DUMPSITE Page 2

  “What really happened that the kids didn’t see?” asks Ron.

  “Well as I remember the story, the kids saw the beating and case full of money. I don’t know what they thought the guy who was being beaten did or didn’t do. You know kids; they have a vivid imagination. Our uncle was there, he said they thought they heard a car coming to the dump. Thinking Stallings was dead they scraped some of the rubbish and threw him in the shallow hole. They quickly covered him with the available trash. Apparently, the kids left, as did my uncle and his crew. Thinking, Stallings, was dead they grabbed the loose money and headed back to report on what happened.”

  “Wow, did they get all the money?”

  “No, they only recovered about two or three hundred. There was still over two million missing. Hardly worth getting uptight about in today’s market. There is however more to the story.”

  “Well Rudy…are you going to tell me the rest?”

  Just then the door swings open and what’s her name comes in with a paper bag in her hand.

  “I got your pills, Mudd,” says, Jewel, “do you need one or two?”

  “Just one please.” Mudd, says in a soft subtle voice. He didn’t want to get Jewel violent. He would play along and stall for time.

  I downed the pill and felt more comfortable as the pill slowly made its way to my stomach. I wish Jewel would leave so I could hear the rest of the story.

  “Was he any trouble.” Jewel asked Ron.

  “No, I think he was sleeping.”

  “Muddy, why don’t you like me? We could be a great couple. I would be a perfect mate for you.” Jewel said in a soft seemingly caring voice. Muddy smiled his best fake I love you smile.

  Jewel headed for a room on the other side on the building. “Keep an eye on Mr. Mudd, I’ll be busy for a while.” She hollered to the two gorillas as she closed the door.

  I sat there very quietly hoping they would continue the story.

  “Are you gonna tell me the rest of the story?” Ron asks.

  “Well, like I said the kids only got part of the story and what they did get was all wrong. I guess you could call it a delusion. They probably had seen too many bad movies. The three kids that were on the wrong side of the law told the following to Malloy. As the evening became dark, they came back to check out the dead body. I can only imagine their surprise as they, with the help of their dog, were digging around the make-shift grave. They heard a moan come from the ground. My uncle figured at least one of the kids messed his pants.

  “They realized Stallings, was still alive. They helped him to Lou’s house, one of the kids. His mother nursed Stallings back to health. After a few days Stallings said he had to go. He told Lou and his friends to never tell anyone he was alive because they would be in a lot of trouble with the guys who beat him. The kids kept the secret for many years.

  “Things changed when they were older and started to drink beer and whiskey. First, they got mixed with some bad folks. Then the booze loosened their tongue’s. One night the wrong person heard them talking about the dumpsite, mentioning they had dug up Stallings body. Worse, Stallings was alive. He immediately went back to tell his boss what he heard. Before long the three guys had an accident while driving to Greenwood Lake. I think you know the rest.”

  “What happened to the other kids?” asked Ron.

  “It was decided they knew nothing about Stallings and would be no problem. Seems they never told anyone what happened.” Rudy concluded.

  “What about the rest of the money? Was it ever recovered?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  Wow, that changes a whole bunch of things. Mother needs to know. I need to get out of here.

  One of the gorillas gets a phone call. He shrugs his shoulders and looks at the other guy. They head to the other side of the building to the door where Jewel had gone. Muddy hears a couple of loud gunshots. At the same instant Solly enters, grabs his frail body and runs out of the place. He literally throws Mudd in the back seat of his car and zooms back to Chateau 54.

  Oye, what a day!

  Two — Mudd and Mother

  Wait! We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s calm down and start at the very beginning.

  This may be a good time in to introduce M&M. Rickard Kurkonen; affectionately known as Mother, Big Mama, Mother Max, Twil Longhorn, amongst many monikers. Muddy calls him Mother; only guy he knows who gets phone calls and cards on Mother’s Day. Mother, the name Mudd first knew him as was a player of Scandinavian music on his accordion. He started playing pop music in the early 50’s and soon was working in local bands. That’s how Mudd met Mother.

