Gerry Scott
Tonight, let me tell you about Gerry Scott.
Maybe the first time I met him, but more likely the third or fourth, he was bartending at a place called Moonshine on Columbia Street in Brooklyn. I ordered a cider from him in a glass with ice.
He cocked his head a little to one side, and asked me, “How many dicks have you sucked?” (This was his way of telling me that he thought my drink order was a little effeminate.)
Later that night, or perhaps a visit or two later, someone asked me, “Have you ever seen Gerry turn on all the beer taps at once by slamming his head on the bar?”
I told him “no,” while thinking this must be some tall tale: I mean, even if he could do that, why would he?
But a few nights later, I got to see it for myself: at some point in the evening, to express whatever frustrations he had at that moment, Gerry slammed his head down onto the bar, and every beer tap sprang on at once.
Gradually, I discovered that he was the most injured man who had ever lived, or the very least, the most injured man I have ever known. He had had leukemia as a teenager, and had been read his last rites several times. He mentioned that he had been shot three times and stabbed seven. That sounded unbelievable, until he lifted up his shirt and showed me his scars. (He had been the manager of a security company, if you’re wondering why all the shooting and stabbing.)
But these were far from his only injuries. Every few weeks, he would report some new incident. One time, he had been walking down the street when another pedestrian was hit by a car, flung right into Gerry, which knocked him through a plate glass window. Another time, he had gone to lift up the bar coffee pot, but someone had burned coffee beneath the pot, which had melded to the glass bottom, which was left behind as Gerry lifted the bottomless pot and drenched his chest and legs with piping hot coffee.
And throughout it all, he was of remarkably good cheer, unlike our mutual friend Santo, who I will tell you about tomorrow night.
PS: Gerry once forgot Stevie Wonder on stage. I will tell you about that another night.