Monday, October 17, 2016

Visit Tin Lizzy today! An advertorial praising my hosts

I’ve begun leaving empty beer bottles and a nearly drained fifth of Wild Turkey strewn upon my office desk.

I do this to perpetuate the myth I spend all my writing time in the Tin Lizzy all gooned up.

And that’s why I’m so wildly successful!

But more and more, strangers are wandering up to the third floor and I wouldn’t want them to think the Tin is hosting some stick-up-his-butt sober writer.

I like meeting the wandering strangers.

Just the other day I looked up and a guy, maybe about 45, was standing over my desk.

“Is there a bar in this building?” he asked. Took me about 10 seconds to realize he was serious.

I told him he’d labored up three floors, past three bars and a 6-pack shoppe, to find the only floor that didn’t serve hootch.

I stood up and pointed straight down. “There’s a great bar called ‘Flappers’ one floor below our feet."

Then I walked him across to the cornhole room, pointed and said, “Two floors below this room is the ground-level Main Street bar. And down near the 6-pack shoppe is a flight of stairs that leads to the basement Rathskeller that’s been there for, oh, gee, about 260 years.”

Remarkably, I did all this without sounding even a bit sarcastic. I was explicit in my directions because I knew if I saw him wandering again I’d feel compelled to take him by the hand and lead him to some alcoholic quenching.

I guess I’m happy for the guy that the Tin isn’t a 15-story building.

My friend Scott Levin of the Tin Lizzy Bistro asked me to write the following 1,000-word advertorial that is running in Laurel View Living Magazine. I was happy to oblige.



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The Tin Lizzy

Where the only things destined to outlast the building are the good time memories.


Your first thought when stepping through the varnished doors at the historic Tin Lizzy will probably be, “Man, this place must be really, really old.” The last thought when you depart many happy hours later will likely be, “Man, this place is really, really cool!”

And you’ll be right both times.

Experts have determined the building’s foundational elements date to clear back to the ‘50s.

The 1750’s, that is.

The vestiges of that epoch are evident in the buildings timbering, its fireplaces and and a lively aura known to attract everyone from ghostbusters to connoisseurs of charm and ambiance.  And the only thing more enchanting than the Tin Lizzy’s past is its glorious future. A new team of executive chefs have become the perfect fit for a beloved building that manages to be both historic and hip.

Together with long-time owner Buck Pawlosky, the Tin Lizzy is welcoming guests who enjoy convivial atmosphere, great food and lively companionship in a town already renown for launching larger-than-life legends.

This is Youngstown, Pennsylvania, pop. 400. Turn right out of the Tin Lizzy and you’ll end up on Fred Rogers Way; turn left and you’ll be on Arnold Palmer Drive. Yes, that’s Mister Fred Rogers and Arnold Palmer, both born and raised just down Main Street from the Tin.

“I like to think we offer something unique,” says Pawlosky. “We have three distinct taverns that give you the option of dining in seven different rooms and a seasonal balcony. I have people that live on the option-rich South Side who drive all the way from Pittsburgh to spend a night here. They say it’s just like the South Side, but at the Tin Lizzy all the fun’s under one roof.

“People come here in the summer to golf at Latrobe Country Club, enjoy the Westmoreland County Airshow or Steeler training camp at St. Vincent College. We have always enjoyed great word-of-mouth business and I’m sure that’ll only increase with Scott and his crew here.”

The enthusiasm is mutual.

“We’re thrilled to be here as part of the Tin Lizzy and all it means to the community,” says owner/chef Scott Levin. “This is a special place and we’re looking forward to bringing the kind of quality and affordable dining that’ll keep people coming back again and again.”

His commitment shows in that the Tin Lizzy Bistro is the second eatery he’s opened in Youngstown in just two years.

In 2015, he’d been eager to apply all he’d learned and experienced working for 20 years at the popular Bella Luna restaurant in Murrysville. He found opportunity in Youngstown in the building just up the street from the Tin Lizzy at the site of what for years was the landmark Mekic’s Market.

