sister Maggie and I were at Gulliver’s night club, in Smithfield, Rhode Island, to hear a band we liked. Beaver Brown had a Springsteen-like sound, right down to their saxophone player. One of their roadies casually mentioned to us that The Boss was probably going to be on stage with Beaver Brown when they played at The Fast Lane in Asbury Park the next weekend. “You probably could meet him,” he said with a shrug.

We looked at each other. We had to go.

We were 23 and 19, so why not? We hopped into my gold Ford Maverick and headed for Jersey. Unfortunately, I went right by the exit for Asbury Park and in my panic caused a fender bender involving three vehicles. I was cited.

A little shaky but unhurt, we drove on to our slightly seedy hotel. That night, we headed out for 

The Fast Lane. It was packed. We pushed our way to the front. Beaver Brown was as rousing as always, and as the night wore on, the crowd revved up. Then, suddenly, there was a roar of excitement. The Boss was here!

He grabbed a mic and the band segued into “Rosalita.” Maggie and I were dancing with the crowd. Yes! The moment we had been waiting for. Hoping for. Bruce Springsteen, right in front of us.

The show was over. The club emptied out. We lingered, unsure. Then our friend the roadie, waved at us and pointed for us to stay put. We looked at each. Was this happening?

It was. There was Bruce Springsteen, coming toward us. “Hey, thanks for coming,” he said. He ducked his head. The Boss was shy? My world tilted. “Where’re you from?”

 

“Massachusetts,” we said in creaky unison.

“All that way.” 

We nodded. If either of us said anything more, it is lost to history.

Should we have asked for an autograph? A photo together? Speaking for myself, I’m just glad I didn’t faint.

We were still in a daze on the drive home. Springsteen on stage right in front of us would have been enough. But he spoke to us. He saw us.

On the way we stopped at a phone booth and called our parents. Dad answered. We did it. We met him. Heading back now. I did not mention the accident. Dad was going to give me an earful when I got back so there was time enough for that.

At home, reality set in. The car was barely damaged and only required a minor repair. I returned to building my career as a freelancer, writing articles for the Fall River Herald News and my hometown weekly, The Spectator.

Mail from New Jersey arrived. I was going to have to appear in court. 

Then, tragedy struck. My father had a massive heart attack at age 50, alone, on his way to work. In his wallet, he had a clipping of one of my newspaper stories. Apparently Dad showed it to people as he made his rounds selling Arnold Bread. I cried when one of his friends told me how proud he was of me.

After the funeral, I called the court in New Jersey and requested a delay in my appearance. To my relief, they dropped the case.

Life went on, though I miss my Dad every day. I never got to see Springsteen in person again, but I remain a true fan. He gave me a story that I would cherish for years to come. And a sweet memory that flashes before my eyes every time I hear the opening chords of “Rosalita."

_______

 I welcome email at lizzie621@icloud.com

Review: "The Killer Question," Janice Hallett

Can a top-notch mystery be crafted entirely through text messages, emails, police transcripts, and other documents? Janice Hallett has achieved this before, and I’m delighted to say she’s done it again. While the format may not appeal to everyone, I adore it.

Sue and Mal Eastwood are attempting to run The Case is Altered, a country pub in Hertfordshire. They have a vibrant group of regulars who attend Trivia Night regularly, and Mal takes great pride in creating his own questions.

Personalities are abundant. The group that wins the most is “The Plucky Losers,” led by the talkative and determined Chris. The “Spokespersons” cycle to the pub. The millennials of “Ami’s Magic Carrots” represent one end of the generational spectrum, while the boomers of “Let’s Get Quizzical” provide the other. Initially, “Bob and Linda and Friends” are just—Bob and Linda.

Texts flow between Sue and Mal and among the trivia players, as well as the landlords of the five pubs owned by Ye Olde Goat Brewing Ltd. They are all vivid characters, reflecting the themes of their pubs, from The Brace of Pheasants to The Rainbow.

The landlords quickly report to each other about a random group of ne’er-do-wells moving from pub to pub. When “The Cheats” appear at The Case is Altered, Mal throws them out.

But soon there’s another problem. Well, actually two. First, a group called “The Shadow Knights” arrives, and they are unbeatable. Chris is beside himself, and the other regulars are not pleased. Mal is conflicted—he enjoys the challenge the group presents, but he knows he must do something to ease the frustration of the other trivia players.

Before he resolves that issue, a body is discovered in the river at the end of the lane, just yards from the pub.

It’s a member of “The Cheats.”

As the police investigation unfolds, the landlords prepare for the brewery group’s Annual General Meeting. They decide that, afterward, the landlords—dressed in costumes reflecting their pubs’ motifs—and the brewery admin will join Trivia Night at The Case is Altered. Peter, the dry and reserved ex-military landlord of The Lusty Lass, has uncovered “The Shadow Knights’” secret. Dressed in drag, he is ready to reveal all.

