Landmark, I was more nervous riding in New York City cabs than I ever was in a race car!

No, I don't do it anymore. As I mentioned in the story I took an international assignment for over a year and then for the rest of my career I had to fly every week to some destination to do my job. I couldn't maintain my skills and equipment (practice and maintenance is important to stay competitive) so I sold everything. It was quite an investment; the car, tow vehicle, trailer, spare parts, etc., so even if I had the time when I returned to the states I didn't want to go through the expenses again. I rented a couple of times but if you do the math it's not appealing.

An interesting side story, at one point I was going to switch from road racing to oval track racing which had tracks closer to my home and wouldn't involve the high travel expenses associated with road racing. So once again I took a training session. This time at Stafford Motor Speedway in Connecticut. It was in a relatively new class of race cars called Legend Race Cars. Cars that were a downsized replicas of classic race cars from the 30's and 40's. Like my previous race car, the intent of the manufacturer was to build and sell cars manufactured to identical specifications and equally competitive. The car they gave ma at the school to use was the one Paul Newman raced, with his preferred colors and initials over the door "PLN".

Newman raced into his 80's and was competitive the entire time. However he felt he was losing his reaction time and eventually quit the higher levels of racing. But his passion didn't end. On occasion, he would go off to a local event and race as discretely as he could, so they always had a race car ready for him. He lived in Connecticut.

There is no upper age limit for the racing I did. As long as you passed the physical exam , including eye test, and your doctor said you were mentally competent to race you were good to go. Similar to maintaining your qualification as a paratrooper by having so many jumps within a certain time, you had to have so many races within a certain time to maintain your license or start over again. A large portion of the drivers in my group were above middle age and some may have been in their late 60's or early 70's. At a local oval track in NH you can race cars before you are old enough to get a drivers license. Sometimes I go to the kids truck races and when the winner traditionally thanks their sponsors, these kids thank their parents and grandparents for driving them to the track.

Bob, I too would have loved meeting Yogi. Great story.

Years ago my brother mentioned something about his wife's dad liking baseball, that he had played softball or some type of ball. Unlike me my brother wasn't a sports fan at all and I never thought much about what he said at the time. He had married while living in Kansas City but a few years later they had moved down here next to me. This was in the late 80's.

Now moving ahead to the 90's. One day they mentioned that her dad was coming down to stay a week with them. For some reason I asked his name, and they said Bob Grim. Remembering that they had said he played ball at one time I started asking more questions and found out he had played with the NY Yankees. I almost died. I guess with my sister and law being from Kansas I had never thought much about the name Grim in previous years.

Anyway, I spent several days at my brothers house talking baseball with Bob. He had been rookie of the year with the NY Yankees in 1954. He was one of the first pitchers to win 20 games in a season. He told stories about Mantle and all the other greats that he had worked with.

Bob didn't get to play many years because he threw his arm out and was traded around and then ended up coaching at Kansas City.

After a week, he left here and went down to Florida where he got to meet the famous Joe DiMaggio. He got to visit a full day with him, and that was a dream come true for Bob.

After getting back home in Kansas City, Bob called me telling me how much he had enjoyed his trip down and how much he had enjoy his visit with DiMaggio. He also talked about the TT trick I had gave him and how much fun he was having with it. Said he was looking forward to coming back down visiting with us all. But unfortunately he died a few weeks after that.

Tom

Great stories, everyone! This is such an amazing thread. Let's keep 'em coming! Here's one I've been inspired to tell after reading about Slowkneenuh's racing experiences:

In 1981, after spending a year in Venice Beach, California, I relocated to New York City to be closer to my then-boss, Peter Frampton (who owned a 66 acre property in Croton-on-the-Hudon). In NYC I met a friend of our bass player, who was one of the most beautiful women in the world. Through sheer persistence on my part, she eventually became my girlfriend, and three years later, my wife. But during that first year in New York, I didn't have a car. So I drove my girlfriend's Mustang.

One evening, we were traveling from Poughkeepsie, NY (where she lived) to New York City, where we were going to be attending a big function with Frampton and a lot of other rock 'n' roll celebrities. Like most rock star idiots, in those days I drove real fast. (Thank God those days are over). Got away with some awfully risky things. But on this particular night, I was stopped by a state trooper doing 90 miles an hour on the Taconic Parkway.