He opened the Youngstown Grille & Market and has been doing gangbuster business there ever since. But when the Tin Lizzy restaurant became available, Scott sensed opportunity. “People just fall in love with this building. It just felt like the perfect place to run a restaurant. It felt like home.”

The homeyness is evident in the Main Street ground floor bar where locals have long gathered beginning at 7 a.m. when the doors open Monday through Saturday. It’s the kind of place where in the summer someone’s always leaving a basket full of surplus garden vegetables and in the winter they’re right there ready with jumper cables for when you’re in a frozen fix.

Most of the patrons are locals. Sometimes they’re famous and come from as far as Hollywood. One of the regulars is famous and comes from less than a mile away.

In 2014, actors Steve Carell, Channing Tatum and Mark Ruffalo were in the Laurel Highlands filming the award-winning “Foxcatcher” about homicidal billionaire John du Pont. They stayed at the Marriott SpringHill Suites just up the road and asked the front desk where they could get a good meal.

“Go to the Tin Lizzy,” they were told. “You’ll love it.”

So three Tinseltown A-listers were for at least one-week Tin regulars.

One true local who’s even more famous is even more regular.

Arnold Palmer and his family have been dining at the Tin Lizzy for years. In fact, Palmer is a second generation regular. In his 2000 autobiography, “A Golfer’s Life,” Palmer writes about the his father’s enduring affinity for the landmark hotel when it was Amer’s.

“He loved drinking ‘shots and beers’ with his buddies at the firehall or at Amer’s Hotel in Youngstown.”

It’s even rumored some of the regulars come from farther away than even Hollywood.

They come from the great beyond.

“Lots of people believe it’s haunted,” Pawlosky says. “I’ve never seen any evidence of anything spooky. But about once a year we get some group of paranormal detectives who ask for permission to investigate the place. I’m happy to let them have their fun. They take out a bunch of fancy equipment and start hunting for spirits, but sooner or later they wind up just ordering some food and a bunch of drinks.”

It’s what any sensible ghostbuster would do.

Besides the Main Street bar, there’s the wonderful Rathskellar, a true step back in time. This is where the bones of the old Tin Lizzy rattle loudest. Low timber rafters and bedrock fireplaces give warm ambiance, and the actual bar is about 50-feet of one-piece solid timber, all gnarly and varnished. Pawlosky tells about the day he and a squad of friends took out a window and spent the day painstakingly maneuvering the bar top into place.

The “new” part of the building — everything above the basement — dates back to the 1890s. The floors and hallways are wonderfully creaky, like an old carnival fun house. 

The second floor bar (and adjacent balcony) is the wonderful Flappers, a 1920’s themed bar so elegantly appointed local advertisers use it to film commercials. It’s a martini bar tucked so discretely back into the building that wandering into it feels like discovering a secret speakeasy.

“In all my life,” Scott says, “I’ve never seen a building that’s a more perfect fit for the kind of fun dining my staff and I deliver daily at the Tin Lizzy.”

So go for the food. Go for the fun. 

There may not be any ghosts in the Tin Lizzy, but it’s the kind of place anyone given to living will love to haunt.


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Friday, October 14, 2016

At Fort Days selling "Last Baby Boomer" errata


Wise friends said they were dumbfounded when I deliberately chose to have “The Last Baby Boomer” released in January instead of December. They thought I was foolish to release a book after Christmas.

They didn’t understand.

In fact, I did release it in plenty of time for Christmas.

Christmas 2016!

And now it’s really ready for sales and promotion. Now, it’s been in the hands of hundreds of readers who’ve affirmed its — and I say this with all due humility — “greatness” and are enthused about telling others.

This from one 5-star Amazon review: “I literally laughed out loud and discovered tears welling up in my eyes at various points. It's really an incredible work of artistic humor writing. Can't recommend it enough.”

See, the first edition is admittedly flawed and chock full of sloppy errors. For that I apologize while begging your understanding.

I could have ordered a editing service for $1,500, an amount which would have caused my wife’s heart to explode.

