Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe - What’s in a Name? - Skunks

Episode Date: March 22, 2024

“It was 4:30 in the morning and Dave was having a nightmare about something that smelled bad.” On today’s episode we have a fragrant story from way back. And Jess chats in studio with Stuart’s old friends David and Elizabeth, who share how Morley got her name—and surprise Jess with some entertaining backstories of their own!  Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

From the Apostrophe Podcast Network. Hello, I'm Jess Milton and this is Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe. Welcome. We have something special for you today on the pod. A backstory that goes so far back. A backstory that, when I think of it, kind of tops all other backstories. And like so many other things on this show, and in life, it was an accident. A happy accident. Totally unplanned. Totally unscripted.

Totally unexpected. And totally awesome. For this backstory, we need to go way back, way back to the beginning of the Vinyl Cafe, way back to 1994. When Stuart began writing the Vinyl Cafe back in 1994, it wasn't his plan to write about Dave and Morley. In fact, when he started writing The Vinyl Cafe, Morley didn't even exist. Come to think of it, neither did Dave. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm excited. Now that I think about it, we actually have to go back even further than I thought. All right, way back. Scroll back even before 1994. We're going to go back to about 1989. Stuart was working with his friend, Peter Zosky, on his program Morningside.

And there was a guy there named David Amer who was also working on the show. David Amer was the music producer on Morningside, the person who chose all the music that Peter Zosky introduced. One day, David came up to Stewart in the office and said, you and I should do a radio show together. David had an idea for a show where he would choose the music and Stuart would be the guy on air, introducing it. Well, said Stuart, the show has to have more than that. It has to have a conceit. And so Stuart came up with this idea, this idea about a guy who owned a second-hand record store. The store is where the music would come from. Like I said, this was back in 1989,

and Stuart and Amer thought about the idea, and they thought it was good enough that they should record a pilot. And they did. And somebody listened to it at CBC, and they said, this is great! And then that person put the pilot on his shelf, and it sat there. For five years.

For five years, it did nothing but gather dust. I learned recently that Dave didn't even exist in that pilot. I went back and listened to an old show where Stuart was talking about this and he said that in the pilot, it was him, Stuart, who owned the record store, not Dave. You get what I'm saying here, right? Stuart didn't actually own a record store, but he pretended to. That was the conceit that Stuart was playing music from his record store. Like I said, that pilot sat on the shelf for five years. And truth be told, Stuart didn't really think about the Vinyl Cafe during those five years. He wrote a book called Welcome Home.

He worked on Morningside with Zosky, and he taught at Ryerson University. It was David, David Amer, who kept the idea alive. From time to time, he'd look at Stuart and say, we should really do that radio show. And Stuart would agree. But the years went by and Stewart figured it would never get made. David persevered. Whenever a new department head or manager arrived, he'd pull out that pilot and play it for them. And one day, that paid off. An incredible woman named Beth Haddon became the head of CBC Radio. David played her the pilot.

And then Beth played it to a few other managers. And before they knew it, Beth had commissioned the first 13 episodes of The Vinyl Cafe. And once Stuart and Amor got the green light for those first 13 episodes, Stuart went back and listened to the five-year-old pilot. He didn't like it. Worse than that. He hated it. He thought it sounded coy. He didn't like the conceit that he was a guy who owned the record store. And that, right then and there, is when Stewart invented the character Dave. Dave became Stewart. Or Stewart became Dave. And the Vinyl Cafe became a show about a guy named Dave.

The show debuted on CBC Radio in the summer of 1994. Thirteen episodes. Monday nights. 10 p.m. Which, I can tell you, is not exactly prime time for radio. In that first season, Dave was in the stories, but he wasn't the major character. He was one of many characters.

And he didn't have a family. He was flying solo many characters. And he didn't have a family. He was flying solo. Until episode 10, when Stuart told a story about a skunk living under Dave's porch. Suddenly, Dave, who had only ever existed in his record store, had a porch. And Stuart figured, if he had a porch, he probably had a house. And if he had a house, he probably had a house. And if he had a house, he probably had a family. And that's when Sam and Stephanie and Dave's wife, Elizabeth, came to life. Elizabeth. That was her original name.

