Again With the Debate

There are rumors that the weather might be improving. Maybe. Something that coincides with summertime is the drive-in and in Kenosha that means Big Star and The Spot. We are fortunate to have not one, but two ‘50s style burger drive-ins to choose from and everyone seems to have their favorites. 

This was evidenced in a blog poll that I conducted a couple of years ago, with Big Star garnering one more vote than The Spot. The small margin of victory tells me that the debate rages on. Which is Kenosha’s favorite drive-in? 

First of all let’s make it clear that there is a definite difference between a drive-in and a fast food restaurant. There are fast food joints all over America. In fact they are all over the world. You would be hard pressed to go anywhere and not find a McDonalds, Burger King or KFC. But go to those same places and try to find a Big Star or The Spot. It’s just not going to happen.

Fast food is fast food, no matter where you are. A Whopper is a Whopper and a Big Mac is a Big Mac, whether you are in Kenosha, Wisconsin or London, England. But a Big Star double-cheeseburger is unique to our fair city, as are those at the Spot. 

We are fortunate to have two one-of-a-kind drive-in restaurants to choose from. But which do you prefer?

Having a rough time making up your mind? It used to be a lot tougher. Back in the ‘70s there were at least five drive-ins to choose from. Besides The Spot and Big Star, there was also A&W, Chat ‘n’ Chew and the legendary Fon Tan Blu. Each had it’s own distinct style and menu. And each featured things that stick out in my memory.

A&W was on Roosevelt Road and 30th Avenue. It has since become Andy’s Drive-in. It has become more of a sit-down establishment, although they will provide service to your car if you leave your headlights on. 

Back in the day Andy’s was strictly a drive-in that featured carhops. I remember driving by and reading the daily special posted on the tall roadside sign. You couldn’t beat a one-dollar pizza burger.

Located on 52nd Street and 40th Avenue was Chat ‘n’ Chew. I don’t quite recall when it went out of business but I do remember the fragrant aroma that the small building exuded. The smell was different from any that of the other drive-ins. Like the other drive-ins, it stayed open late. 

I fondly recall working at Burger King, closing up and heading over to the “Chew” with the gang after we got done. Its focal point was an enormous billboard that doubled as a menu.

Another Kenosha landmark sat kitty corner from Holy Rosary church, the Fon Tan Blu. The oddly shaped blue building was a destination spot for softball players who had spent the night enjoying adult beverages after their game. 

It was not uncommon to have your burger or “Soakie” prepared by none other then Kenosha’s premiere double-play combination, Nick Perrine and Dick Laba. Mama Perrine’s Italian Bombers were second to none. Fon Tan Blu is sorely missed.

Alas, venerable institutions like Chat ‘n’ Chew and Fon Tan Blu no longer grace our hometown. In my humble opinion, with all due respect to Andy’s, Kenosha only has two true drive-ins. The Spot and Big Star are the two remaining survivors. And both have their loyal legion of supporters. Which of the two do you prefer? They both have their pros and cons.

The biggest difference between the two is the hours of operation. Big Star is “Closed for the Season” from Labor Day until March. While on the south side of town the carhops at The Spot have donned their long johns and are waiting on cars into the wee hours of the frigid morning.

Big Star’ normal hours of operation are 11:00 AM until 11:00 PM. Their cross-town rival opens at the same time, but stays open until 3:00 AM during the week and 3:30 AM on Friday and Saturday. Perhaps Big Star subscribes to the theory that “absence makes the heart grow fonder”, or in this case, the taste buds.

Both of the popular eateries are located on busy thoroughfares. The Spot at the intersection of 75th Street and 22nd Avenue, while Big Star is directly across from Time Warner Cable on Washington Road. 

Because of the traffic, coupled with their popularity, getting in and out of the parking lots can be a bit dicey at either of the drive-ins. But their scrumptious food makes it well worth the hassle.

Both Big Star and The Spot are known for their flavorful root beer and make it available in various sizes all the way up to gallon jugs. The only drawback to the tasty beverage is the swarms of bees that it attracts during the summertime. I think the carhops should be eligible for hazard pay during bee season.

Another delight that each of the two carry is ice cream. The Spot currently features six different “hand-packed” flavors with Big Star offering soft serve cones of the vanilla, chocolate and twist varieties. If you enjoy rich and creamy ice cream, The Spot is for you, but be prepared to pay for the frozen treat.