I couldn’t do it. Getting this book published (in fact, it’s still just self-published, for what little that’s worth) has been the primary saga of my defining failures. Investing even a penny, let alone a few thousands dollars, into getting it printed and formatted for e-books was a harrowing expense.

But I believed in the book. I believed in myself.

Still do.

What did I do? I opted to be unconventional, brash even.

I included a page one author’s note acknowledging the book’s imperfections, and asking readers who cared to e-mail me any errors that bothered them.

Well it was, ahem, genius.

Readers were generous in their response. Most would just kindly point out when I’d transposed words or typed “his his” on page 229.

The funniest typo, the one everyone caught, was when I typed “Mr. and Mrs. Rodell” where I meant to type “Mr. and Mrs. McCrae,” leading many to ask if the satire is autobiographical.

It is not. Sort of. I consider the main character, Martin J. McCrae, to be an exaggeration of my exaggerations.

By embracing this reader/editing method — let’s call it Wiki-Eeks! — I was able to save $1,200.

I submitted more than 100 corrections to the publisher last month and last week received a “Last Baby Boomer” copy that is as close to immaculate as any self-published book could hope to be.

Now, if you order through Amazon, either e-book or soft cover, you’ll get a clean version, one with a snazzy author picture on the back, too.

Please let me know if you already paid for an error-laden copy and want me to replace it free of charge. I’m happy to do that.

What’ll I do with the remaining 100 copies? I’m discounting them to $10 each to anyone who wants to become a book ambassador, meaning anyone who wants to order two or more copies to give as gifts.

All are signed and noted as “Errata Editions,” errata being the Latin word for books that have the errors noted and corrected, which I do with a pencil for most of the truly glaring typos.

So, arrivederci, Mr. and Mrs. Rodell!

Here’s what one recent reader said of her errata — not to be confused with “erotica” — edition:

“Your book the perfect mix of intrigue and humor. I have Ellen's book as well as Amy Poehler's but they are only for when I am in a certain mood to read. However, your book is perfect all the time because you can read it and get a slice of humor, mystery, adventure, and drama all at the same time. It is a several-genre book and I am loving it!”

After so much doubt and failure, you can only imagine what reading words like that mean to me.

I’ll be signing today from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. at Second Chapter Books on Main Street for Fort Ligonier Days.

Just in time for Christmas!



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Thursday, October 13, 2016

Teaching shy kids how to make friends


More evidence that I deserve my “All Star Dad” mug came when I was chatting with our 10 year old on the walk home from the school bus stop.

I asked if she’d yet made any new friends in the new school year.

She had not.

She then out-of-the-blue revealed she’d two years ago heeded some of my keystone advice and that it had really paid off.

“Do you remember telling me the way to make friends is to ask strangers if they want to be friends?”


I did. I for years have told my daughters as they depart for the first day of school that this was the day they could meet someone who’ll be their very best friend for the rest of their lives.

It’s a beautiful sentiment because it’s true. Every time we step outside the house we have an opportunity to make a brand new friend. Think about that and open your eyes to the possibility. It’ll enhance your every human encounter.

What can I say? Some days I channel Fred Rogers.

When the girls get older I’ll be sure to amend the sentiment to include the fact that, this being modern America, any time they step outside they could also intercept a bullet so be sure to duck anytime you hear gunfire.

What can I say? Some days I channel Chris Rock.

Two years after she’d first heard the advice, Lucy told me that was how she’d met Aryn and Ally.

“I went up to them and said, ‘My name is Lucy. Do you want to be friends?’ They said yes and today they’re my best friends.”

I was blown away.

For many years, darling Lucy was what many adults describe as shy.

“She’s shy.”

They’d say it in a voice that sounded like they were diagnosing leprosy.

I treasure shy people and am daily thrilled I have a role in raising one of them.

Knowing her as I do, I’d say it was just a matter of time until her confidence caught up with her vivacious personality.

Way too many adults — predominantly males — have the exact opposite problem.

I’m one of them.

Another is running for president!

We’re confident. We brag. We bluster. We blog. We shout to the world we have really big hands.

But for a moment think of the courage of that quiet little 8 year old daring to approach playground strangers to humbly request their friendship.

