by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Nov 26, 2024 | Featured, Personal, Shorter Stories Book
Almost 35 years ago I nearly lost my name, but 60 years ago I definitely lost my innocence.
Back in the mid-1990s, I was an aspiring business litigator who liked intellectual property. The Internet had entered the world and I reserved “bowie.com” as an email. Shortly thereafter, I got a phone call from a gentleman with a thick New York accent who asked, “Are you Robert BOWee?” I said I was Robert BOOwee. That is the exact moment I lost my name. He responded “Hello Mr.BOWee, I am David BOWee’s representative (you can look me up) and David told me to tell you that “if you will give him bowie.com he will give you front row seats, backstage passes… and all the shrimp you can eat!”
I thanked him for his interest, but demurred.
Two days later, I got a second phone call from the gentleman, who again asked me if I was Robert BOWee. I corrected him and then he corrected me back and ever since then my name was forever changed to BOWee except in Maryland and Texas.
I have been a good sport about it because, for the first five years or so, I would get email directed to David that offered “the greatest sex you’ll ever have, just meet me in the basement bathroom at Penn Station.” I am such a dork that I routinely would forward these messages directly to “Davidbowie.com,” but never once got a thank you back.
That is how I almost lost my name, but this is how I definitely lost my innocence. It’s a story from my book:
For my friends and me, life was abruptly changed on the after school athletic fields in the spring of our eighth-grade year, when all of our parents signed us up for dancing school.
My friends and I were all told it was a non-negotiable part of our education.
We were divided on the subject, until one of us confessed that in church he had recently prayed to God that he be allowed to live long enough to experience sex.
We found this to be reasonably compelling and it was sufficient to open the door for the rest of us to give in and accept the inevitable.
We had been given no previous training for this.
My preparation for dancing school was to wash my hair and then soap and rinse myself several times until I was squeaky clean, then do pull ups on the shower curtain rail in front of the mirror until I began to perspire and I couldn’t do anymore, in order to improve my physique.
Dancing school started at 4:30 pm. It was held in the middle school cafeteria at our all-boys day school. After lunch, all the tables were moved to one side, the chairs were placed side by side along opposite walls, and a piano was rolled into place.
Our instructors, Mr. and Mrs. Knot, were a husband and wife team who appeared to be in their 30s. The husband played the piano, smoked constantly, and showed no enthusiasm. We all liked him from the start.
His wife however was stern, and dressed in black high heels and a low cut black dress that featured her remarkable figure. From the start we had a problem. We couldn’t look at her, but we couldn’t take our eyes off of her.
Mrs. Knot would single out the tallest boy to dance with her. She would teach him the steps while the rest of us watched. We were then lined up with the girls from tallest to shortest and we could repeat their example.
Mrs. Knot soon showed the boys how they could politely change partners on the dance floor by tapping a boy on the shoulder.
One of the shortest boys in the class, who had big glasses, tapped Mrs. Knot’s dance partner on the shoulder in what appeared to be a shameless attempt to gain favor with his teacher. She appeared to approve, until they began to dance and she realized that her high heels and his height had placed his nose in her cleavage and his glasses were focused squarely on her breasts.
The girls were at least a head taller than most of the boys and, after a week or two, Mrs Knot announced a “ladies’ choice.”
The ladies’ choice turned out to be an extremely athletic event. The girls were choosing boyfriends but we didn’t know that.
They would slowly stand and walk toward their target, but if there was competition, they would pick up the pace and start running. There were times when two competitors, in an effort to get their boy and also to stop, would pile up and slide under the chairs where we were sitting.
The situation grew more mature. Later that spring, I had a girlfriend for almost a month, but I didn’t know that until she dumped me.
This was not unusual. Attachments were formed and broken in many cases before a boy even knew he had been going steady.
I was in my second relationship and didn’t know it until I was informed that it was over. I was told by a girl who I didn’t know that I had just broken up with a girl and that I was now available.
As the classes drifted into spring, the more adventurous girls would talk their parents into parties in the basement of their home.
They were all pretty much the same. They featured a record player and rotating chaperones to make sure nobody danced close during “Moon River.” The rule was stiff-arm dancing with visible open space between the dancers.
