No. 168 – Wash

Performer: Pearl Jam

Songwriters: Jeff Ament, Stone Gossard, Dave Krusen, Mike McCready, Eddie Vedder

Original Release: Alive single

Year: 1992

Definitive Version: The original version.

I heard Wash before I heard it for the first time. Allow me to explain.

When I saw Pearl Jam in Louisville in March 1994, they played Wash. If you look up the setlist from that show, you’ll find that Wash isn’t listed. However, in the diary I kept at the time, I wrote down the setlist … the night of the concert.

Wash is listed as the seventh song, and I know it was Wash, because I knew Pearl Jam had a song called Wash, I recognized the song as one I’d never heard before, and EV must have said the word “wash” a thousand times during the song. Case closed.

In the summer of 1994, I was at The Dispatch, and, as I mentioned, one Saturday at lunch, I hiked to Vets Memorial for a CD/record convention where one guy had just what I sought—a Pearl Jam bootleg that collected all the studio versions of songs that Pearl jam had recorded but hadn’t released on an album.

Wash was the lead-off track, and—having brought along my Discman for the occasion—I listened to it on my hike back to work. I loved it right away, and although it sure sounded like the song I heard in Louisville a few months before, I couldn’t swear to it. Maybe I misheard what I thought I heard, but I’ll go to my grave believing I heard Wash that night … before I actually heard it.

Working Saturdays at The Dispatch wasn’t all bad. In addition to having Monday as a trade-off, I didn’t have to get up too early, and I was done by dinner time, so I’d have the whole evening off.

My work hours were pretty loose. As long as the Sunday pages went out on time and the Monday pages were complete for the Sunday shift, I could come and go as I pleased. That meant I typically rolled in about 10, worked till the Sunday pages went out, took a big lunch and then worked till Monday was done, usually around 5—4 if I were motivated.

I typically varied what I did at lunchtime. If there were a card show at Vets, I’d go there. During the Ribs and Jazz Fest, I went down to the river and hiked around, listening to the music and sampling the various offerings. Sometimes, I’d hike over to City Center and just do some shopping.

Most of the time, my lunch didn’t involve eating, because my morning ritual consisted of parking at City Center, ordering a Cinnabon and wolfing that down for breakfast. After 5,000 calories, lunch became less of a priority. If I needed a tide-me-over, I’d just head a block away to the McDonald’s and grab a Filet-o-Fish.

One of the last times I went to that McDonald’s, I had a bit of an incident with a beggar on the street.

Let me preface this by saying that, I suppose, like most people, I’ve passed along some loose change and bills to street beggars. Soon after I started at The Dispatch, one guy accosted me on the street and told an elaborate story about how he was traveling with his wife and kids and his car ran out of the gas on the highway, and he needed money for gas. That could happen, right? This idealist wasn’t having a bad day. I didn’t have much, but I gave him a five.

A week later, he approached me again, telling me the same story. OK, so I’d been had. He got nothing from me this time. Over the years, other people approached me, telling a similar story. They never got anything either.

However, I remained a sucker for someone begging, because they were hungry and wanted food. When I went to visit Jin in L.A. in 1996, she let me in on a little strategy for that. She said she carried meal tokens good for a meal at a local food pantry. Her philosophy: If the beggars are telling the truth, they’ll be happy to take the token. If not, well, they didn’t get any of her dough.

I liked that, but Columbus didn’t have a similar setup. That didn’t mean I couldn’t do the same thing in practice. When I drove to the All-Star Game in Cleveland in 1997, I stopped for lunch at a McDonald’s. I went in the side door to go to the bathroom first. A disheveled young-looking dude sitting on the curb asked for money for food. I told him I had to go to the bathroom but wait right there.

When I was finished, I opened the door and asked him what he wanted. Looking genuinely surprised, he said a burger and fries. I ordered for the both of us and handed him the bag with a Coke. He seemed very appreciative and was polishing off his meal as I drove off.

Anyway, back in Columbus, one day as I walked the one block to the McDonald’s, I was accosted on the street by a beggar who explained he was a Vietnam vet who was hungry. He wanted $20 for some food.

The problem this time: I instantly recognized him as the same guy who hit me up for gas money years before. His bad orthodontia was distinctive. So I decided to play a little game with him—I’d take him at his word.

No problem, I said, I was going to McDonald’s. Come with me, and I’ll buy you whatever you want. He looked a bit pained. No, no, he explained helpfully, I don’t like McDonald’s. Ah, so beggars CAN be choosers after all.

I didn’t say that, but I heard his story before I’d heard it, and I wasn’t going to give him any money. I said I couldn’t help him, and he walked away, using the n-word as in, “sorry this n-word interrupted your day” with disgust. Well, that was the end of me giving anyone on the street anything, at least in Columbus.

A few weeks ago, Laurie and I were in Columbus—a first for me since before the start of this here blog. It was fine being home again, even though it wasn’t my home any more. While hiking back to our hotel, a man approached us in front of the Convention Center, and, no … that can’t be the same beggar from more than 15 years before, can it?

I half expected him to say he was an Iraq vet who had run out of gas with his hungry family on the highway, but he said nothing more than “hello” as he passed us by … with a missing-tooth smile. It WAS him … or his twin.

I wonder whether he recognized me as the guy who tried to buy him nasty McDonald’s that one time. I doubt it, but it was like being in a time warp. You CAN go home again.