Transcript
Sarah Austin Janess (0:00)
As we approach the end of the year, I'm thinking about the next. Next year is the year I finally make my Spanish better than my 9 year olds. Rosetta Stone is the most trusted language learning program available on desktop or as an app. And it truly immerses you in the language that you want to learn. I can't wait to use Rosetta Stone and finally speak better than my 9 year old who's been learning Spanish in his own way. Rosetta Stone is the trusted expert for 30 years with millions of users and 25 languages offered speaking Spanish, French, Italian, German, Korean, I could go on fast language acquisition. Rosetta Stone immerses you in many ways. There are no English translations, so you can really learn to speak, listen and think in that language. Start the new year off with a resolution you can reach today. The Moth listeners can take advantage of this Rosetta Stones lifetime membership for 50% off, visit rosettastone.com moth that's 50% off. Unlimited access to 25 language courses for the rest of your Life. Redeem your 50% off at rosettastone.com moth today from PRX, this is the Moth Radio Hour. Hi, I'm Sarah Austin Janess from the Moth, and I'll be your host this time. At the Moth, people tell true stories from their lives. Storytellers of all kinds stand on stage without notes in bars, clubs and theaters, and they tell these stories to audiences all around the country. We take the best stories from these nights and we share them here with you. This hour we have five stories. First up, Richard Price. Richard is a writer. His works include Clockers and and episodes of the TV series the Wire. We asked him how telling a story is different from the writing he does.
Richard Price (1:57)
It's like your body's your pen and your voice is your pen. What makes it scary for me is that you don't have anything in front of your nose to hide behind. You got to get up there and, you know, you just can't recite. You know, you just got to get into it and you got to tell a story like, you know, there's an invisible campfire.
Sarah Austin Janess (2:17)
Here's Richard live at the mall.
Richard Price (2:28)
My grandmother was five foot tall and 300 pounds, and she basically spent much of her life unloved and despite her size, feeling utterly invisible. She grew up. She was born in Harlem in 1902, which is when Jews on the Lower east side had two quarters to rub together. At the end of the week, they moved up to Harlem because there was a little more air between the buildings and the Infant mortality rate went down a little bit. And she found my grandfather, and she was sort of like a roommate. Her father was a furrier and had a little bit of money. And she found my grandfather, who was basically a thug. Dropped out of school in eighth grade for punching out his gym teacher at DeWitt Clinton. Drove a truck, was a union headbreaker, was in and out of jail, had a tattoo which is, you know, holy cow. And they got married on April 23, 1923, at about 10:30 in the morning. And as of about noon, they started hating on each other for 50 years until she died. She had two kids, one of which was my mother. And I was born in 1949, and I was born with mild cerebral palsy. So she and I got on like gangbusters. And she was my most loving relative, not to diss my nuclear family, but every time I would go to the South Bronx, into this tenement where she lived, it was like, you know, parole or reprieve or whatever. And our typical days would start out. I'd get in her bed with about a thousand baseball cards, and she'd cover up the player and the position and the team, and I would have. And I would go. Chico Carrasquale, second base, Chicago White Sox. Okay, next. Sandy Koufax, pitcher, Brooklyn Dodgers. Next. You know, I just, you know. Don Mossey, pitcher, Cleveland Indians. And we'd get out of bed, and the day consisted of four things. Looking out the window and being horrified by what we saw. Going to triple monster movies. Coming home, watching roller derby and then professional wrestling and then Zacher Lee shock theater, which is horror movies. I actually learned how to tell stories from my grandmother. My grandfather on the other side was an actual poet, but his poems were all symbolic, in fact, guttering candles. But she would sit there on the third floor window in this beach chair that was chrome and vinyl strips on the third floor, and look down on Vyse Avenue and 172nd street, and this is 1955. And the radio would be playing WEVD, Foreign Language Radio. And it'd be just like Yiddish, like, halacha, alacha. Halacha alacha. Every once in a while I'd hear President Eisenhower or John Foster Dulles, you know, and she'd be looking out the window and she had something to say about everybody. So, like, there'd be some Maynard G. Krebs looking, you know, junkie walking down the street, and she'd go, look at that guy. It's like he's a junkie. Every time he sticks a needle in his arm. It's like sticking a needle in his mother's heart. She comes to me, Mrs. Rosenbaum, what should I do? What should I do, Richard? What do I tell her? What do I tell her? And I'm five years old and, you know, and then we'd sort of like pack these giant valises to go to the movies. And in the valises would be peaches, plums, nectarines. I didn't think they had ugly fruit then, but, you know, grapefruits, pineapples. There'd be, like, carcasses of chicken and turkey from the night before. There'd be a thermos of coffee, a thermos of chocolate milk. It's like we were going to the desert, you know. And so we'd go to the Simpson or the Freeman. We'd see the attack of the giant leeches, the attack of the 50 foot, the attack of everything. And we, you know, she'd sit there and she'd eat and she'd talk to the screen. And she was the only person over 15 years old. This is a Saturday matinee, you know. And I remember at one point we were watching Rodan, which is this Japanese horror movie where a terror aflame, breathing pterodactyl is like torching Tokyo. And at the end of the movie, you know, the Japanese army's got flamethrowers, and they burn up Rodan. And my grandmother screams out, good for you, you bastard. How do you like it? You know? You know? You know. And then we go home, then we watch roller derby. And roller derby consists of a bunch of women on rollerblades going around in a circle, like, slamming the shit out of each other with elbows. And everybody's nickname was Tuffy. And I didn't get it, and I don't get it, and I don't have enough time. But her true love, and our true love was professional wrestling. And we'd watch it on tv. And my grandmother liked screaming at Rodan. Would get down and wrestle on the floor with the wrestlers on tv. The great show is Bedlam from Boston. And