She wasn't named Morley in the first drafts of the story. She was Elizabeth. Here's what happened. Stuart got the idea of putting the skunk under Dave's porch from a friend of his. The friend had a skunk under his house, and he told Stuart all about it, and it was a great story. It was such a great story that Stuart asked his friend if he could appropriate it, if he could make it a story about Dave, and if he could use that story on his radio show. The friend was delighted. Absolutely, he said. By coincidence, the friend's name happened to be Dave or David. And Stuart wanted to thank his friend David for letting him use the skunk story.

David. And Stuart wanted to thank his friend David for letting him use the skunk story. He used to do this all the time. He'd give a little private shout out to someone for helping them out with details in a story. So he decided to name one of the characters after David. But of course, he already had a Dave, Record Store Dave. So Stewart decided that he'd name record store Dave's newly minted wife after his real friend David's wife. And her name is Elizabeth. So that's what he did. He wrote the story about the skunk. And when he introduced Dave's new wife, he called her Elizabeth. He wrote the story and he went into studio ready to record. And that would have been that. Except he hit a roadblock. Stuart and Vinyl Cafe founding producer David Amer were halfway through recording the show, halfway through the skunk story, when all of a sudden David Amer had a little freak out.

Stuart got to the part where he introduced Dave's wife, Elizabeth, and David Amer came in over the headphones and said, you can't name Dave's wife, Elizabeth. All right. Let me pause here for a second, because I realize we have a lot going on here. Let's pause and review. Okay, you ready? You taking notes? Here's what we have. We have Dave number one, the fictional Dave who owns the records store. We have Dave number two, founding producer of the show, David Amer, the guy who, for some reason, just freaked out because he had a problem with the name Elizabeth. And we have Dave number three, Stuart's friend, David, who gave him the story of the skunk. You got it? You good? All right. So Stewart and founding producer David Amer were in studio and David Amer blurts out, you cannot name his wife Elizabeth.

Why not, said Stewart? Because, said David Amer, all my friends think that I am Dave from the record store and my ex-wife's name is Elizabeth. They'll never believe me when I tell them I am not record store Dave, if you name her that. But you are Dave, Stewart said. Not that Dave, said David Amer. They were in studio and the clock was ticking and they were running out of time and Stewart tried to explain to Dave number two, radio producer Dave, that he'd chosen the name Elizabeth because he wanted to send a secret thank you to Dave number three, his friend Dave, who'd given him the story whose wife was named Elizabeth. No, said Dave, for the second time. No, no, no, no, no. We are not using the name Elizabeth. Well, they hemmed and they hawed and they argued for, I don't know, 15 minutes.

And finally, Stuart said he would phone his friend David and ask him his wife Elizabeth's middle name or her mother's name or something. Anything. He was desperate. He phoned. There was no answer. He waited 10 minutes. He was desperate. He phoned. There was no answer. He waited 10 minutes. He called again. This was before texting, before cell phones, before email. And that's when David number two, radio producer Dave, said, well, what's your friend's last name? And Stewart said, Morley.

His name is David Morley. And David Amer said, well, then call her Morley. David Morley. And David Amer said, well, then call her Morley. And that is how Morley got her name from an exasperated, but always creative David Amer. Of course, he didn't know the name was going to be important. It wasn't important at the time. All he wanted was to get on with the show. All he wanted, and Lord, I feel his pain, was to get Stewart going again and get on with things and move on with the show. Like I said, that was the 10th episode of the Vinyl Cafe. And at the time, they didn't imagine that Dave number one's wife and kids would become front and center of the Vinyl Cafe. And at the time, they didn't imagine that Dave number one's wife and kids would become front and center of the show the way they have. They didn't imagine that Stuart would be writing about them 20 years later, or that I'd be sitting here today, 30 years later,

telling you this story. Remember, at the time, this was just a little summer replacement show. No one was listening. It was on Monday nights at 10pm. What's cool is this. If they had imagined what was to come, they might have spent more time wondering about those names. They might have wondered if Morley was the right name. And I am so glad they didn't. I cannot imagine Morley being called anything but Morley. She feels like a Morley. She is Morley. And you know what? There are a number of little girls in Canada and the United States who've been named Morley after her. the story that necessitated Morley's existence, and Sam and Stephanie's existence, too. Today on Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe, it's their creation story. And we're going to talk to Elizabeth and David Morley, the friends who told the skunk story to Stuart all those years ago.

