State of Cape Cod

Gimme A Loose, Lou…

Along with the sound, a lot of controversy has been generated by the noise machine at The Hot Chocolate Sparrow espresso bar in Orleans. The establishment is plagued by young folk who congregate in the parking lot, especially after the 11:00 PM closing time. Whether the kids constitute an annoyance, a problem, or something worse hasn't been publicly established, nor does it matter. The fact is they aren't welcome, the lot is private property, and they are trespassing.

The owners have installed a Mosquito, an English device reputed to emit an annoying sound that only youths can hear. Many who have commented publicly feel that it is, in effect, cruel and unusual punishment; that the teens need a place to hang out and to deprive them of this parking lot is unfair. They evidently feel that the owners of The Hot Chocolate Sparrow have an obligation to provide a gathering place for the youth of the town.

Perhaps this pro-hangout crowd should get together and establish a place for the kids to congregate. Something like what we enjoyed back in the day. A place like Lou's.

Lou's was a candy store that catered to young people. Every neighborhood had one. It was a kind of private club for kids in their early to mid teens. Lou's consisted of two rooms. A store in front provided candy, gum, cigarets, ice cream, chips, pretzels and other snacks, cold soda, and novelties like pea shooters, rubber balls, hula hoops, dice, kites, decks of cards, yoyos, etc. Kids had simpler, and less expensive, toys back then. The back room housed several pinball machines and a couple of card tables. Out back you could pitch coins against the wall, for fun only, of course. Punch ball, stoop ball, and other city games took place in the street out front. Basically a boys' hangout, a few neighborhood girls jumped rope or played hopscotch on the sidewalk.

Inside a juke box played popular tunes. In those days, before smoking was demonized, if you couldn't afford a pack of cigarettes and wanted a smoke you had only to say the magic words, “Gimme a loose, Lou,” and Lou would sell you a single cigarette. If you won a few free games at pinball you could ask for the cash equivalent instead. The most adept pinballers would put the front legs of the game on top of their feet so they could move it up and down gently without tripping the tilt mechanism.

Various versions of Rummy were played at the card tables but the favorite game was 7½ – similar to Blackjack with the eights, nines, and tens removed. Face cards were worth ½, Aces, 1, and the best hand was, you guessed it, 7½.  No cash was allowed on the table: bets, if any, were settled afterward. Lou depended on the income from refreshments, the juke box, and cigarets.

I'm certainly not condoning the questionable activities and unwholesome behavior but, unlike many teen gatherings today, at Lou's there was no alcohol or drugs, and there was never any trouble. All the kids lived nearby. Their parents may not have been aware of all that went on but they knew where their children were, they knew when they'd be home, and that neither Lou nor the nearby neighbors would tolerate any vandalism or rowdy behavior. Lou had his livelihood to protect and the kids didn't want to lose their gathering place. Very symbiotic.

The Hot Chocolate Sparrow presents a different set of circumstances. The kids don't live nearby. The parents don't know where their children are. They don't know, or perhaps don't care, what they're doing or when they'll get home. There is no Lou nor any neighbors to keep an eye on them. When the owners of the property attempted to protect their investment they were beset by politically correct types asserting, in effect, the rights of young folk to trespass – probably the same people who would immediately bring suit should a mishap occur.

Times change. There are no real neighborhoods any more. The corner store is long gone. If a gathering place is needed for the kids, the parents should provide it, and not expect the proprietors of an espresso bar, a convenience store, nor any other business to do so. A church hall, or perhaps a school building, might be rented or pressed into service. Apparently the moms and dads would rather trust to luck that there will be no disaster and continue to ignore their parental responsibility, and instead cry foul when someone dares remind them of it.

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