Chaos ensues.

The Killer Question is captivating, engrossing, witty and, at times, laugh-out-loud funny. Sue and Mal have a secret history, one that is gradually revealed. Naturally, the past is intricately linked to the present. As the conclusion nears, there’s one clever twist followed by a spectacular one. The storylines converge into a satisfying ending. And yet—this is one of those books that I truly didn’t want to end.

It was that good. 

Review: "The Killing Stones," Ann Cleeves

It is good to see Jimmy Perez back, even if he is in the Orkney Islands rather than Shetland.

Cleeves had said Wild Fire would be the last book in the popular series. But after a visit to the Orkneys—which lie off the coast of Scotland—where she’d sent Jimmy and his partner, Willow, to live, Cleeves thought she’d like to check in with the characters again.

Jimmy and Willow are thriving. They now have a four-year-old, James, and Willow is expecting. They’re enjoying their new lives on the Orkneys main island and looking forward to celebrating Christmas together.

But tragedy strikes when Jimmy’s good friend, Archie Stout, goes missing. Jimmy heads out to Westray Island, where Archie and his family lived, to look for him. He finds Archie dead—murdered; and the weapon is a Neolithic “story stone,“ stolen from the island’s heritage center.

Archie was a bigger than life character. Maybe he could be abrasive at times, but who would want to kill him? Jimmy quizzes Annie and Bill, landlords of the Pierowall Hotel. There had only been a few outsiders on Westray recently, including Godfrey Landsdown, a quiet naturalist, and the Johnsons, a married couple. He’s a professor and a minor celebrity, due to his television presentations on the history of the island.

Then there’s George Riley, a flamboyant but dedicated history teacher at the grammar school on the mainland (as the main island is known), which all the older Orkney children attended. He was on Westray as well when Archie went missing.

Another person of interest is the jewelry maker, Rosalie Greeman. Archie was besotted with this island newcomer. And it wasn’t his first romantic entanglement outside of his marriage.

Willow is Jimmy’s boss, and she shares the investigation. I wasn’t happy when Jimmy got involved with her, but she has grown on me and the two work well together. As they dig deeper into the lives of the Stouts, other islanders and the visitors, an undercurrent is thrumming. On Christmas Day, a mass football game called The Ba’ is a major, all-consuming event on the mainland. Even a murder can’t detract from the momentum that is building.

Crowds descend on Kirkwall, Orkney’s main town, to watch the “uppies” (from the upper end of the mainland) face off against the “doonies” (from the lower end and other islands). The competition explodes into the streets—merchants and residents board up their windows to prevent damage. Confusion reigns.

Amid this fever-pitch excitement, Jimmy and Willow let the game play out—and then arrest Archie’s murderer.

Ann Cleeves writes well-plotted cozy mysteries with intelligence and emotion. Her settings are always fascinating and dramatic, populated by interesting characters. They are as warm as a Fair Isle sweater. I did feel that the resolution of The Killing Stones came as too much of a surprise. Other than that, this was a first-rate outing to a place that, as I now know, is as wild, historic and appealing as Shetland. 

Review: "The Wasp Trap," Mark Edwards

Six friends, who haven’t seen each other for more than 20 years, have gathered at a posh Notting Hill home to mark the passing of their mentor, Sebastian Marlowe.

It doesn’t take long for their pasts to catch up with them.

Professor Marlowe had hired the group of smart postgraduates in 1999, to help him create an online dating site. Now Theo, a successful businessman, and his wife, Georgina, who teaches yoga, are married. They’re hosting this London reunion/celebration of life.

Will, the narrator, is a struggling writer. He was the “wordsmith” of the group and came up with the site’s clever name: Butterfly.net. Sophie, now a jewelry maker, contributed creative ideas, while Lily is still an uber-techie. Rohan was also business-oriented, but seemed to spend a lot of time watching footie with Sebastian’s nephew, Dominic.

The gathering is mildly uncomfortable from the get-go, but then things really go south. The group has been trapped in the house and their lives are on the line. One of them has a secret that must be revealed to save all their lives—but no one’s talking.

At least at first. In flashbacks to 1999, when they were all working at Marlowe’s country estate, gradually each member of the group reveals something that the rest don’t know. Despite the confessions, the tension ratchets up and blood is shed—before the final, devastating secret becomes known.

The Wasp Trap is a taut psychological thriller with compelling characters and an intriguing plot. Tech infuses the narrative—it is the reason the group got together and the reason they are trapped. Lily developed a test for psychopaths back in the day, which had major repercussions. Now she’s created a lie detector test. Will that save the day for the friends? It looks like it will—until it doesn’t.

At times, The Wasp Trap seemed just a little implausible. But then there was another twist, and I really didn’t care. I was too busy turning the page.