Now here's the problem: I didn't have a drivers licence! I did when I lived in Boston, but I had moved from Boston to Los Angeles the year before, and my Massachusetts drivers license had expired! As you'll all be well aware of, many celebrities are hopeless when it comes to obeying the law. They live life to such excess, and get away with such extreme behavior, that they start to imagine they are invincible! And at that time in my life, I was no exception. So when the cop asked for my license, I knew I was in BIG trouble.

OK, let's back-track a little. During our previous road tour, while enjoying a rare day off, the whole Frampton band and crew got to go to one of those Malibu Grand Prix race tracks. This one may have been in Texas ... or Georgia ... it's all a bit of a blur. These enterprises are not legitimate race tracks like Slowkneenuh was describing. They are just real fun Go-Carts and tracks intended for family entertainment . Nevertheless, you had purchase a license and sign a disclaimer (which, after you paid your fee, was created right on the spot). That license has my picture and signature, and the words "Racing License. Holder is authorized to use Malibu Grand Prix Corp. facilities on the terms and conditions detailed in a Liability Release Agreement driver represents and agrees he has read and signed."

So now fast forward to New York, when I got pulled over by the trooper. Remember, I was driving ... and speeding ... without a license! What do I do? My "Malibu Racing License" was the only identification I had in my wallet. It certainly couldn't pass for a real license. But that "fake" license is what I handed to the officer.

Meanwhile, my lovely wife was explaining who we were, that we were on our way to meet Frampton, etc. She was not only gorgeous, but always dressed like a million bucks. And being a "celebrity" myself, I wasn't dressed too shabby, either. So that must have worked in our favor. Because the cop let me go! My silly little "Racing License" was enough for him to identify who I was. "Just try to slow down, Sir," were the last words he said before we drove off. I still have that license ... I've kept it all these years. And needless to say, I got my NY State driver license soon after that incident.

Uhh, can I borrow your wife? (I've got a few tickets to take care of)
:)

Landmark, be my guest ... after 10 years of marriage she became my ex.

John, not need to apologize...no big deal. I feel bad for breaking up your story! Great stuff John! Great thread!

Who's gonna persuade Bob Cassidy to describe one of his escapades?

Well, I'm going to jump in again, if it's alright.

Since South Africa has been in the news lately, I thought I’d tell a story concerning South Africa. It’s long and I hope this doesn’t offend anybody, I know arthur is from South Africa, but I am what I am, and I tell it in the spirit of getting to know one another better and accepting our differences. I’ll tell it as well and as fairly as I can remember it. You wanted long stories, here’s long.

So a little historical background. In the mid-1980s, of course, South Africa was still an apartheid country, and I will not go into that whole history, but suffice it to say, that the rest of the world did not look kindly upon their form of government. There was a world wide boycott and economic sanctions placed on South Africa—much of the world would not do any business or trading with South Africa and you may remember that many artists refused to entertain or do concerts there as well. In the United States, there was a bill in Congress that was put forth called the Comprehensive Anti-Apartheid Act, which sought to formally outlaw all trade between the US and South Africa until the apartheid system was dismantled. It got watered down somewhat, but eventually the two major political parties in the US agreed to a compromise bill that imposed an economic boycott on South Africa. However, Ronald Reagan, the President at the time, vetoed the bill even over the objections of the Republican leadership of the time. So, though there was much sentiment for a boycott in the country, there was no official one at this time.

Okay, so now let’s get more local to my little burgh of Brooklyn. Ed Koch was the mayor of New York City, and for all his faults, he was a strong supporter of anti-apartheid legislation. He had passed a law forbidding New York City to invest their pensions in any South African firm and so on. This was not an unusual stance for a New York City politician to take at the time—even the Conservative Republican NY Senator Al D’Amato was in favor of restricting the city from doing business with South Africa.

So one day, my friends and I are walking down the street in our neighborhood, and we hear much dancing, music, and laughing going on in one of the streets. We look, and the street is cordoned off, and there was a television crew there as well as all the equipment and transport vehicles that come along with such a shoot. We started asking around, and we found out that this was a television crew from South Africa and they were filming a commercial on our streets for a very popular South African drink, Mainstay Cane Spirit. As it turned out, Mainstay was an alcoholic drink marketed at the time particularly to the Black population of South Africa. Their motto was, “"You can stay as you are for the rest of your life or you can change to Mainstay!" Yep, nothing like getting drunk to change your circumstances in life.

