by Allan Fish
This post was originally published in late 2010. Although Allan was convinced I wouldn’t pay him a return visit, we all did three years later in the summer of 2013. Our snow shovels have long since been removed from our renovated first floor bathroom as well, though there is a bittersweet aspect to that update as per Allan’s fond testament here. -S.J.
There are three DVDs of Mizoguchi Sansho Dayu in the picture above – well, durgh! Question: which of the three do I treasure most? In the middle we have the Criterion DVD, a lovely package as one might expect. Nope, not that one. On the right we have the Masters of Cinema Region 2 DVD set with the additional bonus of his underrated Gion Bayashi. Again no, I’m afraid. Yet let’s illustrate further. Imagine there was a fourth Sansho there, a yet to be released Blu Ray looking sharper than a katana from Hattori Hanzo, and still my answer would be the one on the left.
There’s nothing special about it. It was a purchase I needn’t have made. I had Sansho on tape from Film Four, a nice enough print of it, but being a pedant, I just wanted a boxed DVD copy. It wasn’t a genuine release, merely a tape to DVDR copy of the old US Home Vision VHS. The quality – certainly compared to the other two in the photo – was rather poor to say the least. So why on earth would I prefer it? There have been cases where I have kept old VHS copies of films – imported copies of the once banned in the UK A Clockwork Orange and The Exorcist and an old pre-certification copy of Straw Dogs. They were just for nostalgia’s sake. Sansho was something else, a memento of something altogether more important.
In his book The Biographical Dictionary of Film, David Thomson makes two entries that will leave the average reader thinking “who?” They were for Kieran Hickey and Tom Luddy, valedictions for friends, the former taken way before his time, and without whom the whole rigmarole of the movies would not have been the same. Let us imagine that I wake up tomorrow and a miracle has occurred – namely that I had become an erudite, witty writer capable of writing his own equivalent book – there would be one such person who would get into the book in the same capacity. His name, as if you needed telling, is Sam Juliano.
It all came about from trawling on ebay one afternoon in 2005. I’d seen this copy of Sansho on the site. I bid on it and won the auction. In his trademark manner Sam didn’t just say “thanks for your payment, your goods will be sent out tomorrow, don’t’ forget to leave feedback.” That would never do. He instead wrote a paragraph about how much Sansho moved him and how much I would love the film. So there went back a reply, telling how I knew the film well, wished there were more Mizoguchis out there on DVD, how it was one of Mizoguchi’s best works – The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums, Ugetsu Monogatari, The Life of Oharu, all got a mention – and from there emails kept coming back and forth. I’d met and become friends with numerous people on the internet who I had never met, and yet from the outset this was a little different. There was something incorrigible about Sam that was beyond infectious even to my cynical carcass. The next day he asked me to vote on a poll he was orchestrating on his email network to list the best films of the 1960s. In reply it was the first time I heard those wonderful hyperbolean statements – “overwhelmed”, “stunning” and his copyrighted catchphrase “staggering masterpiece.” There were films on the list he hadn’t seen; “why have I not heard of this film?” I remember him writing as if a king at a court who has only just been told that an invading army had crossed the border. It was the beginning of an education for both of us. For him in hearing about and watching films he never even knew existed, and for me in humility and a sense of what true madness really was. He was mentioning me to friends, this guy from Great Britain. The typical questions arose; “how far are you from London?” “Around 250 miles”, I replied. To him, Great Britain was a mythical place, existing of only two cities – London and Liverpool (he knew of that place, the Beatles were from there) and acres of wasteland like the setting for Brontë novels. His views were borne out of classic 19th century literature and the cinema of Merchant Ivory. I had yet to introduce him to Ken Loach, Bill Douglas, Terence Davies, Alan Clarke and the TV of Peter Flannery and Alan Bleasdale. One of his friends Jason Giampetro just asked Sam “where did you find this guy?”, and echoed my thoughts, in contemporary Blighty-speak, to friends about Sam.
