The Legend of Snicker

While managing the Dog Ear Records store in the Chicago suburb of Northbrook in the late 70s, it was common to become a baby sitter of sorts for adolescents.  This wealthy bedroom community was miles from the nearest mall, so a trendy strip center like our Plaza Del Prado sufficed as the hangout of choice for tweenies and those not old enough to drive.

Besides the McDonald’s and an ice cream shop, Dog Ear was the most popular “hang” because of our music, playing hip videos, and the game room in the back of the store.  Even though I grew to hate the various sounds of Pacman, Space Invaders, Asteroids, and Donkey Kong, no one couldn’t argue with the fact that the six units we had generated upwards of $2,000 a week in sheer profit.  Back then it was a quarter per play…that meant these kids were playing 8,000 times per week.  So, as one can imagine, there was a lot of foot traffic through our store.

I got to know many of these kids, most of whom were just looking to pass the time.  The majority were spoiled rich brats with way too much coinage on their hands.  But, in order to be a good manager, I would befriend as many as I could while simultaneously making sure they didn’t try to run the joint.

One thirteen-year-old, Mike, was one of those smart-ass punks who had a quick retort for everything.  A workaholic lawyer father, a borderline alcoholic socialite mother, and a couple of anorexic older sisters bent on getting the perfect body shape and tan left Mike with little attention at home, let alone encouragement.  He had a vivid imagination, wicked sense of humor, and a loud mouth.  Imagine a real-life version of Anthony Michael Hall’s  “Farmer Ted the Geek” character from Sixteen Candles.  Many didn’t get Mike, but I liked him.

Among his irritating characteristics was his desire to relay every dirty joke and thought that ran through his mind at P.A. volume.  This was not only embarrassing to some of my sensitive female employees, and of course, the bulk of our clientele…but also to me.  You see, I’m no prude, having heard and even told my share of sordid tales over the years…but this guy possessed perhaps the sickest mind I or anyone else who came in touch with him had ever encountered.

Most managers would’ve permanently banned Mike from their premises due to this verbal diarrhea, but having learned of his tough home situation, I felt I could somehow encourage him.  I think he appreciated the acceptance, and, with time, he learned to keep his foul commentary at a lower volume, if not even cutting it out all together in a rare moment.

One hot September afternoon, Mike was again generally loitering. He had regaled several new bad jokes that involved animal/human husbandry, given thorough descriptions of what he surmised the anatomy of some of his female cohorts would look like if their clothing were sufficiently discarded, and described in thorough details his mother’s feminine hygiene rituals.  I was in my mid-twenties, and this kid made ME blush.

At one point, Mike made a remark about a new banner display I was unpacking, stating “Man, that’s the longest one I’ve ever seen.”  As I was stretching it out on the floor I retorted, “Yeah, that’s what she said last night.”  Mike started to giggle, and within a few seconds it turned into robust guffaws of laughter.  “That’s what SHE said last night…Bwah-ha-ha-ha!” Apparently, he had never heard this all-purpose double entendre before, and it not only tickled his funny bone, it downright put him in fits. 

For the next few hours, nary a statement could be made without him interjecting his new-found favorite quip.  I would be hanging a sign and say, “I think it needs about 3 more inches to the left,” and he would blurt out, “That’s what she said last night!”  Or, when Nick, one of the sales guys, saw me lifting a heavy box and advised, “It’s best to bend your knees when doing that,” Mike shouted out, “That’s what she said!”  He even tried it with situations that only made sense to his warped little mind like when I asked a customer, “Would you like that in a bag?” “That’s what she said!” he would howl.

Like all things with Mike, he didn’t know how to edit himself, and it was bothering my staff and customers.  I pulled him aside, and reasoned with him.  “Mike, I know that can be funny at times, but it has to be used with restraint or it simply isn’t funny when overplayed. Plus, as you could tell when that one woman just glared at me, it’s offensive to those who aren’t as, uh….liberated as you.”

“Here’s an idea,” I continued. “How about we come up with a code word that we can say just loud enough for each other to hear?  It will summarize ‘that’s what she said,’ but won’t offend anyone else. 

“What word should it be?” he asked.

“Hmmm….what do you think of ‘snicker?’ But remember, you gotta say it quietly, almost non-chalantly, so as not to draw attention.  And one more thing, in order for this to be funny between us, you can’t call your own ‘snicker.’  It should only be when you hear someone else say something that fits.  Is it a deal?”

