Fall 2010 Music for Youth Concert Series Opens

Fall 2010 Music for Youth Concert Series Opens

By Mike Lauterborn

(Appeared in Fairfield-Citizen News 9/25)

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

9/25/10

Southport, CT – The halls were alive with the sound of music as the Fall 2010 season of Music for Youth’s Young Persons’ Concert Series opened Saturday, September 25 at Southport’s Pequot Library.

The Jasper String Quartet, comprised of violinists J Freivogel and Sae Niwa, violist Sam Quintal and cellist Rachel Freivogel, was the featured performance group and some 200 people came to hear them in the library’s recital hall – a cool retreat from the day’s unseasonably warm temperatures.

Members of the Quartet, who originally hailed from such faraway places as Japan (Sae) and Alaska (Sam) but who now live within blocks of each other in New Haven, were pleased to open the season and with the enthusiasm of the concert attendees. “With any new space, you wonder what it’s going to be like,” said Quintal. “This is a great room… and a well-versed audience.”

Winners of numerous music competition awards and a quartet-in-residence at both the Yale School of Music and Caramoor, the Jaspers were introduced by Cynthia Cummiskey, Music for Youth’s spokesperson. An energetic blonde dressed in pink and white, she conducted a quick poll determining there was a broad representation of strings players in the audience, reminded attendees about manners – “we’re not going to yell or kick our brother” – and explained how one should react to the performance. “What do we do? Clap. And if we really like it, we say, ‘Bravo!’”

It was an introduction that Music for Youth President and Founder Marianne Liberatore, for whom Cummiskey was substituting as presenter, had scripted and given numerous times before. In fact, the series started in 1995 as an outreach program when Liberatore was president of South Shore Music. When new management took over six years later and didn’t have the staff to maintain the children’s program, Liberatore resigned, formed Music for Youth along with Cummiskey and Dorothy Straub, and carried on the program.

“It has just become more wonderful,” said Liberatore, now in her 80’s, who for many years prior was the supervisor for music for the entire town of Fairfield. “Our goal is to present a variety of classical music to children and their parents. We always offer a string quartet, piano soloist and violinist, sometimes a cellist, wind quartet or brass quintet, and usually a piano trio. We also try from time to time to offer music from distant cultures. This year it’s Indonesia. In the past, we’ve had performers from Japan, China, Ukraine and Latin America.”

Liberatore, who has lived in Westport and Weston over the past 30 years, has a lifelong passion for music. “My parents had given me a good music education and I always felt every child has the right to the same.”

The Eroica Trio was the first concert offered at Pequot Library under Liberatore’s direction, back in 1996. “We charged money for it and paid Pequot Library for rental. We were afraid no one would come, so billed it as a ‘Piano Concert and Pizzas.’ Pizzas were donated by John’s Best on the Post Road. Little girls in the audience who had just come from ballet classes were dancing in the aisles. Parents came up to me after and said, ‘Why don’t you do this all the time?’ Mary Freedman, former Director of Pequot Library, said, ‘If you do the booking, we’ll help you, but the concerts must always be free.’ And that’s how it started, and has continued thanks to the support of benefactors like today’s underwriter Howard Aibel.”

The Jaspers’ program included pieces from Hayden, Schubert, Mozart and Beethoven. The quartet played fluidly and their sweet, delicate melodies filled the hall, much to the delight of attendees like the Abbazia family. Southport resident Lisa Abbazia, 43, said, “I’ve been coming here for many years. It’s such a great treat. My children play the violin and can’t sit through a usual concert.”

Echoed Liberatore, “This is really a great gift to the community. Top-flight professionals and free to the public.”

For more information about upcoming performances, visit www.musicforyouth.net or contact Pequot Library at 203-259-0346.

Bringing Some Good Humor to Fairfield

Bringing Some Good Humor to Fairfield
(Appeared 9/23 on front page of Fairfield-Sun newspaper) 

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

9/15/10

Fairfield, CT – “Hi Wright!” say all the moms as they approach or pass. “Can I have an ice cream?” say all the kids with them. The children are just getting out of school at Roger Sherman Elementary, their moms have come to meet them and all have made a detour to Wright’s Ice Cream truck, parked near the playground on Fern Street.

Wright Hugus Jr., 79, long known as Fairfield’s ice cream man, is a town fixture. But few know of his colorful, storied background. In a recent interview at his Cape-style, beach area home, surrounded by family photos, tennis trophies and his two Golden Retrievers Bromley and Sadie, Hugus served up a freezer full of facts.

Boy of Steel

Hugus was born in 1930 in an affluent section of Wheeling, West Virginia, which he described as “a steel town, or was when there was such a thing.” His grandfather, Thomas Jefferson Hugus, founded the former Wheeling Steel Corporation. Wright’s dad, Wright Hugus Sr., was a prominent attorney and politician – the head of the Republican Party in West Virginia. His mother, Martha Majesky Hugus, was a teacher, musician and early women’s charity organizer and volunteer.

Hugus attended a regular public elementary school – just like Roger Sherman – and was active in football, baseball and basketball. He also excelled in tennis, taught to play at age 3 or 4 by his father, a nationally ranked tennis player.