As the spring finished up, the chaperones and other parents migrated upstairs and gathered in the living room for cocktails. Occasionally, they would do sneak attacks or peek down into the basement to make sure the lights had not been dimmed or turned off and people were not dancing close to “Moon River.” They always claimed they were just making sure “the snacks had not run out.”
By summer, we had made friends with girls and even fallen in love and knew it.
Something beautiful had happened that spring. Nobody really knew what it was other than a transition, but it was beautifully woven together as a right of passage for everyone, including the parents.
The following spring, as upper-school ninth-graders, we would spill out of school at 4:30 pm and look in the windows of the cafeteria as Mrs. Knott waltzed her way through another dumbfounded eighth-grade class.
We had friends that were girls now, and we even knew enough to know we had girlfriends. I had even learned to do pull ups before the shower.
***
“Dancing School” appears on page 29 of The Older You Get the Shorter Your Stories Should Be, available online at bookshop.org (https://bookshop.org/contributors/robert-r-bowie-jr) and amazon.com (https://www.amazon.com/Older-Shorter-Your-Stories-Should/dp/162806420X/).
This is about self promotion before and after. Please consider buying this book and giving it as a holiday present. It would make someone very happy and also that would include me, so you get two for one!
by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Oct 15, 2024 | Featured, Personal, Shorter Stories Book
Modesty prevents me from saying anything too nice about my new book, The Older You Get the Shorter Your Stories Should Be (though I am very proud of it). Fortunately, I was able to persuade several prominent folks to read it and offer nice blurbs ahead of publication, for which I am endlessly grateful.
Now, I’ve just received my first unsolicited review and I couldn’t be more elated. This really made my week!
“I wanted to write and let you know how much I loved your newest book. Starting with its clever title, this wonderful book hooked me and reeled me in immediately. I literally read it cover to cover in a single sitting, and each story was more captivating than the next. Your insight into your surgery experience was especially compelling and your Christmas story moved me to actual tears. And I had no idea what an adventure hound you are! Or that you were Mac Mathias’s driver (the last good Republican)!
“Surely more erudite readers than I will be telling you how much they love your book, but I wanted to add my voice to the chorus of your fans. I look forward to reading whatever comes next.”
— D.R.
Thanks, so much! And thanks again to everyone who came out to help launch the book and to all who’ve picked up a copy (if you’d like your own, I recommend Bookshop.org).
If you have purchased online, writing a short review would be doing me a great favor, if you’re so inclined.
by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Oct 9, 2024 | Featured, News, Personal, Shorter Stories Book
The place was packed. The readings went very well.
Thanks so much to everyone who came out to celebrate the launch of my new book, and to all who helped make the events such a rousing success. Special thanks to the Ivy Bookshop and Manor Mill, and the terrific readers who made me look good: Jenny Keith, Michael Fallon, Mel Edden, Shirley Brewer, Dan Cuddy, and Matt Horner.
You can still get a copy of the book! Just walk into your local bookstore and give them this ISBN number, 9781628064223 — they can order you one. Or you can order it online at Bookshop.org, where you can select a local bookstore to benefit from your purchase: https://bookshop.org/contributors/robert-r-bowie-f221a7ec-5949-4493-95a2-e9264cff6049. You can also find it on Amazon.
I’m so grateful to everyone who is reading these words. Thank you for your continued encouragement and support.
…
“Pearl after pearl — brief easily accessible stories that reflect the unclouded eye of the author for all things honest, compassionate and revelatory. I laughed, cried, reflected, regretted and rejoiced reading this seemingly random collection before recognizing the common thread — clear-eyed humanity. Mr. Bowie’s curation of his self-deprecating, poignant and often hilarious moments, will become a dear friend whose warmth and comfort are there to visit again and again!”
— Ty Cobb
Prominent Washington, D.C. lawyer and former White House Special Counsel
by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Oct 1, 2024 | Featured, News, Personal, Shorter Stories Book
This Friday! Please join me for a special launch celebration at The Ivy Bookshop in Baltimore, October 4th from 5:00–7:00 pm. There will be cocktails on the patio followed by a reading and book signing.
