"Alexan-DOR!"
If Alexander Peterson had a nickel for every time 48 Broad patriarch Frank Roggebusch addressed him that way, he could have bought the finest electric bass guitar money could buy. In May of 1986, when 48 Broad takes place, Alexander was approaching the end of eighth grade, and accordingly the end of a life chapter, as that fall he'd be a freshman at the fortress-like high school three blocks down Jacksonville Road. At this point he'd already been playing bass for a couple years. He practiced in the music room on the first floor when no one else was using it.
On the surface, Alexander seemed a lot like his stepbrother Jonathan Roggebusch. Jonathan soaked up the heavy metal. He had a Mötley Crüe bumper sticker on his bedroom wall. He blasted it in his room, and could often be seen decked out in some black heavy metal-themed T-shirt or other. Alexander also liked the metal. If anything, he played the part more. He grew his dark hair down his back like just about every metal rocker you came across in the eighties. He also wore the shirts. And blasted it in his room, although not as often as Jonathan did. That's the beginning of where their personalities forked. Indeed, the truth is, Alexander was nothing like Jonathan. No one was like Jonathan, for the matter of that. And no one was like Alexander.
If Alexander Peterson had a nickel for every time 48 Broad patriarch Frank Roggebusch addressed him that way, he could have bought the finest electric bass guitar money could buy. In May of 1986, when 48 Broad takes place, Alexander was approaching the end of eighth grade, and accordingly the end of a life chapter, as that fall he'd be a freshman at the fortress-like high school three blocks down Jacksonville Road. At this point he'd already been playing bass for a couple years. He practiced in the music room on the first floor when no one else was using it.
On the surface, Alexander seemed a lot like his stepbrother Jonathan Roggebusch. Jonathan soaked up the heavy metal. He had a Mötley Crüe bumper sticker on his bedroom wall. He blasted it in his room, and could often be seen decked out in some black heavy metal-themed T-shirt or other. Alexander also liked the metal. If anything, he played the part more. He grew his dark hair down his back like just about every metal rocker you came across in the eighties. He also wore the shirts. And blasted it in his room, although not as often as Jonathan did. That's the beginning of where their personalities forked. Indeed, the truth is, Alexander was nothing like Jonathan. No one was like Jonathan, for the matter of that. And no one was like Alexander.
If you've read the post on John, you already know a bit about Alexander's past, as he was John's only biological sibling at 48 Broad. Alexander's two years older, born in 1972. And whereas John took on a lot of the physical and psychological traits of his father Ford (e.g. the coffee), Alexander was very much Faith's son, both in look and personality: The black hair, the stoicism, the laconic speech. Since he didn't have Faith's tortured past, however, Alexander didn't carry all that mental baggage. Quite the contrary. The first ten or so years of Alexander's life were relatively drama free. Indeed, of all the kids at 48 Broad, he was the one who got to experience a nuclear family the longest. The rest of the kids were barely in elementary school, if that, when their homes broke. The one trait Alexander didn't inherit from Faith was her high-strung nature. No, that went to John. Alexander was fairly laid back. Indeed, he was the calmest person at 48 Broad.
The Petersons were living in Boulder when Alexander felt the first tickle of musical interest. As I said in Faith's post, because Ford didn't want her competing with him in math, she went back to school to get her degree in music (this after getting a BS and MS in math). When she saw Alexander starting to listen in whenever she played the piano, usually when Ford wasn't around, she indulged his budding interest. She'd set him on her lap and place his little handsies on top of hers. They'd start simple. A few chords. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and the like. And then they'd tackle "Chopsticks." This would tickle Alexander to death every single time. Seriously, the little bespectacled squirt never tired of "Chopsticks." And then Faith would impress the hell out of him with her Bach and Beethoven. His hands would fall from hers and he'd just sit there open-mouthed and soak up both the sight of her hands bouncing along the keys and the sounds they produced.
Alexander didn't need much encouraging to try his hand--or rather, hands--at piano lessons. Only trouble was, he decided he didn't like it after the first lesson, but part and parcel with the stoicism he inherited from Faith came a boatload of patience. Faith knew he hated it. His poor practice habits betrayed him. And yet he kept going. Finally she forced him to admit it over breakfast one Sunday morning while Ford and John were outside throwing the football. As if to compensate for being stoic about it for a solid year, Alexander broke down and cried. Faith tried not to smile, but it was tough. Alexander was so darned cute when he cried.