The menus are similar at both restaurants, offering burgers, fish, chicken, etc. The burgers come in an array of sizes with Big Star tempting your appetite with a half-pounder. 

It should be noted both places have steak sandwiches on the menu. Having enjoyed both, I must report that Big Star’s is closer to an actual piece of steak, while Spot’s is more like Salisbury steak. Advantage to Big Star on the steak sandwich.

Another thing that is offered on both menus is a grilled cheese sandwich. Big Star’s is very tasty and cut on the diagonal, just like mom used to do. On the other hand, the last time I had a grilled cheese at The Spot, it was made on a hamburger bun! Maybe it has changed since then, but a hamburger bun for a grilled cheese sandwich? Please!

The last menu item that I will comment on is the double-cheeseburger, a standard that any good drive-in can be judged on. This is a tough one for me. They both have their own special qualities. Both get very high grades in my book.

The Spot

The freshness of the ingredients that make up a Spot double-cheeseburger is second to none. The meat appears to have been ground and formed into a patty moments before hitting the grill. 

If you like your onions grilled, you will love the ample amount slathered on this sandwich. The only downside to this taste delight is that too much of the cheese sticks to the wrapper! But I am nitpicking. The Spot double-cheeseburger is outstanding.

Big Star

Big Star’s double-cheeseburger is no slouch either. It too draws rave reviews for its unparalleled taste. There truly is nothing like a Big Star double-cheeseburger. The simple reason is the cheese! Some call it a cheese sauce, or Cheese Whiz, but I have heard from reliable sources that it is actually Velveeta. 

Whatever it is, it’s good! And packaging the yummy sandwich in a Styrofoam container solves the oozing cheese problem. You just wait for it to cool and dig it out with your finger.

Well, there you have it. I guess you want to know which double-cheeseburger I prefer. I guess it matters on how much money I have in my pocket or how hungry I am. You see, the thing is, a double-cheeseburger at The Spot will run you about twice as much as its counterpart at Big Star. But they are both great and quite unique to Kenosha. 

After much consternation and more taste tests than I care to admit to, I give the edge to The Spot’s double-cheeseburger. While it is still a bit pricier, the quality of ingredients is superior to that of Big Star’s. As the old adage goes, “You get what you pay for.”

I probably didn’t do much to help to solve the Kenosha drive-in great debate. I presented some pros and cons and, honestly, I enjoy them both. Quite a bit. 

Whether you are a fan of Big Star or The Spot, summertime is (supposedly) on the way, so go out and enjoy one of Kenosha’s outstanding drive-ins. You won’t be disappointed no matter which one you chose.

I have decided to run a new poll. This one asks you to choose your favorite Kenosha Drive-In ever! It is located on the right side of this blog. Until next time…from the booth.

More Kenosha Softball

Kenosha Mayor Keith Bosman

Foreword 

Kenosha, like a lot of cities in these United States, has always held sports activities in high regard. But, here in Kenosha, there was a time when the game of slowpitch softball enjoyed a popularity that could only be called “biblical.”

One could argue that the Golden Age of Kenosha Softball began in 1962 when Tirabassi’s Excavators won the World Industrial Softball Tournament in Pittsburgh. The resultant publicity from that triumph peaked the interest of ballplayers in Kenosha to the relatively new game of slowpitch softball. In the years that followed, players either wanted to play for Tirabassi’s or tried to assemble teams to compete with Tirabassi’s.

Slowpitch softball was an attractive alternative to playing baseball. Most baseball player’s careers were done certainly by the time they finished high school. Slowpitch softball did not require the ability to hit a curveball nor did it require a pitcher to throw a curveball. The version that used the 12-inch ball required many of the same skills as hardball, but it was a game that many more people had the level of skill to play and still enjoy the competition. Slowpitch softball was an opportunity for friends to get together and socialize and it only took one hour to play a game. Then it was on to the serious socializing.

For somewhere around thirty years, slowpitch softball was the game of choice for Kenoshans.

I had the opportunity to live through much of that era, from watching Tirabassi’s play in the ‘60s and reading about their tournament exploits, to playing hundreds of games and dozens of tournaments over a twenty-year career, from 1968 to 1988.

