Dumbwaiter

 

 

 

It's a dumbwaiter.  No, it’s not me or any of the other staff, although many of us are none too bright in our decision-making or life choices. We use it to get beer and food from the basement up to the bar, cases of beer, jars of pickles. It's like a mini elevator, like they have in mansions to transport food from the lower reaches to those eating in the loftier heights. It’s an antique, some say, dating back to the late 1800s. No motor, no electricity, just a metal box hanging from a rope and pulley. Works on arm power.

Originally it probably had counterweights to make it easier, but like most things here it fell into disrepair years ago, and has been crazily jerry-rigged by Lonnie. But you get the hang of it after a while. Learn its tolerances and limits. Of course coming up is harder than going down, but that doesn't mean the drop isn’t without peril. A lot of people won't use it.  Depends on how you load it and what kind of shape you're in. I use it because it actually works!  And because people love it.  They come for miles to see this thing. I mean, who wouldn't want to come into their favorite dive bar and see something so old-timey still being used.  We’re authentic here.

I seen the whole thing when it happened. It was high-larious and whatnot, cause back when Lee was new, like who was this fat fucker with the ponytail, am I right? Ham? Am I right? With this long-assed hair? We were all like who the fuck has Lonnie hired now? We can tell he's totally useless.  Cause we could tell. He's got these fucking glasses like he's some kind a intellectual, right? Jimmy? Cause he had the ponytail and with this long hair. He didn't look faggy or nothing, but sompin' wasn't right. Well I could fuckin' tell so fuck it, okay. So I don't know, like on his first or second day, we're all setting here, Me, Jimmy, Ham, Clown, and the foreign fuck who's friends with Lonnie. Zippy? His name aint Zippy you fuckin' bastard. Get the fuck outta here, Zippy? Fuck. Hey Lee, buy this fuckin' bastard a drink. Zippy. Lee! Anyways…Lee!  What the fuck do you have to do to get a beer in this place?  And let me tell you he was a fat bastard back then, he comes out and we're all seein' him for like the first or second time, and we're all like, what the fuck! And a course he's acting like he knows what the fuck he's doin'. But we can all tell he don't know shit from Shinola, 'scuse the language.  So he obviously brings up too much Iron from downstairs and it was all setting there and he's like tripping all over it, cause the cooler and whatnot was full.  So you know, he's a college boy. Right? Jimmy? Am I right?  And he goes ahead and piles three cases up on the dumbwaiter and all.  So those of us who seen this get all up and arms and all that.  Like, whoa, you gonna let three cases drop on the dumbwaiter?  Jimmy? So we're settin' here and he stacks about two, maybe three cases a Iron on the dumbwaiter and all like that there.  And all of us are settin' here, but no one's saying nothing cause we're waiting to see what the fucker will do. Lee! Can I buy Jimmy a fucking beer or what?  So anyway, it was high-larious cause I seen him trying to put I don't know, two, maybe three cases a Iron on the dumbwaiter, and finally that Zippy guy. Who? Whatever, finally breaks the ice and says all Russian-like like this here: Da dumbwatter canno take so many weights, and like that. And then we all says the same. But Lee, the fucker, acts like he don't believe us and sets up like he's gonna let 'em drop. I mean, who's been here longer, us or him? Right? Who's been here longer, Ham? Anyways, he obviously don't believe us because he goes about stacking those cases and ignorin' our asses as if we're the ugly redheaded stepchildren, know what I mean? Huh? I mean why in God's fuck would we lie to the bastard? I mean, are we are trying to fuck him? I mean, how long we've been setting here? Since when Lonnie took it over from his ol' man, am I right? Since before Lonnie took it over. What was that, '76? Okay, so like '76, like 20 years and all. And you gotta pay your dues and all that, but we ain’t trying to fuck nobody. Wait, that ain’t right. 20 years? Shit! Ham, how long since Lonnie's old man gave it up? Shit, that is unbelievable. That is un-fucking believable. So anyways, Jimmy, did you get a beer yet? Jesus. Hold on man. 1976? Ham, you were here when Lee fucked the dumbwaiter, right? Go ahead man, tell it, shit.