The sports-minded lad was “a book nut”, too, a passion that continues to this day. “I have a computer database of the books I’ve read in the past 10 years. There are over 470 in there. I read about one a week. Modern fiction, action and history.”

Cadet

His high school years were spent at Greenbrier Military School. “My father felt I needed the discipline – I was a pain in the ass, very independent. It was a way to make a man out of a boy. This was right after World War II, so that was the thinking.” Hugus was #1 in his class and won all the academic medals, graduating in 1948.

Choosing a college presented a dilemma. “My father had gone to Dartmouth and Harvard Law. My grandfather went to Harvard Law and West Virginia University. I thought I needed to break the mold and go to a modern top university. I visited Duke with a friend of my father’s, a tennis player, and I was very impressed. I started there in 1948 and graduated in 1952 with a B.A., majoring in English and History, which in that day was the thing.”

Hugus returned home and married local girl/fellow Duke student Betty Woods. “I like to say she chased me down there – she was two years younger.” The Korean War was on and the draft was in effect, so Hugus joined the Navy and went to Officers Candidate School in Newport, RI. He came out in 1953 as an Ensign.

Capitol Chap

“I initially wanted to serve on a submarine,” he said, “but there was no availability.” As such, he went off to Washington, DC, assigned to the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI). “My role was to investigate cases of sabotage, espionage and counter intelligence. The whole Communist world was overcoming us at the time. And this was the McCarthy Era, too. Everyone was scared of Communism. You might say the Russian bear raised its ugly head, as the Russians backed North Korea.”

Hugus’ office was in the Naval Observatory, on a 100-acre parcel in northwest Washington, which is where the Vice President’s residence is as well. “It was a great place to work and I lived in Georgetown, so it was just up the street. I learned so much, including a little Russian. One task was to review and analyze a U.S.-based Communist paper called the Daily Worker. I was also a liaison to the FBI, CIA (then the OSS), Army Intelligence and the National Security Agency. One scary moment was being detained at the Yugoslavian Embassy!”

He related his amusing first day on the job: “The area commander assigned me to a civilian investigator. He said he’d show me the ropes. We went for coffee, a noon lunch, then to the movies. He said, ‘That’s Naval Intelligence!’”

While in the Navy, he and his wife had two children, Stephanie and Christin. Hugus was released from active duty in August 1956, after achieving the rank of full lieutenant. He then applied to and was accepted at the University of Virginia Law School. “I think my hero Thomas Jefferson (his grandfather’s namesake) had something to do with my decision, as he founded and designed the university. UVA provided a well-rounded national legal background.”

Racecar Driver & Law Man

Millbank Tweed, a top Wall Street law firm, agreed to hire Hugus, but just before graduation in 1959, his father passed away. Wright Sr. had headed up a local Wheeling law firm, which then tried to push the family out. The family sued and settled, taking Hugus Sr.’s name out of the firm’s title. “The experience taught me to be cautious and made me realize I wanted to practice law in a small town.”

Hugus stayed in Wheeling for three years, until 1962. With some money his dad had left him, he also bought a racecar – a 1959 Triumph TR3-A – and began racing it with the Sports Car Club of America. Over a five-year period, he owned four different racecars.

At that point, he wanted to find a more stable town environment, and considered law firms all over the country. He ended up in Greenwich, CT. Lowell Weicker, now an ex-senator, hired him.

Hugus enjoyed a 15-year run in Greenwich practicing general law and became a partner. He had a son, Wright III, too, in 1965. “The last five years I was there, I drifted into sports law, which influenced me to establish my own firm, Hugus Enterprises, in 1975. I was one of the first attorneys to specialize in sports law and sports management.”

Sports like tennis, golf and skiing were amateur sports then and the athletes didn’t make money. As these became professional sports, the athletes needed representation and services. Hugus also helped set up the organizations, like the U.S. Ski Team, which he represented for eight years. Notable first clients included first woman Indy racer Janet Guthrie and gold medal Olympic figure skater Dorothy Hamill.

Hugus ran his business until 1980 when he contracted double pneumonia. This led to chronic bronchial asthma, and ultimately to cancer of the larynx. He moved to Aspen, CO, was treated over a three-year period by the doctor for the U.S. Ski Team and, in 1984, moved back to Connecticut. There he started Barrister Enterprises, providing database services for professionals, and ultimately settled in Fairfield with new wife Elizabeth Thomas, a financial consultant.

Hugus operated Barrister until 1990, then set up and ran an internal database at a bankruptcy law firm in Bridgeport for another four years. It was after retiring in 1994 that he dipped into the world of Good Humor Ice Cream.

SIDEBAR

Ice Cream Dream

When Fairfield resident Wright Hugus Jr. retired from his last corporate position as a database manager, he was looking for things to do besides his charitable pursuits and involvement as a member of the First Church Congregational.

“I wanted to work and run my own little business. There was an ad in the Bridgeport newspaper for ice cream vendors. I went to a meeting hosted by Blue Sky Bar, a Good Humor distributor and truck owner. Coming back in the car, I was laughing, thinking, ‘Wright, you’ve done a lot, but you haven’t done this.’ It was also a way of putting down roots in a new community. That was 16 years ago.”