“Deal!”  he chimed. 

Over the next several weeks, various snickers were declared in a very reserved manner.  It became quite fun—our little inside joke.  But eventually, other staff started to catch on, as well as kids in Mike’s circle.

Some of them were so funny we began keeping a list.

• “I’ve got an extension if you need one.” (when an employee was trying to get to a hard-to-reach area with the vacuum cleaner nozzle)

• “Oh, terrific, look at it…it’s all caved in.” (uttered when a display unit had gotten crushed by a leaning customer)

• “You gotta apply WAY more pressure than that for any results” (describing how to press a stapler into wood paneling)

• “That hose had some kinks in it.” (when a fire truck was summoned to a grease fire at the McDonald’s)
• 
  
•  “Oh, no.  Aaagh! It’s gonna melt before I get it up!” (exclaimed when I dropped some ice cubes down the back of Mike’s shirt).

• “This is the worst…it keeps collapsing when any suction is applied.” (referring to a flimsy straw not properly doing its job on a milkshake)

• “Would you like me to pump it, or is this self-serve?” (from a gas station attendant)

• “Be careful how long you leave it in there—it can melt, or even worse, get scorched.” (instruction on our temperamental toaster oven)

• “It’s spread as far as it’ll go, and it STILL won’t fit!” (holding some shelving apart trying to squeeze an extra box)

• “I think there were instructions on the side once, but they’ve been worn off from friction” (looking for directions on the outside of a cash register)

• “This is so huge—I mean, look: my legs barely get on either side of it, and it’s pinning me to the seat.” (ridiculing an overly large steering wheel in a compact car) 

• “Look at the size of that…how does that fit in your pants?” (questioning the girth of co-worker Bob’s massive wallet) 

• “See, I can barely wrap my hands around it.” (another comment on the billfold)

• “I keep pulling out and backing in, but can’t get the hang of this docking.” (a new female UPS driver attempting to make a pick up)

• “Ohhhh, man…it’s big, hot, and juicy…just looking at it makes my mouth water.” (desiring a fresh McRib sandwich)

• “That dude’s riding my rear end like there’s no tomorrow.” (complaint about a tailgating driver)

• “I see a whole lot of movement, but it doesn’t impress.  You may think it feels good, but it’s doing nothing for me.” (critiquing someone’s awkward dance technique)

• “Even strokes…EVEN strokes!  When you’re all herky jerky like that it doesn’t get the results that I want.” (instructions on applying varnish)

• “I like THAT one—what is it, about 12 inches long AND covered in leather?!”  (unpacking table top display units)

• “Limp AND soggy—NOT what I’m in the mood for.” (angst over a lousy piece of pizza)

• “When I was underneath it earlier, it popped out and nearly poked me in the eye when I opened it up.” (lamenting a new spring-loaded change tray in a cash register)

• “Be patient, it takes a while to heat up, but when it does…look out!” (another warning about the toaster)

• “When you slid into me, you tore my legs up, and now I can hardly stand.” (accusation after a softball collision)

• “I barely touched it and it went off.” (fiddling around with a camera)

• “I would’ve gotten it in if your hand hadn’t gotten in the way.” (trying to throw something in the trash can)

You get the picture.  Little by little, more folks heard about it.  One could walk around the Plaza and hear “snickers” being declared by various shopkeepers. I was at a convenience store several miles away and heard the attendant say it to a coworker.  Others within the Dog Ear chain of stores across Chicagoland started incorporating it.

As the fall continued, it became common parlance at area high schools (at one student pep rally, the principal addressed the students by saying “thanks for coming” to which several kids yelled out “snicker!” and hundreds roared their approval). I even heard one local radio morning team utilize it. 

A few years later I was in another state on tour with a band and heard some guys on the load-in crew saying it. Some acquaintances in the Pacific Northwest told me that it had come into common usage out there. Another friend told me that friends of his used it in Ontario.

Decades have passed, and many of my friends and associates still employ it with some regularity. One of them refers to it as “The Legend of Snicker.”  I’m not sure of its legendary status…but it sure has been good for some big laughs at oft-inopportune times.

