Sharkey's Scrapbook of News Stories
His Letters to the Editor, news stories, and mentions in news columns
IN THE NEWS
The Adventures of Parkey Sharkey
TRIBUNE CITY EDITOR - CALIFORNIA
By James A. Gallagher
For a chronically unemployed East Palo Alto cab driver, Parkey Sharkey never had it so good. There was that day in 1948 - a big man, pencilled in for a prominent part in Greer Garson’s movie, “Strange Lady in Town.” Whisked by MGM limousine to location just outside Tucson, Arizona. Quartered in the best hotel, eating the finest food, quaffing the choicest spirits. Billed as “The New Wallace Beery.” If it hadn’t been for those dad ratted cowboy boots, Parkey might be living it up at the Brown Derby even as you read this. At least that’s the way Parkey had it figured.
But the MGM wardrobe attendant issued Parkey boots that were two sizes too small. When Parkey tried to swagger like the New Wallace Beery, all he could manage was a convulsive lurch rather like The Old W.C. Fields. This worried Parkey. And Parkey is the kind of a fellow who likes to bring his worries to the taproom.
The night before his big scene, out there on the desert with Greer Garson, Parkey worried till 5 am. And when the MGM limousine dispatched him on location in the morning, Parkey couldn’t remember his lines.
Parkey tried to tell the director about his boots, but the man didn’t even try to understand.
“Back,” bellowed the director. “Back to East Palo Alto.” Greer Garson, an old trouper who always knows her lines, tried to console Parkey. “That’s show business,” offered Miss Garson.
SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER
By Dick Nolan
THE LIT’RY SET: Poor Parkey Sharkey, the gabby ex-cabby is having more trouble trying to get his autobiography printed. Now he has fallen into the hands of the “vanity” press - the people, who praise your work to the skies and then offer to publish it at a price. In Parkey’s case the price $1,340. For that Parkey gets 125 copies, and the right to buy more at 40 cents off the list price. In addition, Parkey gets 80 cents royalty on each copy of the first edition sold during the first year.
The total first edition is set at 2,600 copies. It is very complicated, but Parkey has penetrated to the heart of the matter. “What do I do now?” he writes. “Where am I going to raise $1,340 to get my book published? I have one foot in the poorhouse.” (I don’t know what you do now, Parkey. But “One Foot in the Poorhouse” sounds like a beautiful
sequel.)
Parkey was a promising end at Palo Alto High School in the early ‘30s until his coach, the late Hod Ray, caught him smoking and gave him the boot. In those days Parkey picked up pin money caddying at the Stanford Golf Course with such enlightened companions as Earl Whitmore, later to achieve a certain degree of prominence in local law enforcement circles.
About that time Parkey became involved in what he considers his most serious brush with the Palo Alto police. They frowned, Parkey recalls, when in a fit of boyish exuberance he stole the mayor’s auto.
REDWOOD CITY TRIBUNE, 1960
Times were tough in the Southland, Parkey found. That’s when he conceived the comedy boxing act that earned him a certain amount of notoriety - and an occasional $5 or $10 purse - in the small fight arenas around the area.
Came World War II and Parkey, rejected for military service because of a blood ailment and bad teeth, returned to the job he knew best - piloting a hack out of his headquarters in East Palo Alto - 1942.
Parkey collected ration books like they were going out of style. He always had plenty of gas and he liked to drive sojourning servicemen up and down the Bayshore - generally neglecting to knock down the flag on his meter.
By 1948 Parkey was down in Hollywood again, parking cars for Jack Benny and other stars and gaining a certain reputation as a man of letters through his public notes to Paul Coates, Los Angeles Mirror-News columnist.
Then came his big break with MGM - and the tight boots tragedy - 1954.
PAUL COATES COLUMN
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LOS ANGELES MIRROR-NEWS
December 1959
Paul,
I am at my rooming house and everybody is tight and talking to themselves. I think I will go for a ride. It used to be so peaceful when I lived in the dumps. I would go back but I’m afraid it’s going to be a cold winter.
