"SLATS" JOHNSON SPEAKS!

THE YM INTERVIEW
...with Bob Johnson

Last week I ran into Bob Johnson in the callecitas of Retiro while he was wandering down Esmeralda perusing the window displays of the hardware stores, mercerías, and tack shops.

He seemed genuinely pleased to see me and we made arrangements to meet a few days later for an afternoon beer in a local strip joint...that being the only kind of place left in town where you can smoke at the bar.

I've always liked Bob. Like me, he's originally from Chicago, he has a great old Chicago nickname: "Slats", and now makes Buenos Aires his home with his Argentine wife, Chiche. But other than that we're not much alike.

Bob moved here right after the crash and soon had put together a string of successful locutorios. About 3 years ago, he sold them all and bought two big blueberry farms somewhere way out in the province.

We met just as scheduled on that crispy autumn afternoon and ducked inside the friendly confines of the bar. We had the place all to ourselves except for a couple of very bored looking girls in fishnet stockings and bowties who brightened up considerably until we passed them on our way to the big hardwood slab with the stools and big ceramic ashtrays.

It was dark inside compared to the bright fall skies and we felt warm and cozy ensconced in the smoke and dim light. Forty pesos brought forth two ice cold cans of Isenbeck and we drank to each other's very good health.

....."So how's the blog thing coming along?", he asked me. I was sort of startled that he remembered my mentioning my blog to him about a year ago.

I told him it was doing just fine and couldn't help but remark that I didn't think he'd ever really look at it. He just didn't seem to be the blog reading type...whatever type that is.

..... "Well, you know, the blueberry thing doesn't actually run itself but it doesn't take up my time like the old days. Not to even mention the 10-hour days on top of a 2-hour commute back in the old country!" We both laughed, clinked our aluminum cans together and knocked back the last swigs. I called for two more.

My curiosity having been piqued, I asked him what he thought about the redesigned yanquimike punto com punto ar.

..... "Disturbing."

That wasn't the sort of reaction I was expecting...and he could tell by the look on my face.

..... "No, no! Not your redesign! That's fine. A little wacky at first but I got the hang of it after a while.

"What really got to me was a couple of the blogs I found. Both of them written by American guys."

I'm aware, of course, that there are a few blogs run by yanquis that are pretty offensive when they're not being flat-out arrogant and rude to Argentines. I made a few guesses as to what blogs he was refering to.

..... "Nah, none of those guys. You kinda know what to expect from that bunch so I avoid them. What I'm talkin' about is two guys that I've actually met and they're really nice fellas! Friendly, interesting company, intelligent guys. And some of the nicest things I ever read about BA, I read on their blogs. They're nothing like some of them that you find at baexpats.com"

Our third round of beers had just arrived and I was starting to wonder if the suds was already affecting our higher processes.

What could be disturbing about two yanqs, good guys, saying great things about our new hometown?

..... "One of the posts was about residential real estate by a young guy and the other was a nostalgic look at a bunch of little things about Buenos Aires."

I took another slurp out of my can and realized I'd seen both of those blogs. I asked him if those were the posts he was talking about.

..... "Yeah! Those ones! One time I just had to shut my browser down. Me hacía sentir tanto vergüenza ajena", he said in his hilariously accented Castellano.

I was pretty sure that I remembered the posts but I certainly didn't recall anything out of the ordinary and I told him so.

..... "You gotta be kiddin' me. Are you sure you read them? Here. Lemme refresh your memory a little bit.

"The young guy starts off talkin' about how apartments here are different from the States then ends up writin' about how Argentineans discriminate against people because of class and race. The other guy is tryin' to tell people about how a lot of things here remind him of when he was a kid in the 1960's but comes off like he thinks that Buenos Aires is 50 years behind the times!"

Maybe Bob had a point but I reminded him that everybody that lives here knows for a fact that rich porteños don't hang out with poor porteños and if you have dark skin here people are going to occasionally mistake you for the busboy or the portero even if you have a PhD.

....."A course! Any modern industrial society has got class distinctions and whiter, European types always have the best seats at the top. Everybody knows that!"