…well, that’s right like Mikey is saying it. Mr. Lee over there was sporting his ponytail in those days, okay, later Mikey, and he comes up and loads three cases o’Iron on that there dumbwaiter over there. Now I like the kid, always have, so's I tell him flat out that it may behoove him to limit the amount of cases over on that dumbwaiter. "Behoove" you ignorant dumb fuckers. Damnit, don't you dumb asses never read anything? Shit on a fucking shingle, can you believe that? So anyways I told Mr. Lee he might want – there, that better? He might want to take a couple of those cases o Iron off a there. But what the fuck do I care if he listens to me and what have you? I just go about my own business and set back and watch the show if you know what I mean. Yep, Mr. Lee goes about thinking he's gonna pull three cases o’Iron on the dumbwaiter.  I say pull because even though they is going down, he's gotta pull 'em cause that dumbwaiter over there doesn't work on no motor or what have yous. It works on elbow grease and I kid you not, that one's from back before you all had these gadgets and what have yous, and such. You had to do all the work using your own hands or muscles and like that, instead letting them machines do everything for you. So that's what we were telling him, but it aint my fault if he don’t want to listen. But that's the way it is cause some people you can't tell nothing to. Well and I keep to my own business over here and I can tell you flat out that I ain’t never seen nobody pull three cases before. Curtis? That one wishes he could pull three cases. Thinks he can pull three cases, but he can definitely not. I don't know, maybe two cases. A course the thing there has to be working properly for any a that to happen.  And look at it over there. That thing hasn't worked properly for as long as I been setting here and that's before Mikey and Mr. Curtis and all the rest o these young fellows here. So I just set back and damned if Mr. Lee aint gonna learn it for himself which is the hard way but sometimes is the way its gotta be.

Scuse me, Ham, but lemme tell this. I mean the man don't have all day and all. I mean, you don't have all day, you? Lee! Get Ham a drink! Lee! So, listen. And by the way, I been setting here longer than Mikey so I don't know what he's talking about 20 years or like that. You don't see me getting all bent outta shape. But like I said, you don't have all day. So anyway, we're all setting here and the kid – that's what I called him back then, the kid, Lee, goes and tries to drop three cases. He ignores us and all, stacks all those cases on there, which he never shoulda done, but the kid brought up too many cases to begin with so who's fault is that?  Like I tell my guys all the time down the Giant Eagle, take some fucking responsibility for yourselfs. So Lee gets them all up there and releases the what-do-you-call it.  After that its all over but the screaming.  Eh? remember that? Holy mother of shit, it goes flying down the chute like you've never seen.  The kid makes a grab for the rope and it almost takes him down with her!  I kid you not. Plus you could probably fuck your hands up good and get yourself some nice, uh, yeah, rope burns.   We all hear her hit down there too. Crash! Three full cases of Iron smashing into Iron soup down in the basement. So then Lee disappears. Now, don't get me wrong, I like the kid, Lee, but a lot of these people, his people, you know, people of the Jewish religion and the like, and I'm not saying nothing by it, I'm just saying in general – its not a bad thing, its a good thing actually, I mean, god only knows, some a the Jewish people are the smartest people I ever met. Like Goldstein. Goldstein is a fucking genius, am I right? Ham, is Goldstein a fucking genius? You see! So what I mean is that some of 'em don't want to listen to what nobody else is saying and all. And they aint gonna believe you neither. I see this all the time down the Giant Eagle. The Giant Eagle, down Murray Ave. I'm one of the managers down there. In this neighborhood, which is pretty much a majority of Jewish people. A lot of old one's too. Hoo, you ain’t kidden, old fuckers creakin' around. And I'm not saying nothin. This is known pretty much as a Jewish neighborhood right? Ask Clown or Jimmy or any of them. Ask Lee. Hey, you want something. Hey Lee! Get him a drink. Lee! See what I mean. Shit. So I have all the baggers and stockers and all reporting to me. I have about 12 baggers and people reporting to me, you want something? Hey, Lee! Get him something! Lee! Fucker is never down here when we need him. That's what I'm saying. Hold on, Lee! Get him a beer, okay? Lee! What am I? An orphan?

