Beta Pi Blog, Vol.2007, No.14 - Guest Blogmeister Frank Biller

Beta Pi:

GUEST BLOGMEISTER FRANK BILLER:

A TALE OF FOUAD

or "How Steve Starr first revealed his true greatness and powers of perception/reaction under the most extreme conditions and circumstances of inebriation"

By Frank J. Biller

In the fall of 1971, Larry Simons, Steve Starr and myself (later to become known as Bozo, Vinnie and Buck- the 3 Stooges) were talked into attending a play at the Green Hills theater by Larry. Larry was smitten by a young damsel named Sally Something that was starring in a Green Hills Players production of Cabaret. During his trip to the theater, Larry also met a rather shady member of the GHP Company that instantly befriended our Brother Simons. This fellow was a large balding 50ish gentleman of middle eastern descent who's stage name was George Ash (nee Fouad Ashkar). Fouad's claim to fame had been his bit part in an early James Bond 007 flick. He told Larry that the following Saturday night he was hosting a cast party for the Cabaret troupe at his apartment and invited Larry to come over. There Fouad promised to introduce Larry to Miss Sally. Larry's was a little nervous about meeting a worldly stage actress so he asked if he could bring along a couple of friends to offer moral support.

So, off go Larry, Vinnie and I to the Green Hills theater to see Cabaret, meet Fouad and then proceed to the cast party to meet this gorgeous chick Sally. We see the play then head over to Fouad's. He did actually have a party that night and several cast members including Sally showed up along with a weird menagerie of Fouad's "theater friends".

It was an interesting scene. Larry and I were throwing our best lines at Sally: Example-

Larry- "So (long pause) aaa, where are you from?";

Buck- "Hey, this one time back in Iowa I chugged a whole case of beer and never even puked".

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Larry and I, Vin (being the babe in the woods that he was at the time) was having his first ever encounter with brother Motlow's venerable Black Label product. Like most of us, Vin erred on the side of excess and was chugging Jack and Coke's at an alarming rate considering that he had never been intoxicated before. It was just at the height of the party that poor Vin made his first visit to the porcelain altar where he remained in residence until the dramatic end of the night.

As the evening unfolded, Fouad began to reveal his true self. Today I am certain that Fouad was an advance guard sent by Osama Bin Laden to America to develop the first Al Qaeda cell with the aim of striking a blow to America's very heart by simultaneously blowing up Ryman Auditorium, Tootsie's Orchid Lounge and Rotier's. However, that night lust got the better of him.

As it turns out, Fouad was "playing on the other team" from a sexual perspective (not that there's anything wrong with that). Larry and I were (and arguably still are) incredibly unaware of our surroundings. We are both just thick enough and self centered enough that we did not get Fouad's orientation. I am certain that he and several of his buddies used their best lines on the two of us. Fortunately for us, we were both too dumb to even know what was going on and Fouad and his crew were kind enough to leave us alone. However, the prospect of a wounded duck wretching on the floor of the bathroom was crystallizing as an opportunity in the lusty Arab's twisted mind.

Fouad began a line of discussion with Larry and I that it was in Vin's best interest that we leave him there at Fouad's to "sleep it off". Being the bumpkins that we are, we thought that sounded like a real nice thing for old Fouad to offer. So, Larry, Fouad and I went into the bathroom to try to revive Vinnie and give him the good news that Fouad was going to put him up for the night.

Now I have shared more drunken debaucheries than I care to remember with Brother Starr. I have seen him summon up incredible energy for late night Tales rounds, sweat pure Jack Daniels at gaming tables in the wee hours and stagger out of Vegas gentlemens clubs as the sun rose in the East. These memories pale in comparison to Vin's performance that was to come.

My friends, that night, in Fouad Ashkar's apartment, the world got the first glimpse of the greatness that was to become know to us as Steven "Vinegar Vin Vinnie" Starr. Our man was passed out on the bathroom floor, clad as he was in grey flannel slacks, Hush Puppies and a button down shirt, vomit caked on the side of his face- a veritable lamb-chop of man meat poised for a good old fashioned middle-eastern (edited) from the randy desert sheik. Larry, Fouad and I came in to give him the news of the proposed "over-night".

Somewhere, somehow, Brother Vinnie was able to summon up out of the whirling maelstrom of sounds and images raging in the first time-ever drunken cranium a scintilla of rational thought. Vinnie, unlike his doophus soon-to-be fraternity brothers, realized the lusty intent in the timbre of our host's voice setting off his gay-dar warning system indicating that he was at DefCon level IV and needed to get the hell out of the Fouad's "guy-scoring pad" before he became empaled on the lust ridden Arab's Titan missile of love. He arose from his Motlowian stupor, somehow dragged himself to his feet and lurched out of the bathroom and towards the front door where he collapsed to his knees at the threshold. Larry and I were just walking out the door when Vin grabbed ahold of my ankle with a death grip that would be the envy of any All-Star Wrassler. Mumbling something to the effect of "If you (edited) leave me here I will kill you both with my bare hands" Vin held on for dear life. Larry and I agreed to hoist our drunken pal up and ferry him back to his cave in Mims Hall much to the protests of our host.

Years later, Larry and I realized in a rare moment of self reflection that Fouad was in fact bent on turning our friend into his personal concubine that evening and that we were aiding and abetting him in that endeavor. I have never apologized for almost leaving my dear friend and Fraternity Brother at the hands of a dastardly Sodomite. So, many years too late (but better than never), I hereby apologize to Steve Starr for the events that occurred that evening in 1972 at the cast party of Cabaret, held in the den of iniquity that was George Ash's (nee Fouad Ashkar) apartment in Green Hills, TN. I hope that he can somehow forgive me.

Note: The only known picture in existence of the party is attached. It is believed that the man depicted may be George Ash (nee Fouad Ashkar) and the girl Sally the actress mentioned above.

Fondest Regards,

Frank J. "Buck" Biller

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VTL,

Larry Simons

Beta Pi, ‘72