Paul Vagnoni has witnessed, firsthand, Kenosha Softball over the years. From his many years in the booth at Finney’s West and his long association with the 400 Club, he has direct personal knowledge of the teams and the characters that made up the Golden Age of Kenosha Softball. To his credit, he has taken the time to put his observations in this book.

More Kenosha Softball is not only full of times, dates, places and who won and who lost, but we also hear from many of the legendary players, managers, umpires and characters that made the era so special. This book will take a reader though a time in Kenosha when thousands of people were playing the game of softball on hundreds of teams. An era when there were as many as 72 teams were participating in the City Tournament and managers would have to get in line at the Recreation Department at 4:00AM just to make sure that they got a spot in a league.

It was a special time in Kenosha. Paul Vagnoni’s More Kenosha Softball chronicles that special time.

Kenosha Mayor Keith Bosman

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That’s the foreword that Mayor Bosman wrote for More Kenosha Softball. If you would like to purchase a copy of the book, call me at 262 671-4251.

Until next time…from the booth.

Rock ‘n’ Roll All Night

It was Friday morning at Koos Inc. and later that night I would be attending my very first Rock concert with Harry, Munk, Weber, Sluga and several other Koos luminaries. We were going to see KISS at the MECCA Arena in Milwaukee. The only problem was getting our supervisor to allow us to leave two hours early at 3:30 so we could cash our checks and wash off the Koos stink before the show. After much pleading and a promise that we would definitely be at work at 6:00 a.m. the next day, we finally got the okay. We were going to see KISS!

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day…

Weber picked me up promptly at 5:00 in his small blue sub-compact with Harry and Munk already stuffed into the backseat with a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon. As I attempted to squeeze my large frame into the small vehicle, Munk shouted at me, “Where’s your wine, Puddles?” 

Smiling, I reached inside my jacket and produced a chilled flask full of Boone’s Farms finest. “Oh, you already put it in the flask!” was the response I received. With that, we made our way up I-94 with Munk and Harry attempting to pour wine into their flasks as we all chugged ice cold PBR. 

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day…

Forty minutes later, with the all the flasks filled and the case of beer consumed, we pulled into the enclosed parking structure just west of the MECCA Arena. With all that beer in my bladder, I needed to make quick work of the three-block journey that separated me from a restroom in the Arena.

That problem was immediately eliminated when I noticed that Weber, Munk and Harry were standing over a drain in the corner and were in the process of unzipping their jeans to relieve themselves of their Pabst. I instantly followed suit, shrugging my shoulders, wondering what I had gotten myself into.

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day…

Feeling much better, we made our trek to the Arena in record time and found our seats just as a nondescript opening act started playing some rather mediocre music. That was okay; this gave us an opportunity to get to the concession stand to buy some  (you guessed it) more beer!

Back from the concession stand, we eased back into our seats, with the strong aroma of Cannabis permeating the air, and were bombarded with extremely loud music, brilliant pyrotechnics and Gene Simmons’ bloody tongue. Enjoying the show, we filled our now empty beer cups with the wine we had smuggled in. Beer, my first concert, more beer and now wine. What more could an 18 year old guy ask for? 

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day…

After the show ended we stepped out into the cool Milwaukee night and met up with Sluga and his “uncle.” After a quick critique of the concert, it was decided that it was much too early to go back to Kenosha and that we were going to a trendy local nightspot. Having no say in the matter, I wondered to myself how we were going to make it work the next day.

The club was an enormous 2-story structure whose name escapes me. Hey, it was over 35 years ago, what can I say? I do remember Sluga’s “uncle” challenging another guy to a game of foosball and ripping his shirt open, causing the buttons to fly everywhere. Oh yes, and we also drank some more beer.

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day…

After a couple of hours, the four of us had had enough and we said good-bye to Sluga and his “uncle.” Glancing at my watch I noticed it was 1:30 a.m. Hopefully I could get three hours of sleep before work. That idea was quickly put to rest when Harry announced we need some more beer for the ride home. I just shook my head as Weber obediently pulled off of the Interstate in pursuit of a new supply of alcohol.

Finding a neighborhood tavern, Weber hopped the curb parking on the sidewalk just outside the front door of the establishment. He quickly jumped out and ran inside. With a six-pack under his arm, he ran out just as quickly, screaming, “They’re rednecks! They’re going to kill us!” Our small car sped away into the darkness just as a large contingent of angry locals emerged from the bar, shaking their fists.