So why were they filming on near my block in Brooklyn? Well they wanted to portray young Blacks in a relatively affluent neighborhood (unlike the shanty towns where much of their true market resided), Blacks who had obviously changed their lives (and economic circumstances evidently!) by changing to Mainstay Cane Spirit. It was kind of the Bill Cosby generation comes to South Africa, only drunk on Mainstay. The ironic part is that though most of the Black actors in the commercials were Americans, the block where they were filming had mostly white residents.

This struck my friends and me as absurd, knowing as we did the boycott of South African products in NYC at the time, so we did a little more investigating. It turns out that the Mainstay corporation was paying the neighborhood block association a nice sum of money in order to be able to film there, incidentally tying up vehicular and pedestrian traffic while they were filming in the middle of the street. We went to the head of the Block Association and asked what’s up, and we were told money’s what’s up, and they saw nothing wrong in taking it. We pointed out that pretty much the rest of the world was keeping solid, maintaining sanctions in place, maybe we shouldn’t *** our streets to the highest bidder. And they had to admit the annoying shooting and noise seemed to go on at all hours of the day and night for days on end.

Unfortunately, our reasonable appeals fell on deaf ears. The Block Association was getting a fertilizer-load of money and they were not going to budge.

So…we decided that we would inform the local community exactly what was happening. We made up flyers and set up a table on the corner of the block where they were shooting and we told residents about how the Block Association felt it was okay to take blood money, and we distributed info about the nature of the Apartheid regime and why we were opposed to it. And to make it a little more interesting, we were there around the clock, on the sidewalk, with our sleeping bags, making it a Sleep-In Against Apartheid. I guess we were Occupiers before there was Occupy.

Well we managed to get some press, and we managed to discuss the issues with the folks in our community, and a bunch of other people were interested in what we were doing so we started a group called Brooklynites Against Apartheid. It was a very interesting group of people, including some ex-pats from South Africa. We subsequently did protests at the South African embassy and spoke in schools about the issue.

But this is all prelude.

Fast forward to about a year later.

If you remember, I said, that by this time the South African government and South African firms were doing very little business with the City of New York. But actually, that wasn’t true. We realized there was one huge apartheid South African presence in New York City, one that had an enormous economic impact, and that was South African Airways. SAA was owned by the government, and it was a whites-only airline, but it landed planes every day within the confines of New York City at JFK International Airport in Queens (the old Idelwild Airport). This seemed extraordinary to us that NYC would tolerate a segregated airline within its borders, 25 years after the South was de-segregated, especially considering Mayor Koch’s anti-apartheid sentiments. It turned out that because it was at the airport, NYC didn’t have direct jurisdiction over the airline, in fact, the airport was really under the jurisdiction of The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, which has their own set of laws and even police force. International flights were subject to federal law, not local law, and the President had vetoed the Comprehensive Anti-Apartheid Law.

So we set about to evict SAA from the airport.

We brainstormed ideas. As a group, we were pretty much all over the map in our political beliefs, but we worked together well because we all had a commitment to non-violent creative protest and resistance. People did what they felt most comfortable doing. Some wanted to give out leaflets, some wanted to put on little skits, some wanted to make more dramatic statements and get themselves arrested, some didn’t want to get arrested but wanted to be support people on the outside, and so on. After what seemed like endless meetings we finally hit on a plan—a plan that looking back, we could have never accomplished today, but back then we were able to pull off surprisingly well.

Our ground rules were that we would act only in a non-violent manner, but we wanted to cause as much chaos as we could at the airport. Enough chaos so that airplanes would be delayed, and cause enough disruption in general so that the airline would lose money, and get the general idea that they were not welcome in New York. Fairly quixotic, as all protests are, but it’s all got to start with somewhere and sometime, so here we were.

So like the Mission Impossible team, we each took our parts, breaking up into teams of two and three. One team of two passed out leaflets on what looked like official SAA letterhead saying that the flights gates had been changed and passengers should get themselves over to a non-existent gate. Another group started singing the African National Congress anthem at one end of the ticket booth counters. Another group blocked an entrance by building a mock shanty made of plywood in the doorway. My group came into the ticket area to stand on line for check-in, posing as passengers, but we were a little more noticeable than most passengers; we were carrying a cardboard coffin with us, and insisted that we wanted to take it on the plane as carry on luggage. Then “by accident” the coffin opened and all kinds of things came tumbling out.