Perhaps you have some funny lines like these you can contribute…   

Van Halen Verities

With Van Halen returning to Nashville for the first time in over a decade this Friday, I got to thinking about some true tales of interaction with them in my past.  The first time I encountered them was March 3, 1978 deep in the bowels of the infamous Aragon Ballroom when this unknown quartet was the opener of a three act bill that also featured Ronnie Montrose’s fusion rock quintet, and the newly revamped Journey with pretty boy lead singer Steve Perry.

Van Halen’s eponymous first album had just been released a few weeks before, and their cover of The Kink’s “You Really Got Me” was garnering strong airplay due to Eddie Van Halen’s scorching six string pyrotechnics and David Lee Roth’s reimagining of Black Oak Arkansas’ Jim “Dandy” Mangrum. The boys from Pasadena only had a twenty-five minute slot, but they cranked it. My visit with them was quite short after the show as they were leaving the hall just about the time that Journey was exiting from their final encore.

However, five months later Van Halen was on a long trek opening for Black Sabbath, and on one of their off days from Ozzy and company, they were booked into a small dive near Paddock Lake in southern Wisconsin that became the source of mythic legend: did they actually play a concert at a converted dairy barn while they were the number one band in America?  The answer is yes.  It was, quite literally, a three-story cattle stable that had been converted into a biker bar.  The stage was a former second level hayloft with a huge weight-bearing timber column running vertically right down the center and bordered with rough-hewn pine slat railing to keep performers from falling fifteen feet to the main floor below. I had been at other gigs there in it’s first year of operation including shows by Eddie Money, Starcastle, and The Dictators (featuring Handsome Dick Manitoba), and I swear you could still smell remnants of manure and bovine piss when the place got heated up with wall-to-wall humanity.

By this time, Van Halen’s star had risen to the point where they were responsible for selling nearly half the tickets at the Sabbath gigs, and their debut record had already gone multi-platinum.  It seemed odd that they were playing this gig in such an obscure rural outpost, but the word had gotten out, and there were already cars from four states represented in the parking field by 5:00 PM for this rare headlining set.

Due to my relationship with Warner Brothers as a Program Director at a local rock station, and my writing gig for area magazines, I was able to hang with the guys during their sound check and meal.  Even as an opener for bigger bands, they were used to more space to work with than this cramped excuse for a stage.  Despite the close quarters, Eddie still insisted on having his replica of the Little Boy Atomic Bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima next to his Marshall stacks.  There was barely room for anyone to move more than five feet, and this was going to be especially challenging for front man Roth’s histrionics. You could see them looking at each other in bemused wonder as their crushing sound caused sawdust to filter down through the early evening sunbeams cutting through the planked walls.

After getting their levels, it was difficult getting a read on Diamond Dave as we chatted in an area that was once a horse stall. I could never tell if he was stoned, or just incredibly laid back in that Valley Boy kinda way.  His eyes were bloodshot and bleary, and he did guffaw with that stoner stammer, but then he could also sound quite erudite and clever at times in a tone that belied an altered state.  He was one of those guys that never, ever gave a straight answer to any question.  Eddie, on the other hand, was shy but genuine in his interactions.  Alex Van Halen was distracted and seemed a bit peeved about the cramped condition of his drums (I think they had to reduce his kit in order to accommodate everything that was necessary on the “stage”).  Michael Anthony was quite outgoing, and the most forthcoming and relaxed of the lot.

Despite the less than ideal circumstances, the band gave a rousing performance to the thousand or so that were packed into quarters designed for perhaps half that. They played nearly every song from the debut album, plus at least four that would be featured on their soon-to-be-released Vol. II album. And then there were Eddie’s extended “Eruption” solo and spotlight moments for drums and bass, too.   There was no doubting that this band had the goods, even under these less than ideal circumstances. And since I believe I was the only sober, non-buzzed observer or participant in attendance within that bizarre silo, I can attest that the concert did, indeed, take place.