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day…

Relieved that we had escaped the wrath of the hayseeds that didn’t appreciate our ‘70s hairstyles, we laughed at our good fortune. There was only one problem – we didn’t know where the hell we were! 

Trying his damnedest, Weber could not find his way back to I-94. He turned left and we nearly ended up in Lake Michigan. When he turned around and headed west we ended up in Greenfield, but we still could not find the Interstate. Something told me the chance of me getting any sleep before work was rapidly diminishing.

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day…

Realizing that we needed help getting our bearings, we pulled into a George Webb restaurant complete with its two clocks on the wall. Inside there was a cook, a waitress, a truck driver and a young couple who promptly departed when they saw us stumble in. We opted to get something to eat as long as we were getting directions.

Harry, Weber and myself chose to have breakfast. So did Munk. Along with breakfast he ordered a double cheeseburger, French-fries, a chef’s salad, a milk shake and a large bowl of chicken soup. Evidently he was hungry. Unfortunately he didn’t like the shade of green that the soup was, because he threw it all over the front window of the diner. 

The rest of the “meal” must have agreed with Munk because upon completing it he proceeded to emit one of the largest belches that I have ever been witness to. The colossal burp obviously impressed the truck driver because he responded with, “That’s nice.”  To which Munk sprung up from his seat and barked out, “Oh ya! If you don’t like it, step outside with me and my friends.” Where were we, the old West?

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day…

Luckily cooler heads prevailed and armed with our directions we were finally heading back to Kenosha. We were going home. Or so I thought. Even though we had just filled our bellies at George Webb’s, we had a more than an ample supply of alcohol sloshing around in us as well. The ride home was going to be adventurous to say the least.

It was at this point that I realized that I was the only one not in some various stage of unconsciousness. Regrettably, I wasn’t behind the wheel, Weber was. At one point he came to long enough to see me looking terrified, clutching onto the small grab bar located above the passenger door. He merely mumbled that if we crashed, that wasn’t going to save my ass. I knew he was right, I just prayed that I didn’t die.

I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day…

Well, happily I didn’t die and we miraculously made it home safely sometime after 4:00 a.m. As you can imagine, none of us made it to work. Not me, not Munk, not Harry, not Weber, not Sluga. Not even Sluga’s “uncle” made it. Wait, he didn’t work at Koos, so he was okay. We all caught hell and because of our irresponsible actions, nobody was allowed to leave work early for the next thirty years. Management at Koos was tough.

However, when I eventually did wake up (sometime around noon), I make it over to Midtown Records and purchased the KISS Alive album. 

I pulled this one from the Koos Vault because someone on Facebook mentioned their first concert, and after all, it is Throwback Thursday. Until next time…from the booth.

Charlie V.

I wanted to share with you the story of an “angel” that I am honoring by having my head shaved for St. Baldrick’s. This is the personal account that Charlie V.’s mother gave of what he went through. These are her words.

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Hello, My name is Melissa. My son’s name is Charles Evan Vanden Burg. Charlie for short. He was born on June 20, 2004. When he was born he had bi-lateral clubfoot. He was put into casts when he was only a month and a half and by the time he was 4 months old, he had a tendon release on both of his feet. He was in and out of casts until he was 14 months old. He started walking without casts but with braces on October 4, 2005. 

In early November 2005 I found out that his hemoglobin (iron levels in the red blood) was very low. It was about 8.7 and we talked to our pediatrician and see what was going on. They determined that Charlie was severely anemic. Our pediatrician suggested that we check it in a few months and to have him eat things with more iron in them, like raisins. He got sick several times between November 2005 and March 2006. 

Just as he would start to feel better he would get sick all over again. He just could not shake it off. Between March and May, he was seen in the ER several times, as well as the walk-in clinic and at the pediatrician’s office. Finally, in the last week of May he was admitted to the Children's Hospital of Milwaukee for testing. They wanted to see why his hemoglobin was at 5.9 and try to figure out what was wrong with him. 

On a Wednesday night, as Charlie was sleeping, the Dr. came in to talk to me. I was told that my son had stage 4 Neuroblastoma cancer. I was in utter shock. I could not think about him having cancer, nor did I want to. 