Says Hugus, reflecting on the pursuit, “You wouldn’t believe the pleasure I get when a kid comes up to the truck, looks at all the flavors and his eyes light up. And you see the kids grow up over time. There’s nothing to dislike about ice cream.”

His current vehicle is a 1972 GMC Good Humor truck. At the height of its business, Good Humor owned and operated around 3,000 trucks nationwide. They ultimately sold these and are now just in the wholesale ice cream business.

Hugus essentially works seven days a week, visiting schoolyards, neighborhoods, picnics, birthdays, business events, soccer games, summer camps and concerts on the Green.

Most popular selections? Cookie sandwiches, lemon/lime shots, fudge bars, ice cream sandwiches and all five of the original Good Humor flavors dating back to 1927: Vanilla Bar, Toasted Almond, Chocolate Éclair, Candy Center Crunch and Strawberry Shortcake.

“The truck is like a meeting place or a water fountain at a business. Everyone’s around it. It’s a familiar, warm and fuzzy event… and it makes me feel good about what I’m doing.”

 

Block Pulls Out the Stops: Annual Smith Street Party A Hit

Block Pulls Out the Stops:

Annual Smith Street Party A Hit
(Appeared on front page of 9/24 Fairfield Citizen newspaper)

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

9/19/10

Fairfield, CT – The official start time was 4pm and eager residents of Smith Street had begun to gather for their annual block party. It was the 14^th consecutive affair on this block and the highlight of the street’s fall period.

Eileen Weber, actually an Oldfield Road resident, was this year’s organizer, coordinating the September 18^th scheduling, printing flyers, securing a permit and arranging for barricades.

Her daughter, Norah, was already into the Cheetoh’s, a bag of which was set on one of several draped folding tables in front of “Ground Zero”, number 48 Smith Street. “Your fingers are going to be all orange,” someone said to her. “I’ll just lick ‘em off!” she replied with a grin.

Overhead, on a cord tied between a telephone pole and basketball hoop, squares of cloth, on which peace signs had been painted, hung.

From his corner Victorian-style home, Mark Potter carried over a huge container of fruit punch. It drew children like moths to a flame. They gathered around the spigot, cups at the ready, as Potter set it down.

As the numbers of the junior set grew, Hula Hoops, basketballs, juice packs and chalk – the staples of youth – appeared. Among them, Peter Nikac’s mini golden doodle Charlie and Nancy Murphy’s Welsh terrier Gibby played.

In an adjacent pear tree, multi-colored round paper lanterns were hung above a metal ice tub piled high with seasonal beers, soda, sparkling water, wine and juice. Bubbles drifted past, launched by Suzanna Weber, 7, and Audrey Anderson, 3. Audrey’s elder sister, Grace, 5, stood nearby tooting a whistle. Whizzing past on a scooter went Spencer Dolzani, 5.

Trundling up the street, Audrey’s mom, Sara, carried a plate of toast squares topped with dip. She secured a cup of wine, glad to be “off duty” for a few moments.

Tearing down the block on his gleaming bike, Phillip Lauterborn, 10, dodged pedestrians. This included Sandy Murphy, John Weber and Brian Dolzani who were huddled sipping beer. Murphy had a Redhook Ale and remarked, “A fraternity brother is the brewmaster.” Said Weber, “A perfect time to reestablish the connection!”

The older children in the group hovered at one end of the gathering, lazing in the grass, tapping on iPhones and tuning in iPods. Others like Griffin Murphy, 13, and Casden Leahey, 14, tossed a football back and forth. At the opposite end of the street, John Reidy, 6, ran about with a hockey stick whacking a Wiffle ball into a net while his elder sister, Elizabeth, 11, tossed a ball back and forth with Charlie Miller, 12.

More adults arrived, coupled and caught up with current events. Attendance was not limited to local residents. Shawn and Jacqui Levin and son Braden rolled in from the Stratfield area. “This is our first time here. Braden’s having a blast! We don’t have this kind of interaction where we are. This is amazing, so many kids together.” As she spoke, jump roping erupted led by Kaya Cusick, 11, with sister Hailey, 8, and Corinne Wilklow, 11, hopping in.

Of course, what would a block party be without grills? Three were onsite and in full use by 7:30, cooking bratwurst, hamburgers, chicken legs and steak cubes. At this point, night had fallen inspiring Marlene Lauterborn and Linda Raymond to set out candles along the food tables. These had grown to 30 feet in length and were topped with contributed dishes like brownies & cookies, salads, chips & dips, pizza wedges, fruit, and cheese & crackers. It was a plentiful bounty and the setting was momentarily tranquil until dashed by the banshee cries of a fleet of pre-pubescents racing scooters past.

The smell and glow of a firebowl that had been set up and sparked in one driveway added to the scene, as did various tunes cranking from an iDock. It also inspired marshmallow roasting. “Do you want it burnt or golden?” asked Delia Murphy, 11, of a pal.

A clear three-quarter moon in a star-speckled sky shown down on all and affirmed their good time. It was another great event for the Smith Street history books. 

