Blinded By The Light

It was a balmy evening and would be a clear starry night. Gil and I were foodservice buyers and we were riding together to a (then) Hallsmith-Sysco sales meeting at the Wamsutta Club in New Bedford, Massachusetts. I don’t remember the exact date in 1975, but Manfred Mann was playing their big hit “Blinded By The Light”, seemingly on every FM station from Boston to Providence. We were looking sharp as the Wamsutta Club was a “gentleman’s club, and Gil and I determined if they would let us in, then we must be, by association, “gentlemen”. As we were arriving, some of our lady sales persons were being held up at the door, denied entrance, because they weren’t men; a few minutes of discussion cleared up the issue, as the part of the club we were meeting in was not part of the “Men Only” Club proper.

Doing the orchestrating was one of our specialty salesmen, Fred (put the “S” on the end for those who remember). He was a member of the club and coordinated the entire evening, from soup to nuts. It was a remarkable place and the service was top notch, and we two or three former warehouse guys and drivers were seeing how the elite of the late 1800’s spent a night at the club. It felt good.

We were a growing company and the whole group numbered near 100. Covering all New England states, we had grown from a small to larger company over the course of a couple of years. That evening’s meeting was to input some new procedures and to have everyone on the same page. The evening also was to honor sales folks who had increased their sales significantly, which gave we mere buyers time to look around, between applauses, to give thought to going over to the sales side. Short lived dream for the moment, as purchasing had become part of our makeup and it was good to have a stable job where, unlike our former jobs of moving furniture, and unloading banana boats in New Beige and warehouse work, there would be a chance to move upward.

Midway thru the evening, after the main course of something other than chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans almondine, our Executive V.P. began his portion of the meeting. Ed spoke of how far our company had come and where we were going and you could feel a sense of accomplishment from one end of the room to the other. Ed was talking, and I thought I was the only one who watched as Fred entered the room from the side where the waiters came in and out with trays.

The next few moments changed the atmosphere completely. Fred, always dapperly attired, had a light tan sports coat on and creamy white pants, his hands were always jiggling the loose change in his pockets, and this evening, as he came into the room he squatted ever so slightly, and expelled a short but never to be forgotten bit of gas. At first, I thought I must be the only one who witnessed this short vignette; but alas, the gods were with me, as I shot a glance over to Gil, then John, then Joe and then everybody seated. As Fred disappeared from where he had entered, I coughed and could not suppress my need to exercise all men and women’s right to laugh out loud. Interrupting Ed’s talk, the room took on the sound of the, then, Schaefer Stadium, as a long bomb was caught for a Patriots touch down. The laughter took on a life of its own, rising and falling like those moments before a child exits its warm home. Each time it seemed that the room had finally gotten control of itself, someone would make the mistake of simply looking at anyone else, and the laughter would begin anew. It seemed like an hour, but probably much shorter, until a break was called, so we could calm down, have a cigarette or better yet a drink.

Ed, had no idea why we were laughing and later said he thought maybe his fly was open or something like that. He smiled with relief as we explained the scenario.

I’m pretty sure no one ever asked Fred what his recollection was of the scene, but I was an eye and ear witness, to what became known, to us, as “The Fart Heard ‘Round The World.”

As Blinded By The Night blasted in Gil’s blue 442 Oldsmobile, we laughed all the way home, with the windows open.