They sat me down and talked to about a course of treatment that would include chemotherapy and eventually a stem cell transplant. Also in the future was radiation and additional surgeries. He had already been through so much with his feet I did not want to think of another string of doctors or clinic visits. It made me cry to think that he had cancer but I also knew what a very strong-willed kid and that he would get through this. 

By Thursday morning he was in surgery to have his port put in and by Friday afternoon he was in the Hematology, Oncology, Transplant Unit and receiving his first chemo. It was a long two weeks for everyone. I barley saw my other son, which hurt a lot. I felt like he was basically trapped in a room for 4 days straight but it was for Charlie’s well being. The nurses were very kind and made it feel as close to home as they could for us. He was happy and always smiling, even when he did not feel the greatest. 

I had to be strong for him as well as for my other son, Brendan. With Charlie's chemo treatments being started he would be shuffled from place to place, but mostly stayed with my mom.

During his second round of chemo I met what I considered a part of my support group, another family with a child of Neuroblastoma. Charlie and Jerod became good friends and I became friends with his mom. We provided each other with a shoulder to cry on and an ear for listening. We would make calls to one another almost every time one of our boys would get sick. We got together on more than one occasion to talk and be there for each other on the rare occasion that the boys felt like they were just kids and not stuck in the hospital. 

From June thru October, Charlie had a total of 6 rounds chemo, with a stem cell harvest after his 3rd round of chemo. He had tumor removed on October 5, 2006, and several blood products that were packed with red blood cells and platelets given to him as part of his treatment. We spent a lot of time in the hospital between these treatments and the actual chemo's that were scheduled approximately 3-4 weeks apart. 

On November 17, 2006, he was admitted for his stem cell transplant and his high dose chemotherapy. That was the toughest. He did not feel good hardly at all. He could not leave his room and he was sick all the time. During this time he reacted to a dose of platelets and he also reacted to his stem cells with bad shivers and shakes. Otherwise, Charlie made it through his transplant and high dose chemo relatively well. We were able to come home for Christmas, which was a blessing. 

On the day after Christmas, he started radiation, which was a 3-week process. He got became quite nauseated during this period and was even hospitalized for about 4 days during the beginning of January 2007. 

He started his oral chemotherapy in February. All and all he was doing great and could not be happier. We were home and he got to play with his brother and spend time with the rest of the family. He had his N-G tube removed shortly after starting the oral chemo, and we had to see how well he would eat. 

Although he was still receiving some treatment, he was in a technical remission as there was not a detectable amount of cancer cells in his marrow or in his bones. The CT scans and all other tests were as normal as could be.

He had a pretty decent summer. We went on his Make a Wish trip in June and Charlie finished his oral chemo in the beginning of July. He even made it to the State Fair and a few other things. He played inside and outside like nothing had ever happened. 

Then, at the end of September, I freaked out a bit when he was not feeling good. Although he only seemed to be having flu symptoms I worried that something had come back. We saw our pediatrician and she asked that our scans that were scheduled in mid October be moved up as soon as possible. 

They were rescheduled to the first week of October. Nothing was found, all the scans were clear. I was ecstatic but it did not explain him feeling horrible for such a long time.

On November 12, 2007 we restarted bi-lateral clubfoot casting in preparation for a tendon surgery. Charlie did awesome with the castings and was doing what they said could not be done while in the casts - walk in the casts. 

On the 31, November Charlie, casts and all, walked into my room. He said he didn’t feel well. He smelled like he had dirty diaper. I got up and got the stuff to change him and turned on the light. Immediately he started to scream at me to shut off the light; that it hurt. I turned it off after quickly changing him, but he still was screaming to make it stop it hurting. I thought maybe it was the bright light.

However, early in the morning, he started vomiting and being very lethargic. He could not lift himself or even his head off my bed while vomiting. This had me very worried. I got him into the car and headed to Milwaukee, dropping of Brendan off with my dad. I picked up my aunt on the way. That way I would have someone to sit by him in the car in case he vomited or needed help of any kind. 

When we got up to the hospital they immediately ushered us into a room. Within about an hour we had a CT completed and several Drs. in the room giving me news that I was not ready to handle. 

They found a massive hemorrhage on Charlie’s brain. What’s worse was that it could possibly be an underlying tumor that they could not see because of how much blood was on the brain. He sent us strait to ICU to be monitored. 

