Memories of Lou

Nick Skevos, Richard Straw, and Lou Photos at the graduation of Marion Harding Class of 1969.

Master of the Universe from the River City Poets to Beyond 

Part 1

Lovers of Lou’s musical talents and the business clients who appreciated and respected his accounting prowess may not know how much of an amateur athlete Lou truly was. On baseball sandlots near Indian Mounds and softball fields at Marion’s Lincoln Park, Garfield Park, and Kennedy Park, Lou could field a hot grounder with ease and throw a runner out nine times out of ten. He could punch a single effortlessly and pound a double or triple, it seemed, when and if he ever tried. His aces and overhead slams on the tennis courts at Harding High or Lincoln Park were gargantuan, and his forehands down the alley in doubles were surgical works of art.

Besides being formidable in rotation pool and 8-ball, as well as tirelessly proficient at ping-pong, Lou rarely threw a gutter ball or left an open frame or a split at Marion Plaza’s bowling alley or at Star Lanes, where he was more well-known as a lead guitarist for Little Bird and other bands. He was also a dogged linebacker and a clutch tight end on the snowy field next to Harding’s tennis courts and at the old football field behind Wise’s. In that same field, he also nailed his share of field goals while wearing clodhoppers in the snow, sometimes with his jovial Uncle Ed visiting from Warren in his Piper Aircraft plane.

Moreover, Lou was no slouch when it came to mental gymnastics. He hardly ever bet on an inside straight at several undisclosed kitchens around town (blue = a quarter, red = a dime, white = a nickel; $10 limit on losses for a night). And he always kept his canasta partners happy even after a long night of repartee, cigars, and beer at Dave and Annette’s. Lou’s APBA fantasy baseball and football teams were consistently highly competitive. And during the NFL predictions we made each year, Lou’s weekly picks often kept him in the running for the grand prize—25 cents and bragging rights until next year’s kickoffs.

Lou never rushed around or allowed himself to be hurried, yet he accomplished whatever task he put his great mind to completing. And he did it with style and finesse. When he appeared to be daydreaming, he actually was thinking, always thinking, coming up with the right solution to a musical or technical problem or maybe just an apt and witty reply to an off-putting remark.

For instance, at the former Rocket Inn, one day, Lou was having a quiet meal with some friends when a brash dude came over and yelled at him, “My brother don’t like ya looking at him like that. He’s having a bad day. If ya keep it up, he’s going to come over here and tear your head off.” And what did gentle Lou say after the brash dude ambled away?

Lou whispered: “HE’S having a bad day??? I’m having a bad day!!! Some guy will come over here and tear my head off!!!”

If Lou had a downside, it was that he was a creature of habit, sometimes to a comical fault. When he and Tom and Nick, for instance, shared an apartment in Columbus while they were attending Ohio State for one year, someone rearranged the furniture in the apartment. It so happened that whenever Lou returned to their apartment after a day of classes, he would want to unwind, of course, maybe let off steam at the inanities he had to suffer and endure on campus. So, upon entering the apartment, he would exclaim, “Hai Tho” (a Greek cuss phrase he invented to irritate his great aunt), then fling his glasses into the couch cushions of the sofa near the front door. On the day after the furniture had been rearranged, however, the sofa, of course, was elsewhere in the apartment, and his eyeglass frames unfortunately hit and broke against the wall after being flung as on so many occasions before. For months after that, Lou’s black frames were proudly held together with white tape.

Another possible flaw in Lou was that he appeared slothful at times, but he had his reasons for this apparent deficiency. For example, while reading James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, or perhaps it was Rainier Maria Rilke’s The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge (another favorite book of his at the time), Lou would obtain and disseminate multiple copies of the book throughout the house. By doing that, wherever he found himself lounging at home, what he was reading at the moment would also be within hand’s reach. It should be pointed out that this innovation of Lou’s was developed long before Kindles and smartphones were invented.

In essence, Lou was affable, cosmopolitan, and cool. He was deep and lighthearted. He loved joking around, goofing off, and hard work. He could compartmentalize but never took advantage of anyone or their time. He had better things to do, usually something neat and creative or some practical task to be done creatively. He especially knew how to laugh, but never at others’ expense unless they asked for it and deserved it by their obtuse actions. 

I’m glad to think Lou thought of me as a friend. My biggest regret is that we didn’t hang out together again after he went West. However, during most of the 1970s, I probably spent more time with Lou, Nick, Tom, Dave, Steve (“Hutch”), and Bruce (“The Kid”) than with anyone else besides my parents and my girlfriend (now my wife). For a while, after he returned to Ohio, I thought that once we had all retired, we’d be together again somehow, and we would try to relive old times. And we did manage briefly to do that in 2019 for our 50-year Harding High School class reunion. Alas, future get-togethers can happen now only in pleasant dreams.

Part 2

my dead brother…. hearing his laughter in my laughter

This short elegy is by Nicholas A. Virgilio (1928-1989), one of my favorite haiku poets. 

Nick Virgilio’s kid brother Larry was a Marine who died in Vietnam in 1967. Larry was only 25 years old when he died. Nick Virgilio went on to write a number of haiku about his little brother.

I mention the Virgilios here because it doesn’t seem like two years have passed since Lou Photos died. I think about Lou when I make my first cup of tea most mornings. Thoughts of him also pop up during the day, especially when I hear Schubert’s “Trout” on the radio. What were some of Lou’s other specific favorite pieces? I‘m pretty sure he liked Beethoven’s late string quartets, didn’t he?

I remember listening to classical music quite a lot with Lou, Tom, and Nick. It wasn’t always a pleasant experience, though. Sometimes, it was downright bewildering. 

One Saturday afternoon, Lou and I were sitting in and later standing outside a parked car. Perhaps in the Rambler, I almost crashed, taking the curve on two wheels near the old Harding High School. Lou and I were parked in front of Tom and Lou’s house or Nick’s place next door. Tom and Nick had gone inside for cold drinks or something. We had all just returned from playing tennis or baseball at Harding or golfing at Green Acres.

Lou and I remained transfixed, however, while listening on the car radio to a Metropolitan Opera broadcast, of all things. The opera was some interminable modern German one with screaming and yelling on top of the yowling, but we could not turn it off. We just kept waiting and waiting for it to end. And fortunately or unfortunately, it finally did.

To close, here’s something inspired by these memories of Lou and of his love of music and by Nick Virgilio’s loving elegy for his brother. 

my dead friend… hearing the songs  he listened to then

September 1, 1973, a Fulfillment Corporation of America (FCA) outing at SeaWorld, Ohio, a former theme park and marine zoological park in Aurora, Ohio. (l-r: Dick Straw, Walt Straw, Tom Photos, Nick Skevos, Lou Photos; the shadow is the photographer, Jane Straw). I worked at FCA at the time and was permitted to bring only relatives to the SeaWorld outing, so, of course, I had to bring my three brothers—Lou, Nick, and Tom. It was a great day!

August 21, 1982 (l-r in back: Dick Straw, Walt Straw, Tom Photos; l-r in front: Kevin Harty, and Lou Photos)

August 21, 1982 (l-r: Dick Straw, Lou Photos, Kevin Harty, Tom Photos)

1974 or 1975, Lincoln Park, Marion, Ohio (l-r in back: Lou Photos, Nick Skevos, Tom Photos, Dick Straw; l-r in front: Bill and Brian Coughenour)