Three-Quarters of a Tube of Score Works

Spider loved grease. When he was a fourth-grader at M.K.E.S. he was the first kid in his class to wear his hair in a DA. and last Saturday- 11 years later- he figured he could grease up as well as anyone else on the Harvard campus.

People first saw this giant of a greaser in the Quincy House dining Hall. where he was eating Whimpies and Coney Island Red Hots.

He and his friends, Flex and Rocco, were sitting with some chicks at a big table, Larry DlCara, a greasy tough from Dorchester, was bothering their chicks, and there was no question about that Spider and his buddies weren't going to put up with it.

Flex were black, high-ankle PFC's- Puerto Rican Eence Climbers. Bright white socks- Woolworth's of Cambridge- rose from his boots to black pants, a white tee shirt, and an oversized black leather jacket. He was sporting wrap-around windshield shades and the finest hair-do north of Brooklyn, Flex claims he uses three-quarters of a tube of "New" Score in it: that way it stays in place in breezy Cambridge.

Rocco stood up slowly, and Larry backed off. Bad Boy Bobby looked over from where he was sitting in his gas station duds. The noise disturbed him. His outfit was dark green with "Bob" written over the right pocket in gold script.

It was beginning to drag, but this guy and his chick in saddle shoes and a letter sweater brought in some tunes-"At the Hop." "All I Have to Do Is Dream." etc. Some of the cool ones got up and rocked, but Flex took a bite out of his red hot and looked straight ahead. He wasn't lookin' for trouble, but he wasn't looking to avoid it, neither. He just wanted to eat.

The House Committee people gave Bad Boy ten dollars because they thought he was the greasiest guy there. They gave five to Spider because he was second greasiest and the biggest pimp. He smiled, and the toothpick in his mouth swung up, Spider didn't usually smile unless he was picking up a chick or putting a shine to his boots.

The group scrammed as soon as the chicks were passed out, and then Bobby and Spider met outside. Spider wanted to know what Bad Boy used to get so greasy. "Vitalis." They almost jammed because of that, but one of the chicks- Rosy- yelled to Spider to cool it. Spider told Bobby to watch out: he had friends.

Up in the room, Spider and his buddies and the chicks put on some of their music, but they were restless. Flex wanted to know why all of 'em didn't go up to the Square, Spider, he nodded approval and took out his comb to pretty up. But Rocco had to come in case there was a jam. Rocco was mean-looking. So they headed for the Square, and they told the chicks they could come along.

If you were hanging out on the corner of Mt. Auburn and Plympton. under the streetlight there, you knew Spider was coming before you could see him. There was always a swaggering click, click, click cause of the taps on the bottoms of his PFC's. He got 'em put on at Cappy's.

No one was on the corner, so Flex said why don't they take it over. Rocco told the chicks to go away for a few minutes so they could try to get some new chicks. But nothing came by, so ali six of them headed for the Square, There'd be action there.

The first game was staring through the passenger windows of cars stopped, at the traffic light. The girl on the passenger side would soon turn away from the driver and glance out, and there was Spider, just looking at her. She'd jump, and then reach for the lock. No one got out of the car to give Spider any crap. Spider had friends anyway.

It was a drag after awhile, so Rocco led them over to Brigham's. Other greasers looked them over. and kept their mouths shut. They went right by Brigham's and over to the Nameless. They just wanted to see a few beatniks. Just as people in there were getting shaken up about Spider and his buddies, the bouncer came over and chased them out. Told them they smelled bad, too. Spider said they shouldn't take lip like that, but Rocco told Spider he was a pimp. They scrammed.

They went looking for rich Harvard kids in the Yard. On the top floor of Thayer Middle, they walked into a room and checked it out before asking for the money. The rich kids were scared, but Flex didn't have the heart to keep shaking them up. They were heading down the stairs when one of the students came out into the hall and told Spider and his friends to stay out. That stopped them.

"Oh, yeah? Whatta ya gonna do "bout it?" Flex asked. They started back up, but this time it was Agnes who said to cool it. Up in Straus they almost laid their hands on some prepies, but the guys slipped out.

Then they were starting down a flight of stairs in Grays, and spotted a woman and her daughter coming up. a couple of feet away, Spider said he'dhandle it. He spread his legs and took his stance at the top of the stairway with his arms folded. "Where do you think you're goin?"

"I, I was just coming to see my son. But he can come out and see me here. It's all right. You don't have to move." Spider snickered and waved for Rocco and Flex to come along; they were cruising out. The woman and her daughter moved aside to let them pass.

Grease was power. Rocco, Flex, and Spider knew that. They'd been posing as Harvard students too long. It was time to return to grease for good; every night. Had to get respect from the people, and grease was the only way.

Only a little while until the Sha Na Na concert over at Rindge. Then they spotted these two chicks, and the three of them started following. The girls sped up, but so did the click, click of Spider's PFC's. "Youse girls is nice looking." Flex said. He always made the first pass. They sped up again, and so did the click.

"Keep walkin," one girl said to her friend. There was no choice, really. Rocco wasn't about to give up, though. "Why don't you get lost?" one of the chicks asked them. The guys stopped.