After a few days in ICU, Charlie was moved to the surgical floor to begin therapy and to see if there was any sign of cancer or a tumor of any kind visible thru a series of various scans and tests. He was hospitalized till December 11 and received no answers except that they could not see any signs of cancer, tumor, or where the blood was coming from either.

Charlie was partially incapable of using his left side. Yet, we still had no answers. The Drs. said that they were going to monitor the bleeding via CTs and MRIs and that they would run more tests as they saw fit but we were to take him home with no idea as to what was going on.

So we went home and enjoyed the next 2 weeks. In between doctor visits and Christmas, we had a pretty good holiday. I was still a bit nervous about Charlie since we had no idea about what had caused the bleeding.

In 2008 we found out. 

Charlie had two brain tumors removed and several rounds of chemo radiation and maintenance chemotherapy followed. 

In January 2010, Melissa gave this update: A couple of months ago Charlie was diagnosed again with more cancer. He is in the process of starting a new round of chemo along with oral meds. He is stable and still in fighting condition. He is going to go back to school this week and is excited to be a part of things again.

The last update simply read: Charlie passed away on March 12, 2010.

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If you can, please help fund childhood cancer research by sponsoring my shave. It will mark five years to the day of his passing. Simply click here and give what you can. Every bit helps. Thank you.

Until next time from the booth…

Christmas Eve At Koos?

On Wednesday December 24, 1975, 6:00 AM came much too early. Besides being ungodly cold, it was Christmas Eve and I was sitting on a picnic table in the filthy Jap Shack at Koos Inc. Something was wrong with this picture. 

Let me recap for you. It was way too early. It was bitter cold and I was working in an old and decrepit building with no heat. And most importantly, it was Christmas Eve morning. Yikes, how was I supposed to handle spending Christmas Eve at Koos?

The solution was simple. Drink alcohol.

Before you get the impression that I was some sort of juvenile delinquent with a drinking problem, please keep two things in mind. First of all, in 1975 it was legal to consume alcohol at the age of 18 in the state of Wisconsin. Secondly, isn’t it traditional to celebrate Christmas Eve by having a party featuring adult beverages? See, it makes perfect sense.

There was only one small detail. I was at work.

Admittedly, drinking while at work isn’t the brightest thing to do. Okay, it’s a pretty idiotic thing to do, but I wasn’t alone in this stupidity. It was actually a plant wide event that was planned the night before at Slim’s Tap after a city league basketball game. Everyone was instructed to bring their favorite spirits.

Hey, I was young and impressionable and everyone was doing it. Honest. Well, almost everyone.

On that particular Christmas Eve, everyone in the plant at 4500 13th Court was consuming alcohol; even the supervisors. Everyone, that is, but the iconic Arno Schubert. It seems the crusty old Kraut had picked the holidays to go on the wagon. Who would have guessed? 

After punching in, the group of us trudged across the ice-covered yard armed with brown paper bags that concealed every type of booze imaginable. Beer, wine, whiskey… You name it, we had it. My contribution to the party was my favorite flavor of beer – Pabst Blue Ribbon.

At first we tried to be discrete around the bosses, we weren’t quite sure how they would react to us drinking on the job. We were afraid of potential repercussions. Those fears quickly disappeared when bagging supervisor Russell Thompson offered us a hit off of the bottle of Wild Turkey he pulled out of his coveralls.

The party was on.

Eventually all of the liquor we smuggled into the plant was consumed. That however didn’t stop the crew at Koos. We simply passed the hat and sent Sven Sievert over the railroad tracks to the Beer Depot on Sheridan Road for pints of blackberry brandy. When those were polished off, the process was repeated. Sort of like shampooing your hair. 

Over and over again…

Ultimately the intoxicating refreshment took its toll on the employees. Forklifts were traveling a little slower and production began to sputter. The only one who wanted to work was the tee-totaling Arno. But as drunk as we were, nobody really was paying any attention to the foul-mouthed German.

At one point, Harry Leipzig turned to me and announced that he was going to the Jap Shack to take a piss. He never returned. Later he was discovered passed out on a picnic table. Without Harry, Line 3 needed someone to seal bags. Munk Ekern graciously volunteered to help out to keep production going. 