On the spot he was trying to get me to visit, encouraging, cajoling – bribery was considered, even abduction would have been considered had he known anyone outside of New Jersey. Eventually, two years later, I would make it to Juliano Towers and become first acquainted with the brood. A friendlier, warmer, more hospitable bunch you could never hope to meet, and yet there was something wonderfully surreal about the whole thing that Luis Buñuel would have appreciated. I slept in a bed folded up out of a corner sofa unit which the dogs had made their own, my sleep constantly interrupted by the incessant noises from crickets that were squatting in the basement. The bathroom had a busted bath, tarpaulins and snow shovels in it and had a light which could only be turned on by twisting the bulb. The stairs to the top floor where the kids slept were like the North Face of the Eiger and there was a back garden which looked like the sort of wasteland where T.H.Eliot might have got inspiration. Yet it’s a home, and in many ways I hope it never changes. I was there for 17 days, during which time I spent much of my time in the basement and the kids regarded me rather like an ogre that had smuggled across the Atlantic in freight and was hiding out from the Feds in the basement. In a strange way, however, they’re the nearest I’ll probably get to my own kids, extensions to my own family all. I couldn’t wait to get back to see them a year later, and I did, and was there for the Christmas and New Year jamboree, a time so joyous that I almost traded in my Jacob Marley Appreciation Society T-shirt for a red felt hat with a white bauble. It was a one-off, I knew I could and would never be there at that time again. Yet the sadness stretched further, knowing the imminence of my going to University would prevent further trips till after I had gained my degree. Even now, two years after my last visit, it’s painful to think it’ll be at least another four years before I see them again.
Oh there were promises from Sam to come over, but Sam’s promises are things to be taken lightly. He’d never purposefully lie to anyone, but in his eagerness to please and let people hear what they want to hear, he makes promises he can’t keep. Firstly, he can’t afford seven fares across the Atlantic without cutting back on his hectic film-going and eatery schedule. Secondly, he’s terrified of flying, so it’s rather lucky he lives in New York, where he sits and waits for the mountain to come to Mohammed, presiding over gatherings at Juliano Towers like a modern day Trimalchio mixed with the spirit of human kindness. A sort of dictatorship by generosity and fuelled by Obsessive Compulsive Disorder that means when he gets interested in something there’s no holding him back. When the blog was starting up, you couldn’t get him away from the computer. Believe me, I tried; I couldn’t even do it when I was there. In my harder moments I nicknamed him the Sultan of Sycophancy, but there’s one crucial difference. A sycophant flatters to deceive, to ingratiate, to impress; it’s all part of a plan. With Sam I think he knows no other. He couldn’t say a bad word about anyone, unless they insult one of his children. By which I don’t mean Melanie, Sammy, Danny, Jillian or Jeremy, but a particular film seen by him as sacred. Slag off Far from Heaven, say, and he’ll go onto his haunches and start issuing forth verbal vitriol worthy of Malcolm Tucker in full bollocking mode.
In Horse Racing parlance, he’s a character out of Dickens by The Sopranos. My favourite vision of him is indelible as I write, sitting in his chair to the left of the old plasma TV in the basement, looking up at some opera DVD as if staring at the Horseshoe Nebula through Hubble, bursting into raptures, arm gesticulations, tears streaming down his face, miming to the words in Italian. He was like that fellow in Cinema Paradiso who was watching a film for the umpteenth time, holding a hankie to his face, crying enough to burst through the Hoover Dam, muttering “Mama…Mama” as if someone had kidnapped his child and tossed him on the back of a wagon like Jackie Coogan in The Kid. He’s a character to make you want to do anything. I tidied up his basement…twice; each time knowing it was like brushing leaves away in autumn. Sam is naturally the most disorganised, untidy person I have ever met, his basement like a troll’s cave in which, if you look hard enough, you may even find the original Holy Grail and Ark of the Covenant below the air hockey table, with the odd discarded dorito which has been on the floor so long it has created its own eco system. He carries DVDs around with him like security blankets, leaves books around for the dog to chew to shreds, leaves DVDs all over the place and wonders how they get lost. He has this filing system where he takes a DVD from the shelves, carries it to the plasma, watches it for a bit, then leaves it in the machine and waits for it to make its own way back to the shelf and when it doesn’t, mutters “unbelievable!” like he’s been shafted right royally. I have lost count of the stuff I have had to copy twice – in one case three times – after he’s lost it. I recall only a few weeks ago him sending me an email to ascertain whether he had a certain film, and I had to reply “yes, you do, it was in the parcel from me that you said you received only two hours ago.” Another time, a few months after my last visit, he emailed me with an URGENT sub-header to ask me where such a DVD was on his shelves, because he knows I probably could find things on his shelves from 2,000 miles away quicker than he could. Even now, typing, the response is one of laughter, because it’s impossible to get angry because for him it’s the norm; the real world is for other people, no Juliano would do something so conventional as to live there. Even with his recent quite literally ill-luck with his health, one almost expects it not to be something so confounded normal as flu or kidney stones that was afflicting him, but rather gout or the ague.