Jimmy, I’m not familiar with your family tree or your lack of parentage, so I couldn't possibly know if you were an orphan or not. Also I can't see how being an orphan either gets or doesn't get you a beer. Do you know? Can anyone explain that one to me?  The dumbwaiter? No, you don't want to hear about that. What did these fuckers tell you? You’re all cut off!  No Ham, you’re never cut off, but the rest of you are cut the fuck off. Well back when I started here, it just so happens that I believe I was told, or I saw, that Curtis could pull up three cases of beer on the dumbwaiter. Check this out. Lonnie has to have this registered as an elevator with the City. Can you believe it? Here's the certificate. Costs him $400 every year. Like I said, the thing is over 100 years old. The only other one like this that I know about is down at the Oyster House in Market Square. Yeah, fuck those fuckers down there. Bums and lawyers down there.  No I don't eat oysters, especially in Pittsburgh. Why would you eat oysters in Pittsburgh?  I ate them all the time back in San Francisco, but not here.  Why am I here? I have family here. Trying to get into grad school at Pitt. It's looking good, too. One of my regulars is a professor there. Told him he could either pay his bar tab or get me into grad school.  He's thinking about it.  Anyway, you should see the dumbwaiter downstairs.  It's been "fixed," I don't know how many times, by the famous Lonnie. It's held together with duct tape, and paper clips and shit you've never seen. So nobody tells me you can't put three cases of beer on the thing. Like what good is it if you can only put one case on it? I mean, I can carry two cases without it. But it will save you footsteps over time and they add up in this job. What? Who can't carry two cases?  The fuck I can’t!  You see me carrying two cases every fucking day, how do you think all the beer you're drinking gets up here?  Curtis?  He's lucky if he can carry one.  Anyway, like an idiot I put three cases on the thing and try to send it down. It was a total disaster.  The thing goes shooting down at light speed, nearly takes my fucking hands, hits the bottom and three cases of beer go flying off in multiple directions literally covering every surface with broken glass and beer.  I mean, I go down there and I can't even imagine how I'm gonna clean any of it up, especially with all these fuckers up here harassing me and screaming for beer and everything.  But I go down and Dan the Man goes down with me and we start cleaning it up.  And since we're down there we don’t even see that the worst has happened.  I don't see it until I come back up and these fucks are sitting and pointing and gaping with their mouths hanging open cause, drum roll please, the rope has come off the pulley.

Oh man, we ain’t never seen the rope come off the pulley before.

I seen the rope off the pulley but for the life of me couldn't tell you how they got it back on.

They didn't. It was off for like a month. They had to call someone.

They didn't call no one.  Who the fuck are you gonna call?  The dumbwaiter repair company? Somebody smart had to figger it out that's what.

I bet you that Russian fucker figgered it out.

Zippy?

Yeah, the rope comes off the pulley.  But ignorance is bliss, right?  Because I don't know how completely monumental that is, the rope coming off the pulley, so  I assume I can get it back on.

You shoulda seen this fat fucker clam up on the counter there.  For a big guy he sure moved pretty quick. He clams up and there and starts scratchin his head on accounta the rope coming off the pulley. Like he thinks he gonna jus', I don't know, put the rope back on her. However, due to some physical laws and what have you it aint that simple.

When the rope comes off there is no slack.  The weight of the dumbwaiter tightens the rope, pulls it down and there's no way to lift it high enough to get enough slack to get it back over the pulley.  I had The Man go down in the basement and try to lift the box from below, but even The Man couldn't lift it high enough. So I'm up there trying to hoist the thing and with like backbreaking, superhuman strength we get it just up high enough where it seems like its going on but it doesn't. I'm sweating and breaking my back and thinking, here it is on my second day on the job and I've managed to break the world famous dumbwaiter as well as look pretty damn foolish here in front of my esteemed audience here who will probably never let me live this one down.

Yup. Mr. Lee was standing up on that counter there and for the life of him heaving at the poor dumbwaiter and all like that.  And it don't matter how hard he's heaving because it ain’t going nowheres. Now we all know this cause we'd seen it way back one time.  But for the life of us, none of us can remember how or what they all did to get it back on up there.

Plus I've got Zev over here mumbling something about a screwdriver and half a glass of water.

No, I no mumble nothing about glass of water you fucking bastard. I tell you as an engineer how to make lever.

You aint no engineer, Zippy.

I studied engineer at Soviet Union.

