tuesday, february 19, 1980
page 8
daily nebraskan
Bus ride is a real trip for independent commuter
By Peg Sheldrick
I have been acquainted with the bus.
Not by choice, of course. I mean, who
in their right mind is? But there I was
stuck. With the battery dead and the garage
closed for the weekend, I had no other
choice but to take my chances in the
seamy world of mass transit. It was humi
liating, but I was desperate.
I called the contact at a number I had
gotten from a friend of mine , who knows
about these things. Her voice was soft,
tentative. "Yes. . May I. . help you?"
"Uh, yeah. I wanted to, uh, you know,
take a bus.',
"Oh. . . I. . . see. . . And where. . . did
you want to. . . take it?"
"From uh, my place to, uh, the shop
ping center.
"Oh. . . I . . . see. . . Then you'll want
...Gateway."
The voice went on quietly detailing
what the bus would do for me, and how
much it would cost, and where we could
meet. I took it all down and headed for
the rendezvous, secretly glad that my dri
ver's education instructor couldn't see
what I was doing.
I waited on the corner, hoping the
passing cars couldn't guess what I was up
to. But peering in through their dirty
windshields, 1 could tell that the drivers
knew, and I could see the scorn in their
eyes.
Big and blue '
After what seemed an age, I spotted it
down the block. It was big and blue, like
they air are. It looked dirty. I shuddered.
The thing lurched up, opened its door,
and swallowed me. I tried not to think
about my car as I slid my money into the
coin slot and slunk to the back of the bus.
I plopped into one of -the garish vinyl
seats, hiding my face in my muffler. What ,
if someone I know sees me, I thought.
How will 1 live this down?
. "Do you ride often?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin. I
pulled the muffler down to see who was
talking to me, .
. . .. ' "I don't believe I've seen you on this run
before ," The voice belonged to a snowy.
: haired woman., in a green corduroy coat.
She looked harmless enough.
I decided I had nothing to lose. "No,
this is my first time. I-uh-don't usually
get into this kind of thing."
"Really?" she purred, seeming sur
' prised. "I've been riding the bus for years."
- Really hardcore
I was shocked. I mean, to admit to that
kind of thing-and even seem proud of
it. She was really hardcore. My curiosity
got the better of me. I had to ask. "Why?"
I whispered. "I mean, didn't you have a
a car?"
"No, never have and never will."
I could hardly master my amazement.
"Never?"
"Why no. What do I need with a car? I
have the buses and I. have my own two
feet-"
So she walked too. I should have known.
"-and frankly I've just never seen the
point in it."
"But-but that's unAmerican! doesn't
it mean anything to you? Don't you want
independence? Are you totally immune to
the romance of the auto? Good God,
woman, have you no decency?"
She only stared at me in an amused,
patronizing way.
"You mean to tell me you honestly
don't want a car at all?"
She shook her head.
"Why?"
"Just look out the window, and maybe
youH understand."
I turned to gaze out. We were stopped
for a light beside a guy digging his car out.
He was chipping away at the ice on the
back window," and .stopping every few
minutes to try the starter The engine
wasn't turning over.
- Minor inconvenience
"A minor inconvenience," I sniffed.
"And look over there." She pointed
to the other side of the bus. Out the win
dow I could see a tow truck dragging an
expensive-looking foreign car with a
front end smashed in like a Pekingese's
face. It would never scream around another
curve.
1 looked away. "I still can't see how you
would willingly submit yourself to the bus
system," I spat the words out. "Don't
you realize you're completely at their
mercy? Have you no pride? My car is my
freedom1. I'm my own master',"
"That's why you're riding the bus, I
suppose?"
I was quiet for a moment.
"Dear, I don't mean to be cruel, but
what about garage mechanics and park
ing meters and oil companies? Do you
really consider yourself free? Don't you
want to conserve energy? Isn't it cozy to
let someone else do your warming up and
scraping off, and then to have someone to
chat with instead the traffic to curse at?"
I couldn't stand it anymore. I reached
up and yanked the signal cord for all 1
was worth. The bus screamed to a halt,
and, bursting from the doors I made a run
for it. .
You know it's time to flee when a
dangerous philosophy like that starts to
make sense.
Bromberg safe as 'musical
. . 7 7. J
scaizopnrenw
Ml
By Michael Zangari
If there is room for schizophrenia in
rock 'n' roll, then David Bromberg's place -is
certainly secure. Although Bromberg's
father-a well known New York psycholo- ,
gist-might disagree with my definition of
schizophrenia, I would wager that he too
would be at a loss to classify his son in
any kind of musical framework.
Bromberg's legendary studio guitar
work had garnered him a fine reputation
while he was still in his teens. Playing
with the likes of Bob Dylan and Jerry Jeff
Walker he became one of the most sought
out session men in New York City,
His solo outings find him indulging in
an equal split between rock V roll, blues,
bluegrass and Irish fiddle music. And he
manages to carry off each.
