By Request… “DiMaggio”

If you were walking south along Broadway in Saskatoon in the 1990’s, across the street from “Bud’s on Broadway” was a door and a flight of stairs that lead down to a club called “The Wash and Slosh”.

A Laundromat/Bar.
We used to play there all the time.

Once you opened the door and got to the bottom of the stairs, you’d usually encounter the doorman. 

Always a big burly guy.
You’d say hello to him, veer to the left and walk into the club. 

The stage was there on the yer left as you walked in.
The laundromat was off to the right in its own glassed in room.

Almost like a nursery. 

At the back of the club, was another flight of stairs that lead up to the parking lot out back.
A parking lot that was filled with Harley Davidsons.
Above the bar were closed circuit TV monitors, so a guy could keep an eye on his Harley.

Seriously, like who is gonna fuck with anyone bold enough to leave their Harley Davidson unattended in a back alley.

If you ask me, that’s a recipe for disaster.

Maybe it’s just me.
Maybe it’s just the way I was raised.

Anyway, tucked underneath the stairs at the front of the club was a dressing room.
A couple chairs.
A table.
An ashtray and a pot of coffee.

With the dressing room being under the stairs, every time someone would open the front door and walk down the stairs, you’d hear it.
Door opens.

Clomp
Clomp
Clomp
Clomp

Small talk with the doorman.
“Cover charge tonight, guys. Two bucks to see the band…”

It was there, in that dressing room, on a Friday night in December of 1999, 2 hours before show number 246 of the year, where I pulled out my guitar and started working on a song that I’d been carrying around in the back of mind for about 9 months.

But I didn’t have a melody, a chord progression, or even a lyric.
I had two words.
“Monroe” and “DiMaggio”.
And that was it. 

I started playing a couple chords.
My go to chords.
G, E minor, C and D. 

As I worked on the song, every thirty seconds or so…
The door would open.
Clomp
Clomp
Clomp
Clomp

“Cover charge tonight, guys. Two bucks to see the band…”

After a little while, this new song started to take shape.
Just me, a pot of coffee, a pack of cigarettes, an ashtray and my guitar…

“She’s my Marilyn Monroe, and I’m her Joe DiMaggio
Marilyn Monroe and DiMaggio…”

I had no way to record it, but I figured I’d remember it.

I lost a lot of good songs that way.
Or maybe they weren’t that good after all.

Door opens.
Clomp
Clomp
Clomp
Clomp

“Cover charge tonight, guys. Two bucks to see the band…”

“Two bucks! Fuck that! We’re going across the street to Bud’s!”
“Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here. Two bucks. Jesus Christ. Who the fuck do they think they are?” 

Clomp
Clomp
Clomp
Clomp
Door opens.

“Two bucks! Fuck that!” really kinda put everything into perspective for me.

Over the years, I’ve probably played “DiMaggio” a thousand times.
When I’m singing it, I think about a lot of different things.
Probably a lot of the same things you think about.
You know,
Rearview mirror stuff.

But at some point during the song, every night, the phrase “Two bucks! Fuck that!” bubbles to the top. 

Onward and sideways. 

Mike Plume
April 16th, 2019