Whitey Carlson passed away a week ago. He founded the Brewery Art Colony along with his two sons. The day I walked into the Brewery Office to sign a lease I was wearing a tee-shirt I bought at a thrift store and it had a cover of the Saturday Evening Post painted by Norman Rockwell. I wore it to be ironic, but Whitey got excited when he saw it while I was going over the lease paperwork. He told me about his first job – selling the Saturday Evening Post on the street corner. I asked him how old he was, he said "Seven".
SEVEN YEARS OLD? Yes. Seven. On a street corner in New York in the dead of winter.
You could never have a conversation with Whitey and not be reminded that it is a much different world than it used to be. He had stories that were so surreal they could only be true.
He was throwing craps in a casino in Cuba run by Meyer Lansky – the famous gangster stopped the game and asked the young Whitey (throwing dice on a hot streak), "how do I know you, you look familiar." Whitey said: "I’m from Long Island, your mother sent me, she said you don’t visit enough." Everyone had a great laugh and Lansky made sure Whitey and his friends were taken care of wih everything they wanted. Whitey was no bullshit, no finesse and no backing down. Kinda like America used to be.
Whitey ran a circus, he told me the most important thing to running a circus: "You gotta have an elephant. You can get away with not having anything else, no clowns, no trapeze, no ringmaster even, but if there ain’t an elephant, people want their money back because it’s not a circus without an elephant." It made me reflect on things – what is the core thing you gotta have to do the thing with which you want to engage he public. What is the elephant in your circus?
I ran into a woman who was from Whitey’s generation. She told me she was from Long Island, grew up there, still lived there. I thought I would impress her "I know the man who once owned the Long Island Coliseum," I told her. She was not impressed, scoffing "Well your friend probably paid too much when he bought it from my friend, Whitey Carlson." Anyone who knew Whitey at all knew he was a shrewd businessman. He told me about booking extra security for a 1970 heavy metal concert at the coliseum. He believed in plainclothes security beating rowdy patrons as a way to settle down problems before they escalated. But there is no shortage of Whitey stories, great tales, and I am way down the list of knowing him – when he would see me in the parking lot at the Brewery he would always ask: "What is your business here?" I would tell him I was a tenant and then he would lighten up and have no trouble spinning yarns from a bygone era of hard work and freedom.
It was an era where nobody helped you, and so you had to learn to help yourself. He was protective of his own property – when a guerilla rave promoter took over the largest building at the Brewery – the empty Bingo smokestack building – Whitey slammed the large doors shut and pulled his truck in front of them – locking in a thousand+ ravers who panicked and tried to climb out windows as the cops pulled up. The week before a different rave promoter had the supplies for the whole Saturday night dropped off at the building on Saturday morning. Whitey filled two storage containers with generators, lighting equipment and booze.
A book could be written with the best Whitey stories. When he overheard a discussion in the Brewery office centering on horoscopes he interrupted. "Is this talk about faeries and spirits?" he asked. We all half heartedly acknowledged that it could be seen that way. He then asked, "Do you believe in the hereafter?" to which nobody wanted to commit an affirmation or not to him. Finally I said "sure" and he smiled, "Forget about the hereafter. Take my advice and from here-on-after keep your wallet in your front pocket."
Well Whitey, the hereafter has come for you, but as I write this, my wallet is in my front pocket. Thanks.
If the plethora of stories about his life that need no exaggeration to be fantastic are not legacy enough, having a hand in establishing the Brewery Art Colony most certainly is.