Submitted by Karl Breckenridge
I thank the This is Reno management team for my play days yesterday and this morning – I was plumb written-out and could not have formed a sentence. But I return now, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, refreshed and declaring all the snarky remarks about getting into the habit to be in poor taste, and proclaim that my ol’ childhood buddy Dawn Cassinelli Bunker is Topic A for today’s column.
Dawn is in this unenviable spotlight because she postulated on social media a day ago, seeking answers to questions that I’m not in the mood to write of, about grocery stores, but promise here that if this isolation continues – we will indeed answer.
I’ll spend a moment here recalling a morning I spent a score of years ago, when Dawn was still known as “Mrs. Bunker,” teacher-supremo at Jessie Beck School on West Plumb Lane. My phone rang – it was Mrs. Bunker:
“We’re having a reading day at school, and I’d like for you to come and read to my class, something you wrote, or a poem – can you do that? It’s on the morning of June Xth, just before school gets out for the summer.”
A cursory glance at my busy calendar revealed that I was free. “I can do that,” I responded to Mrs. Bunker. Thinking then to myself, what do I know that is suitable for 30 little rug-rats? Aha!
I knew an eight-minute poem that’s suitable for a classroom. “But I’m going to drop the temperature in the room by about 40 degrees, so you’re going to have to tell the kids to dress real warm – coats, hats, mittens.”
“For why?” she asked. “Just tell them. See ya then.”
The morning of the Xth came. I arrived at the Jessie Beck parking lot. In the June heat I was totally uncomfortable in my Arctic-like dress – a leather hat, ankle-length drover coat, boots and heavy gloves. And must have looked like a Kentucky Fried Idiot to the teachers and other grownups I encountered.
But when I walked into Mrs. Bunker’s classroom, I had to suppress a chuckle. Most of the class beat me there, and did not disappoint – all were clad in their warmest attire. As was Mrs. Bunker. Hurdle One was cleared.
The remainder of the class – suitably attired – arrived and took their seats. Mrs. Bunker introduced me, and we went to work. When I do a poem, usually in return for a Manhattan, which is my standard fee for a six- to eight-minute Robert Service, Jack London, John Steinbeck or Rudyard Kipling work, I usually commence with the poet’s name and the year he wrote it as a matter of courtesy. At Jessie Beck that morning and to this audience, I just barreled in:
I took a contract to bury the body, of Blasphemous Bill McKie, whenever, wherever and whatsoever, the manner of death he die…
I knew I had them at “body” – they as a group leaned in a notch, looked at each other and raised their eyebrows, as if to say “’Body’ – hey, this could be cool…” The temp in the room fell 20 degrees. I kept on, and in a dozen more lines I said slowly,
…You know what it’s like on a Yukon night when it’s fifty-nine below, and the snow-worms wiggle their purple heads in the crest of the pale-blue snow…
And then a heavily-dressed kid in his dad’s mad-bomber hat feigned a mock-shiver, and couple of his buddies followed suit. I knew then this was going to work. Mrs. Bunker looked at me and the shivering lads, and just shook her head. Two more stanzas, then,
… and who could stand unawed, as the summits blazed yet I stood unfazed, at the foot of the throne of God …
The whole class shivered at that in unison. But this was getting too serious, and one element of Robert Service’s Spell of the Yukon poetry collection is his subtle, under-running humor:
‘Til at last I said: “It ain’t no use — he’s froze too hard to thaw…
…He’s obstinate, and he won’t lie straight, so I guess I got to — saw.”
And with those words – not mine – their summer vacations soon began. I concluded my segment by reminding them, “Now remember, we killed a guy this morning then sawed him up so he’d fit in the casket, so it’s important that you never, ever, tell anyone outside this room about Blasphemous Bill…”
And I guess it worked, for a) Dawn never invited me back to speak, and b) later that summer, I encountered at Raley’s a parent I know of one of the kids in the class, who asked me, “What in the world did you read to our kids last June?”
“Ask your daughter,” I replied.