So then the weirdest thing happens.  It starts to get really busy. I can't fuck with the dumbwaiter because a million people suddenly pour into the bar. So, basically I'm fucked.  I'm running my ass all over the place, and in seconds, I'm totally in the weeds. I mean, the place suddenly goes to total shit.  Bottles everywhere, no glasses, no ice, waitresses screaming at me, food getting cold, people clamoring and me and yelling and I'm under. I’m totally under.  And every time I turn around I see that dumbwaiter off its pulley and I almost lose it.

Yeah it was kinda like now when you can't get a fuckin' beer in this joint. Lee! D'jew get all these fuckers a beer?  On me. Get all these fuckers a beer.

See what I'm dealing with?  But the whole time the place is going to shit I see this one guy out in the crowd who's kinda looking at me and staring at me.  I finally ask him what he wants and he says, "You don't remember me."  And I don't have time for any of that, so I say no, what can I get you?  And he says, and I kid you not, "You should have paid more attention back in physics class."  And I look at this guy and I kind of blanch.  He's my old, high school physics teacher!  I don't understand what he could possibly be doing here, what with my fiasco with the dumbwaiter and now being totally in the weeds and I start to panic a little and wonder, you know, is this really happening?  So he's still looking at me and he says, "I remember you doing stage crew and missing class a lot, and now look at you! I told you to study your physics!"  So by now I am totally freaking the fuck out. I can't like speak or do anything, and my vision has completely narrowed and all I see is him, as if he were there to get me, cloak down over black eyes.

I don't remember any of this. Hey Lee, I'm gonna take a piss, watch my beer.

Mr. Lee, when you are through can you fill me up? Thank you, sir.

His name was Dr. Novatny but we all called him "Dr. No," back then.  So he suddenly smiles and says, "Lee, it's me, Dr. No!  Remember? I’m just kidding with you.  How've you been? You working here now, huh?"  But I'm still freaked out and don't really hear him.  I say "what can I get you" again and he looks sad and orders a quick draft of beer, and takes it out of my line of sight.  And then the bar noises and confusion start up again around me and I try to concentrate of getting out of the weeds and waiting on some people.  So finally it subsides and I don't know if a tour bus had pulled up and let all these people out or what, but they finally all leave and I don't see Dr. No anywhere, so he must've left with them, and I try to put the place back together best I can.  It takes like the rest of the day, especially with these fuckers on me constantly.  But I get it all together and looking good and I hightail it downstairs for a bit of a breather.  There's still broken glass everywhere and it stinks of beer, but it is cooler and quieter.  I see the dumbwaiter laying off kilter on its pad and give it a good shove.  "Fucking thing," I think. And then it hits me.

I rush back upstairs and climb back up on the counter and it fucking hits me!  The pulley!  The pulley is a fucking lever!  Use the pulley to hoist the dumbwaiter and the rope!  So I jump up there and start turning the pulley by hand and edging the rope onto it, and I'll be fucked if the rope and the dumbwaiter don't start aligning themselves and pulling the thing up!  I mean, it was so easy, I was hardly straining at all.  I couldn't believe it.  So this is why they invented pulleys, I thought. Shit on wheels!  And before you know it, the dumbwaiter’s back!

Yep. He's right. Mr. Lee. He done fixed the dumbwaiter all by himself.  He gets on up there and turns the pulley and we'll be damned if it don't work. That sure was something.

I mean we ain’t never seen nothing like it.  Fucker is up there like a cat. Huh, Lee, like a fucking cat and I kid you not, he like zips and zaps and the thing is fixed and we're all like "whoa!"  Whenever you're ready, Lee. Gimme a shot too.

I always wondered about Dr. No showing up here like he did. I felt bad for him after that.  He comes in and sees one of his old students tending bar, and in here of all places. And he tries to be cute and give me a hard time, which usually I can take — okay, you're all cut off – but instead sees that he probably insulted me and kind of slinks off.  However, I wished he'd stayed to see it.  Turns out I’d paid attention in physics class after all.  And no Jimmy, you’re not an orphan, at least not that I'm aware of.  But I know one thing, Jimmy.  If you were an orphan, you’d certainly use that information to get a beer. Am I right?

 

 

Lee Skirboll is a writer living in Oakland, California. Check out his blog at www.skirblog.typepad.com