What a Son Owed to His Father
ALAN writes:
I am here only because of the Big Band Era. If such music had not become popular in ballrooms and dance halls in American cities in the 1930s-‘40s, I might never have been.
One place where people could enjoy such music was the Casa-Loma Ballroom in south St. Louis. Young men and young women went there to meet each other. That is how and where my parents met.
My father preferred the music of the “sweet” bands over that of the “swing” bands. That kind of music and that ballroom would hold a place in his memory for the rest of his life.
My father’s grandfather was born in Bavaria in 1837. When I was from four to six years old, my father would take me for walks on Saturday afternoons. We often walked past a building in south St. Louis called the Bavarian Inn. He knew all about it, but at my age I couldn’t make any sense out of it. It was a restaurant and bar with a large fireplace, stained glass windows, and outdoor beer garden. It was “a landmark of gemutlichkeit” where customers enjoyed oom-pah-pah music and the Ducky Dance.
We also walked past a shop that made awnings and tents. Across the alley from there was a vacant lot next to a house. It was there on that lot that we played a game of imagination wherein we would take turns naming good things to eat, and each of us would try to outdo the other.

In the middle of another block was a small confectionary. My father would buy a soft drink for each of us, and I was permitted to reach down into a large cooler filled with ice and pull out a frosty glass bottle of grape or orange soda.
As did my mother, my father lived by a scale of moral values that is wholly unknown to generations born after the revolutionary 1960s. (more…)