Now he had me even more confused. So I decided to ask him about the post about old-fashioned stuff about Baires.

....."Hey, I know what the guy was gettin' at. Any American who loves this place has got a couple two tree favorite things that he misses from his childhood that everybody still does here.

"But you gotta be careful! I'm talkin' about being careful not to make it sound like this is Havana or somethin'.

"And another thing! You gotta keep your facts straight if you're gonna do that.

"Garbage disposals were illegal in New York until 10 years ago, the 60's were the gaddam heyday of the automatic transmission and YOU, Mikey, sure as shit, gotta remember back in 1995 when 600 people dropped dead from the heat in Chicago that summer!

"Why'd they drop dead? 'Cause nobody within half a mile from the lake ever had AC as standard equipment!

"They were pulling rich old blue-haired ladies out of their fancy apartments for months."

I like Bob but this was getting out of hand.

He had, however, already ordered another round. The bartender looked at us like he had never seen two guys drink 4 beers each.

I thought I'd try agreeing with him on a couple of points...just to calm him down if nothing else. I conceded that some of the facts were wrong.

..... "Si, Juan. What's the real estate kid's excuse? Like it or not, you and I both know we come from one of the most divided countries on earth and the most famous one when it comes to racism. What'd the kid think: nobody here knows that?

"Anyway, Mike, that isn't the point and you know it. What were these guys tryin' to say, for chrissakes? And why were they havin' such a hard time sayin' it?"

I had no answer. Bob knew these guys, not me. I pointed out that not everybody can write.

..... "Not these guys", he said. "the real estate kid is the son of of a famous Philadelphia author and the old guy is a tenured professor from some Ivy League university. If anybody can write it oughta be these two."

I didn't know what to say.

..... "Ya see, these are some of our best. The United States has its share of assholes like every other country you've ever been in.

"But these guys are buen tipos. Bot' of 'em prolly voted Democrat!

"It almost feels like people don't feel any responsibility. My dear ol' uncle, not Mom's side of the family, the other one, god rest his soul, used to talk about going overseas back in the old days. He always said that his family and friends would tell him to represent his country well. He always said it felt like being an ambassador or something. Right now, 21% of Americans have a passport. And that's a record!

"Maybe moving to a foreign country doesn't feel like such a big deal anymore with the internet and satelite communcation and whatnot. But Christ! Who are these guys writing for? Both of 'em gotta know that when you put something out on the internet, EVERYBODY can see it. Don't they think Argies ever speak English, don't they think that one of their friends might translate it for 'em even if they don't?

"When you talk about somebody's hometown you have to be sensible, I like that word. Sensible. It doesn't mean exactly the same thing in Spanish, maybe it's even better.

"It's like talkin' about somebody's mother or their sister. If somebody started talkin' about how your mother drinks a little too much or how many guys your sister has slept with, well, Mikey, you know, he'd better be pretty careful in his choice of words! If da guy's an idiot, you might cut him some slack. But if the guy doesn't have any psychological excuses and raises his voice a little, he's gotta expect a swing at his nose. Doesn't he, Mike? Doesn't he?

"Aaaah, ¿que se yo?. ¿Que te parece? ¿Querés una más para el camino?"

I consented to the beer, since Bob was buying, and because it looked like we would talk about something more pleasant. I asked him how his blueberry farms were doing.

....."Byooootiful. I've made a pile o' dough and I think it's time to get out while the gettin' is good."

A third business for Bob since 2000? I asked what his plans were.

..... "It's time to move south, Mikeyboy! Did you know that in Patagonia you can buy a hectare of land for the same price as a cup of coffee in Madrid?!? Watch me! I'm gonna make another killin'!

It was good to hear that Bob was doing well. Bob paid the bartender and we headed for the door.

The sun outside was blinding and the air was chilly. I fumbled for my wayfarers® and my scarf as we said goodbye.

..... "Hey, Mike," he called back to me as we walked away from each other. "Did you take my advice on those soybeans?"

I nodded and waived.

..... "Good move!"