“She won’t tell us…”
And with that triumph in mind, I welcome Dawn as the guest for the day on the This is Reno social-distancing site; I compliment and thank her for many years of her devotion to our kids, and remind you all, be safe, huh?
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Karl Breckenridge
Karl Breckenridge was slowly going nuts. So he decided to help out This is Reno by writing a daily out-of-his-mind column for the duration of the coronavirus shutdown. Now that it’s over he’s back to his usual antics, drinking coffee with the boys at the Bear and, well, we’re not sure what else. But he loved sharing his daily musings with you, so he’s back, albeit a little less often, to keep on sharing. Karl grew up in the valley and has stories from the area going back to 1945. He’s been writing for 32 years locally.
Read more from Karl Breckenridge
Cheers 4 – the Lear steam bus
The latest news on the Lear Theater has Karl remembering some of the Lear’s other projects, including a steam-powered bus.
Cheers 3 – the groceries II
Karl did not limit his column to ten items or less, so get out of the express line to read this history of Reno grocery markets.
Cheers 2 – the groceries I
Karl got a little distracted this week, starting off with a list of Reno’s great groceries of yesterday then slipping on some ice.
Cheers 1 – Of wine and Little Italy
Karl is back, making us all wonder why we didn’t spend more time during stay-at-home orders pressing grapes into homemade wine.
Day 75 – Karl’s retired to the Bear
From the get-go our pal Karl said he’d write “a short squib on a daily basis – nothing political, nothing controversial,” well, except for that one column.
Day 74 – the Truckee’s picturesque islands (updated)
Karl’s pal Jody shares the rich history of bootlegging, decorating, and engineering within the confines of the Truckee River’s banks and its picturesque islands.
Day 72 – Hobos, tigers and leprechauns
Karl recollects the series of eateries that drew diners to the corner of Virginia Street and Gentry Way for several decades.
Day 70 & 71 – in Flanders Fields
Karl shares a poem by John McCrae to mark Memorial Day.
Day 69 – The Nugget shark: John meets Jaws
Karl was talking about baby shark, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, long before the kids these days had ever been born.
Day 67 – What I like about Reno High
Karl, er, Carmine Ghia, writes an end-of-school-year essay to turn in to Mrs. Lehners about everything he likes about Reno High School.
Day 67 – 25 Bret Harte
Karl saddles up and heads to Newlands Manor where Western movies star Reno Browne grew up, and Lash Larue paid a visit or two.
Day 66 – Out for dinner we go
Karl goes out to eat at the El Tavern Motel, a truck stop outside the Reno city limits on the Lincoln Highway.
Day 65 – Dawn Bunker
Karl is back in action with a fresh story of which students of Mrs. Bunker’s class at Jessie Beck Elementary School still won’t spill the beans.
Day 64 – abducted
Karl Breckenridge called in to This Is Reno editors this morning with a hands-in-the-air, what-can-I-do sense of resignation.
Day 63 – Wedding chapels
Karl’s enjoying coffee with pals at the Bear, so today Jody stands at the altar to share the history of Reno’s wedding chapel industry.
Day 62 – the mansion at 2301 Lakeside Drive
Karl’s 7-year-old alter ego rides his bike down to Virginia Lake to explore the Hancock Mansion, a nifty home complete with a bomb shelter, sunroof and doll collection.
Day 61 – Basque hotels
Karl wanders back in time to 1960, a time when multiple Basque hotels served up minestrone soup, English lessons, banking, and accommodations.
Day 60 – the bygone Greyhound terminal
Karl’s synapses are firing today after hearing mention of Reno’s Greyhound bus terminal on Stevenson Street, now razed.
Day 59 – Don’t tell Mom
Karl rewinds to Mother’s Day to share a story from the archive about Grandpas without a Clue and another ragtop adventure, by reader demand.
Day 58 – School stuff
Karl considers the value of a school name as the WCSD moves to rename one of the area’s older remaining schools and open a new one.
Day 57 – Pedalin’ around Vine Street
Karl rides his bike through history, remembering some of the places and people that helped to build Reno into the city it is today.
