A TALE OF THREE NORMIES

When a newborn enters the lives of a Jewish family, they are obligated, by their faith, to name the child after a well respected, deceased relative. In my family, there must have been a pretty swell guy named Norman because, during my fathers generation, we had three Normans – all about the same age. There was “Big Normie,” “Little Normie,” and “Rock Garden Normie.” I have no information on “Big Normie” other than the fact that he existed. I had heard the name over the years and was always a little curious but never quite enough to make an effort to find out more. “Little Normie” was, ironically, my dads big brother. They called him “Little Normie” because he was smaller than the other two Normies. If the three ever posed for a picture together, he'd be.....the little one. “Little Normie” was a constant in my life. He was my uncle and we spent quite a bit of time with him over the years. He had two great kids who grew into wonderful adults but he followed my career as if I were another son and would get excited if I did something that got any type of recognition. When a “stunt” that I did on my morning show from our Chicago studios was covered by the local media and got picked up and featured on the Today Show, my dad's phone rang as it was airing. It was "Little (I called him Uncle) Normie" sounding like a kid in a candy shop. He was so excited. “Bobby's on the Today Show.....Bobby's on the Today Show,” he shouted over and over as my dad calmed him down and missed the entire piece. In my nearly half century on the air, I don't think I ever had a bigger fan than my beloved Uncle Normie. Ever the logicians, my family called the third Norman, “Rock Garden Normie” because he owned and ran a little nightclub in Willimantic, Ct. called “The Rock Garden.” His purchase of the club was a very thoughtful gesture as regards the rest of the family because it gave them a way to tell him apart from the other two Normies. It was “Rock Garden Normie”who took me farther aback than I had ever been taken. I was 23 years old and freshly home from Vietnam. I had spent 4 years in the Air Force and, as a 19 year old enlistee, ready to go off and, perhaps, die for my country, I couldn't legally drink a beer so, I had never been to the Rock Garden. I had heard stories over the years but never had the opportunity to “see for myself,” as it were. Now, I was home, I was of legal drinking age and I had a relative who owned a nightclub. Could the stars have been in any better alignment? My friends and I piled into someones car and took the 30 minute ride from Manchester to Willimantic and our magical evening at the mysterious Rock Garden. Having never see the inside, all I had to go on was my imagination. I'm not sure what I was expecting but when we walked in it was so nondescript that I, for the life of me, can't tell you a single detail about the place. We walked in and were greeted by “Rock Garden Normie” who had been alerted that we would be coming in. He immediately put his arm around my shoulder and started introducing me to patrons and boasting, “This is Jerry's kid. He just got home from Vietnam. We're very proud of him.” He was making it a pretty big deal. He hung out with us for a few minutes and then told us to have a good time. After a few more drinks and some of whatever was fun for a 23 year old in 1970, we decided to head home. I told “Rock Garden Normie” that we were leaving and he put his arm back around my shoulder and, once again, told me how proud everybody was and how happy he was that I would come out to The Rock Garden. He then handed me the check and walked away. That was my one and only visit to The Rock Garden. I don't think the club exists any more and “Rock Garden Normie” is long gone but the memory of that night will always give me a little chuckle.......and a little heartburn.