It took a surprisingly long amount of time before the Police showed up, but when they showed up we knew it. As I mentioned before they were not NYC cops, but special airport Port Authority cops. We had agreed beforehand that when the police showed up we would all sit down on the floor and try to stay there. Ha! It was pretty clear as the police came towards us that we were not going to be sitting on the floor for long.

I braced myself, and I saw coming towards me a very large Black man in police uniform headed straight for my crotch. He twirled me around effortlessly, and put his two hands in front and in back of my crotch, kind of cradling me, in order to pick me up. I was expecting the worst, but he was incredibly gentle. As he stooped, his head was right next to mine, and he whispered in my ear, “That’s a great thing you’re doing. Thanks.” And he carried me like a leaf on a breeze into the paddy wagon.

Well there’s more, but I’ll end with a little postscript. We spent some hours in jail, were arraigned, and were finally released. But there were some heavy charges outstanding against us with some unpleasant penalties, ranging from a few months to a possible few years in prison for some of us. Some of us decided that we thought it was important to publicize our case, so we agreed to defend ourselves. We decided to plead not guilty citing the necessity defense—that is, one can break a law if there is a greater danger that one is stopping by breaking the law. For example, if a car is coming towards a child, you may jaywalk in order to pull the child out of harm’s way. As a point of information, if you ever need to know, judges almost never allow the necessity defense.

The wheels of justice grind slowly, so it wasn’t until a couple of months after our arraignment that we were due back in court. In that time we were to prepare our defense. I still remember the gist of the statement I had prepared. I wrote that as a teacher when my students ask me about the Civil Rights Movement, they ask me about Rosa Parks and I tell them that she was brave person who had to break the law because people were not treating her right, and it is important to fight for justice. And now, in South Africa there is a similar battle for justice going on and we have to know which side we are on. And so on.

I never got to deliver that statement because towards the end of 1986 when this all happened, Congress overrode Reagan’s veto of the Comprehensive Anti-Apartheid Act with a two-thirds majority. South African Airways was now persona non grata officially!
The court dismissed our case as being moot.

Of course, we were no fools. We immediately put out a press release explaining how Brooklynites Against Apartheid had defeated SAA. Hey we’re no fools, we know when to pretend the credit belongs to us.

But we were younger then...

Landmark, once again a great story! Your willingness to make personal sacrifices in support of your beliefs gets my admiration. I lacked the passion to take part in a societal cause (or was selfish with my energy). Great story, and good work on your part trying to make the world a better place. I look forward to more stories from you.

john

Good story landmark, I especially like the part about the gentle treatment the Black cop gave you.

John, you and I seem to have an affinitiy for chiming in at the same time!

I was just getting ready to post something about an experience a close friend of mine had. Would that break the rules of the thread? It's pretty funny.

Ok, John, I'm assuming you won't mind. This is a story from a close friend, but it's just too good not to tell.

My friend served in the Air Force in the sixties and got assigned to the Pentagon. He still won't tell me what he did, though, I'd think after all this time whatever he did has been declassified, much as the secret clearance I had for working around nuclear weapons has been. I think.

Still, he won't tell me.

But he did share this with me.

Ok, so Joe, my friend, is alone, in uniform, taking a leak in one of the restrooms in the Pentagon, and right in the middle of his stream, the doors crash open, several guys in dark suits enter swiftly taking stock of the room and clearing it. They were serious.

Joe looks around wondering what the eff is going on and this huge tall dude walks in and moseys up to a urinal, unzips his fly and begins his splash. He looks over and down to Joe and says, "Hello son, how ya doin'?"

Joe says, "Fine sir, how about you?"

To which Lyndon Baines Johnson replied, "Just fine myself son."

The thing that Joe recollects more than anything else was the size of Johnson's ears. He said they were "enormous."

Great story about South Africa, Landmark! You and your friends must have had some big ones to pull off what you did! When I get some time, I'll share a personal story of something I was involved in, which I believe contributed to start the ball rolling towards the eventual end of apartheid.

Bob1Dog: Another good one! Keep 'em coming, guys!

Funny story Bob. Not the punchline I expected.

