At the shelter the second and third floors were general sleeping dormitories with about 125 veterans per floor. These floors were set up military style and each vet had a locker and either an upper or lower bunk. The second floor housed Alpha Company and the third floor housed Bravo Company.
One day I was approached by a group of veterans from the third floor and they said, may we have a moment of your time?
I stopped in the hallway and the gist of their request was that they had a new mascot. It was a small black kitten which they had appropriately named JCJust Cat. They wanted my permission to keep this cat. They said it would help with their recovery and that each of the members of the company would pitch in and pay for any expenses.
I was floored. We had a mascot alreadyJD the dogand at first I was going to say no, but then one of the vets started to cry and talked about how he had a cat before he was homeless and this would be the perfect tool to help with his and others’ healing.
I caved and said, “What I don’t know, I don’t know.”
Anyways, that’s how the third floor became the Bravo Company Black Cats. A few months later, I had t-shirts made for each member of this floor and presented them at town meeting and it seemed at the time to work the magic that was promised.
Now, of course, we had a dog already as our mascot, and JD had full reign of the whole shelter. And now he couldn’t go onto the third floor.
Weeks went by that turned into months and things happened and things changed and I remember it was the spring and RR&L was outside the shelter, on the side facing City Hall Plaza speaking to someone from the mayor’s office about a permit we needed for something.
Suddenly a cat came flying off the top of the building.
Now, if you’re a cat lover (and lots of people are) please stop reading here.
This cat that came off the tenth floor roof was chased up twelve flights of stairs by the dog and when it got to the roof, because we had an herb garden up there, the door to the 69
roof was open, and the cat raced out and went right off the roof and landed within ten feet of RR&L and the mayor’s staff member on City Hall Plaza.
The splat was huge, I was told, but the cat still had a little life left in it and started to run in circles on its side.
“Holy Mary Mother of God, is that a cat?” said the older Irish woman staff member from the mayor.
RR&L was stunned and didn’t say anything.
“Oh my god,” the staff member of the mayor said, “You’re throwing cats off the roof!”
and she ran the fifty yards back to the entrance to City Hall.
RR&L called on his radio to his staff and soon the cat was scooped up and a crew was there with hoses watering down the scene of the crime.
I had no idea any of this had happened. I was sitting in my office doing paperwork.
I get a call from the watch officer at the front desk. You’re needed down here at the front desk right now as we have animal control officers from Boston PD and they’re pissed.
Something about throwing cats off the roof.
My first thought was the Bravo Company Black Cat.
I said I’ll be right there and made a beeline for the elevator and stopped on the third floor.
Anyone see the cat? I asked.
And sure enough, there was the black cat, sleeping on somebody’s bunk, all curled up and purring.
Well, it wasn’t our cat, I thought. This is bullshit and I was mad as I made my way to the front desk.
“You the director?” said the animal control officer.
“Yes I am, how may I help you?”
“We have a report from the mayor’s office that you’re throwing cats off the roof.”
“Well, that’s bullshit and you can see for yourself. Come with menobody threw anything off of anywhere.”
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I took these officers up to the roof and they looked around and saw the herb garden and one said, you know, I didn’t think you guys would do something like that, but we had to check it out.
Now, as we looked over the side of the roof, we saw the crew cleaning the spot where the cat had landed and one officer asked why are they cleaning now?
I replied that every day at this time we did what they were seeing and it wasn’t unusual for this to happen as we did the same thing at the front of the building.
They took some pictures and left.
I went back to my office and it was there that my secretary at the time, Tempie Thompson, had heard about this and said you know, RR&L was there when it happened I then made a beeline down to the basement to see RR&L and I had keys to everything and opened a door into the maintenance tool crib and there was Sully with a real dead cat.
“What the hell is that?” I said.
“It’s a dead cat.”
“I can see that, but what are you doing with a dead cat?”
“It jumped off the roof and committed suicide. RR&L told me you wanted it stuffed for your office.”
I didn’t know what to think. “This guy is actually crazy” was my only thought at the moment.
“Get that cat into a plastic bag and find me RR&L and send him to my office on the double!”
When RR&L came into my office he had the usual half of an unlit cigar in his mouth.
“You wanted me boss?”
“Tell me the story, truthfully.”
The story I got was that all around the shelter there were restaurants and doughnut shops and dumpsters and there were rats and rats brought feral cats and somehow, nobody knows how, one of these feral cats ran in the front door of the shelter. Our German shepherd saw the cat and started chasing it. The cat ran up the stairwell twelve flights of stairs with JD in hot pursuit.