Regrettably, the result of the gallant gesture was less than spectacular because Munk never actually sealed any bags. You see, I was the bagger and looking back, the whole scene was somewhat comical. The conversation went something like this:

Drunk Puddles (me): “Okay Munk, here they come.”
Drunker Munk: “Wait Puddles, you seal.”
Drunk Puddles: “Okay, but who’s gonna run the bagger?”
Drunker Munk: “You are.”
Drunk Puddles: “Okay, then who’s gonna seal?”
Drunker Munk: “You are, Puddles.”

That nonsensical exchange went on for about five minutes. Eventually, Munk would stumble off to join Harry in the Jap Shack. Did Line 3 ever start up again on that drunken Christmas Eve at Koos? I honestly don’t remember. Things were kind of fuzzy at that point.

Before you knew it, it was almost noon and the second shift crew was arriving to a plant full of intoxicated first-shifters. There were guys spread out all over the plant, a small number were standing, others were sitting and a few were laying down. But nobody was working.

Not even Arno. By this time he had given up hope of getting anything accomplished. He was just standing against the wall fuming with his arms folded across his chest and a crooked frown on his face. He was so upset he wasn’t even cursing anymore.

When the clock finally hit noon, we wobbled out of the plant and went home, having spent Christmas Eve at Koos. Remarkably, the alcohol impaired six-hour shift ended without incident. Although not much work got done, no one got in trouble or was hurt. Everyone was fine.

Until the following Monday. 

Despite the supervisors being cool with our impromptu Christmas Eve party, plant manager Frank Niebling was not. No one was quite sure how he found out, but he did. And he was furious.

Determined to show us that this type of behavior was not acceptable, he called our union steward, Danny Fliess into his office. He immediately told Danny that he was going to make an example of him and proceeded to suspend him for a week with no pay.

When Danny objected and tried to plead his case, Frank exploded. Pointing a finger in the startled union steward’s face, he blurted out, “Don’t think for a minute that you guys can get away with this shit just because I wasn’t here!” Unwisely, Danny explained that nobody know he wasn’t there on Christmas Eve. 

Just like that his suspension became 2 weeks without play.

I hope you enjoyed this Koos Inc. masterpiece. Each time I read one of these classics, memories are sparked. Ugly, horrible, twisted memories. Working at Koos Inc. with people like Arno Schubert will do that to you. 

Please have fun at your Christmas Eve parties and be thankful that you’re not at Koos working. Merry Christmas to all. Until next time…from the booth.

A Koos Christmas Story

On a bitter cold Saturday night, late December in 1976, the men of Koos Inc. gathered in the backroom of Mario’s Red Arrow Club on Sheridan Road in Kenosha. The reason for this get-together was a Union Christmas party. UFCW Local 73A was good enough to sponsor the much-appreciated gathering for the workforce from Koos. This night was going to be an event to be remembered. This celebration would be a first. Never before had the Union workers at Koos Inc. had an official Christmas function. 

Tonight that would all change.

The year before, not only was there no party, the employees had to work until 11:00 o’clock on Christmas Eve morning. Of course the beer that was smuggled into the plant created a somewhat cheerful atmosphere, but it still wasn’t a party. Not even the numerous pints of blackberry brandy purchased from the nearby Beer Depot could do the trick. It just wasn’t a party.

The people in management always had a nice little soiree each year, but nothing for the guys in the Union. This year was going to be different. The guys in the plant were finally going to have a bash of their very own.

And what a bash it was!

The backroom at Mario’s Red Arrow Club was dimly lit, long and narrow, with a chest-high wall at one end that separated a small kitchen from the rest of the hall. This might have been the back of a smoke-filled neighborhood bar, but it was perfect for this inaugural event.

The good people from UFCW had provided the guys from Koos with enough money for the hall, food, a keg of beer and a couple of bottles of hard liquor. Several of the guys had even brought festive holiday deserts. What more was needed? Let the party begin!

Because we were new to this Christmas party thing, most of us had neglected to bring a date. What did we know? The only females present for the event were Ziggy Gutowski’s wife and the aunt of Danny Fliess who brought her two daughters. Other than that the guest list was strictly male.

It was still going to be quite a shindig, trust me.

While the sloppy joes warmed in the crock-pot and the hot dogs simmered in a large pot of boiling water, we decided to start playing cards. As Ted Nugent blared through the speakers hung on the walls, the collection of partygoers broke into two separate games of cards, one at each end of the room.

