The bench sits between the Hot Dog and a Stick and Deans Bar and Grill In front of me to the south of the pier are the volleyball courts that gave me a new life over twenty years ago. From the northwest the Malibu winds kick in to remove the dirt and grime from the exhausts of automobiles while the last of the fog pushes west.
It is ten o'clock and quiet at the old Muscle Beach. A guitar player assembles speakers and removes his guitar. He has played jazz there for many years. A few scooters skate buy. Slowly these birdies are removing bikes and skateboards from the strand. In the forties, trams ran back and forth from Venice to Santa Monica Beach.
The cold fog has lifted and so too my spirits. Just like in 1989, the sun, volleyball and laughter ushered in a new life. I walk towards the pier and sit on the old wooden bleachers. I remove my jacket and shirt and allow the rays to massage my body. Courting six on each side, two games are going on. After several minutes I descend and return to the bench.
"Is that you George?" from the bench I hear a familiar friendly noise. I barely make out the image as my left eye is overdo for cataract surgery.Slowly and image appears.
"Arnold, so nice to see you."
"Missed you George. Not too many of us still around.
"Visiting a friend in West Los Angles. I am the Godfather of Connie's grandchild Nell. How has your health bin "
"Just got over a sever ear problem Now taking medication for it. Makes me dried but no longer suffer. Wife has her ailments too. Lost my oldest brother a few months ago. Died at ninety seven taking care of his wife...You know George, as we live longer, we now take pills to do what our body sued to do."
At 83, Arnold looks younger than ever. Its great to reflect on the good times I had at the pier for many years before I moved to San Diego. His brother was a regular here and died of a brain tumor about sixteen years ago. The electrical genius is a transplant from New Jersey who fell in love with Santa Monica as far back to the fifties. Since I have albums of Santa Monica that go back to the forties, I ask him about these beaches.
"Well George, when I was here in the fifties, they dredged the area in front of you and built break water to keep the sand in place...Over there was the old Chase Hotel. It stood in front of the platform where muscle beach got its name...Jack La Lane, Marilyn Monroe, Jane Russel, and Mansfield used gravitate here to the beach."
"How well did you know Bobby Barber?...Didn't he begin volleyball here in the forties."
"Hell no. I spoke to people from another generation and volleyball had been going on for a long time..We had no problems here as promiscuity and muscle building went hand in hand...We had a shack and for a few cents, one could have a ball. No such thing as the Me Too here. The wrestlers has a great time here."
"Got to go now, and see you again real soon. Lookin to moving here."
I began to walk north, and go to the bridge that connects the Palisades with the strand when...
"Is...that...really you George..."
Bill was covered from head to toe with fabric. Wearing a wide brim hat, he stops his bike and homes in on me. He worked as a life guard here after semi pro football. He was tall, lean, and muscular.
"You look just great Bill. How the wife?...have a picture of her?"
"No, George...crime is rampant in Santa Monica. Don't carry a wallet or keys anymore...Just had a knee replacement and do for shoulder surgery."
"Will never forget your serves. The sky balls were impossible to judge when the ball came down." Instead of a booming serve just over the net, he overhanded it up into the sky where the wind took over and made it hard to corral."
"Some of the players play in front of Ocean Beach or Mother's."
By now I felt a little dizzy as i needed a shade. I said my good-by and gave him my card.
"Tell my buddies to call me at this number?"
At eleven the day had just begun I walked my way over the bridge and found my way to the third street mall. Many thought it might rain again so not too many people on the Third Street Promenade.
Next to the theater was an Italian eatery. I ordered spaghetti and meatballs. She gave me a number and a cup.
I drank three cups of water and took up my seat. My food came and I can't think when I enjoyed a meat ball so much. A singer sang some Jewish songs and I felt in bliss. (More to come..)
Nuts and bolts today: The Surf City Air Show begins Friday. It is worth showing up. Parking is limited. Can take the number one or 29 bus to get close and walk the rest of the way.
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