All that and more after this short break. Stick with me, will you? Welcome back. All right, here it is. The story that led Stuart to create Dave's family. This is a story that was written 30 years ago now, during the very first season of The Vinyl Cafe. Originally, it was recorded late at night in studio at CBC in the Broadcast Center. Back in those early years, Stuart didn't perform the show in front of a live audience. The theater thing came years later. But we re-recorded this story in St. John's, Newfoundland back in 2013. We were celebrating 20 years of the Vinyl Café, and we recorded this story to celebrate. I hope you enjoy it.

This is one from the vaults. This is Skunks. It was 4.30 in the morning, and Dave was having a nightmare about something that smelled bad. Something that smelled bad enough to wake him up. He sat up in bed, and to his his surprise the smell was still there. It smelled like skunk. In fact it smelled like the skunk was in bed with him.

Looked at his wife suspiciously. Then he got out of bed and he walked around the house. Checked the doors and the windows. They were all closed. Went back to sleep telling himself that the smell would be gone by morning. It wasn't. He was awakened three hours later by his seven-year-old son, Sam. Sam was standing by the bed poking him.

There's a skunk in the house, said Sam. It smells disgusting. Dave pulled on a pair of sweatpants and went downstairs. The dog wouldn't go with him. A bad sign. He walked around the house again. On the second pass, he found a hole leading under his back porch. This will pass, he said to himself.

The odor was still hovering when he came home that evening. It was almost visible like a haze. I can't stand it, said Sam at dinner. I think I'm going to barf. It'll go away, said Dave. But he said it without conviction. Next morning when he got up, he thought the smell wasn't quite as bad. It's not as bad, is it, he said to his wife, Morley.

I think it's going. Why would a skunk want to live with us, asked Morley. Dave didn't answer. They both knew that the skunk had moved in. Next morning, the skunk sprayed just before Dave left for work. Dave took off his jacket and picked up the yellow pages. Exterminators came right after expropriation consultants and just before extinguishers. and just before extinguishers.

First two companies he spoke to offered reassurance, but no action. Skunks eat mice and rats, said the man. Why would you want to get rid of it? They're afraid of owls, said the woman at the second company. Buy one of those plastic owls. It'll be gone in no time. It works, really. Dave had to take the plastic owl down on Thursday. It was attracting seagulls. The skunk was still spraying. Went back to the yellow pages and studied the ads more carefully. He was able to group the exterminators into two categories. First category had names like Rent-O-Kill and Shure-Kill.

Their ads promised they would send operators who were bonded and shured and fully trained. They also promised to send them in unmarked cars. Dave had a vision of men in radiation suits moving around his backyard with flamethrowers. The friendlier group called themselves things like critter-ritters. This group used the word humane a lot in their ads. These were the companies that fit Dave's image of himself. Faced with seven pages of ads, Dave had to base his choice on the quality of the artwork. It was a lesson in phone book iconography. Settled on a company with a half-page picture of a grinning skunk bursting through a

suburban roof. Dave figured the big ad was a measure of the company's prosperity and therefore their reliability. He knew it was a tenuous assumption, but what else could he go on? We'll send Eric, said the woman on the phone. Eric is our skunk man. Eric came just before lunch. We've got to get rid of this one, said Eric, shuffling from one foot to the other. The reason she's spraying is, well,

she's trying to attract a mate. She has babies down there. Eric didn't finish the sentence. Eric was shaking his head back and forth. No doubt about it, Eric looked concerned. Dave didn't stop to wonder how Eric knew his skunk was a female. He was too horrified by the notion of a family of skunks living under his kitchen to ask. He was ready to do anything that Eric suggested. Thought maybe Eric would put a hose down the hole. But Eric was no fool. He wasn't going to greet a wet skunk in Dave's backyard. Instead of a hose, he handed Dave

a have-a-heart trap. Explained how it worked. $500 for a loan of the trap. Dave could keep it until the skunk was caught, and when it was, Dave should call. For $100, Eric could come and take the skunk away. Seemed like a lot of money, but Dave was desperate. I'll release her in the country, said Eric. Dave didn't believe the part about the country. He suspected Eric would release the skunk as soon as he was out of sight. Wonder what it would cost to get him to release it in Mary Turlington's yard. But he didn't ask. He was happy to live with the lie about the country. When he came home that night.

