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.

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 Wall Street Journal, New York Times and Washington Post.



My dentist thinks he is Larry David.  When he looks at my X-rays, he shouts, “You bastard, you don’t have any cavities!”

My friend Mike, a retired businessman, thinks he is Larry David.  Mike has lived in Cleveland 35 years, but still considers himself a New Yorker.  “I don’t want to lose my standards,” he says when we eat out.  Mike is tough on bread — for starters.  Then it’s on to water: “What?  No Pellegrino?”

I’m Larry David.

A lot of middle-aged Jewish men think they’re Larry David.

I used to listen to comedy records at Harvey Pekar’s apartment.  Harvey had all of Bob and Ray, Lenny Bruce, and even Arnold Stang, the actor who did the Chunky commercials.  I could only listen to jazz for so long at Harvey’s.

Yiddishe Cup has gigged with a couple comedians.  The comics do bits on dieting and airport travel.  Frum (religiously observant) comedians even do riffs on kosher food.  Like “We had a power outage at our house and lost $100 worth of kosher meat — two chickens and a pound of hamburger.”

I could do that.  Every Jewish guy thinks he can do that.

Seder is the training ground for Jewish comedians.  I had a relative who thought he was Phil Silvers.  Ruined everything at Seder.  I like a serious Seder.  Curb the jokes about matzo and constipation.


My last close relative left Cleveland in 2001.  Now my Seders are with friends.

My relatives went to warmer places or died.

I hope some of my sun-worshipping, Sunbelt relatives come back.  And if they want a sip of fresh water, that’ll cost five dollars.  That’s the Great Lakes’ big hope: the rest of the country runs out of water.

I’m in about two traffic jams a year in Cleveland.  I would prefer five.  I don’t relish the horrible traffic of Chicago or Washington, but just a few more tie-ups in Cleveland would be nice.

In the 1970s Clevelanders first began imagining the whole town could go under.  T-shirts were silk-screened: “Cleveland: You’ve Got to be Tough.”

A musician in Milwaukee wrote a song called “Thank God This Isn’t Cleveland.”   [Thanks to former Milwaukeean Andrew Muchin for that info.]

Some Clevelanders never got over the trauma of the 1970s.  I know Clevelanders who vacation in Cape Cod; they’re instructed by the national media to vacation very far from the Midwest.  They wait an hour for ice cream on Cape Cod.  I biked around Nantucket in 1979 and it was crowded then.

Some of the best scenery in America is the bike path from Gambier to Coshocton, Ohio.  Rolling farm country, horses, sheep, cows, pigs and Amish buggies.

But some Midwesterners need to see the ocean.  They drive all day to the Carolina shore.  For what?  Lake Erie has beaches, waves, fat people and miniature golf.  Check out Geneva on-the-Lake.

Seder with friends . . . It’s not the same as with Aunt Bernice, Cousin Howard, and the rest of the gang at the old Seder table.

I live three miles from where I was born.  I’m always running into things that don’t exist anymore.

Is it unusual for a college-educated Jewish baby boomer to live so close to where he was born?


[To my three goys: Pesach, in the post title, is Hebrew for Passover.]

See the “Driving Mr. Klezmer” show tonight (Wed. March 24) at the Malt Shop (Maltz Museum), Beachwood, Ohio.  7 p.m.  Features the mail-fraud team of  Stratton & Douglass.

Jack Stratton, drums, and  Bert Stratton, clarinet, are featured in the movie “First Voice Ohio” at the Cleveland International Film Festival Fri. March 26, 2:15 p.m.

See Yiddishe Cup Sat. March 27, 9 p.m., at COW, the College of Wooster (Ohio).

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1 Gerald Ross { 03.24.10 at 9:40 am }

The Great Lakes are one of the best kept secrets in the USA. People from the East and West coasts think: “I’ve seen a lake before, my cousin has a house on a lake — muddy water, weedy, and I can stand on one shore and wave to my friend on the other side.”

Good! Let them keep thinking that way. We don’t need them buying up property and putting up fences.

In the early part of the 20th century South Haven, Michigan (on the shore of Lake Michigan) had numerous Jewish summer resorts. It was the Catskills of the Midwest. A huge gathering spot for Jews from Chicago, Detroit, Milwaukee, Toledo and Cleveland. Then the Jews discovered air travel and the Caribbean.

I was in South Haven last summer… It would be hard to get up a minyan.

2 diddle { 03.24.10 at 11:06 am }

thanks for the groove spoon plug

3 MARC { 03.24.10 at 2:44 pm }

When I lived in Chicago, I had a friend who would load his family in the car and drive to Cape Cod for his annual summer vacation of a week or two. I thought he was meshuganah. I grew up 1 hour from Cape Cod. What’s the big deal?

But living in the Midwest, I missed mountains, the ocean and lots of weekend destinations within a short drive. Corn fields are just not that exciting.

4 "Kenny G" { 03.25.10 at 10:28 am }

Larry David thinks he’s Woody Allen.


Bratenahl, Ohio – Newport of the Midwest!

5 Robert K S { 04.22.10 at 11:39 am }

My friend told me that Harvey Pekar had to give up all his records, at his wife’s insistence. Apparently it took several truckloads to move them all out.

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