"Aw. screw em !" Spider said, and the three turned around to rejoin their three chicks, who were waiting at the gate. Anyway, it was time to head for Rindge. Jocy and his gang from New Quincy was supposed to show carly, too. And that meant Big Will would be there. Flex and his crowd were from old Quincy.

Big Will was there, all right. He was brandishing this heavy chain as he leaned on a parking meter outside. "Hey, Jocy, Heah comes Spida and his buddies." Big Will advised his leader.

Big Will looked down at Spider and Flex when they walked up. "Hi pretty boys. Watch yourselves; this is owa toif." They just looked at Will and at his chain, and headed inside.

Harvard's been around for almost 350 years, and some great things have happened here. Recently, some of the outstanding events have been the 1943 fencing duel with real swords on a Weld stairway and the Harvard-Yale football game in 1968. But anyone at Rindge that May 2 will vow that what happened there that night constituted Harvard's finest five hours. Some members of the crowd were so overcome that they were talking about turning Harvard into a grease state.

Sha Na Na went through its routine twice-while people danced in the aisles and on the edge of the balcony. Big Will was up there in the balcony dancing without his shirt. Flex was going to throw a beer can at him, but Rocco said not to waste the can. Once when one of the guitarists came down on the floor, some guy ran over and kissed him. There were three encores.

"Thise audience was as greasy, if not greasier than, any audience we've ever had." Dan York said afterwards. York used to be a sissy, singing in a church choirs, but he'd smartened up. That's what Spider said, anyway. The group manager told Flex that the 7 p.m. audience was the best they'd ever played before. Flex wanted to punch him out for putting down the 10 p.m. crowd, which rated only about tenth.

"Whatta ya use in your hair?" Spider was asking York.

"KY," he replied. "It's water soluable, among other things. I'm grease quartermaster, and the guys leave it up to me to buy the best stuff." Spider knew that Flex used the stuff, even though not in his hair.

Spider wanted to rap about while socks. "You like the bright cottons or the wooly whites?" Spider asked.

"I'm a cotton man, myself. Your feet don't sweat as much."

"Besides," Spider pointed out, "cotton ones look better, especially with black trou."

Al Cooper, the fat guy who sings "Rock and Roil Is Here To Stay," also talked frankly about white socks. "I definitely like mine with stripes." he said.

"What color stripes?"

"Red and blue's about the best I've seen." Cooper explained. Spider nodded solemnly. Cooper talked like a beatnik as far as Spider could tell, but he tried to overlook it and passed him a panel from a case of Coke so that Cooper might autograph it. "Alan Cooper," he wrote. It wasn't as much a thrill for Spider as shaking Don Everly's hand at the Tea Party, but it was, nevertheless, exciting.

Al asked Spider if he'd be up for a beer party. Spider didn't want to admit that he was such a pimp he didn't like beer, so he said he had to cut out.

There was one thing Spider really didn't like about these guys- the way they handled "Teen Angel." He thought they were mocking Mark Dinning with all that sobbing. But Robby-Lenard said he did it because he thought the song deserved more emotion than Dinning gave it. Spider had to agree.

He was amazed to hear that they were all still full-time students. And that they never got tired of it. "We just really dig the music." York said.

Inside Spider, as he clicked away from Rindge that night, was an inspiration that the grease all over him never betrayed. It was the greatest show he'd seen since Alan Freed had brought Bill Haley and the Comets to the Paramount Theatre in the late '50's, Rack 'n' roll really was here to stay, he figured.

He couldn't help remembering the early days of grease; the late andgreat days, the vital days. The sixth-grade dances at the Boys' Club, and then sheaking out to the woods for a butt afterwards before walking the chicks down to the Goody Shop for an ice cream soda. Riding around in his brother's '56 Ford convertible with "Donna" blasting out of the radio.

Every day, he'd rush home in time for American Bandstand at 8 p.m., and then one Saturday night he went to see Eddie Quinteros and Annette on the Dick Clark Show. Spider still had his IFIC button. As Spider walked up Quincy Streak, a tear skidded down his face. He wondered where Annette was now.

Spider knew that in an hour his night would end, and he'd have to be a non-greasy member of the Harvard community. There just wasn't room for a 1950's-type there.

But then he spied Flex and two of the chicks. It wasn't over yet. Down at Mt. Auburn and Plympton, there were two other chicks getting into their old Plymouth. They yelled to the girls, and strutted over while their two girls backed off. "Where you chicks from?" Flex asked.

"Wattatown," one said. "I'm Kathy, and that's Denise."

"This here's Flex, and I'm Spider." They smiled.

"Well, how do you dance?"

"What do you mean, how do we dance?" Flex wanted to know.

"Well, how do you dance," Kathy persisted.

"Close Very, very, close."

Later, after they got back to Mt. Auburn and Plympton, Flex and his buddy headed back to their room. Spider slipped off his PFC's, his black leather jacket, and the other stuff and put it all nearly away until the next time he might have a chance to get slicked up. After a long quiet spell, when he just collected his thoughts, Spider went to bed.

But Spider's pillow case was never quite the same.