one of her favorite wrestlers was a freak, a guy named the French Angel. And the French angel had acromegaly, which is giantism, you see, Andre the Giant, I guess, had it, too, where, you know, it's a glandular disorder where your face completely grows out of proportion and your hands grow out of proportion. It doesn't make you big and strong. It just makes things out of proportion and big. And because you're ugly, you're cast as a villain. My grandmother didn't like villains, but she liked the French angel. I guess she identified with him. And she would tell me things about the French angel when he was wrestling. Like he could speak 732 languages and he was an international chess champion. And he graduated from the Sorbonne. I don't know where she came up with this shit. And then I remember one time she told me this story about him. She said that he was such a good hearted soul. I mean, she was so into the beauty in the beast. That was her thing. She said he was such a good hearted soul and he felt bad for lepers. So he went on a wrestling tour of all the leper colonies in the world. And then she would. And she would be starting to cry, and then I'd be starting to cry, and then she'd say, he was. He had such a kind heart. He would wrestle for the lepers. And the lepers were so grateful, but they couldn't touch him because they had leprosy. So they would bend down and kiss his shadow. And we'd both be like, sobbing like crazy. And it wasn't until years later I'd say, who the fuck was he wrestling? It's like, wait a minute. He was just wrestling him, you know, throwing himself down, getting himself in the head. Anyways, all right, so that was the French angel. And that was like tv. I never met him personally. However, I did go to a live wrestling match with my grandmother in Peekskill, New York, in about 1955, when I was about 4 years old. And it was in the middle of a Titanic summer heat wave. And it was in a tent, so it was about 120 degrees. And my grandmother was the type of a woman that was known in wrestling circles as a hat pin Mary. And a hat pin Mary was usually like a woman who looked like my grandmother, who would take one of those hat pins that, you know, long pins that would have like that Bakelite amber colored thing with the thumb depression, and she would hide it and sit on the aisle. And whenever a villain would come down the aisle, she would jab him in the ass. Now, and my grandmother was a Hap and Mary, but she had me on her lap, which is pretty tricky given the convexity of the physics there. And it was really every. It was sweltering and it was packed, and it was like everybody was going, like, melting. And, you know, you hope that the villain's gonna come down your aisle, because if the good guy comes down your aisle, it's a waste. But she got one of the bad guys. And his name was Carl Von Hess and he had like a Bismarck goatee and he had jackboots with iron crosses. And he always goose stepped down the aisle and he always wrestled a guy named Abe six Million Jacobs. And always, you know, and got him in the hangman's noose, that was his favorite hole. And we were getting Carl Von Hess the Nazi coming down the aisle and my grandmother just couldn't wait. And I'm five and he's coming down the aisle. My grandmother takes this hat pin and whams him in the ass. This guy went up in the air about 12ft, came down holding his ass and said, cock sucker, you know, with a Brooklyn accent. And it was the first profanity I've ever heard in my entire life. I had no idea what it meant, but it sounded really bad. And the guy's looking, looking around and my grandmother's got, you know, the hat pin behind her back, you know, and he's going down to, you know, he's going down to the ring like, you know, like this. And Abe Jacobs beat him that night. I think it was one of the few times that Abe Jacobs beat Carl Von Hess. And they're probably best friends in real life and so that's cool. Then the next match featured a villain named Nature Boy Buddy Rogers, who later became the world wrestling champion of 1960. And I remember passing a note at my bar mitzvah, Buddy Rogers beat Pat O'Connor. Anyways, Nature Boy Buddy Rogers started coming downhill. Now Nature Boy was like this exaggerated caricature of masculinity. He had platinum pompadoured hair. He had a chest that went out like Mamie Van Doren. He wore a one shoulder leopard skin toga and snow white boots. And he would just come down the aisle like this. And I mean, my grandmother looked at him, this poor woman, and she was like all eyeballs. And she had the hat pin, but she was kind of paralyzed by his appearance. And as he was walking down the aisle, all these people in the audience had seen my grandmother jab Carl Von Hess. And they started chanting, stick them, stick them, stick them, stick them, stick them, stick them. And my grandmother was like Jackie Gleason, like ham Nahumina hom. She couldn't move. And Nature Boy started hearing this chanting, stick em. And he started looking around and he saw my grandmother with the hat pin in her hand. And he went up to her and up to me. And his chest was so big that you could only see his eyes, you know, because his pectorals like rose over his mouth and nose. And he just stood there like this, like, go ahead. And at one point, when he realized he wasn't gonna do anything, he bowed down, he took her hand with the hat pin and he kicked, kissed her hand and said, madame, at which point I fell off her lap. I remember that. And I was picking my nose, so my finger went right through my forehead. But. And my grandmother was just like, speechless for the rest of, like, her life, basically. And he went into the ring and did his thing, probably, you know, figure four leg, vine or whatever. And anyways, this 1955, 1968, I go off to college. And in that year of 1968, any provincial working class white kid goes to college in September, comes back November, fully converted, argumentative, and realizes his whole family of working class schmoes has basically turned into Mississippi lynchers. And all you do is scream and cry and yell at your family for being morons and being racists. And it was called the generation gap. You know, we haven't heard that word in a long time. Just heard the gap, you know. And I just remember one of the last times I spoke to my grandmother before she died. I was sitting in a room with her and I was just screaming at her, telling her what a racist she was. And she was crying and I was crying just like. And we both got exhausted, you know, from crying and yelling at each other. And she turned on the TV and it was wrestling. And she just looked in this distant way and she said, I wonder how the nature boy's doing. He was such a nice fellow. Thank you.