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On the roof, the cat jumpedthinking who knows whatand just at that exact time this mayor staff person and RR&L just happened to be outside, right below, having a meeting.
Splat.
From that day on the roof door was secured and our relationship with the mayor’s office never was the same.
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Chapter 12: 5858 PAPA and the Quarry at Mamet’s Farm In the late summer of 1988, just before the big push for Sketches of War, David Mamet invited Mark Helberg and me to his farm in Cabot, Vermont.
I’d love to come, I told him, but I have no way of getting there and it’s a four-hour drive, but thanks for the offer.
“You know,” said David, “You could call Dick Freidman and say, you have spoken to me and I’m willing to have his girlfriend try out for the theatre camp I runbut only if he gives you and Mark a ride to BurlingtonVermont in his plane.”
I said what the hell and went off to find this guy Dick and relay the message. The offices for the fundraiser were in the hotel complex that Dick owned. I found Dick in his office. I relayed the message and he said, “You sure? You sure that’s what he said? He told me a week ago that there were no open slots left. You sure that’s what he said?”
I told him yes, I was sure and that we were to be at the airport tomorrow night or the deal was off.
In about an hourI’m sure after Dick had talked to MametI was told to be at the airport at 7pm the next night for the quick flight up to Burlington, Vermont.
When we got to the private airport outside of Boston, sure enough, there was a private plane, with the pilot, and Dick and his girlfriend waiting.
“Hurry up, you’re late,” said Dick as Mark and I climbed into the twin-engine private plane. The last thing Mark and I looked at was the tail number. It was 5858Por 5858
Papa, as you would say on the radio.
Once on the plane the pilot asked Mark if he wanted the copilot seat and I sat in the back with Dick and his girlfriend.
Dick was explaining to her that we had a special relationship with Mamet and was gushing about how he and Mamet were going to his house in Martha’s Vineyard the following week.
Now, Dick was a successful developer in Boston and worth tons of money, and I learned later that when the Clintons went to Martha’s Vineyard on their presidential vacations they 73
took every year, they would stay at Dick’s house that he kept just for weekends and holidays, I would think. This guy was personal friends with the president.
The flight was maybe forty-five minutes from wheels up to touch down and it was twilight when we landed in Vermont.
We taxied to the private part of the Burlington airport and Dick had a car ready for his girlfriend as she was going to the college campus that Mamet’s Atlantic Theatre Company was using for its theatre camp, just outside Burlington.
“You guys need a ride?” asked Dick.
“Nope, Mamet said wait here and he would have someone pick us up,” I said as Dick and the pilot got back in the plane and taxied away.
Mark and I lit a smoke and I said, “How cool is this dude?”
After a while, with Mamet not showing up, and it getting darker, I wondered if we had made the right choice.
“Do you have his number?” Mark asked me.
“No,” I said.
Just then, around the corner in a 1954 restored Land rover came David Mamet. The car looked like it belonged in Africa. It had all the cool stuff you can imagine, and it was a convertible with its top off. He was grinning like a little kid.
“You guys ready to go to my farm?” he said.
“Oh, yeah,” I replied.
“Well, on the way to the farm, I need to stop at the theatre camp and do a few things and then we can go and get a bite to eat and I will then show you guys the farm.”
“It’s a deal,” I said. I climbed into the passenger seat and Mark jumped in the back. We had like no baggage and we each lit a smoke and off we went.
Half an hour later we pulled into a college campus and sure enough there were maybe thirty people who came out to meet us. Some I had met in the production meetings of Sketches of War already in Boston, and I identified some as members of the Atlantic Theatre Company. Mark and I walked around and were having a good time.
And then all of a sudden all hell broke loose.
People were screaming and I remember fireworks or something exploding and people were running out of the building and I wondered, what the hell is going on?
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“It’s a scene,” said one of the folks from the ATC. “It’s just a rehearsal and we wanted to show this scene to David.”
Jesus, they played real in this camp, I thought. It’s not the Boy Scout camp at Yagoo that I remember, that’s for sure.
After an hour or so, David said let’s go to the farm and again, we jumped into the really cool Land Rover.
We drove for about forty-five minutes. All of sudden we were out in the middle of absolute nowhere and while driving David turned off the headlights.
Holy shit. It was pitch black. Not just dark black but black black. I got a little nervous.