When questioned about the snow shovels in the bath, the response was “well, where the hell else am I supposed to put them?” The obvious thought of “a cupboard is traditional” just goes by the wayside. It’s a vision of endearing mayhem. One way or another, my film experience has been enriched a thousand-fold by knowing him, and the very word ‘film’ seems superfluous. My life will never be the same again, and arguments, quarrels, brickbats and ballistic bollockings aside, I’d have it no other way. As Sydney Greenstreet’s Peters said in The Mask of Dimitrios, “there’s not enough kindness in the world.”
Well, as I stated in the past I am deeply, deeply moved by this, but I’ll say no more.
I’m so glad Allan had you in his life! Xxx
Thank you so much for that Abbie. The very best to you.
Well Allan, old fish, you’ve hit several nails on their respective heads if you don’t mind my saying so. Sammy’s unique style of living for me can be best summed up as a cross between “City Of God” by Fernando Meirelles and “Leave It To Beaver” if Ward Cleaver had OCD and June Cleaver had been a dedicated social worker.
The kids are all charming it’s true but I’m sorry, the three canines have to go, especially the white one. I have on numerous occasions offered to “take the dogs for a ride” as they used to say in American gangster films but although the beasts are methodically destroying their home they have steadfastly refused the offers of $50 a head I have made them to do the “job”.
And as if Sammy doesn’t have enough distractions to deal with while attempting to produce the prodigious work he does on Wonders now he has inherited a brace of live Parrots who won’t shut the fuck up for more than five minutes or so at a time driving everyone within hearing distance to the brink of hysteria with their incessant and idiotic jabbering.
Sometimes I have to admit I don’t see how you too can remain such good friends and staunch allies after reading some of the hateful, vitriolic e mail exchanges you’ve shared in the past. If I didn’t know better I would think it had something to do with Luke 17:3-4. But it’s probably not from book learnin’ just love.
Yes Andrei, the canines are very high maintenance, but we’ve grown way too attached to them to part with any. Same for those infernal noise parrots, which have now ingratiated themselves in the family proper. As always a nice satiric underpinning there!
All from an e bay purchase of a DVD. This is an amazing story. This is what can be attribued to the net and it’s worldwide possibilities.
Yes Joe, without the PC I wouldn’t have met Allan and so many others!
I’m not sure what prompted this now, but I must say Bravo to the both of you. A great read Allan.
What prompted it is that Sam goes out of his way to promote many other sites but no-one has yet given him the same honour. And it was down to me, so it was long overdue.
yes, long overdue indeed. Sam (and you) have created an environment here (and elsewhere) where ones feel welcome, educated, and valued. This is through both of your hospitality and genuineness that are second to none of people I’ve met in my lifetime (this is both due to me meeting many stinkers, and how people generally are).
It’s the reason it’s taking so long for me to produce Sam’s ‘Lifehouse’ disc, and the reason I undertook execution of your book; you guys are great people and I want to repay you guys even just a little of what you’ve shown me. I’d never really wanted to write on a blog about things I like, now the ‘deadlines’ I have here are very important to me– that I’d trade for sleep/relaxation– just to fulfill my end of the bargain.