The trap was full. Dave had caught Jim Schofield's cat Molly. How much did you pay for the trap? Asked his wife. Well, I'm not sure, said Dave. The skunk sprayed again that night. The smell settled in the house like an unwanted relative. Tuesday, Dave came home and found he had caught a squirrel.

While he was standing there in his yard looking at the caged squirrel, Morley phoned Eric. No problem, said Eric. I'll come over and pick her up. I'll release her in the country. $100. Morley said Dave would release the squirrel. He wanted $100, said Morley. Did you know that? You were here when he came, right? These were more statements of fact than questions.

You let him do this? Dave played dumb. It was a poor defense, but it was the best he could do. Eric arrived on Wednesday morning unannounced and suggested they move the trap. We'll put it right over the hole so the skunk has nowhere else to go, he said. Wednesday night, the skunk dug a new exit and sprayed twice. Dave wasn't feeling so humane anymore Dave was feeling humiliated walking out the front door in the morning the fresh air hit him the way humidity hits you in the summer when you walk out of an air-conditioned room after he had walked 10 blocks gulping the fresh air like a thirsty man, Dave could still smell the lingering odor of skunk. He wanted to call the men with the flamethrowers and the radiation suits.

Morley said, let's wait a few more days. On Friday, someone at the store suggested Dave call the Humane Society. Never occurred to him. He got a recording. A woman's voice. Thank you for calling the information line for skunks on your property. If you spot a skunk on your property, gather the following equipment and supplies. A spotlight, not a flashlight, which is not bright enough.

A portable radio. A rag soaked in ammonia or mothballs or cayenne pepper, a plastic grocery bag with holes poked in it, a ladder, masking tape, a newspaper, and a broom handle. The Humane Society wanted Dave to lower the spotlight, the radio, and the ammonia-soaked rag into the skunk hole. The radio, they noted, should be turned on and tuned to a talk station. Not music. Skunks hate talk radio. CBC, thought Dave. After he had lowered the radio, the rag, and the spotlight into the hole,

Dave was supposed to tape a single sheet of newspaper over it. If the skunk wanted in or out, she could break through the paper. If she did break through, Dave was supposed to cover the hole again. If 48 hours passed without the paper ripping, he could assume the skunk had gone. Then he was supposed to deodorize the hole, fill it in, and seal it. The Humane Society didn't explain how to deodorize a skunk hole. Dave bought the supplies before he got home. His attack seemed to incite the skunk to new levels of olfactory offense.

For three mornings, he carefully replaced the newspaper that the skunk had indignantly broken through. On the fourth morning, the paper was intact, but the odor hanging in the kitchen was just as noxious. At supper, Dave found the skunk had dug a new back door, and the milk of human kindness left him. If he could have got his hands on the skunk, he would have skinned her and nailed the pelt to his front porch. And so Dave pulled up the radio and changed the station. This time, on Morley's advice, he tuned it to the all-sports channel. He bought a mister, and rabies be damned,

he shoved his arm down the skunk hole and sprayed it with ammonia as far as he could reach. Then he emptied a can of red pepper down the hole. He was looking for something that smelled worse than a skunk. Dave says he thinks the skunk left two days later. Morley says it was the radio. She says even a skunk can't listen to those guys for more than 48 hours. Dave says every time it rains, they still smell her.

But he's sure the odor is failing. Still has Eric's trap, has it on the counter at the store. Dave says if he can't sell the trap, he'll lend it to anyone who wants it. He says it'll only take a minute to teach them how to set and bait it. Says he figures Eric knows better than to try and come and pick it up. Thank you. Thank you. That was the story we call Skunks.

