I am not a person of affluence, much less influence. But I do know important people in strategic places, which makes me grateful whenever a favor is needed.
I’ve called upon my share of contacts to secure good seats at a theater, sporting event, even a choice restaurant. Consequently, people have also called me for accommodations.
Because I wrote sports for many years, they figured I had an automatic pipeline into Fenway Park for the Red Sox or into Boston Garden for a Celtics game.
“C’mon,” they used to say. “You know the ropes. Can’t you get us into the front row?”
They thought I knew the owners or the coaches when, in reality, all I could manage was a press pass for myself if occasion permitted. And it was more work than play.
Being a self-imposed theater critic back in the 1980’s, I had access to most any big show that hit the Hub. The PR agent happened to be Armenian so that made it easier. Unlike some of my peers who took the tickets and didn’t bother with a review, I offered some payback of my own.
If I was given complimentary theater tickets, a story was sure to follow and the PR people were most cordial whenever a request came along.
I recall as a kid growing up in Somerville in the midst of Winter Hill—Whitey Bulger country if you know. You may have read Jimmy Breslin’s book, The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight. Well, it was based upon the Winter Hill mob.
They had a clubhouse on the hill and if you wanted to gain entry, you had to push the right buttons. As teenagers, we were curious what went on itself. Through leaky information, we stumbled upon the golden password.
Knock three times on the outside door and tell them Ratskiller sent you. Working upon a dare from my buddies, I followed the procedure and gained access to the biggest card game you’d ever want to see.
They thought I was going to join the table when all I offered was to buy the coffee. I was quickly shown the door and warned never to show “my kisser” around there again—or else!
In celebrating our 45th wedding anniversary, I opted to surprise the wife with dinner at a choice restaurant and tickets to a Judy Collins concert. As folk singers go, she ranks on top of my list.
The dinner reservations were easy, except we didn’t get window seats by the ocean like a friend suggested. But we would be seated with a glimpse of the water. Done!
The concert tickets posed some difficulty. All that remained were single seats. I had no idea the singer was still this popular, despite her years. I made some calls looking for loose tickets to no avail. If we wanted to see the concert, we were destined to sit apart—hardly the alternative for an anniversary.
But luck was with us in a bad way. Last minute, we were obligated to attend a wake out of town and didn’t arrive to the restaurant until an hour after our assigned time. The seats were taken.
A 45-minute wait ensued at the bar nursing a cocktail when we were finally escorted to our table. Better yet, because we had waited so long, the concert crowd adjourned to the hall, leaving us wide open with seating. We got the ocean view after all.
The menus arrived just as nature called and off I scooted to the men’s room. On my way out, I met an acquaintance well established in community affairs.
“You going to the Judy Collins concert, too?” the woman asked.
“Bummer,” I told her. “Tried getting tickets and they were gone. I wanted them for an anniversary gift.”
Before I could say “Ratskiller,” the woman called over a manager to see what could be done about getting two seats together—in case someone had canceled.
Moments later, the manager approached our table with some unexpected news. “After dinner,” he said, “go to the hall and ask for Jim. Tell him Chuck sent you.”
Just like that. The fact we were an hour late didn’t matter. We missed the opening act and arrived just in time for the main attraction. On came this guy “Chuck” who picked up a couple loose chairs and plopped them in a strategic place up front, careful not to obstruct anyone’s view.
Had I not gone to the wake, arrived late, delayed my run to a lavatory, and taken a moment to admire the ocean view, I would have missed my contact and the concert as well.
Fate often works in strange ways. On this day, it greeted me with unexpected joy.
Tom Vartabedian
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