Yes Sam, your Who ‘Lifehouse’ disc is almost finished…
Many thanks, Jamie.
Awwww.
This was sweet and warming.
Sam, did you sell thing son ebay?
Hahahaha.
Well done, Mr. Fish.
Jaimie, I did seel some stuff on e bay up until late 2005, but it was mainly buying and selling pinball machines. I threw in some DVDs, but usually sent on some other things free of charge to the auction winners. At that time I used the proceeds to buy other DVDs, so it really was an unending cycle. Of course meeting Allan was the big event of those e bay years.
Thanks for the stirring assessment my friend!
“but it was mainly buying and selling pinball machines.”
Wait, what – pinball machines?! I swear, pace David, there’s a wacky, epic, humanist novel in here, the details never end…!
I was able to read this when it was lurking in the wings, waiting for its grand appearance, and I thought then and think now it’s easily one of the finest, most elegant and engaging pieces ever to appear on the site. And it’s one of my favorite posts of all time – it sums up perfectly what first drew me to the site and what keeps it going. You guys are the heart and soul of the blog, no doubt about it. Bravo.
Sam is the heart and soul as I am reliably informed I have neither. I am the dark void that lurks in between.
Fair enough – the dirt under the fingernails perhaps? Just as essential…
Allan’s ‘dark void’ is grossly over exaggerated… he’s just as caring as Sam. It just so happens that Sam shows affection with a hug, Allan with a wisecrack. Being raised in a cynical family I’m aware that to a person like this being cynical or making a dark joke is the only way to show affection, and indifference is actually the greatest insult one can give… you guys paint the same picture, you just use different colors.
That’s a very perceptive and dead-on assessment there Jamie, in regards to Allan. And thanks so much for all those flattering words.
That’s about as beautiful a response as anyone could hope to get at any post, and the fecund Movie Man is typically the one to pull the trigger.
I’m touched by the chemistry that has made this site click. There’s a current of humor spicing up this lovely evocation. Listening to crickets in the night is a small price to pay.
Indeed David. The crickets are part of the experience! Ha!
Hi! Sam Juliano, Allan, and Wonders in the Dark readers…
This post is “more” exciting than the other news from England that awaken me this morning…Prince William to wed Kate Middleton.
Allan…What a very warm, humorous, sincere and heartfelt tribute to your co-founder, and one of your best friends…Sam Juliano.
On a personal note:
Allan said, “It all came about from trawling on ebay one afternoon in 2005. I’d seen this copy of Sansho on the site. I bid on it and won the auction. In his trademark manner Sam didn’t just say “thanks for your payment, your goods will be sent out tomorrow, don’t’ forget to leave feedback.” That would never do. He instead wrote a paragraph about how much Sansho moved him and how much I would love the film. So there went back a reply, telling how I knew the film well, wished there were more Mizoguchis out there on DVD, how it was one of Mizoguchi’s best works – The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums, Ugetsu Monogatari, The Life of Oharu, all got a mention – and from there emails kept coming back and forth. I’d met and become friends with numerous people on the internet who I had never met, and yet from the outset this was a little different. There was something incorrigible about Sam that was beyond infectious even to my cynical carcass…”
I wasn’t aware Of how you two met…Shame on me for not asking how you and Sam Juliano met and have become or will become “life-long” friends.
…”On the spot he was trying to get me to visit, encouraging, cajoling – bribery was considered, even abduction would have been considered had he known anyone outside of New Jersey…”
Ha! Ha!…and to think that both of you have met face-to-face on two occasions. Anyways…
…Thank-you, very much for sharing your story with me and the readers, here at…Wonders in the Dark.
Take care!