Fast-forward several years for the second story that has remained a mystery until this moment.  Van Halen had now earned two multi-platinum albums, and every radio programmer and promoter in the planet considered them amongst the rock elite.  Anticipation for their third album, Women and Children First, was building with each passing month.  By this time, I had left the radio industry, and was now Marketing Director for Dog Ear Records, a chain of eight stores in the northern suburbs of Chicago. I was still writing for several rock rags on the side.   Part of my duties included making the rounds to the local distributorships of the major labels to pick up the latest merchandising materials for new releases, promo albums for in-store play, and commiserate with sales people on how to best position product in our stores.  At the WEA (Warner/Electra/Atlantic) warehouse in Elk Grove Village, I had good relationships with various crew throughout the building, and sometimes they would give me stuff before other folks in town.  As one of the guys was handing me some promotional copies of new discs by Blondie, Rod Stewart, Linda Ronstadt, and The Eagles, I off-handedly asked if he might have a copy of the new “Big Boys’” disc (as they referred to Van Halen). 

I was stunned when he said, “Well, if you keep it under your hat, sure…I’ll give you one so you can write up a good review for some of your publications for next month so the news will be fresh when the album hits the streets in these next few weeks.“ There was near top-secret security around this sort of thing, especially in a market as competitive as Chicago. 

I matter-of-factly said, “Of course,” as he opened a thin box with just a few of the twelve-inch discs in it, and handed me one. With my heart pumping, I exited the building as quickly as I could before anyone realized what had just happened. 

Earlier that morning I had heard DJ Sky Daniels on “The Loop” (WLUP, the number one rock station in the market) talking-up how they were going to have the exclusive premier of Women and Children First in four days.  They were in fierce ratings wars with WMET and WKQX for the baby boomer rock demographic that dominated that era.   I realized that I not only had a rarity on my hands from a journalistic perspective, but I also had potential gold in my hands from the broadcast realm to boot.

So, I took a detour back to my house and made a cassette and reel-to-reel copy of the album, and then went to my office at the back of our Northbrook store and called my boss.  Even though we were one of the leading chains in the northern suburbs of Chicago, we were probably fourth in the entire market in sales, and had to scratch for much of what we could earn, and didn’t have nearly the marketing dollars that the larger chains had.  We were the first to mass market used record sales, rent videos, and incorporate video gaming into our offerings.  And our customer loyalty was good due to our intense desire to fulfill even the most obscure special orders.  But still, media partners did not usually pick us first for many special promotions.  I suggested to Rick, the president of our little enterprise, that we could probably parlay this Van Halen disc into some substantial on-air trade-out with one of the other two stations in order for them to get the jump on “The Loop” by airing it first.  He agreed, but warned that we needed to be very careful so that the WEA folks could trace none of this back to me.

Then I called my friends at WMET first, figuring that they might be willing to play ball more readily since a major media conglomerate didn’t own them as WKQX was by NBC. I was quickly put through to the GM who was anxious to do anything to put a chink in “The Loop’s” armor.   I was somewhat audacious in my proposal for substantial and specific trade-out in advertising and promotional tie-ins for the next year, but they were so desperate for this opportunity that they agreed.  They wanted to hear a bit of it first, so I put it on our store turntable and played some through the phone so they felt assured that it was indeed Eddie, D-Roth, and the guys.  Within 40 minutes a bonded deliveryman arrived to take the non-descript sealed brown bag with the stereo reel-to-reel dub and the photocopy of the album art to WMET downtown.  They excitedly called me back when they received it, and they were nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement. Within an hour they announced to their listeners that they would be airing the new Van Halen in its entirety the next day. 

“The Loop” was furious, because they didn’t actually have their copy yet, and they angrily confronted their representative at WEA.  Within minutes major chaos reigned at their warehouse as they tried to figure out how a copy had gotten into WMET’s hands.  It wasn’t that it was just going to be previewed ahead of their competitor across town…it was going to be ahead of every other station in the world…and they were pissed. 

The lower level promotion guy who had given me the advance disc called and asked if I still had the album, and I told him I did.  He never asked if I had made a dub and forwarded that along, and, of course, I never volunteered that info.  No one ever figured it out as far as I am aware.  WMET’s lips were sealed, and they were incredibly grateful for the scoop they got on their biggest competitor. As a result,  Dog Ear Records shared in some great promotional partnerships with them over the next twelve months and beyond.

That was 32 years ago, and I am finally coming clean.  Those wondering if the mighty Van Halen ever really played in an animal shed in the rolling Kettle Moraine hills of Wisconsin, or were curious about how the scandal surrounding the Chitown radio debut for Women and Children First came to pass, well those rock ‘n’ roll mysteries can now be moved into the verities column.