Real Music & Real Estate . . .

Yiddishe Cup’s bandleader, Bert Stratton, is Klezmer Guy.

He knows about the band biz and – check this out – the real estate biz too. So maybe he’s really Klezmer Landlord.

You may not care about the real estate biz. Hey, you may not care about the band biz. (See you.)

This is a blog with a gamy twist. It features tenants with snakes and skunks, and musicians with smoked fish in their pockets.

Stratton has written op-eds for the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and Washington Post.



rust belt chic

I wasn’t in Rust Belt Chic –The Cleveland Anthology. Must have been an oversight. I’m Rust Belt chic. I’ve lived in Cleveland all my life. I use Rust-Oleum — a local brand — on my fire escapes. Granted, my Rust Belt pedigree is not total lunch bucket, like Pulitzer Prize columnist Connie Schultz, whose dad worked at the CEI plant in Ashtabula. And I’m not like the co-editor of Rust Belt Chic, Richey Piiparinen, whose dad was a “Cleveland cop who got run over on the way home from an Indians game.”

I once bumped into Richey and told him I liked the anthology. “But personally, I’m not into the Browns, booze, and broads thing,” I said.

He said, “That’s good — ‘Browns, booze and broads.’”


1) The Browns. I’ve been to about five Browns games. One was the championship game in 1964. So I’m good to go (to my grave).

1a) The Indians. I’ve been to, on average, a game a year. Believe it or not, I’ve seen three no-hitters: Stieb, Bosman and Siebert. I’m good to go, again.

2) Booze. I’ve had a couple Great Lakes Christmas Ales. No more than 10. But I’m 100 percent behind Great Lakes Brewing and heavy drinking.

3) Broads. I met a few at the Last Moving Picture Company in 1976 and they’re probably dead now — or near-dead — from too much beer.

David Giffels in his essay “The Lake Effect” wrote, “There was never any color in the 30 miles of sky between Akron and Cleveland. It was a masterpiece of monochrome.”

I see color in the sky here. I see blue right now. I’m too upbeat for Rust Belt Chic.

This post is a day early because of Yom Kippur (manana).

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1 marc { 09.22.15 at 1:19 pm }

May you and your readers have an easy fast.

2 Irwin Weinberger { 09.22.15 at 5:02 pm }

I should’ve gotten in that book as well. After all, my father was a factory worker, I grew up in Euclid and I’m very rusty on the guitar.

3 Ted { 09.22.15 at 5:13 pm }

You made me google The Last Moving Picture Company. All I found was this tantalizing tidbit:
“1974: Playhouse Square
Jennifer, a good-looking blond secretary for a small East Side industrial manufacturing firm, is so enmeshed in the singles scene that she has not missed a Friday night at the Hanna Pub (her favorite bar) in the last four years.
As soon as she was in the lobby, she knew The Last Moving Picture Company was the current champion of the downtown circuit.
— “Mixed Singles,” by Tim Joyce, Feb. 1974”

4 Bert Stratton { 09.22.15 at 6:00 pm }

To Ted:

Tim Joyce — the person who wrote that tidbit about downtown hot spots — was (and still might be) a good writer. He left Cleveland decades ago to rate movies for Jack Valenti (MPAA) in Hollywood. I should Google Tim Joyce. He liked my writing. Thus, a good guy.

5 Dave Rowe { 09.25.15 at 9:19 am }

I never saw a no-hitter but I have a cousin who participated in the ten cent beer night melee (fans spilled out onto the field causing a forfeit)

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