"Would you hit with me?"
"Sure, give me a minute to dry off?"
Steve had just finished his forty dollar volleyball lesson on Santa Monica Beach's court one. It is where Butch May taught Misty to play, and where Bobby Barber and Butch taught others professionals the tools of the game.
The Number Seven bus had driven me to Ocean Avenue and dropped me off across from the pier. I was the only white to get on board. It is fifty cents for seniors. I sat with my nap-sack and looked around for another white man. Except for a few blacks, the bus was packed with Mexicans, and most half asleep. This one was an accordion bus with a round swivel gadget in the middle. It gave the bus agility and room for many more passengers.
The L.A. Times mentioned record heat days. I said hello to a large water park finished a year ago, and crossed the street. Cars were elbowing the way for parking. I smiled. No fool am I, not today or tomorrow. I walk, ride or fly but never drive to this busy playground. I arrived at the Santa Monica Pier at nine o'clock.
I had played volleyball on this beach with 'Bud' Grit, 'Spider,' 'Big Dan' and even the legendary basket ball player, Wilt Chamberlain. I got to be good and beat some good players but that was when I was only in my fifties and sixties.
The busy pier was to my right with a Ferris wheel and merry-go-round to the south. It was my merry-go-round in the forties when street cars took us everywhere. Snow cones, cotton candy, syrupy apples were the sensation of the day. Today I wished to return to yesteryear, when I could play more than just one two-man-game of beach volleyball. The supple sand and cool breeze was just what my primary ordered, a good workout.
"Stand further back George." We bumped and gave each other sets for fifteen minutes. My legs hurt a bit but it didn't matter: I was back, yes George was back.
"Steve, does 'Big' Dan still come?"
"No, he had ear cancer. They lobbed off a chunk from his ear and took a graft of skin from his chest. So far he has been lucky, but when he tries to play, the area of the graft unhinges."
"Did 'Big' Dan get married?"
"No, like me, he is still waiting for God to send one for him.
By that time I had said "hello" to several of my old buddies. There was Ken, Mel, and a host of others. A key board played a few standards next to the Hot Dog on a Stick concession. Bobby Barber told me how it became big overnight.
"Can't remember his name, but think he had come from Kansas with Mom's special ingredients. In the fifties he made a batter and dipped them in a hot pail We shared these dogs while he played the game with us He wasn't great but we allowed him to play. We loved those hot-doggies on a stick. ( As told to me. )
I watched a few games and as they say, with fun, time runs away and hides. At about one, hunger took over and a good antipasti salad was what I craved for. Up the street sat good-old Bruno's, known for the best Italian food a block from the board walk. . I ordered a large salad with water.
The larger-than-life plate included cold cuts, peppers, tomatoes, cumbers, and several other vegetables Slices of a hot French bread was just what I needed to coat my stomach.
Nuts and Bolts: I have five books with the Sheb Conway's collection of Muscle Beach. His photos go back to the thirties. Steve Reeves, Mr. American, Jack La Lane and many others will be seen soon. Venice Beach has supplanted this one.
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