DeeDee 🙂
Ah Dee Dee, we can be sure that the news about Prince William has grabbed the ears of many more than the relative few who now know the saga of the “Three Sanshos.” Yes, e bay was the site that launched this rock solid friendship, and yes, Allan spent two three week stints here in New Jersey. He is right too that seven air fares will be difficult to manage, but one can’t be sure of what the future will bring. By hook or by crook I will be there at some point, and fullfill a lifetime aspiration aside from the well-deserved reciprocal visit to see Allan, “Mum,” Marco Tremble and Martin.
As usual, your care and affection has infiltrated yet anothe rpost and thread at this site, and I am eternally grateful for those lovely words!
Once more with feeling, as Joss Whedon might say…
“Oh there were promises from Sam to come over, but Sam’s promises are things to be taken lightly. He’d never purposefully lie to anyone, but in his eagerness to please and let people hear what they want to hear, he makes promises he can’t keep.”
You see, he can’t help himself 😉 There is more chance of me taking holy orders and joining the Benedictines than of Sam setting foot in Blighty.
A great piece, Allan, and it is good to know more about your friendship with Sam and how the site came about. I’d love to know how both you and Sam originally developed your love and knowledge of films – it seems to me from the amount you both know and have seen that it must have stretched over your whole lives. Every time I come to this site I realise how little I have seen by comparison!
Judy, thanks ever so much for that! Both Allan and I are indeed lifelong movie fans, and the formation of WitD was a natural outgrowth. I have always appreciated the human side of the participents here, and you have been one of the sites prime joys.
A special tribute to a special guy.
Well done, Allan.
Thanks very much for that Jim! Much appreciated.
Allan – while obviously this loving and humorous ode to a Juliano is based on fact…have you ever written or considered writing fiction?
Some of your descriptions of the Juliano house had me howling and were so vivid…especially when you describe that steps leading up to the bedrooms as being akin to the North Face of the Eiger. My parents’ have a set of stairs like that.
Great stuff. Great site. Great great great great. Just great.
Dare I say “a staggering masterpiece” to the wonders of Wonders in the Dark? I almost feel like this is to WitD what Fincher’s Social Network is to Facebook – a fascinating look into how the madness began and the dynamic personalities behind the internet phenemona.
David, I salute you for this incredible comment here, which I am deeply moved by. Your generous assessment of Allan, myself and Wonders in the Dark in that kind of effusive language is exceedingly appreciated.
Haven’t been around lately for reasons Sam well knows about, but I checked in today and had to chime in with my own thoughts. Sam is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever been in contact with, online or off. Just a great person and someone who has expanded my movie knowledge and exposure immeasurably because of him. He’s one of the few people I’ve met on the internet that I would genuinely call a friend. This praise is well overdue.
Keep it up, pal.
Dave, you are a true friend for sure, and have been from the first times you visited here and launched GOOD FELLAS. These comments are treasured and have me completely humbled. Meeting you was one of the most revered of all the blogging experiences I’ve had over three years.
I’m in South Florida until Sunday so won’t really be around a computer this week. I quickly wanted to chime in and praise Allen’s brilliant piece here. What a wonderful essay that had me so filled with joy even though I have never met you guys!!! It really was a “staggering masterpiece” of remembrance and friendship. Mr Fish lets his cynical guard down and shows the whole site what a wonderful softee he really is……. those poisoned barbs will never ring true again (unless Bob is involved, though even those should now be questioned lol).
Thanks, Maurizio. The time to worry is when Bob and I agree on anything.
Yes, I think we might’ve accidentally caused a blizzard in Hell back when we ran our “Heaven’s Gate” pieces.
Reading this piece, I was reminded of that old piece of Carlin wisdom– scratch any cynic, and you’ll find a disappointed idealist. It’s hard to be disappointed while reading this piece and observing the beginnings of this crazy little piece of the internet we all spend so much time in. It’s heartfelt and touching, but not without the occasional humorous sting, a bit like what you’d get from hugging a porcupine– you’ll have to keep the band-aids handy, but it’s worth it. I hope we see more of this side of you, Fish– the idealist in you is worth all the vitriol.
The idealist exists only in the pieces, Bob. Only in the writing.
“hugging a porcupine” = site motto
Indeed. The proof is in the pudding, not the put-down.