Man About Town: Back to School Rush

Man About Town: Back To School Rush

By Mike Lauterborn

(For Sept 17 issue Fairfield-Citizen News)

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

Ten deep at each register. Baskets full of notebooks and colored pens. Flip flops and sweatshirts.

The scene was OfficeMax on Kings Highway and it was the Friday afternoon of the first week Fairfield public schools were back in session. I’d run out of printer paper and needed a new appointment book and figured I would just make a quick dash out, not immediately remembering what day it was.

“Mob scene”, sans pitchforks and fire torches, is one way to describe the environment I encountered. Mothers with children, teens with their friends, clusters of young adults… and of all makes and models.

These packs roamed the store like hungry coyotes, picking clean the shelves of ring binders and Post-Its and markers. They raided the ink cartridges, composition books and textbook jackets. They raked out coffee filters and creamer and other items that might be necessary for late night paper writing.

Parents pushing carts dutifully followed their younger spawn, collecting the educational hardware and mentally tabulating the financial toll. The college set brashly went solo, shiny new credit cards tucked in their back pockets ready to pay for their own salvaged treasure.

Of course, the best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry and, while the store had lain in enough supplies to meet demand, it had not counted on its register computers to act up. Something to do with the cloudy/rainy weather and satellite communication apparently. So, the digits of patrons wishing to pay with credit cards would have to be manually called in for purchase approvals. No problem, and, in fact, it gave those of us on line a chance to visit with each other.

Older schoolmates, all tan and relaxed-looking from summers spent at the Cape or Nantucket or other like vacation destination, recognized each other in line. And like they were encountering each other on campus on the first day of a new semester, they exchanged pleasantries and remarked on each other’s appearance.

Younger schoolmates spotted each other as well and, less patient about waiting, went running around product displays and the camera counter.

Moms that had been busy all summer with their families said hello to each other, too, recognizing that these types of store trips would be the norm over the next nine months. Runs for poster board, report jackets or other needs that commonly arise as related to special school projects.

A little girl standing next to me in line with her mother had placed on the counter a package of refrigerator magnets with smiley faces. “Those are cute!” I remarked. “Will those hold your artwork and go up on the refrigerator?” She thought about that for a second and the prominence her work would soon achieve, grinned and said simply, “Yup!”

Another mom in front of me had three children of varying sizes with her and each had their own basket full of supplies. “Triple the damage, eh?” I said. She nodded, definitely aware of the bottom line, particularly in light of this down economy.

The register person asked for her card, flipped through a manual, phoned in the woman’s transaction and had her sign the electronic keypad, then off she went with a wave. One line over, a commotion erupted as three female college friends spotted each other and embraced. It being a Friday, no doubt they’d soon be somewhere near the beach with red party cups in hand, starting not only their academic year but a new term of social networking!

Good luck kids, do well and make us proud!

“Bud” Sambrook: A Fairfieldian Through and Through

“Bud” Sambrook: A Fairfieldian Through and Through

(Front page feature Sept. 16 Fairfield Sun newspaper)

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

8/25/10

Fairfield, CT –  He’s a true native son, no doubt about it. A lifelong resident of Fairfield, Joseph “Bud” Sambrook has seen this town change from a farm-oriented community to the thriving hive of activity and culture that it has become, and is a living record of local lore.

Nicknamed at birth by an uncle who thought he looked like a little bud, Sambrook, 74, recently interviewed at his Oldfield Road home, grew up in the area off Easton Turnpike near General Electric’s headquarters. His father, Joseph, was a tool and die maker at the Underwood Elliott Fisher Typewriter Co. Mom Eleanor was a stay-at-home mom then legal secretary when Sambrook and his elder sister, Joan, were grown.

Sambrook was educated at Stratfield and Lincoln Elementary schools and then Roger Ludlowe, which is now Tomlinson Middle School. “It was a rural community for sure back then,” he recalls. “If you missed the school bus, it was a long hike from home. I would pass five working farms just on my route.”

As a boy during World War II, he clearly remembers the phone ringing at the family home and a friend reporting, “The Japanese just bombed Pearl Harbor!” He confesses he didn’t know who the Japanese were or Pearl Harbor, but he knew it was bad. “I remember a little inset on the front page of the paper each day showing our troop positions. And we listened to Walter Winchell at 7p.m. every Sunday night to get the latest reports.”

He also recalls the local blackout and air raid warden. “He would come out with his whistle and helmet and tell you to pull down your shades. And car headlights were painted halfway down.” Among the most exciting moments for him during this period was to watch “the Corsairs and P-38s fly very low over the house. They built the Corsairs in Stratford and would test fly them from there.”

An early work experience was at Colonese’s Farm. “I picked vegetables and slopped hogs. I even learned to drive there… tractors at first, then a ’36 Chevy pickup truck.” Later, in high school, he worked at a market at Dolan’s Corner on Black Rock Turnpike. “I would stock shelves, fill orders and deliver groceries to people’s houses.”

He recalls that, near where Old Navy is located today, “there was a spring called Rock Pohaten and they used to bottle water there. This was before bottled water became all the rage!”