  Mudd was a drummer in a marching band as he developed hand speed and a feel for rhythm. In the fall of 1956 he was filling in with a local group and as fate would have it, Mother, was the accordion player.

  It was tough back in the day as they walked through the Brille building in New York City, trying to sell their songs to record companies. They knocked on over 25 doors with one no thank you after another. Finally, an offer with a contract. They were both elated about a possible deal. They would have signed for nothing but for Mudd’s uncle, the lawyer, who flatly stated - “nothing plus nothing equals nothing!”

  A few weeks back Mother calls Mudd. He asks him to get back into the music scene. Mudd concurs and sets out for New Jersey.

  John E. Mudd arrives at the Chateau 54.

  “Muddy, how are you?”

  “Mudd is my name - music is my game.”

  “Are you still hung up on being called Muddy because you’re now considered a grownup? I can call you Mudd but if I do I will expect grownup work from you. What’s it gonna be?”

  “Call me Muddy.” When Mother puts it in such a nice way what can I say. Muddy… Muddy… Muddy… I can get used to Muddy.

  “Mr. Mudd, how are the kids?”

  “All doing pretty well. They all had a tough time when their mother passed.”

  “And how about you Muddy, how have you settled in.”

  “Not good. That’s why I travel around and visit the kids. Helps keep me busy.”

  “Well Muddy, you will be very busy for the next few months and beyond. If this movie makes a little noise we may be living in the studio.”

  “What movie? What studio? What are you talking about?”

  “All in good time, Muddy, chill!”

  “Okay! But I don’t want to chill too long, I might catch a cold.”

  “You always had a knack for new ideas.” Mother told him. “This movie calls for imagination and resolve; let’s give it the same energy we had back when we had plenty of energy. Come on – I’ll to show you the setup.”

  “I’m ready to go now,” Muddy quipped. “I haven’t played drums in many years.”

  “Will that be a problem? Have you forgotten how to play the skins?”

  “No! I may have to play around a while before I can put tracks down like the old days.”

  They walked through a room full of instruments. The pedal steel caught Mudd’s eye. There was one guitar after another… synthesizers, a Rhodes piano and a baby grand – his head was spinning…and then came the drums.

  “Wow! What a beautiful set of red Slingerland skins with three toms – just like my old set.”

  “I thought you might like to start with something comfortable,” Mother, explained. “Don’t get too hung up though I want you to have an open mind about the new electronic equipment I ordered for you.”

  “I will. I mean I won’t,” Mudd replied, while thinking to himself – you keep the electronic stuff, give me the real thing. Sneaky, but it’s what I like. I’ll give the new stuff a try so Mother won’t feel he wasted money buying all that sampled, dampled, rampled electronic stuff.

  “You can play around later,” said Mother. “Come in the control room and check out the latest DAW and fully automated mixing board.”

  Muddy stood motionless and stared at the fantastic equipmen
t. “Wow, this is unbelievable. By the way, what’s a DAW?”

  Mother stared at Muddy but didn’t answer.

  Guess he doesn’t know either. Mudd thinks as he questions, “I don’t see any tape recorders.”

  “We don’t use them anymore, everything is digital.”

  “I thought my toes were digits,” Muddy exclaimed.

  “Not digits – digital. Computer stuff. The music is converted from analog to digital format with a D/A converter like this one over here.”

  “Perfect Mother, you were always the electronic guru. However, I want to get updated if I’m going to work around all this gadgetry.”

  “No problem partner, by the way, a DAW is a digital audio workstation.”

  He did know. All this new technology is over-whelming. “Oh! I have another question. Where are the electronic drum sounds gonna come from?”

  They walked over to the far wall were a bunch of black discs with a bass drum pedal lived.

  “They look like a set of drums from Mars,” Muddy remarks.

  “Here, sit down and play. Think of them as your old drum set. I’ll turn on the power. Go ahead, bang away,” Mother suggests, with a sneaky look on his face.