Stuart wrote that story way back in 1994, the very first season of The Vinyl Cafe. And joining me now in studio are the people who told that story to Stuart, Elizabeth and David Morley. Welcome to the show. Thank you. Thank you. So David Morley, that name, when you say your name,

do people ever do double takes? What's that like? It's great, I must say, because it gives me a chance to remember Stuart. I've had at airport security, they look at the boarding pass, and I've had airport security people going, have you ever heard of the Vinyl Cafe? And they get so excited when I tell them that Stuart was a friend. They don't even check my stuff.

I've just gone through airport security just on the strength of Vinyl Cafe. So many, yeah, many, many people. And it's something that has been an incredible, incredible gift that Stuart gave to us. That's nice. Elizabeth, I feel like you kind of got ripped off. Like Marley was supposed to. You got like you. She was supposed to be.

It was supposed to be your name. How does that. Do you feel ripped off by that? Everything about this has been a surprise. So I had no expectation of ever being involved in something as closely as we have been because Stuart chose the name Morley. So I was never disappointed. It was always an honor. The story is so wonderful. I feel as if, what if we had answered the phone? Something might have been very, very different. And I don't know if you know, but we were on holiday in Halifax when Stuart was trying to call us on our landline in Toronto.

So we were very far from being able to answer the phone. So we only learned about it when we listened to that show. We had rented a family van, a Windstar. We were on holidays. We were driving. David said, the Stuart show about the skunks is going to be on. We listened to it, and we heard that Marley was on it. That's when you first.

We had no idea. Oh, my gosh. So you can imagine that I have no regrets. Wow. I feel like it's been, from that moment, it's just been an honor to be involved. So what did that feel like? When you heard Morley's name, people at home can't see you, but you guys just had a look on your face. I don't know how to describe it, but here we are 30 years later, and you're still like, whoo.

So what did it feel like? It is exactly 30, because, of course, we remember we had an 8-year-old and a 10-year-old in the backseat of this big, for us, rental vehicle. We looked at each other. We heard the word morally. We looked back at the kids. The kids have their hands up. They're cheering like this. They're just overwhelmed, all of us.

hands up, they're cheering like this. They're just overwhelmed. All of us. If there had been a video of that moment, it was four startled people who maintain that surprised element even to today. And this gift that Stuart gave us was, I don't know, beyond words, beyond words. And some, we've had people bring us a pile of seven books and say, would you sign these? Oh, my God. Oh, no, we didn't. Oh, we have no part in this. We didn't write this at all. No, no.

I just want your signature in the book. That's so interesting. So because of this connection, there are people in your life or people that you met who felt a little bit like you were Morley. Did you ever feel that way, Elizabeth? Did you feel a connection to Morley because she was named after you? I love Morley. I do too. There were some days, maybe you have days like this, where I can't be the best Elizabeth Morley that I would love to be every day. But in the back of my mind, there was always a file that could open and say, but I am Morley of the Vinyl Cafe.

And she's a good woman. She's a great mom. And she loves to skate. And she loves Christmas lights in the darkness. Am I that person? Maybe I can be that person sometime. So I always had a kind of aspirational gratefulness. Well, and the understanding that I think we all can be that person, right?

Like you had that connection to her, so you maybe could get to that place. But I think that's what people like about the show. I think that they are aspirational characters. And, of course, they bumble and they make mistakes, but their heart is almost always in the right place. I say about Morley, I often think, I wish I could be the kind of mom that she is. She's just a fantastic mother. And her reaction to her kids,

one of my favorite stories is, it's an old story as well, I can't even remember, it's Morley's 40th birthday party. That happened. Oh my goodness. That one happened too? That happened. It did not.

There are only two stories. I didn't even know that. Did you? No. Oh my goodness. Yeah. That came from you guys as well? Word for word.

Except, well, but Stuart made it better. He changed the ending to Beep and Finder as Stuart Boyd. But yes, can I talk about that? Of course, go for word. Except, well, but Stuart made it better. He changed the ending to be even kinder as Stuart Boyle. But, yes, can I talk about that? Yeah, of course. Go for it. So Morley's 40th birthday, but I want to hear what part of it you remember so well about Morley. But I was hosting, and we had hired a caterer, and we had hired a gentleman who was going to be waitstaff and I was in our kitchen and the phone rang and I was starting to worry that

the food wasn't there yet and the phone rang and unknown voice on the end said are you Elizabeth Morley yes and he said he said, where are you? And I said, I'm in my kitchen. And he said, no, no, no, no. I'm in your kitchen. And I said, ours is a small kitchen. And I would know if you were here. And he said, well, it was really, really messy when I got here. And I have tidied the entire kitchen. And I said, tell me where you are. He said, well, I don't know the number, but I was dropped off here by the caterer, and the renovators were just leaving. So they let me in.