After high school, Sambrook went into the air force, “probably because I fell in love with all the airplanes going over the house!” He served a term of eight years – four active and four reserve – and was initially stationed in Amarillo, Texas. Discharged as a staff sergeant, Sambrook caught the very tail end of the Korean War and the beginning of the Vietnam War. His name is included in Fairfield’s honor roll for both conflicts. He was an instructor, teaching engine and aircraft mechanics. “Every so often, they would let us go on a ‘prisoner chase’ to break up the monotony, transporting prisoners from one facility to another,” he remarked.

The period after his discharge was tough as the nation was experiencing a recession. Needing a job, he reported to Poster Hardware, where he ended up working for a few years. Come 1964, though, he realized that he’d never really completed his education and didn’t have a trade. The health benefits and pay offered by the Fairfield Police Department were attractive. Little did he realize then that the force would be his employer for the next 42 ½ years!

“I went from patrolman to chief,” says Sambrook. “When I first joined, Fairfield was a sleepy little community. In the late 60s, we started experiencing the drug culture, and things seemed to take a turn for the worse. During my 14 years as chief of detectives, Fairfield had its share of bank robberies, assaults and even some homicides.”

He related a particularly notable case that occurred in the mid-80s during his tenure with the detective bureau. “A newborn baby was murdered. There was a lot of investigation and a realization that there was a Santeria (a religion of Caribbean origin) connection. We thought we knew who the perpetrator was, but we weren’t able to get him. The case created a nationwide – even international – buzz. It was tremendously involved.”

In his early days on the force, he met his now ex-wife, Shirley, a court stenographer. They were married in 1969 and had one daughter, Michelle, now a mother of four. Bud and Shirley bought a house on Shoreham Village Drive off the Post Road near the Fairfield Motor Inn. She retained the home after their divorce in 1980, and he soon happened upon his current residence – a unique bachelor pad indeed!

“I bought my present home from the man next door, who lived there as a kid,” says Sambrook. “It was originally 16’x20’ – a Sears and Roebuck catalog kit house, assembled on the lot in 1916. A single-story bungalow. It was affordable, I saw the potential and I liked that it was set back from the road 200 feet. It provided privacy, and had a marsh at the back, too.”

The first modification he made was to tear off the roof and add attic storage. His plans grew from there. “I wanted to create a contemporary saltbox and added sections and pieces over the years.” The home is now approximately 1,400 square feet and incorporates elements that Sambrook essentially scavenged from here and there. “All the windows came from a woman down near the beach who was having new ones put in. She asked me if I knew anyone who could haul the old ones away. I loaded them in my pickup and brought them here. Then I stripped umpteen layers of paint off them, customized them and naturally stained the wood. In fact, all the wood in the house is naturally stained.”

The wide-plank pine flooring in his 9’x15’ sitting room came from another source. “A friend in the demo biz was tearing down the original Fairfield Lumber Building. These planks were an overhang that I repurposed.” As to the exposed, hand-hewn ceiling beams, he says, “I drove up to Litchfield County where an old building was being torn down. These were full of nails, filthy dirty and covered with bird doo.” He refurbished and installed the beams himself.

His carpentry talents extend all throughout the house. The front door was initially 1 ¾” thick. He covered both the front and back with a layer of pine, installed a lock set from an old house in Easton and scored the exterior with a “quilting” pattern. He dug out the basement himself and installed I-beams for support. He built a 6’x5’ Rumford fireplace with a bake oven feature from specs in a book. “Rumford was a guy that corrected fireplaces to throw heat. The bricks are highly fired, very hard. The actual firebox is shallow; the ‘cheeks’ reflect the heat out. And the hearth is not raised like in most homes now, which is a plus.”

In 1997, Sambrook became chief of the Fairfield Police Department, a post he held until 2006. He hasn’t completely retired, however, and pilots a police boat in Essex, patrolling the Connecticut River from Saybrook to Deep River every weekend. He had run the police boat in Fairfield for many years prior and has had a number of boats of his own -- both power and sail – over time. About the weekend work, he says, “It’s a nice healthy diversion. I meet some nice people. And there’s a certain fulfillment of not feeling retired and put out to pasture.”

The post is not devoid of drama and excitement either. “There was an ugly situation two years ago, with a power boat hitting a sailboat and killing a woman, a professor. This summer, a boat called the Blue Guitar was moored mid-river. It was over 100 feet long, from London, and belonged to Eric Clapton. I didn’t see him – his crew would go for supplies.”

But his main diversion has been his antique cars. At present, he owns a ’36 Ford pickup, ’37 Chevy police car, ’37 Buick Century and ’41 Chevy coupe. These are housed in a garage adjacent to his house that he has expanded over the years and dubbed “Oldfield Horseless Carriage Co. 1916.” While still head of the detective bureau, he revamped a recovered stolen Camaro that had been donated, turning it into a DARE (Drug Abuse Resistance Education) car. “I’d drive it in the town’s annual Memorial Day parade. It had speakers on the outside and played ‘Bad Boys.’” Sambrook also refurbished the police car, obtaining “FPD” vanity plates and driving it in the parade as well. “There was a young local boy with leukemia that just loved police. We made him a uniform with sergeant stripes and dubbed him an Auxiliary Officer. He’d ride with me in the parade. Ultimately, he beat cancer and I still keep in touch with the family.”