  “Wow! They sound like a real drum set.”

  “Turn the large knob until the number changes. You’ll have a new set of drums or percussion or just wacky sounds to have fun with,”

  “This is pretty cool.” I may even get to like them. Ha!

  Three — The Studio

  Mother suggests Mudd go freshen up and chill for the next hour, then they would sit down and discuss what’s to be done.

  Mudd felt old and decrepit – blind in one eye – mentally drained – physically beat up but, HE WAS READY!

  Mudd headed to his suite it was time to freshen up. As he was brushing his teeth, he looked into his small mirror and there was a 16-year-old with toothpaste dripping from his lower lip. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

  “Come in.”

  “Hi, Mr. Mudd, I’m here with your belongings. Shall I distribute your clothing?”

  “Please, do your thing.”

  As Mudd was rinsing his mouth the image came back in the Mirror, only more vivid. Reminding him of the night he played The Grove and met Mother for the first time.

  Mother entered, “Hey Mudd, how’s it going?”

  “Good, but you have to see this. Look in the mirror.”

  Mother sheepishly approached the mirror, with a what am I getting into now look on his face.

  “This mirror has a crack.”

  “Humor me, please.”

  “Whoa, that’s me many years ago. Looks like I’m getting ready to play the accordion. I’m dressed in my black pants, white shirt and skinny black tie with the reddish band jacket. What’s going on here Muddy?”

  “Why are you asking me? I don’t know.”

  I was hoping Mother could tell me why the Mirror showed images of my past. And now when Mother looked he could see himself.

  The Muddman wondered where the images in the mirror were coming from. If anybody could figure out why the mirror is showing these images, he expected Mother would but he looked as perplexed as Mudd felt. He thought maybe he was creating them in his mind because he was lonely. Since Helen died there’s been something missing

  from his life.

  Wait a minute. Why did Mother, see himself in the Mirror, he thought. His third divorce was over 25 years ago. Mudd was perplexed.

  He finished getting dressed and started for the dining room. As he approached, Mother motioned for him to come to his booth. As he entered Solly, the maitre d’, dressed in the usual black tuxedo motioned for him to follow as he guided Mudd to Mother’s table. Solly was a sharp looking dude with a pencil thin mustache, aka Clark Gable. He had the look of a man who works out on a regular basis. Solly’s shoes almost blinded Mudd, with their incredible spit shine.

  “Very impressive,” Mudd thought.

  “Let’s go fill our plates,” Mother prompted. “I’m starved.”

  The two friends ate. Before dessert, Mother asked if there were any questions he could answer.

  “Yes! What do I do, where do I do it, when do I do it and how do you want it done. You dragged me here from Vegas – you gave me 20 minutes to pack – sent me to the airport with nothing but my wallet, which was empty and flew me to Philadelphia, where a car waited to be driven here to the fabulous Chateau 54. Now I’m here. As the fly once said, help me! “

  The dining room emptied as the clattering of dishes and noise from the vacuum sounded. Mother explained.

  “The story starts in the fifties, when we met, remember?”

  “Yes, you were playing accordion in a small group called the Elwood Lance Band. Playing society music, hits of the day and polkas. I was in the Little Ferry All Boys Marching Band, and a local group called, The Blairtones, and filling in as a drummer with anyone who was in need on any particular evening. The fifties were about half way through and Rock and Roll was becoming the big music scene.”

  “Yes!” Mother continued. “It was October 1956. I arrived at The Grove to play on a Friday evening when we ran into each other in the parking lot. There you were, the gregarious John E. Mudd.”

  “Elwood Lance had hired you to fill in on drums for the evening. You introduced your father who was kind enough to shuttle you from job to job while you were waiting to buy your first car.”

  “Yeah, I was unloading an ancient set of drums as you stared in amazement. The bass drum was 42 plus inches in diameter and looked like a Civil War relic. Everything else was wrapped in old ragged army blanket’s,” Muddy said as Mother picked up the story.

