Nothing is simple anymore. Shoulder problems make driving to Atlanta impossible, so going to give a deposition at Peachtree Center requires relying on the kindness, not of strangers, but of old friends, all connected to my life through the Stein Club.
John Rupert brought me as far as the Mall of Georgia, driving like we were at LeMans, making me wonder if turning a steering wheel would have hurt my shoulders any more than the clenching of my muscles through 45 miles of road rage. However, safely dropped off at the Mall of Georgia, Rick Smith’s girlfriend Mary Maxwell met me for lunch and took me to Peachtree Center for a meeting with my lawyer. An hour later, when I came out of his building onto the Peachtree Center mall, my first thought was to just jump on a No. 10 bus and head down to 8th Street, go to the Stein Club and fill everybody in on my case. There for a moment, that world still existed. Then I was back in the present, and there was such a feeling of loss.
Sometimes when John Rupert and I reminisce about the Stein Club, people will say, "The reason that time seems so great is because you were young. We all feel that way." And, admittedly, there is truth to that: no aches and pains, lots of energy, a huge sex drive, and being attractive enough to do something about it. But Rick Smith and I were talking Tuesday night and he agreed that there was more to it than that. Anytime day or night that the club was open, you could find conversations that were fast-paced and hilarious or discussions that were deep and informed or gossip that was simply outrageous. Everybody was at their best and tried a little harder than they did at home or at the Waffle House (a/k/a Awful House).
The only place the Stein Club exists today is in our memories, and in this blog I intend to share some of mine. My hope is that in the comments sections some of my old friends, and perhaps some of the Stein Clubbers who came later, will share their stories, too, or just their thoughts.
It was the highest IQ bar in the country, maybe in the world, an oasis of intellectual discussions, bold sex, injured psyches, hilarious gossip, and more than a few plain out weirdos. The Stein Club spun its seductive web on Peachtree Street in a slower, less crowded Atlanta that no longer exists - Donna Brown
Blog Archive
Donna Brown in the 70's
Picture from the Stein Club Wall
Links to Interesting Articles/Sites
Last Call at the Stein Club
Where Am I Today?
- Donna Brown
- and John Rupert live on 24 very secluded acres in Commerce, GA. Anyone seeking bush-hogging experience or just needing to practice should contact me immediately.
5 comments:
Atlanta is different, Donna, so I'm game to resurrecting vintage Stein Club. There certainly was much vitality compressed into that little space.
Your opening reference to what you vulgarly termed a spelling bee had its beginning when I sat at a table in the back room with Daisy Adley, Anthony Pendlebury Jonathan Jackson, and perhaps others when we at the table were immodestly describing our spelling prowess.
That very evening we came up with a scheme to show the world just who was the best speller. Thus was born the First Annual Stein Club Open Orthographic Meet. The year was 1970, the month January, and I won that competition. My prizes were a sterling silver pendant fashioned by Catherine Palmer and a sterling silver ring (I still have it) made by David Frye.
In subsequent years non-Stein Club ringers got word of the contest and infiltrated the winner's circle. I remember Billie Brown and John Peek as perennial competitors from our regular flock.
Donna Brown, you were a pretty good speller, but I don't recall if you came out on top.
Dick Price
Thank you for correcting my egregious error, Dick. I had indeed forgotten the proper name of the Orthographic Meet. Not only did I never come out on top (at least in spelling), I only made it to the second round once. My friend Danny had come with me on the afternoon of that meet. After a few beers, he started telling everybody he could find how Donna Brown had never even made it to the second round. Maybe I should have brought him along more often.
I'm glad you mentioned David Frye. I was sitting on the fence about the next blog subject. In the chronological order of my Stein Club life experiences, he pops up next -- well, with the exception of John -- so I think I'll take us back to the Mandorla. Is that how that was spelled? After all, I only made it to the second round once.
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