I'm going to lay low with stories for awhile because there are plenty of good ones out there and we are starting to get them. I have plenty left and will use them as filler if the thread dies down. Please keep yours coming though and I hope that everyone who has contributed so far will continue to do so. I think we've not even scratched the surface of the volume that's out there.

OK, here's a quickie for you guys:

Earlier in this thread, Pakar mentioned that David Copperfield has been known to pick beautiful women from his audiences to assist him onstage. Then, after the show, they are invited to join him for a backstage tryst. And what happens after that, no one knows! Despite all the criticism he has received, this is not a new practice.

When I was touring as a rock 'n' roller, we did basically the same thing. In Frampton's band I would literally point out girls in the audience to my keyboard roadie ... "That one, that one, and that one" ... and, like magic, after our last encore, they would all be waiting for me backstage!

With the Mamas and the Papas, John Phillips and I had a similar, but slightly different approach. We would personally invite a handful of the most beautiful and fun-looking girls to come and party with us after the shows.

This worked fine, until one day Mick Jagger set us straight. His philosophy took it to a whole new level: "Don't select just a few girls at the venue. Instead, invite EVERYBODY ... and THEN you pick and choose!"

Arthur, do you know how lucky/talented/in-the-right-place-at-the-right-time/fortunate/etc. etc. etc. you were/are?

You owe it to yourself and the rest of us or at least your family anyway, to write a book. I'm thinking it might be a best seller. Though I'll admit, you'll probably need a couple of good lawyers.

Bob, that book has been in the back of my mind for a long time. But the trouble is, my experiences were so outrageous, folks may not believe my stories!

I put this on another thread, but I was told it would work better here:

My friend, Wendy Wilkins, had me write up this misadventure I had in the mid-80s. Although it has nothing to do with mentalism, it might give you an example of always knowing who you're dealing with... especially without a contract. Warning: I curse a lot in the article:

http://www.your-big-sister.com/2013/12/1......ue-lies/

Greg

P.S. At another forum someone asked if I've ever found out what happened to those two guys. Here was my answer:

The griper I've never heard from again. Angel, the cinematographer, is living somewhere in Los Angeles and I believe works for some sort of film producer. The unfortunate thing is that Angel is a great cinematographer. He won a student Oscar in the early 80s. But, he's a self-absorbed a**hole... probably why he fits in Hollywood.

There's another story about Angel that happened when I was shooting that educational video: I had a local reporter come in to do a story on the video and what I was doing. Well, she came in on a busy day and we were struggling to set up a theater shoot. I told her to wait in the seats and I would get back to her when I had some time.

At one point I looked out into the audience and saw that Angel was sitting next to her and talking. Later on I noticed that the reporter left without getting any info. Well, the newspaper article came out. It was a photo of Angel and the camera. The title of the article was Angel and his crew. Apparently we were now his crew.

The entire story was about him... with very little mentioned about my video and project.

Should have realized right then and there. Unfortunately, Angel had been brought in by my director and he had been friends with Angel. Later on, one of the people screwed out of the Madonna credit was the director himself. I guess he also learned his lesson.

Greg--no problem about the subject matter. It certainly doesn't have to be about mentalism or magic as you can see from other offerings. That was a great story and lesson.

Bob-- That LBJ story meshes well with what I've heard about the way LBJ would deal with reporters. He would begin a conversation with them, and then walk into the White House bathroom with the door open and do his business while continuing the conversation. The reporters were immediately thrown on the defensive, and tongue-tied. They probably forgot to ask half the questions they had prepared! I suspect his ears were not the only enormous thing about him. Whatever you thought of his politics, I don't think there was ever a shrewder American politician than LBJ. If I ever get a life extension of 40 years, I would use part of it to make my way through the 4-volume Robert Caro biography of LBJ.

Arthur--I'm taking careful notes from your stories on just the right method to chat up the birds. At my age I need all the advantage I can get. Right: invite first, choose later.

Holy crap Greg! Thanks for sharing that story. I didn't see that ending coming (although I figured it would be some kind of surprise - like your video being selected, but not a double surprise with you being left out). Myself, I would hold a big time grudge for life and try to come up with some retribution. Also enjoyed the part of you sitting in the chair instead of the female - pretty creative solution.

Maybe we all have to get screwed at least once in life to learn valuable lessons.

I hope you will contribute more stories.

John