An unquestionably fine multi-instrumentalist,
Bromberg's acoustic blues and
fiddle work far outsine most of his contemporaries.
. Only Dave Van Ronk of all the white
blues singer-players can hold a candle to
his acoustic blues. Bromberg's wrenching
acoustic leads are the most tastefully done
on record. He does things on acoustic
guitar that would give 20-year pros a
heart attack. When he interprets blues from
the 1920s, it is with a clarity of emotion
and a purity of form that rival any on re
cord, and that includes many of the ori
ginals, "
"Delia" and "Walking Blues" on his
self-titled album establish the format,
Bromberg records his blues live-no over
all of Bromberg's albums, and is slightly
more subdued and mellow. It contains
quite a few of Bromberg's ventures into
Irish fiddle music, and the trip proves to
be delightful at every turn. Of the songs
he sings, "What a Wonderful World It
Would Be" makes Art Garfunkel's ver
sion sound impossibly saccahrin. Tremen
dous backround vocals by Bonnie Raitt,
among others, make his version of "Don't
Put That Thing on Me" both fun and
gently rhythmic.
dubs-and in front of a live audience. He
plays impeccable guitar under strained
and emotional vocals. This format runs
true throughout his catalogue, but most
effectively on his Wanted Dead or Alive
album on the second side,'
He runs through such nuggets from the
1920s as "Send me to the 'Lectric Chair"
and "Statesboro BluesWedding Bell Blues"
(done up nice and slow so you won't miss
anything). He also does a version of "Kansas
City" that has no rivals as far as energy
output goes. His additional lyrics on
"Kansas City" should have been incorpor
ated into, many of the tired versions of this
long ago,
Wanted Dead or Alive is flawed, as are
most of Bromberg's albums, by poor
material.
One of the most enjoyable of all of
Bromberg's albums is Midnight On the
Water, It has the cleanest production of
Demon in Disguise needs to be men
tioned if only for the version of "Mr,
Bojangles," that it contains. His'
ode to a power stripper, "Sharon," is
one of his few successful rockers.
Of the later albums, Bandit in a Bathing
Suit is about the best. Side one rocks very
hard in a blues mold, with high-powered
euitars and crisp production. Side two mel
lows a bit with a nice version of "Mr,
Blue" and several other ballads.
Most Lincoln bars allow access to handicapped
By Mary Kay Wayman
Most people, when deciding where to for an evening's
entertainment and a few drinks, need not consider the
architecture of the bars they frequent. But for the handi
capped, confined to wheelchairs, entering a bar or using
its restroom could be almost impossible.
Of 17 downtown bars checked, most have entrances
allowing wheelchairs, because the doors are located direct
ly off the sidewalks, but restrooms were almost totally
inaccessible.
State law requires accessibility, but only In new build
ings, Accessibility Specialist for the League of Human
Dignity Renee Kreishauser said.
Kreishauser said state law requires buildings built after
1977 to be accessible. TTiere are no requirements for older
buildings unless remodeling occurs, she said; then the re
modeled part must be accessible. If more than 50 percent
of a building is remodeled, all of it must be accessible.
"It's really too bad they don't do it on their own," she
said. "It Irritates me a little bit that they don't take that
into consideration."
Kreishauser said the fact that many Lincoln buildings
are older is a factor in their accessibility,
Old buildings inaccessible
"Buildings that have character and appeal because of
their uniqueness" are old and inaccessible, she said,
Bars like the Waterhole and Zoo Bar are just a part of a
larger building and any remodeling that occurs would not
be close to the required SO percent, she said.
Bars and restaurants checked were Brannigan's, Horse
feathers, Godfather's, Sweep Left Restaurant and Lounge,
Barrymore's, the Starship Enterprise, The Brass Rail,
Duffy's Tavern, the Zoo Bar, the Waterhole, Cliff's
Lounge, Sandy's Lounge, Chesterfield, Bottomsley and
Potts, McGuffey's, O.G. Kelly's, Fanny's, the Under
ground Restaurant and Bar and the Green Frog Lounge.
The amount of space needed in doors, aisles and rest
rooms is determined by the size and shape of a wheel
chair, according to design criteria listed in a state hand
book of provision for the handicapped.
Imagine being encased in vehicle with average
dimensions of 42 inches in length and 25 inches in width.
The avenge space required to turn around completely is a
quare 60 by 60 inches, and the same width is needed for
two chairs to pass each other.
Fanny's the only bar checked that ofTered no barriers.
restbiVrPthe !.Iilt0n ramps and e,c. ""ton
restrooms used by Fanny's customers also were accessible.
Problem stairs
Inaccessible bars were those with stairs or steps at the
feathers, Brannigan's, and the upstairs Swip Left,
Continued on Pxe 9