Three cheers for Joe “Bud” Sambrook, Fairfield’s True Blue Town Treasure!

SIDEBAR:

Snippets of Fairfield History

Former Fairfield Chief of Police “Bud” Sambrook, in a recent sit-down, recalled historical highlights from the town’s past.

Police Call Boxes: “There used to be call boxes all over town before two-way radios were installed in police cars. If a cop saw a light on above a box, he would call in to learn about a local incident. The first radios were only one-way – you could get a message, but couldn’t call back.”

Heritage Square: “I was still new to the department and remember when Heritage Square burned down. The structure was an old lumber company converted into a 2-level retail complex. The night was very cold and the fire was difficult to put out. I saw a fireman’s helmet with water dripping off it and immediately freezing, turning to icicles.”

South Benson Marina: “There was just a channel there that ran out and created a riptide. Several people drowned. Wendy Clark would rent rowboats. My buddy and I would go out fishing and have difficulty getting back up the channel if the tide was going out.”

Before I-95: “When I was a kid, there was no I-95. Think of all the semis going down U.S. 1. Back then, in the center of town, there was diagonal parking with parking meters.”

Corner of Reef and Post Roads: “There was a police post there, manned by a cop 16 hours a day, in four-hour shifts. If you stepped away, that would be the moment the chief showed and would say, ‘Where’s the center man?’ And you’d better have a good excuse.” 

Memories of 9/11

Memories of 9/11

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

9/8/10

Fairfield, CT - Nine years have passed since 9/11 and, yet, the memories of that day – that week – are as vivid as if the events had happened yesterday. I was at Ground Zero just 26 hours after the first strike and these are my recollections of the day of the events and my subsequent tour of lower New York.

On the morning of September 11^th, I had just dropped off my son, almost six years old, at his elementary school and looped up to a car wash on Tunxis Hill Road. It was a spectacular day – bright blue skies and a perfect temperature – so in contrast with the horrors that were to follow.

While vacuuming my car, an attendant mentioned that a plane had just hit the World Trade Center. My immediate assumption was that it was a single-engine aircraft and it had accidentally hit the building. I flipped on the radio and, of course, that guess was soon dispelled as on-the-scene reports came in and then President Bush made an announcement and labeled it an act of terrorism.

I quickly realized that both towers had been hit by separate jetliners and that they were engulfed in flames and smoke. I finished up and began racing home to join my wife and our younger son, almost two. En route, the first tower fell and I did all I could to keep my car on the road as the magnitude of what had just happened hit me.

As I pulled into the driveway, my wife poked her head out the window and began to tell me what was happening, but of course I already knew. I joined them in the living room and we watched our TV as events continued to unfold. The collapse of the second tower. The strike on the Pentagon. The downed plane in Pennsylvania. Grounding of all air traffic.

The phone rang periodically as friends from across the country and around the world called in to check on our well being. It all seemed so surreal. After all the reports were in, it seemed finally all the worst had happened. As evening approached, there was an eerie quiet everywhere – both in the air and on the streets as we all wrestled with the news.

As the new day dawned, I could not just sit and check news reports again. And I felt I needed to see for myself that this had indeed happened and what that scene was like. So I set out in my truck down I-95, passing rest areas at which plywood signs had been placed and marked “Staging Area”, bound for New York. Other disturbing signs indicated the city was closed – yes, closed – to traffic and I realized I would need to find another mode of transportation to complete the trek.

I b-lined to the Bronx and, with my brother-in-law, Deon, hopped a train, riding it as far south as we could, to Houston Street.

There, we found the street deserted, with the exception of a lone fire engine with an American flag flapping from the rear that whipped around a corner, and police-manned barricades running the length of the city from east to west. Working our way over to the East Side, with smoke drifting in our direction, we slipped through the line and hugged the F.D.R. Drive, moving south on foot. Like Houston Street, there wasn’t a single car on the Drive either, though it was nearly midday on a Wednesday.

Reaching the South Street Seaport, we saw about a dozen cops, who had obviously been working through the night, taking a breather on long benches and sipping from water bottles. A military Humvee passed, with a soldier manning a rooftop gun. Overhead, F-16s did a flyover. And around us, the cobblestones and cars were covered with this white ash that looked like snow and grew deeper as we moved toward the Trade Center site. On a windshield, someone had scrawled in the ash with his or her finger, “Bomb Bin Laden!”

As we got nearer, we passed firefighters, Con Ed workers and cops, as well as bagel carts and women’s high heels that had been abandoned, and then dust covered, as the debris clouds from the collapsing towers came rolling through the streets. There were gaping holes in the street and steam pouring out from pipes that had cracked and would need to be replaced.

We reached another perimeter, on Liberty Street, and could just make out the jagged remains of the distinctive “tridents” that defined the design of the towers. Smoke and dust billowed from the area and where we stood the ash was a good two inches deep. A memento seeker scooped some of this into an empty Snapple bottle. I found a One World Trade Center business card and a Fed Ex form from same, and stuffed these in my pocket. (I would later get in touch with the owner of the business card, a Port Authority employee, who was lucky to have survived.)