Lovely commentaries here by both Maurizio and Bob. Aye, it’s well worth the vitrol in every sense1
Indeed a wonderful and beautifully written sentiment from one friend to another. I may not always see eye-to-eye with Mr. Fish and we share a love/hate relationship. However, where Mr. Fish and I will joinin agreement is in our mutual love and respect for Sam, Lucille and his clan. What I loved about this piece is that Allan revealed Sam and his brood with every wart exposed and it was through those details that he illustrated where Sam’s heart lies. Sam is not perfect (who is?), but its those imperfections that at first draw us to him, then envelope us and reveal his warm soul. The crazy dogs. The disorganization. The snow shovels in the main floor bathtub. Its all pure Sam. I’ve known him for just about 20 years and I can honestly say that my life is better with him in it. Allan did his friend proud…
Knowing the backstory behind the genesis of Wonders in the Dark makes me even more proud to be able to hang out here. Allan and Sam, you’re both wonderful hosts and its the differences between the two of you that make for such a fantastic team.
A fun and heartfelt write-up on Sam here Allan. Your words seem to perfectly capture his personality. I’ll vouch for his kindness on a personal level (never mind his support of my blogging), as he and his family closely followed the adoption of my daughter and even sent gifts for her — all this from someone who’s never met me face-to-face. It’d be an honor to meet the man someday (and probably worthy of hundreds of stories).
Troy, you leave me speechless. You have given Lucille and I great joy with the wonderful blogging reports on the Italian trip and the momentous time in China to claim Madelyn. You have been one of the blogging communities’ real joys, and it’s an honor to know you.
TROY-Sam is incapable of a sour turn. After nearly two decades of knowing him I have found that for every straying into a dark corner he almost always doubles his returns back into the realms of good-naturedness. Yes, we all laugh at his affable nature, his disorganization and absent-mindedness. However, with all the asides into hysterical craziness (and, trust me, I have compiled more back stories than even Allan can lay claim to), its Sam’s ability to always revert back to kindness and care that make us turn our heads away from his Tom-Foolery at times and see him for what he really is. He is a rock of kind words, inspiration and heartfelt, caring soul. I had many a conversation with him about the adoption of your little girl and his wishes of the best for you and your family were and ARE completely genuine…
Dennis, this is a lovely testimonial, and I thank you for it from the bottom of the heart.
And I think that we should all look at a word that TROY had in his comment above, for its the very essence of SAM and the way into his aura: FUN. I can think of a time before I met him where my life was a never ending string of scheduled tasks. Work, home, work, home. Just time enough to eat and sleep and never really venture further than my place of labor or my own living room. But… Sam came into my life, a whirlwind of affable and bombastic excitement in discovering a friend whose passions were almost as great as his own and he extended an invitation. It was an invitation to explore a world that was seated at the stoop of my own back door, a world of culture I never had the guts to enter in that great city across the Hudson. With a gigantic push, a laugh, and a passion for art so great that it was seductive, he yanked me from a life of mundane and took me on this growing and FUN journey into the mind and heart.
I deeply love Sam and his family (except the pets…well one of the dogs I can stomach anyway) but I feel I must speak openly on the snow shovel issue. I am not so whimsical about the snow shovels in the bathtub as some others here seem to be. Not that I plan to start bathing in the Juliano’s house anytime soon. That’s not the reason…but I am doing everything I can to get the snow shovels outside the house where they belong. My nephew Peter is a good plumber and Sam, for a reasonable fee he will convert your snow shovel storage area into a cool refreshing or hot and invigorating bathtub/shower affair and make life easier and more worth living just like reading “The War Of The End OF The World” by Mario Vargas LLosa would.
See you about four old chum.
Thanks Andrei.
I DO have a bathroom in the house that DOES have a working shower, and there aren’t snow shovels there.
It’s the one on the second floor! Ha!