  “You told me not to worry. It’s the person playing not the equipment that counts. We dragged your relics into the ballroom. As we were lifting the drums, accordion and amplifier on to the high stage you asked,”

  “Where’s Elwood Lance?”

  “He never gets to an event until the heavy stuff is done.” Mother’s memories flowed. “Everything was set and ready to go when Elwood arrived. The evening moved along smoothly. Then came a request for some polka music. Elwood called for the Beer Barrel Polka; we kicked some butt. A standing ovation from the large crowd ensued. When closing time came the owner asked if we were available for the next evening and Sunday afternoon.”

  Mudd interrupted Mother saying, “I was booked on Saturday with Don Cleary. We were playing country music on a live radio broadcast from the Coral Bar in East Paterson. However, I was ready to play on Sunday. Elwood Lance booked me and said he would have a fill-in for Saturday night.”

  “If you recall Muddy, after talking all evening during the band breaks, we bonded. Both of us realized Rock and Roll was the happening sound. We were enticed by the raw feel and energy of the music. We wanted to play more of the songs which excited our musical DNA.”

  “Spot on Mother.”

  “The movie,” Mother continued, “is a suspenseful mystery about seven kids and a dog.”

  “A dog? You’re putting me on.”

  “No - I’m not.”

  Mudd gave Mother a faraway look as he listened, “In the early fifty’s seven kids accidentally witness what they thought was a murder. This sets up a chain of events which creates the suspense part of the movie. The mystery gets deeper as the story goes on. The seven kids start their accent to the 60s where some of them get into the business of crime. The 60s are stressful, as three of the them are killed.”

  “And the dog?”

  “Oh, the dog. Let me tell you more about him tomorrow.”

  “Okay, but I will need to know what kind of dog it is.”

  “I’ll leave a copy of the script in the studio. See you in the afternoon sometime.”

  Mother got up and left. Muddy needed sleep, then the studio. The suite was beautiful but very lonely at the moment. Muddy sat down in a comfortable high back chair and fell asleep. He awakened when he
felt someone shaking his frail worn body.

  “Wake up Mr. Mudd,” said a kindly old gent. “Let me help you to your bedroom for a good night’s sleep on a soft bed.”

  Half waking up with a jolt, he sat up and mumbled, “Okay, but I’ll need my, Cowboy Bob footie pajamas. What am I saying; I mean my pajamas.”

  Mudd looked around the room and found everything in order. There was a large picture of a dog running by a stream. Looked like a Dalmatian with the snoot and coat of a Collie. Very nice. He wondered if it was the dog in the movie? He thought about the seven kids Mother mentioned. He concluded they were made-up characters in the movie script. Paranoia set in and he thought, is it a true story? The old gent was still in the room straightening things, Mudd tapped him on his shoulder.

  “Say do you know anything about the movie I’m working on?”

  He looked at Muddy with a wild look on his face and said. “I know nothing, I see nothing, I hear nothing,” then he abruptly left.

  Mudd shook his head and stood there wondering. “What have I gotten myself into? Who was that man? Will it be safe to sleep here? Will I be alive in the morning?”

  Mudd’s imagination was getting the best of him. His old friend, Mother, wouldn’t be mixed up in anything this crazy. Of course not, he told himself, as he crawled into bed quickly returning to sleep.

  It was early morning when he awoke. He was totally refreshed and ready to take on the world. Checking the time, he discovers it was only 4:00 in the morning.

  After dressing, he crossed the lobby, walking on the soft plush carpet toward the studio. He would work out on the drums and be ready for the afternoon session.

  Mother had gone to Atlantic City (AC) but would be back in the afternoon so Mudd had time to work the skins. He needed to know where he was, and what he had to do to catch up.

  As he walked across the hallway carpet, to the studio, he realized there was no sound from his footsteps only his breathing and heartbeat could be heard. It’s been many years since Mudd was in a studio. His heart was on super speed.