I told them that I was working for a party, a dinner here, and a seasonal dinner. And I really have to get things warmed up. So I've got all the warming trays up. I've got chicken cacciatore here. I've got vegetarian lasagna there. They're all heating. I've cleaned the entire kitchen. And you're not here.

We sorted out. We're at 55. He was at perhaps 5. Guests were arriving by this time. They were coming in the front door. I had no food. And so I said to him, do you know how to drive? And he said, well, I do.

I said, I'm going to bring our car down to you. It's a station wagon. You can slide all the warming trays into the car. I'll come back up to the party. Don't you worry. And we'll bring it all in the back door and we'll just set it out. All will be well. All of this sounds just like the story.

That is the whole story. And I was riding home on my bike. No, even that part. Even that part. Dave, Dave, go away. I saw this guy in a tuxedo. I thought he was stealing our car. I had no idea.

Okay, so for those of you listening who don't know the story we're talking about, it is called Morley's 40th Birthday Bash. And you can go back and listen to the, we've played it on the podcast. So I can't remember it offhand, which one it is, but go to our social media

and I'll remind you which episode it's in. But it's almost word for word so now we know you are morally and like in this situation you actually are dave i cannot i have no idea so my favorite the reason i brought this story up is the and i do love the ending of that story which is slightly yeah so so beautiful and um there's a part where sam um tells mom, you know, because he's been hanging out with the big kids and he says, he fesses up. He says, I tried smoking. Do you, you know, and her reaction is just fantastic, right? Like in that heated moment with my own children, I'd have to work pretty hard to not say what, you know? And as you said, like, if I'm the

best Jess Milton, I wouldn't do that. But there's lots of times when I'm not the best Jess Milton, when there's, you know, they're both fighting and I'm making dinner and like, I have to check my email. So, but Marley is so wonderful in that moment. She looks at her son and she says, do you think you can quit? Which is like, oh, my God. Like her reaction to things is just, I know it sounds silly, but I often think of her when I'm parenting my own children. That parenting from a place of curiosity and with patience and with love, right? Like that reaction in the moment to not scold and to not shame and to not try to solve it.

Like she answered with a question. She answered with curiosity. She allowed him to, you know, she didn't say, oh, it's okay, sweetie. You know, she allowed him to figure that out on his own. She's certainly aspirational. Aspirational. And the way we're talking about her right now, it's hard to remember that she's fictional.

Yeah. And that fiction came from Stuart. Yeah. So it's such a strong connection. And he created someone who's real enough that we can sit here and talk about her as if we know her. Yeah.

And wouldn't it be wonderful if we could? Yeah. Well, we kind of do, though, right? Yes, you would. That's the cool thing about these characters is they existed for so long that i do feel like we get we got to know them meg masters was sitting in the chair that you're sitting in a while back and i was talking to her and we were we were remembering how um how real the characters felt to us when stewart was creating the stories and you know megan stewart have these deep conversations

and they work on it and then sometimes meg and I would have like side conversations and we'd be like, oh, well, Morley would never do that. Right. And we're talking about her like she's like our aunt or something or like our kid, you know, that's not Morley. Like, how could he ever suggest that? That's crazy. It did feel like we knew them.

So what was speaking of knowing people, what was you? You knew Stewart longer than me. I didn't meet him until 2002, I guess. What was he like back in those days? So Stuart, I met Stuart through playing hockey. We had a very gentle, as you can imagine, a gentle hockey game in our local arena where we would actually play. I'm almost embarrassed to say, but we would play with a foam puck.

No. So that we wouldn't hurt each other. We'd take shots. And Stuart, so it's interesting how you start to become friends with people, right? Because, so we met that way playing hockey. We liked the way we played. He would, we were both competitive, but we knew the scouts weren't watching. And then we started talking, kids who were similar ages, and we make the dressing room laugh.