I did go back there yesterday, Paul, but just to dump garbage for this bartender where I work as janitor.
I still am without no taxi. I used this truck. They charge a buck to get in. I said to the garbage man, “Do I have to pay? I used to live here.”
He said, “Sharkey, you moved out of Palo Alto, you are a Hollywood character now. You have to pay.”
I said, “I live in Menlo Park now,” and gave them their buck and dumped my garbage.
Paul, I still need my taxi permit to make a living. If the cops had let me alone I would not have given it up, but I just got tired of answering their silly questions.
I guess some of them are O.K.. A kid I went to school with became one.
Paul, the bartender told me the other day, he said, “Parkey, your friend Paul Coates in L.A. sounds like a good guy, maybe he’ll lend you the sixty bucks to get your taxi permit.”
(Signed) Parkey Sharkey
Menlo Park.
To Paul,
I am a little mad at my friend Memphis Ward of Hollywood. He wrote me a letter saying, “Parkey, if you have to have $200 to get your book published, quit buying beer. Go to the grocery and buy canned beans, drink milk and quit playing the horses. Paul, that’s the one thing I never do, even if I knew the jockey.
He also told me to buy canned fish. Paul, you can’t go on a bean diet when you weigh 230 pounds like I do. Tell Memphis Ward I don’t need his advice Paul.
(Signed) Parkey Sharkey
Bay Road, East Palo Alto.
Tell him yourself. I’m not speaking to him.
~ Paul C.
Paul,
Driving along in my taxi I just picked up a Stanford coed walking to the campus. She had a pizza pie. I told her to hop in.
She said, “I can’t pay you for the ride.” I said, “OK, just give me a piece of the pizza pie for the ride.” OK. - umhum.
Parkey Sharkey
2077 Bay Road, Palo Alto.
Parkey, stop talking with your mouth full.
~ Paul C.
To Paul,
I’m back with my wife again, she said, “Darling, why don’t you make up with Paul Coates?”
I said, “Why do I need to, I got a hundred orders for my book, which will be out in Feb. and a sponsor to pay the printer in Chicago the bal. on it.
My sponsor has told me, “Parkey, please don’t die until your book gets out.” I got to give him a little cut. Then he said, “Parkey, here’s two bucks, got get yourself two beers. My sponsor got me on a budget.
The Oasis bar in Menlo Park where I used to be Janitor, said, “Sharkey, did you mention us in your book?” I said, “Oh yes.” “Swell,” they said, “Parkey, here’s five bucks.”
Meanwhile my wife taps our landlord for a dollar for a couple of beers. I did not know it, so then I tapped him later for three dollars. I went to a bar and found my wife there. I said, “Where did you get your beer money?” She said, “Darling,
I tapped the landlord.” I said, “You did? I did too...”
(Signed) Parkey Sharkey
2077 Bay Rd., East Palo Alto.
I’m glad to hear that you kids are working at your marriage again, Parkey.
~ Paul C.
IN THE NEWS
MORE Adventures of Parkey Sharkey
PALO ALTO TIMES, 1960
WALT TAMAGE COLUMN
PARKEY SHARKEY, local cab driver and former comedy boxer, will be interviewed tonight on Don Sherwood’s television show at 10:30 over Station KTVU (channel 2).
In reporting this earth-shaking news to us he delivered a blow to the Palo Alto Chamber of Commerce by declaring that he plans to leave this area for La Honda.
Parkey, when asked what he plans to do in La Honda, replied, “I may open up a still if I can get a little cooperation from the law enforcement officials up there.”
BEFORE the war Sharkey appeared in numerous boxing shows in the Bay Area. He entered the ring wearing a night shirt. This was appropriate attire for he often went to sleep early.