Helping me read selections from the book are the following distinguished Maryland poets: Jenny Keith, Michael Fallon, Mel Edden, Shirley Brewer, Dan Cuddy, and Matt Horner.
The Ivy Bookshop is at 5928 Falls Rd, Baltimore, MD 21209.
We’ll also be gathering on Sunday, October 6th from 4:00–5:30 pm at the Manor Mill, 2029 Monkton Rd, Monkton, MD 21111 with the same amazing lineup of terrific readers.
I hope you can make it. I look forward to seeing everyone there and signing any books that you purchased.
(If you can’t make it, the book is also available online at Amazon and bookshop.org.)
…
“Bob Bowie’s reflections on his well-lived and adventurous life are charming, funny, poignant and wise. This book is a real pleasure to read.”
— Drew Faust
President Emerita, Harvard University
“Bob Bowie has written a riveting and rollicking collection of tales comprising his life as a Renaissance Man who overcame serious childhood learning disabilities to become a Harvard Poet Laureate, adventurer, lawyer and playwright. Writing with brutal candor and self-deprecating wit, Bowie unspools stories that both entertain and pack plenty of wisdom. I thoroughly enjoyed this book.”
— Ben Bradlee, Jr.
Pulitzer Prize-winning Editor of The Boston Globe Spotlight Team
“Pearl after pearl — brief easily accessible stories that reflect the unclouded eye of the author for all things honest, compassionate and revelatory. I laughed, cried, reflected, regretted and rejoiced reading this seemingly random collection before recognizing the common thread — clear eyed humanity. Mr. Bowie’s curation of his self deprecating, poignant and often hilarious moments, will become a dear friend whose warmth and comfort are there to visit again and again!”
— Ty Cobb
Prominent Washington, D.C. lawyer and former White House Special Counsel
by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Sep 25, 2024 | Featured, News, Personal, Shorter Stories Book
As of yesterday, The Older You Get The Shorter Your Stories Should Be is now in print. What a great present for my birthday!
Please join me if you can for a special launch celebration at The Ivy Bookshop in Baltimore on Friday, October 4th from 5:00–7:00 pm. There will be cocktails on the patio followed by a reading and book signing. Books will be available for purchase there (and I’d love to have you help support the Ivy).
The Ivy Bookshop is at 5928 Falls Rd, Baltimore, MD 21209.
We’ll also be gathering on Sunday, October 6th from 4:00–5:30 pm at the Manor Mill, 2029 Monkton Rd, Monkton, MD 21111,
You can find the book for sale on Amazon and at Bookshop.org, where you can select a local bookstore to benefit from your purchase: https://bookshop.org/contributors/robert-r-bowie-f221a7ec-5949-4493-95a2-e9264cff6049
(You should also be able to ask your local bookstore to order you a copy by providing this ISBN number: 9781628064223.)
I’m so proud of this book and can’t wait for everyone to enjoy it.
…
“Bob Bowie’s reflections on his well-lived and adventurous life are charming, funny, poignant and wise. This book is a real pleasure to read.”
— Drew Faust
President Emerita, Harvard University
“Bob Bowie has written a riveting and rollicking collection of tales comprising his life as a Renaissance Man who overcame serious childhood learning disabilities to become a Harvard Poet Laureate, adventurer, lawyer and playwright. Writing with brutal candor and self-deprecating wit, Bowie unspools stories that both entertain and pack plenty of wisdom. I thoroughly enjoyed this book.”
— Ben Bradlee, Jr.
Pulitzer Prize-winning Editor of The Boston Globe Spotlight Team
“Pearl after pearl — brief easily accessible stories that reflect the unclouded eye of the author for all things honest, compassionate and revelatory. I laughed, cried, reflected, regretted and rejoiced reading this seemingly random collection before recognizing the common thread — clear eyed humanity. Mr. Bowie’s curation of his self deprecating, poignant and often hilarious moments, will become a dear friend whose warmth and comfort are there to visit again and again!”
