The Poem
Of matchbooks, phone booths and the loss of Nickodells
by Beth Ruscio
In those days, when somebody famous
yanked open the bar’s side door off Melrose,
spilling a rectangle of sunny rebuke
on us unknowns ripening
in Nickodells’s night-for-day ambience,
we looked up without looking up
slitting our eyes to the light.
We were dark-clothed theater rats
rehearsing all hours in our black box “empty spaces”
on our wage-less farce, our German Expressionism,
all our daylight eaten, not-from-around-here-pale,
funhouse sweaty with thirst to burn,
but seated in a place like Nickodells
in old Hollywood, on the slightly seedy side
down from local television station K-Cal
and spooned by the back lot of Paramount Studios,
in the hierarchy of regulars, we had rank.
We wanted for nothing.
Nickodells, with a name like loose change,
where dream makers on martini lunches
and newscasters like Jerry “from the desert to the sea
to all of Southern California” Dunphy
could tuck into one of the bar’s red leather booths
and dine in the cocktail atmosphere,
where here’s-mud-in-your-eye nobodies
could have a completely appointed experience,
exchanging numbers inside midnight blue matchbooks
that boasted of air-conditioning,
a smoky topaz back-mirrored bar,
Caesar salads tossed tableside,
shoe-string potatoes salty hot,
dark wood, dark corners, fifteen different bourbons—
back when one-upping the famous
automatically conferred class,
when drinking in the daytime
was the mark of a vivid, lush life,
when you could pick up matchbooks
by the handful, next to the cigarette machine
on the way to the phone booth
acting like you had somebody who loved you
dying for a call.
Beth Ruscio comes from actors, artists and vaudevillians, has tried her hand at all and as a professional actress, has appeared on many stages and screens. As a poet, she’s a frequent feature appearing most recently at The Secret City in L.A. (reading this poem), Library Girl, The Third Area and Beyond Baroque. Her work’s been most recently published in Malpais Review, Spillway, In Posse Review, Poetry Flash, and speechlessthemagazine. Her poems won second place as well as runner- up in Beyond Baroque’s Best Poem Contest last year and this year, her manuscript, Raucous Spell Of Light, was twice selected as a semi-finalist: for the Crab Orchard Series in Poetry First Book Award, as well as for The Perugia Press Prize. She was previously a recipient of The Patricia Bibby scholarship to Idyllwild Summer Poetry, and in 2007, The Los Angeles Poetry Festival named her a Newer Poet. She is the co-author of the play 1961 Eldorado, with husband Leon Martell, to whom she dedicates this poem.
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Comments (16)
Patricia Scruggs
November 22nd, 2012 at 1:12 AM
Beth, I loved this poem when I first heard you read it, and I love it on the page. Bravo!
Thank you to Wendy Rainey and Adam for bringing us this poet.
Elaine Mintzer
November 23rd, 2012 at 6:37 PM
Whew, Beth, what a journey. From the moment that bar door swung open, I was there.
Maggie Gwinn
November 25th, 2012 at 12:22 AM
The only thing that would make it better is hearing you read it! Brava!
O-Lan
November 25th, 2012 at 5:35 AM
hot!
Judy Fox
November 25th, 2012 at 5:15 PM
Thanks for taking us back in time on your remarkable journey…could smell it, see it, breathe the mustiness of the bar and imagine the mix of wonderful faces on those bar stools. Brilliant, Beth! Love xo, Judy
Carroll Kearley
November 25th, 2012 at 10:01 PM
Genius loci (spirit of the place), you take us to Nikodells, a place in the past where we can go simply by reading your poem. I hope to go there often. Carroll Kearley
A.M. Collins
November 25th, 2012 at 10:52 PM
What a blast. the imagery, took me right to that place. Great poem.
Debra Van Zandt
November 26th, 2012 at 12:09 AM
Wonderful,Beth. I loved it. Deb
Roberta Levitow
November 26th, 2012 at 4:20 AM
Took me back and better. Beautifully done. Thanks, Roberta
Sissy Boyd
November 26th, 2012 at 3:14 PM
I think this is one hell of a poem! Beth, you are amazing! I've also heard you read it. a juicy evocation by a true poet.
Shanti Reinhardt
November 26th, 2012 at 6:14 PM
Yes, it takes one back in hyper space time to the location and smells and tastes and visuals and I've been lucky enough to hear you read it out loud, Beth. Made me feel like I was sitting right next to you at Nikodells being part of the whole artistic experience. Congrats.
Leo Marks
November 27th, 2012 at 3:26 AM
So damn good. More, please.
Mary Fitz
November 27th, 2012 at 6:14 AM
Not only a terrific, evocative, heartbreaking poem, but what a following!
Cheryl Bianchi
November 28th, 2012 at 5:27 PM
delicious…and i could hear your voice all over again…
John Cabrera
December 9th, 2012 at 7:59 PM
Good god, this is wonderful. Beth! BETH!
Michael Kearns
February 16th, 2013 at 6:01 PM
Incredible the memories it flooded me with–I'd honestly let that one drop of my radar of the old, significant haunts and now you, Beth, bring it back with such heart and resounding insight. You new friend and new fan, Michael
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