Located at the east end was a boisterous group of Koos veterans, consisting of Danny Fliess, the legendary Arno Schubert, Jim Weber, Munk Ekern, Harry Leipzig, along with several others. They were playing poker for cash and the shots of Wild Turkey were flying.

Joining me at the other end of the hall, near the kitchen area, were Chuckie Haubrich, Chuck Huck and some of the newer employees. Rather than gamble, we had opted to play drinking games where the loser had to guzzle a beer. The card playing was sloppy, but the suds were cold.

The party was in full swing and everyone was having a high-spirited time. That is until our group spotted a humongous can of black olives. 

As we were attempting to get the can of olives open, the group from the east end informed us that they wanted some of the olives. The diminutive Chuck Huck put a handful on a paper plate and brought it over to them.

Evidently this was not good enough. They wanted more. Much more.

Several members of their contingent made their way over to our table and demanded the whole can of olives. We would have no part of that and we all grabbed a big handful and told them that they were all ours!

Seeing that we were not giving up the olives peacefully, the “east-enders” grabbed the can and made off with it and the remaining olives in it. We were outraged and shouted, “You want all the olives?” With that the war was on. Olives were flying from one end of the hall to the other.

Unfortunately, the airborne olives were only the beginning. Soon cups of beer were being flung across the room. Being near the kitchen area, our group decided to escalate the battle. We kicked it up a notch. Using cooking tongs, we began plucking hot dogs from the boiling water and used them as projectiles in our efforts during this now epic battle. The frankfurters were flying!

This insane melee resembled a scene from a Three Stooges film. At this point it was pure chaos.

Then something happened that momentarily brought the frantic food fight to an abrupt stop. For some unknown reason, Chuckie Haubrich grabbed a big handful of raw ground beef, wadded into a lump the size of a baseball and hurled it across the hall at Arno Schubert’s oddly shaped head.

Before I go on, for those of you who don’t know Chuckie Haubrich, he possessed an extremely strong throwing arm. The man could throw a ping-pong ball through a brick wall.

Now back to the story.

Splat!!!! The sphere of uncooked ground beef had found its’ target – the right side of Arno’s scarred face. Chuckie Haubrich would have made Nolan Ryan proud with that toss.

Seeing what happened, we started chuckling as Arno staggered while trying to regain his bearings. It didn’t take long before everyone in the room was roaring with laughter. Well, everyone except for Arno.

With the glob of raw meat still stuck on his face, he picked up a pan up of orange Jell-O topped with whipped cream. Fuming, with the desert held at shoulder height, he unsteadily made his way over to our end of the room.

As he got closer, he spat out, “You think it’s funny?” Everyone continued to snicker, wondering if he would actually retaliate against Chuckie Haubrich. After all, he was the one who had tattooed him with the beefy missile. When he finally reached our cluster, Arno walked right by the 6’4” 250 pound Haubrich.

Instead, he turned to the 5’7” 150 pound Chuck Huck and hissed yet again, “You think it’s funny?” At that point you could have heard a pin drop.

Huck stared the irate German right in the eye and blurted out, “Hell ya it’s funny!”

You guessed it. Chuck Huck was now wearing the pan of orange Jell-O and whipped cream all over his head. Needless to say, the war was on again. Only, now cakes and various other creamy delights had been added to the arsenal.

When all was said and done, the backroom of Mario’s Red Arrow Club was declared a disaster area. Food was not only on the walls and floor, but on the ceiling as well. As we scraped our holiday meal off of our clothes, the manager of Mario’s kindly asked us to leave. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so kindly. He told us to get out and never come back.

We did just that. We made our way over to the King’s Den; where the party continued. The details from that point on are hazy. I do remember that at one point, Arno was wearing a Santa Claus suit. Or was it Huck? I’m not sure. Yours truly had consumed far too many Pabst Blue Ribbons for such details.

It should be noted that the Union didn’t get the deposit back for the hall. And there was never another UFCW sponsored Christmas party. That Christmas party was the first and last for the Union guys at Koos. It was the only Christmas Party. Ever.


But what a bash it was!

May you all have a Happy Holiday season and a very Merry and Blessed Christmas. Until next time…from the booth.