Alexander didn't go straight from piano to bass. The whole bass thing took a while. At first he wasn't sure what he wanted to play. All he knew was that his mom told him just because he'd given up piano didn't mean he'd never play the same songs she did. You could play "Twinkle Twinkle Littler Star" on a guitar. Or a trumpet. Or a sax. You name it. Alexander asked, "Well, what should I play?" Faith was reluctant to point him in any specific direction, a very conscious decision based on her determination to be diametrically opposed to her dictator father. Let Alexander discover his passion on his own.
His next attempt was the organ. Yes I know it's similar to the piano. Alexander was just quirky that way. At least he was devoted, though. On Sundays he'd go with Faith to the church where she played so he could observe and study. Faith knew this would go nowhere, but she humored him. She plopped him right there in the front pew near the organ. Alexander may have only been five ("Almost six!" he'd say. "And after that, seven!"), but he knew the organ was like the piano. The sound of it was so much different, though. Just listen to it. Still, it didn't take.
Alexander tried guitar, drums, trumpet, flute, clarinet. You name it. By the time he was experimenting with the ukulele, he was ten, and his parents had decided to get a divorce. Ford was relocating to the San Fernando Valley for a new job at some aerospace firm. Faith informed her kids that they'd be moving with her to New Jersey.
Alexander tried guitar, drums, trumpet, flute, clarinet. You name it. By the time he was experimenting with the ukulele, he was ten, and his parents had decided to get a divorce. Ford was relocating to the San Fernando Valley for a new job at some aerospace firm. Faith informed her kids that they'd be moving with her to New Jersey.
Alexander never forgot the day, the very hour, Faith broke the news to him and John. Like so many other childhood memories, it happened at the mall. Faith let her boys get their arcade ya-yas out before taking them to the food court. John got his usual pepperoni pizza while Alexander opted for the usual fish sticks. Faith, who usually got a salad, instead just got a Diet Coke. And with that, Alexander knew this wasn't going to be the usual post-arcade lunch. The sadness in her eyes didn't help either. She looked at them for a long time. It was probably just a minute or so in real life, but in Alexander's memory it would always seem like an hour. Faith never used the word divorce. She said she and their father had decided not to live together anymore. They had reached a stage in their lives where it was best to live separately. This didn't happen only to them. Many moms and dads reached this stage, and it didn't mean they'd stop being John and Alexander's mom and dad, even if they did go off and marry other people. This led her to the subject of New Jersey. John cried. Alexander's inherited stoicism and mathematical mind allowed him to handle the news quite well.
Alexander remembered the drive home from the mall quite clearly as well. Faith tried to wow her boys with details of this supposedly huge new house they'd be living in. He remembered her specifically calling it a castle and that it had umpteen stairs to the second floor, and another umpteen to the third floor. It had wooden floors. A huge cavernous basement. In short order Alexander would discover a lot of this was gross hyperbole, but he never called her on it. He couldn't begrudge his mother trying to rally her kids.
The mall trip took place the first week of January 1983. When Alexander and John said their good-byes to their father two weeks later, John was pretty upbeat. He'd had a lot of time to process it all. He'd still see his father every summer and maybe at Christmas sometimes as well. And in Los Angeles! He gave his father a warm farewell-but-not-good-bye hug. When Ford turned to his other boy, Alexander simply shook his hand and said good-bye without betraying the well of emotion swirling inside. Faith knew exactly what was going on inside him.
On the first day of their road trip from Colorado to New Jersey in Faith's VW Rabbit, sometime after they'd stopped at McDonald's for lunch, Alexander broke down and cried. Faith was ready for it. And so was John. He leaned over and gave his big brother a big hug. When Alexander recovered, he started talking about musical instruments he was interested in trying.
Faith and her two boys arrived at 48 Broad on Saturday, January 30, 1983. They were the first ones there. Frank and his brood would arrive from Kensington, Maryland the following day. The kids had a ball exploring the house. When they reached the back room and John hopped on the freezer chest (inherited from the Safts) and asked what it was for, Alexander calmly explained that it was the same as a regular freezer, only you can fit more ice cream in it.