That floor also houses the living quarters of his 5 kids, several hamsters, what were once two very live rabbits (don’t ask), goldfish, snakes, a few lizards, bats hanging from the ceiling rafters and a squirrel that electricuted itself after burrowing in the attic and accidentally bit into one of the electric lines (that shorted out one of the breakers in the house and cause the lights to go out in the kitchen and the computer room (he screamed bloody murder for a half hour till a Quatamalan repairman was hoisted up on a ladder to remove the dead rodent and reseal the wires and change the breaker-I’M NOT KIDDING). Of course, even with all the crazy happenings up there on the top floor, he just sits in the computer room, tapping away, having Lucille report to him on what’s going on…
His only reply, like clockwork, is:
“UNBELIEVEABLE!”
I live for these moments. They’re better than every Woody Allen and Mel Brooks comedy put together…
I LOVE that the snow shovels are in the bathtub. Everything odd about Sam’s abode rings true to the building of his character. The disorganization is part and parcel to a disguise that Sam wears. To elaborate… You look at Sam, all dis-shovelment and bombastic movement and one looking at him would never think that he’s this kind, gentle and DEEPLY intellectual soul. His physical presence and the presence of his favorite dwellings are a mask that bring down your guard. You ask yourself, Lis this for real?” And then Sam speaks and all that bombastic aloofness and blustery mindless destruction of his physicality melts away and you are floored by what lies at the center of his being. Behind that disguise is a cultured and gargantuan intellect that both sucks up information like a sponge, and forces its way toward you with a sense of examined and authoritative know-how. Behind that disguise is one of the smartest cats around.
Oh he soaks it up like a sponge, but the problem is, when the sponge gets dried out, the holes open out and he can’t remember where the hell he left anything.
Can’t argue with that Allan. When you’re right, you’re right…
Sam suffers from something else other than his bad bowel and stones…
It’s got a clinical name in the medical journals here in the States.
It’s called C. R. S.
C. (Can’t) R. (Remember) S. (Shit)
Allan, that was a really lovely piece. Very heartfelt and richly, warmly glowing. Beyond the details, I think you capture the overwhelming good nature and larger than life, Dickens style, elements of Sam. A bravura piece.
I just wish you trusted yourself as a writer a mite more. Your Sim piece and this really show your talent. All the rest is belief and hard work. The hard work you have down pat.
This piece reminded me of how I stumbled onto the site one day, to read a piece by yourself on Leslie Halliwell, having just left a magnificent site dedicated to him. And I’m still here, a year and a half later. What great hosts we have…
Bobby, I have only just noticed this comment as it got kinda buried at the time and I was pretty much persona non grata days later. Thanks for the kind words.
Bobby, thanks so much for that dynamic and creative comment my friend.
Oh.my.
This is absolutely moving. How did I even miss this? I so hope this one’s included in the book, if it’s not already.
Bravo, Allan! Cheers to you Sam!
Post of 2010 indeed.
Cheers all!
Thanks to Joel for putting this up as his masterpiece post.
What a lovely tribute to the friendship between Allan and Sam! Very moving.
Thanks so much Pat for reading and for responding here my friend.
I’d never seen this post before and without any exaggeration I’m going to say this is the easily the best piece Allan has ever done. It’s fitting then that it’s about his friendship with Sam. Though I hope Sam receives many other tributes throughout life (he richly deserves them) I doubt very much he will ever come across a testament as rich, as precise, as warm, and ultimately as generous as this one.
Kaleem, I can never thank you enough for what you have stated here and am so lucky to have maintained a friendship with you for so long.
I laughed and I cried reading this. What a friendship you guys had. There can never be one to match it and my heart goes out to you Sam. Mr. Fish is quite the perceptive writer and what an amazing grasp he has of human nature. I can see why your family will never be able to let go. This was really beautiful.
Celeste, thank you kindly for such a berautiful and movie comment here.
Sam — Thank you for sharing this beautiful story.
Thanks so very much for that Laurie my great friend.
This is utterly charming to read. I’d never read this before so was fun to get the backstory here. Thanks so much for reposting this Sam. Sending peace and good vibes to you.
Thanks so much Jon my friend. Deeply appreciated.