Laugh. Just he'd tell a story. He'd bounce ideas. He wasn't afraid to bounce ideas. He was doing Morningside at the time. So open with his ideas, eh? So open. Like I've worked with other creatives who are so guarded about their ideas.

Stuart was the opposite. Like he was always happy and loved feedback. Like loved it. And I loved his curiosity, you know. He would, was just always asking questions. What about this? What about that? And it is that curiosity and his intelligence and his kindness all came together to make him a brilliant journalist before he became a brilliant storyteller. He would almost collect bits of information the same way, you know, maybe the same way you collect ingredients for a recipe.

maybe the same way you collect ingredients for a recipe. And you might not even be able to taste the flavor of the cumin or the turmeric, but it's all in there mixing together to make something that you can taste, right? So it's almost like you had a file folder. It wouldn't be a file folder with Stuart. It would have been piles of paper. But there would have been piles of paper there where it's, you know, he had that information somewhere in the somewhere in his brain. And and it mixes with a little bit of magic and it comes with a whole other story. All right. Before I let you go, I have to ask, what about the skunk at your place? What happened?

Well, the skunk finally did disappear and it's never come back. So we're very happy about that. But actually, this is incredible, Jess. Just last night, a neighbor up the street from us was saying to us, if you ever need that critter trap back again.

The same one? The very same one. You still have the same critter trap? It's still doing the rounds at the neighborhood. And I don't know how many more neighbor's cats it's managed to catch, but it's still there. And I love that it's there because it's there as a physical, tangible reminder. Well, thank you so much for being here.

And I really do feel a little bit like I can feel your influence in Stuart's story. So thank you for sharing your life with him and allowing me to share these stories with everyone listening. Thank you for asking us. Yeah, thank you very much, Jess. We have to take a short break, but we will be back.

So stay with me. Well, that's it for today. But we'll be back here next week with two David Morley stories, including this one. It's one I love to listen to at this time of year when I'm starting to think about warmer days ahead. But it's not the grapevine that holds the place of honor in Eugene's garden. Not in Eugene's mind. that holds the place of honor in Eugene's garden, not in Eugene's mind. Halfway down the yard,

halfway between the garage and the back door within easy spitting distance of his chair under the grape arbor is Eugene's pride and joy, his fig tree. His fig tree, which is easily 30 feet high and produces real figs right in the middle of the city, figs that are soft and green and pulpy and sweet. Imagine for a moment that you're Dave. Imagine you could look out your kitchen window and watch him standing on a ladder picking fresh figs out your window. It's a miracle. Imagine standing in your backyard on a Saturday in August with a buzz of

the cicada filling your head. And imagine Eugene calling you over. In Italian, probably, Eugene's English is still, after 50 years, rudimentary. But if he saw you, he'd call you over. Even if he didn't know you, he'd call for sure. Because there is nothing, nothing in the world that makes Eugene happier than to have someone come into his backyard and pick a fig from his tree and eat it while it's still warm. He turned 89 years old in November. It's the fig tree that keeps him alive. Eugene's fig tree is the best-known tree in the neighborhood. Everyone knows about the tree. Everyone knows that Eugene grew it from a cutting that he brought from his father's farm in Calabria, wrapped in a piece of linen and hidden at the bottom of his trunk. And everyone knows that every October, before the first frost, Eugene digs a

trench in his backyard three feet deep and three feet wide and 30 feet long. And when he's finished digging the hole, he carefully bends the branches of the tree close to the trunk and ties them in place. And then he digs around the roots until they're loose and free of the earth. And then he pushes the tree over and lowers it into the trench with ropes. The leafless, bound tree looks like a skeleton lying in the hole. The root ball looks like a giant head. Eugene, like a grieving relative, as he covers it first with planks and then with warm earth, he buries the tree. That's next week on the podcast.

I hope you'll join us. Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe is part of the Apostrophe Podcast Network. The recording engineer is someone who loves talk radio, Greg Duclute. Theme music is by Danny Michelle, and the show is produced by Louise Curtis, Greg DeClewt, and me, Jess Milton. Let's meet again next week. Until then, so long for now.