It’s a snow day in New York City and both kids are home from school. The snow fell heavily until noon, but it it turned to rain. The current slushy streets and uncollected trash from Sunday means that the mess outside of my house is almost as vile as the mess my kids made in my living room today.
My dad visited this weekend to spend time with his grandchildren for the first time this year. I drove us out to Long Island to see if we could find any semblance of his maternal grandfather – my great grandfather, James Henderson Waugh. It was an utter failure.
The family relationship with James Waugh seems to be tenuous at best in the first place. He was a Teenage Captain in the RAF during WW1 who traveled to Canada after the war and entered the US illegally. Upon returning to Scotland, he had my Grandmother with his first wife, who unfortunately passed away at an early age from tuberculosis. This left my young grandmother in the care of family while Waugh returned to America with his secretary who he subsequently married. Accounts of him are consistently marked by alcoholism and instances of mistreatment or neglect toward his daughters, both in the United States and United Kingdom.
I packed the entire family into my car and drove to the area of Glen Cove Long Island where Roy Campanella had his catastrophic car accident in 1958. We knew that the site of this accident was close to the house Waugh owned. Not surprisingly this area does not look as it did when my father visited in the 1950s. We drove around some of the neighborhoods but nothing struck my father’s memory. It is entirely likely that the property Waugh once owned has been renovated or entirely rebuilt.
Next we went to Locust Valley Cemetery, armed with the plot number for James Waugh. Unfortunately, there were no signs to indicate the cemetery sections and no staff to provide guidance. I was frustrated with myself for my lack of preparation.
To kill some time outside of the car, we went to the Arboretum across the street from the graveyard. My kids quickly seized control of an area of the park labeled “the children’s habitat” by securing a tactical position in a tower made of wet plywood and tree limbs. I tried to search the the sliver of 5G service my phone was struggling to remain connected to for more information about the layout of Locust Valley Cemetery. Eventually, given the growing hunger within my travel party, we elected to leave.
We left quiet Glen Cove behind for the hustle and bustle of the parkways and thoroughfares of Mineola, Long Island. We enjoyed an entirely adequate hibachi dinner at Fyhre and also bought some records at Mr Cheapo. It was the perfect way to lift my frustration from our earlier misadventures.
My daughter has really been into buying records after receiving a small record player for her bedroom at Christmas. She was directed by Mr. Cheapo himself to a Children’s Records section in the back of the store where she bought a Beauty and the Beast picture disc and Mickey Mouse Disco.
Here’s a quick rundown of my purchases:
Pagans – Shit Street: I was late to discover this band, but thanks to a recommendation from my friend Clevo via the 185 Miles South Podcast, I quickly caught up. This LP from 2000 serves as a solid collection of material from these often overlooked Cleveland Punk Pioneers.
Mike Bloomfield, Al Kooper, Steve Stills – Super Session: This was an immediate recommendation from my Dad as soon as we took a look through the first stack of LP’s in the shop. I didn’t know anything about this album but my dad gave me the low down and 10 minutes later, Mr. Cheapo saw the record in my hands and did the same. I was sonned from all angles by the old dudes in this shop and am now aware that Al Kooper (of Blood, Sweat, & Tears) discovered Lynyrd Skynyrd, helped Bob Dylan cross-over from folk to rock, and told my dad about his Fender Strat when he played in his uncle’s band at a teenage party my dad attended in the 1960’s. It’s a fantastic album if you can endure the jammy extended instrumentals.
The Kinks – Musswell Hillbillies: I love the Kinks and this album was a glaring exclusion from my collection. I feel like this album is overlooked due to it’s lack of hits but it’s pretty exceptional from front to back. Also exceptional is this Bob Lefsetz piece that goes into glorious detail about the contributions John Gosling made to best era of one of London’s greatest bands.
David Johansson – Self Titled: My friend Tim turned me on to this earlier in the week and I snapped it up for the sweet price of $6. From 1978, Johansen’s solo album is basically sounds like a dumbed down New York Dolls record without Johnny Thunders’ blistering solos throughout. Definitely worth your pocket change if you come across a copy in the wild.
And a couple of used books for the beach this summer: Lou Reed Growing up in Public and Rolling Stones Beggars Banquet
My family and I arrived back home early that evening and listened to records as I enjoyed a dram of distillers edition Lagavulin with my father. In the end, it was fine that I didn’t track down a man than none of us knew very well (or at all) because I was enjoying every second with the people who mean the most to me.
L U K E 