We moved further south down to Battery Park, passing downtown residents hurriedly vacating apartments and toting suitcases, others making lunch on small grills right on the sidewalk, police filing onto a bus that had been commandeered as emergency transportation and a small tank sitting right in the park. To a side street, a row of ten or more police cars and taxis, flattened by falling debris, had been towed.

Looking up West Street, we were afforded another view of the site and the void in the skyline where the buildings had been. More barricades had been erected here and soldiers were escorting residents to their places to remove belongings. Flatbed trucks were already hauling out twisted steel beams, taking them to awaiting barges for the quick jaunt over to a Staten Island dump site.

Already photos of missing loved ones and relatives were being posted along makeshift plywood walls near Trinity Church, which had somehow survived the collapses. Out in the Bay, there was no boat traffic, with the exception of a Coast Guard ship guarding the Statue of Liberty and a DEP ship moored off the point.

We had seen what we needed to see, proved to ourselves that the events had indeed been real and that the Towers had truly been taken down in a bold assault on American soil. And as we rode the train back north, we also realized that life as we knew it would never again be the same. That our collective innocence and sense of security was lost.

Me and My Shadow

Me and My Shadow

By Mike Lauterborn

(Ran as front page feature Fairfield Sun newspaper Sept 9)

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

9/1/10

Fairfield, CT – Mother to three children. Girl Scout leader for 10 years. Girls soccer coach for 2 years. Constant chauffeur. Home camp supervisor. Always unselfishly doing for others. Now it’s her turn and her time and the road is her escape.

When Kathleen Silva Tempini, or simply “Kate”, ventures out on her Honda Shadow, she turns heads. Not only is her gleaming cruiser-style motorcycle a beauty, she’s a beauty. At 55, she’s a vision with her slim figure, red-highlighted mane of brown hair tumbling down to her shoulders and sea green eyes sparkling like the sun glinting off the surface of a Caribbean sea. When she’s astride her bike, she makes a “look at me, I’m free” statement, though she would modestly tell you that’s not intentional.

Earliest Inspiration

Kate was born and raised in Monroe, CT, one of four girls in her family -- a middle child with an identical twin. Her dad was a professional truck driver, mom was a homemaker. “I always had the feeling that I could try anything at least once and cross gender boundaries. Dad took us all fishing on Sunday mornings and clamming… he had us paint the house, help move furniture, gut and clean fish, take wiggly eels off a hook, horseback ride. So why not try a cheaper version of the horse?”

She started humbly at first. Dad had a “sit-down” lawnmower and Kate “ran it so much that it ran out of oil and cracked the block.” As punishment, her dad made her mow the yard with a push mower all that summer. She had a go-kart, too, with a little motor. Monroe was very rural back in the 50s and 60s when she was growing up there, so there was a lot of room for riding around.

First Bike

Kate’s first bike was a 1972 Honda CT90, purchased used from a woman in 1978, when Kate was 23. This model was a tough, inexpensive and reliable single-cylinder Trail cycle that, notably, the Hondells immortalized in a 1964 song called “Little Honda”. The song referred to the cycle as “a groovy little motorbike.”

She fondly remembers the summer of 1980 when, as a student on break from Johnson and Wales University, she took the bike out to Block Island. Its 2-speed torque, small size and easy handling allowed her to ride on the sand and go watercress picking, fishing and beaching… or just cruise in the dunes.

Kate held onto the bike, shipping it from place to place, through married life and children, and still has it in her garage. She had a mechanic service it, got it running again and taught both of her daughters – Laura, 18, a freshman at Champlain College, and Holly, 16, a junior at Roger Ludlowe High School – to ride as well as one of her daughter’s boyfriends.

A Re-Awakening

“When my son [Bryan, now 19, but at the time a junior in high school] said, ‘You care too much about the family and not about yourself,’ I reinvented myself.” She redid her resume and landed a job as an ultrasound technician with a local fertility practice. Kate loves the position – “The first heartbeat… unbelievable… I can’t imagine being any happier or more fulfilled… except when I’m riding.”

After raising three kids over the past 20 years (the last 16 of which have been spent in the Fairfield Beach Area), juggling daily schedules, running a day camp out of her home, being a Girl Scout leader, coaching girls soccer and shuttling her son to sports competitions, she realized her own sense of self had gotten lost in the mix.

“When Bryan left for college two years ago, I felt somewhat abandoned. I never thought about who I was or what I liked. I unselfishly thought about the kids. I got the old bike running and started riding everywhere, doing errands, etc.” But this was not enough.

“I decided I needed to get a bigger bike… like I wanted to go further, not just around town, and needed something more reliable,” she concluded. “My little bike would crap out when I put the headlight on. I started looking for a small cruiser-style bike.”

Bike II

“I found a 250cc Honda Rebel that belonged to a little old man in Pennsylvania. It was pearl white. I knew local instruction classes were conducted on Honda Rebels, so I figured it would be reliable,” reasoned Kate.