Remember how painful any rejection is at that age? She’s risking humiliation, taunting and stony indifference.

Shy?

The kid could be on Seal Team 6.

The rise in on-line isolation saddens me for the future. We’re so wedded to our virtual diversions we’re blind to the chances to make authentic friends.

We could learn a lot from kids like Lucy.

Keep the phone in the pocket. Make eye contact. And be confident you’re offering for free something every single human being wants and needs.

Asking anyone if they want to be your friend is so disarming it infuses the brain with joyful potential. It hints at Tom-and-Huck-like adventures to be. It opens the possibility of a lifetime of laughter and inside jokes in rooms full of strangers.

It’s utterly euphoric.

“Hello. My name is Chris. Will you be my friend?”

There. Good. Isn’t that a great way to start a new day?

And tomorrow I’ll cement our friendship by asking for the first time, but not the last, if I can bum twenty bucks off you ’til the weekend.

It's just what friends are for.



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Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Hire me to ensure a memorable funeral


I may be posting “Help Wanted” ads in the next few weeks. I’m thinking of hiring about 200 part-time actors who I’ll pay to attend the funerals of deceased clients intent on memorable send offs.

This latest brainstorm occurred to me last week as I was sitting there in the pew mourning Arnold Palmer. I’ve been to weddings that were less uplifting.

A veritable who’s who of golf and business celebrities brought tears to our eyes as we eulogized this great man for his philanthropy, his warmth and his sporting achievements. The Golf Channel covered the whole thing live, including the ceremonial jet fly over at the conclusion.

It’s a petty admission, I know, but I became envious.

I realized my funeral would be nothing like his.

Instead of a line of private jets circling over the airport named in my honor, there’d be ample parking with just a few duct-taped jalopies outside Latrobe’s cheapest local funeral home.

It saddens me, sure, but I prefer being sad to being busy piling up the time-consuming accomplishments it’d take to ensure a well-attended funeral.

I thought if only I could pay people to show up and say nice things about me it might lessen the sting my survivors feel at being stiffed in the will.

Sure, it’d be better if they were actual friends telling the truth, but any lying stranger will do in a pinch.

I believe many people will agree — and pay for the privilege.

How much would you pay to ensure 100 soulful weepers showed up at your funeral?

Maybe $1,000? Maybe $2,500?

Of course, warm bodies to mourn a cold one is just the beginning.

I envision tiered levels of escalating services. 

I contend having a sultry blonde stranger attending the funeral and weeping uncontrollably would add a dash of romantic intrigue to any memorial.

Who is she? Why is she so upset? Did the old man have a secret lover? And a buxom babe to boot?

Oh, the stories would resonate any time your memory was discussed.

Or you could go the complete opposite direction and hint at altruistic devotions.

Think of the reaction if you had some humbly dressed pseudo-social worker show up and declare that you spent up to 40-hours-a-week working in the local soup kitchen.

“He swore me to secrecy,” he’d say. “But he was there helping with the cooking, the serving, or just to be a strong shoulder to lean on with residents who needed a good listener. He was a true saint. He will be missed.”

Imagine the impact on your legacy if your loved ones heard that line of bullshit.

It would color their impressions of you for as long as they lived. And they’d feel stabs of pitiless guilt for all the times they accused you of being out drinking with your bar buddies night after night after night.

Take a wild guess as to the inspiration for that last one. 

Other scenarios could include the appearance of an exotic, mixed-race prospective love child, a mysterious biographer, or a suspicious Russian spy.

Want to set off a belated panic among your greedy survivors?

Hire a spiffy industrialist to show up in a chauffeured limo to say he was a secret partner in spectacular investment from years ago and had been curious to see how you’d spent your half of the fortune.

So, you see, you don’t need to worry about a funeral that’s boring or poorly attended.

You have it in your power to stage a funeral that will convince your survivors you were well-loved, you were generous and that the time you’d spent on earth was time well spent.

Of course, that’s something that’s always been within your power.

I guess it comes down to whether you want to enrich a guy like me or devote your days to enriching the whole world.


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