REDWOOD CITY TRIBUNE - 1960
PARKEY’S LATEST CAPER
What’s Parkey Sharkey up to now? Well, as any fool can plainly see, he’s become the owner of a ceremonial wedding drum from the Admiralty Islands of New Guinea.
Parkey chauffeured a Navy man to Tracy and received the drum as payment. The sailor said he gave a native two washers and a Boy Scout knife for the prize. Parkey claims the drum is more than a century old, and though it pains him deeply, he’s will to part with it for about $75. His business office is at 2077 Bay Road, in a structure near the East Palo Alto dump.
E.V.C. in the PALO ALTO TIMES - 1960
IN CASE YOU WONDER what the well-trained nurse in an emergency needs to know, let Parkey Sharkey tell you.
Parkey, one-time comedy boxer and taxi operator and Hollywood extra and letter-writer and foe of the new-comers who have taken over Palo Alto, informs me he is laid up with infected feet.
I left my shack by the bay the other night. Blisters all over my feet. I went to the Paly emergency hospital about 10 pm. I asked the nurse for emergency treatment until I could get to San Mateo Community Hospital in the morning.
“You know the emergency treatment I got, EVC? She put a bandage on one of my blisters on my foot, that’s all. My feet itched so bad I had to drive around in my car all night in Menlo. If I was a nurse I would at least give a guy a big bucket of water to cool his feet off anyway. What the heck kind of a training these nurses get anyway?”
I just ask you. All this higher education, fancy equipment, and modern drugs, but nary a bucket of water for infected feet?
SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER
Dick Nolan’s Column
FURTHER ADVENTURES - Parkey Sharkey, the Brendan Behan of the Deep Peninsula, is still trying to get his book published.
Meanwhile: “... A guy jumps in my taxi in front of Joe’s Cafe, last outpost of Palo Alto, as I was asleep. He poured a beer all over me and says, “Parkey Sharkey, remember me 30 years ago in grammar school, Palo Alto? We were down in the Palo Alto creek and you made me roll a cigarette of poison oak.”
“I forgot,” I said.
P.S. This guy I had not seen for 30 years gave me ten dollars to hire my taxi, then I had to take him to a bar and spend it all back on him. I don’t want no more reunions, “We went to grammar school, I don’t pay.”
PAUL COATES COLUMN
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LOS ANGELES MIRROR-NEWS
To Paul Coates,
Paul, I sent a note to Hedda Hopper, she made a mistake in her column a couple of months ago. She said Tennessee Ernie Ford was going to settle in Palo Alto.
Well, he changed his mind and moved to Portola Valley in the mountains about 15 miles away from Palo Alto. How do I know this? Well, the guy who does the plumbing in Portola Valley took me to the Village Pub in Portola Valley and Tennessee Ernie Ford was there and he introduced me to him.
All the society people go to this bar, but we got in ok because we knew the bartender. Paul, I just paid Maria Ellena of Stanford to retype my book. Money is hard to come by up here. Today, this guy came in and said, “Parkey, will you drive me to the graveyard? I’ve got a couple of graves to dig.” He takes care of the cemetery, Paul. I said I would take him after another beer. By the time I got him to the graveyard he was too loaded to dig a grave, so we turned around and went back and got a bottle. I ask him how much he paid his helpers digging graves. He said two seventy-five an hour. I said, “How about a job for me helping you?” He said, “Swell.” You watch, Paul, with my luck nobody up here will die for months.
(Signed) Parkey Sharkey
2077 Bay Road, Palo Alto.
That’s just negative thinking, Parkey.
~ Paul C.
To Paul,
I have two jobs now, when I get through cleaning out the Oasis bar, I deliver Chinese dinners for a Chinese restaurant.
The other night I asked the Chinese cook, “What you got for supper???” He ran off a list of Chinese dinners which I had never heard of before. I had never had a Chinese dinner before, Paul, so I said, “Chow Mein, without the chopsticks.” I can’t eat with them.