— Ty Cobb
Prominent Washington, D.C. lawyer and former White House Special Counsel
by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Jun 18, 2024 | Featured, Humor, Law, People, Personal
As I have said before, I loved representing entrepreneurial business clients because they are crazy.
The little cases are always the funniest and the easiest to tell.
He was a general contractor who built big shopping malls and was always very gruff, extremely overweight and endlessly funny. He, his wife and I, became friends over time and my professional responsibilities merged into our friendship as we got to know each other.
After making a lot of money building shopping centers and stocking them with commercial tenants, he decided to design and build his own mansion. He bought two adjoining lots in a suburban cul-de-sac, and designed what his wife described as “a Las Vegas hotel — not only embarrassing but gauche.”
In his mansion, he determined that he wanted a large indoor fountain, as well as special toilets for his and his wife’s bathrooms. These toilets would protrude from the wall, but have no base onto the floor because he thought that was classier.
He had absolutely no sense of taste.
He battled with the architect who said that these toilets could not withstand his weight and were not classy just because they came out of a wall and didn’t have a base.
She succeeded in vetoing the lavish indoor fountain, but he won the battle in their matching bathrooms with the “extended toilet” from the wall, which had no connection to the floor.
I was his lawyer but we made each other laugh. As I was thinking back on him, I remembered defending him in a lawsuit many years before he built the mansion. He had put a roof on a tenant’s building and the tenant had decided to represent himself because he thought he knew everything about construction and could litigate better than any lawyer.
It was a little non-jury case to be tried in a packed courtroom full of lawyers and clients waiting for their cases to be called. Trying a case in a court at this level is like litigating in a circus tent a head on collision between clown cars — particularly if a defendant or plaintiff comes to represent themselves. The judges at this level have a rotating docket consisting each day of either misdemeanor, criminal, petty civil or traffic court.
I knew the judge socially. He had developed a sense of humor after too many years presiding over these petty cases and traffic court.
The plaintiff in this case argued that the “neoprene” roofing materials had been inadequate, and he was going to be his own expert witness to prove it. The plaintiff was a buffoon who didn’t know what he was talking about. It was a little case that would cost more to try than settle. The client decided to try it “on principle,” which is always a problem. He told me, “I don’t care if you win or lose, just make me laugh.”
I decided to go for broke. After the plaintiff announced that he wanted to be his own expert witness, I decided I would cross examine him on his qualifications before the judge ruled on whether he could be considered as an expert witness on roofing materials.
I asked him if he knew of the latest advancements in “neoprene” roofing materials. He clearly was uncertain but proclaimed he did. I had him hooked. I carefully asked him if he had ever heard of the new “Neofeces” roofing materials.
He said that he had. I spelled it out for him so he could be certain. He cautiously said he was certain.
So now I was crossing him on Neo (new) feces (shit) roofing materials. Clearly you could feel the courtroom saw entertainment in its future.
I asked him if it bothered him professionally that “neo-feces“ was still regrettably not yet odor free. He claimed it did not. I asked him whether he agreed that double-ply toilet paper was considered sufficient for the removal of “neo-feces.” The courtroom rustled as those watching started to follow the tightening of the noose.
After one or two more questions inquiring about the benefits of “neo-Feces,” I paused between the two words and the courtroom started to laugh a little but the witness did not. At this point, the judge stopped me to preserve order in the courtroom and instructed me that I had made my point and had “won the pot with a royal flush.” This was appreciated by all those still waiting to try their cases, as well as the backbench court watchers.
About a month after my client had moved into their new opulent mansion, I got a call from my client’s wife at around 11 o’clock on a weekend night.
She started the conversation by saying that I must come over immediately because she could no longer talk to her husband, who was presently lying on his back on his bathroom floor laughing hysterically.
Apparently, after a night of much beer and football on the super wide screen, he had sat down on his toilet and it had broken off, and he kept slipping and could not stand up because there was water shooting all over the bathroom. I told her I would contact a plumber to turn off the water and then I would be right over.
I asked her, “How bad was it?” She paused on the phone for one second and then just said, “Let’s put it this way, the goddamn toilets he wanted didn’t work, but that’s okay cause he got his goddamn fountain!”