“I guess you know these roads, huh?” I asked a little sheepishly
“Yeah, we’re close to the farm and I wanted to let you guys see the night sky.”
I looked up and holy shit, I was in the Milky Way.
“How cool is this?” said Mark.
And after a few minutes David turned on his lights and we drifted into the driveway of what looked like a normal Vermont farmhouse.
It was dark and I had no idea what the hell was around me, as you really couldn’t see more than fifty feet.
David led us to a door and just walked in.
“You don’t lock your doors?” I asked.
“Not tonight, and I’m not afraidwe have good neighbors here,” he replied.
We went inside and we were smack dab in the most awesome kitchen I have ever been in. All stainless and granite and tile and modern, and I said, “This was an old farmhouse?”
“Nope, this is an addition, and above this kitchen are a couple of bedrooms and you and Mark can take one each.”
We made ourselves some dinner, and the fridge was packed with all kinds of good stuff.
I was thrilled as we sat around in the kitchen and shot the shit.
David told us that on this property there was a quarry. “They took the base stone for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial from that quarry.”
“No shityou’re telling me that the stone from this quarry was used in the Vietnam Veterans Memorial? Can we see it?”
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“Well, not tonight, but we can tomorrow,” he said.
“How about at sunrise?”
“Sunrisethat’s at like 5:15,” said David.
“That works for me. I think that looking at that quarry, with the knowledge that stone from there was placed in the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, would be cool.”
“Well, if you’re up,” he said, “We can go.”
David then gave us a tour of the rest of the farmhouse and I was blown away. The original house had the big fireplace and upstairs were a couple of other bedrooms. David showed us where he would be sleeping and then said, guys, I’m bushed, let’s get to bed.
Mark and I made our way over to the addition, which was connected by a hallway, and went into the kitchen.
“How cool is this place?” I said to Mark.
We sat and shot the shit about how the fundraiser was progressing and we decided to go outside and have a smoke.
It was pitch black out and the stars shone like I have never seen them shine again.
“I wonder that this place looks like in the daylight,” Mark said.
“I’m curious too. I guess we’ll find out when we go to the quarry at sun up.”
“Yeah, like who’s gonna wake us up? You?”
I said, “Yeah, I will.”
And we went to bed.
Now, I know I am not the only one with this gift, but somehow and I am not sure how, I can tell myself to wake up at a certain time, and almost by magic, I can wake up around that time. Give or take ten minutes, and it’s usually accurate.
I told myself to wake up at 4:45 and sure as rain, I woke up at 4:45. I went to Mark’s room and he was snoring.
“Wake up dude, its time to go to the quarry.”
“Go away. Jesus, it’s the middle of the night.”
“Get out of the bed,” I said. “I’m gonna go wake up David.”
I went downstairs, cutting through the kitchen, and made my way to the bedroom that David had showed me earlier last night.
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I grabbed his foot that was sticking out the end of the bed and pulled.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, what, huh? What?”
I said, “David, it’s Ken. It’s time to go the quarry.”
“Yeah, yeah, OK, wow. OK, I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Let me get dressed.”
I went back to the kitchen and Mark wasn’t there and I made a pot of coffee and went back and Mark was still sleeping and I said, dude, we’re going to the quarry, wake up.
This time he got up and I went back downstairs and there was David making some tea.
Mark came down all sleepy looking and we headed outside to the Land Rover and holy crapthe farm was huge. Like really huge and the building was like out of Architectural Digest.
“Wow,” is all I remember saying.
Mark was smiling too and we headed down a dirt road and there were turns and hills and turns and more turns and then David said, we’re here.
We got out of the car and walked through some trees and there was the quarry. It was filled with water and the sides had to be fifty feet down.
“Holy shit,” was all I said.
We stood there for ten minutes. The sun was coming up, the birds were chirping, and squirrels and other animals were up looking for breakfast.
I said, “Let’s go for a swim.”
“I didn’t bring my bathing suit,” replied David.
“You were born in your bathing suit.” I looked at Mark and both us started taking our clothes off.
A minute later both of us were in the water and then David came crashing in too.
We were swimming in the quarry where the base stone for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial came from and it was metaphysical to me. I had this feeling like I was being baptized again and I felt something larger than me telling me that what we were doing for the homeless veterans was the right thing to do.
We stayed at the quarry for an hour or so, and I remember the sun got higher in the sky, the water got warmer, and Mark and I jumped off the cliffs and swam all around this magical and mysterious pool.
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It was a day to remember.
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