Paul, my wife is driving me nuts. The other day she walked an 82 year old man home from a bar. He was drunk. They were crossing the street at a signal when his pants fell off him, and my wife had to pull his pants up for him in the middle of the street.
(Signed) Parkey Sharkey
c/o Oasis Bar, Menlo Park.
Lies! Lies! Lies!
~ Paul C.
To Paul,
My book is started in the printer’s in Chicago at last, place your order now. I am just kidding you, Paul. I will send you a free copy because you are my friend.
I am now living in a place in Palo Alto. It is a basement room. I have an ice box and a stove, but no sink to wash the dishes. I have to go upstairs to the bathroom sink to wash the dishes. Paul, when my book is printed, I’m moving to the Mark Hopkins.
Paul, I am writing you from a bar in Menlo Park. I have been all day here without a customer for my taxi.
A guy came over to me awhile ago and said, “Parkey Sharkey, my wife and I gave you two dollars for your book three years ago, what did you do with the money, drink it up?”
I said, “Oh, no, no, no, no, my book Whiskey Road by Parkey Sharkey is in Chicago being printed.
Some kids just walked into the bar here, Paul, trying to raise some money for a benefit to send some needy kids to a summer camp.
I told them, “You kids, get out of here, I am taking up my own collection.” Paul, it’s terrible, little kids coming into bars and shaking down the customers.
(Signed) Parkey Sharkey
2077 Bay Road, East Palo Alto.
Parkey, you just have to face it. It’s a competitive world.
~ Paul C.
IN THE NEWS
FURTHER Adventures of Parkey Sharkey
SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER
Dick Nolan’s Column
Parkey Sharkey the gabby cabby, still trying to get his memoirs published, reports that his memoirs continue to outpace his book. Like the other night -- “Guy called me bum in a bar. I hit him so hard he fell over the pinball machine and knocked himself out. After, he said, “Sharkey, you pulled a Sunday punch on me.’ I did not, I just hit him first. I can’t afford fights, I am too old now, 47. Besides, I busted my thumb. Next day the guy challenged me again. I said, “Wait until my thumb gets better” . . . (I’ve read worse than this in the memoirs of Cellini) . . . Parkey is still mad at Sherwood. “I now challenge Sherwood: 2 one minute rounds on TV with gloves.”
P.S.: This fight was called off the night before the fight. Parkey Sharkey fell down a flight of stairs in his basement room - two many beers too many. Sharkey was a fair fighter 22 years ago, but he is all shot now, 47 years old.
NAPA VALLEY REGISTER
TV-Radio Highlights by Ellis Walker
FROM PARKEY SHARKEY
“I have sent notice to Groucho Marx that I am suing him because he disappointed my public by not showing the program I was on,” writes
Parkey. “Even a bartender friend of mine took last Thursday off to watch me on TV at another bar. Then he didn’t see me. And it cost him 20 bucks to take the night off. He is still a little mad at me. From now on I will tell all my friends
to watch the Lone Ranger and Tonto.”
FOR THE WEEK ENDING - March 29, 1958
THIS WEEK, Groucho Marx tossed off the 400th edition of his program, You Bet Your Life. He tossed it off with nothing more than an extra waggle of the famous eyebrows. Groucho will be recorded in history as the man who introduced the four-legged stool to television. That was back in 1947 B. C. Since then, he’s worn out six pairs of pants. Even Groucho squirms at some of his puns.
During these 11 years, the quipster also has smoked 400 feet of cigars on the show, trimmed off 85 inches of mustache and frazzled three sets of tail feathers on the duck that flutters down with the secret word Tnoney. Groucho has faced some 2000 contestants. Including Palo Alto’s Parkey Sharkey. Not one has attempted to slug him. It’s a remarkable record.
This little book is an amazing piece of California history. Buy yourself a copy.
These excerpts from the book Whiskey Road by Parkey Sharkey are published by Powerless Press™ and Chapin & Wardwell Book Publishers.
Be sure to check out my KINYON.SUBSTACK.COM for more interesting reading!