“I rented a truck from Enterprise, motored to this little trailer park in Altoona, PA and paid $3,000 cash to the seller,” she said. “He rode that bike right up the wooden ramp into the truck with a last hurrah!” remembered Kate, an amused grin spreading across her face.

The upgrade meant she would need to get a license, which she described as a “hard” process. “Practicing maneuvers, panic stops and serpentines down at the marina in Fairfield proved to be a great training ground. I obtained my permit and prepared for the test. On test day, I steeled myself and rode rather shakily on 95 down to Norwalk. Believing body language accounts for a lot, I tried to look tough but was terrified. All the riders gathered. Talk about intimidating… I was one woman amongst 21 men. Somewhere in the middle of the group, I was called. My raw fear took over, I stalled the bike, could not repeat any of my previously mastered skills on the course and subsequently failed.”

That could have been the end of it, but Kate returned to the DMV. “One of the nicest employees there returned my paperwork and gave me a huge dose of empathy. She said, ‘Honey, those boys just ate you up alive. You come back in two weeks and try again.’ Through tears and thoughts of resignation, I rescheduled a repeat test… and passed! The rest is history. Now I feel like Pippi Longstocking flying in the breeze and nearly always sing to myself while riding.” Smiling, she adds, “My daughter did not always like me showing up at Field Hockey practice on my bike, so I keep it low key when I need to. But inside I am on Broadway singing my heart out, riding and steering the bike like a good cutting horse.”

Kate held onto the bike for about a year and a half then sold it to a 19-year-old woman, last fall. “I felt I’d outgrown it, and had begun to entertain the thought of joining a motorcycle group. I knew I would need more than 250cc’s to keep up.”

Out of the Shadows

“I found a Honda Shadow at a Honda dealer in Hicksville, Long Island,” Kate related. Specifically, the bike is a 2007 Honda Shadow VTX Deluxe 600cc, “a stepping stone” Kate says from her last bike and a good fit for her 5’7” build.

“I drove in my husband’s truck to the dealer, brought the bike back to J & R’s (an auto repair shop on the Post Road in Fairfield) and backed up to the lift.” When it was lowered down, she left her “husband’s truck right there, got on the bike and rode it home… no plate, no nothing, I was so excited. I was hooting and hollering (inside) like I was in my own parade! It’s got a fat-ass back tire -- that makes me feel good.”

New Beginnings

A friend acknowledged the purchase with a gift of a silver “Guardian Bell”, with the engraving “Lady Rider” on it, which now hangs from the front area of her bike. Legend has it that Evil Road Spirits have been latching themselves on to motorcycles for as long as there have been bikes on the road, and are thought to be responsible for mechanical problems and bad luck on a journey. By attaching a small bell onto your bike, the spirits theoretically become trapped inside the bell. There, the constant ringing drives them insane, making them lose their grip and fall to the ground. Apparently the bell is twice as powerful when given to the rider by a friend or loved one, as in Kate’s case.

Kate also purchased a pink helmet and a windshield and rides with an iPod. As to clothing, she favors equestrian-style riding chaps, a leather jacket and boots with “no square tip”. s

A Woman in the Wind

Kate learned about a women’s motorcycle club -- the Nutmeg Chapter of a national organization called “Women in the Wind” – thought she’d find fellowship with them and joined. “I can call up one of the members when I get out of work at noon and say, ‘let’s go riding’. I like the solitude, the smell of the lilacs, that briny smell by the sea.”

Like a line from the Al Jolson tune “Me and My Shadow”, for Kate, life going forward “is gonna be we-wow-whee for my shadow and me!”

SIDEBAR

J & R to the Rescue!

Fairfield, CT – It took a few helping hands at Fairfield’s J&R Service Station to help Kate Tempini realize her dream.

“Kate was supposed to take the bike home and unload it there,” said station owner John Ellis, 54, about the day the Fairfield mom called on him for help with the Honda Shadow motorcycle she’d just purchased. “But she didn’t have enough bodies to help. So she came here, thinking that the three of us (Ellis, lead tech Ronnie Farrington, 45, and tech Roberto Zurlo, 35) could lift it off (the back of her husband’s truck). She was really excited about riding it!”

As he recalled the process, Ellis said, “We backed the truck up into the back bay and used the drive-on ramp to unload it. Ronnie sat on top of it while we moved it off. As soon as we got it on the ground, she hopped right on and drove off!”

Kate made a follow-up visit to J&R two days later. “She had gotten her registration and had the bike all waxed and polished,” said Ellis. “It looked beautiful!”

Ellis has known Tempini for 14 years, first encountering her while she was a waitress at Avellino’s Restaurant, right next door. “We’ve worked on her family’s cars for years,” said Ellis. “That’s why she figured we could do it. She knows we are creative problem solvers.”

“Kate’s very bubbly. No moss grows under her feet. She’s very active, very giving,” continued Ellis. “I didn’t know she was a ‘biker chick’ and that she’d owned bikes in the past! She’s having fun running around town in her little pink helmet!”

Ellis related Kate’s story to a customer, former Fairfielder and now Lordship resident, Carolyn Angelo. “A lot of bikers go down our street. I always get a kick out of ‘senior’ bikers. They’re so joyful. Good for Kate!”