After Faith ordered pizza from Sal's, soon to be a 48 Broad staple, the boys frolicked across the first and second floors, stopping cold at the foot of the stairs leading to the third floor. John chickened out and went back to re-exploring the first two floors. Alexander, however, remained rooted to the spot and stared up into the darkness for some time. When Faith called up that the pizza had arrived, Alexander heard something above. What was it? He listened another few moments but heard nothing.
When the Roggebusches arrived the next day, Daniel, one of Frank's adopted sons and one of the oldest of this entire motley brood, cried when he saw all the work that needed to be done to fix up the house. Alexander could see in no time that Daniel was a high-strung guy, his supposed age and wisdom notwithstanding. He was like an older version of John. That night, before Super Bowl XVII started, they all had Burger King in the pool room on a bunch of foldout card tables George Taylor brought over. Alexander sat at the same table as Daniel and impressed himself with his ability to talk Daniel into not worrying so much about the sorry state of the house. A month from now it'd be fixed up. And look at how awesome it would be. Look at all the space. This brightened up Daniel in no time. Also at Alexander and Daniel's table was Frank. As he was wont to do whenever he had an audience, Frank regaled the boys with tales of his high school and college days playing piano for a jazz band in nightclubs and cruise ships.
Frank also talked about his idol, African-Canadian jazz pianist Oscar Peterson, who was part of a trio that included bass player Ray Brown. Alexander grabbed onto Ray Brown's name the way other kids grab their security blankets. Ray Brown on bass. Bass? What was bass? Where could he find out more about it and perhaps even see one? When he peppered Frank with these questions, it provided 48 Broad's new patriarch with that much more room to bloviate. He'd never in his life played bass, but of course for years he'd played in a jazz band that included a bassist, so he knew a thing or two. That was the beginning of Alexander's friendship with Frank. The latter became much more than his stepfather. He became his mentor. And not just in music. In all things.
Several times over the next several months, Alexander made Frank and/or Faith drag him to the music store to drool over the bass guitars. Soon enough the store proprietor let Alexander test out one of the display basses. It was love at first thump. Alexander found his instrument. Most days, when he got home from school, he'd run up to his room and blast music and pantomime the bass. It's all he did until Frank rang the dinner bell at seven. Then he'd do his homework and a bit more bass miming before hitting the sack. Rarely did he deviate from this pattern.
Alexander remembered the drive home from the mall quite clearly as well. Faith tried to wow her boys with details of this supposedly huge new house they'd be living in. He remembered her specifically calling it a castle and that it had umpteen stairs to the second floor, and another umpteen to the third floor. It had wooden floors. A huge cavernous basement. In short order Alexander would discover a lot of this was gross hyperbole, but he never called her on it. He couldn't begrudge his mother trying to rally her kids.
The mall trip took place the first week of January 1983. When Alexander and John said their good-byes to their father two weeks later, John was pretty upbeat. He'd had a lot of time to process it all. He'd still see his father every summer and maybe at Christmas sometimes as well. And in Los Angeles! He gave his father a warm farewell-but-not-good-bye hug. When Ford turned to his other boy, Alexander simply shook his hand and said good-bye without betraying the well of emotion swirling inside. Faith knew exactly what was going on inside him.
On the first day of their road trip from Colorado to New Jersey in Faith's VW Rabbit, sometime after they'd stopped at McDonald's for lunch, Alexander broke down and cried. Faith was ready for it. And so was John. He leaned over and gave his big brother a big hug. When Alexander recovered, he started talking about musical instruments he was interested in trying.
Faith and her two boys arrived at 48 Broad on Saturday, January 30, 1983. They were the first ones there. Frank and his brood would arrive from Kensington, Maryland the following day. The kids had a ball exploring the house. When they reached the back room and John hopped on the freezer chest (inherited from the Safts) and asked what it was for, Alexander calmly explained that it was the same as a regular freezer, only you can fit more ice cream in it.
After Faith ordered pizza from Sal's, soon to be a 48 Broad staple, the boys frolicked across the first and second floors, stopping cold at the foot of the stairs leading to the third floor. John chickened out and went back to re-exploring the first two floors. Alexander, however, remained rooted to the spot and stared up into the darkness for some time. When Faith called up that the pizza had arrived, Alexander heard something above. What was it? He listened another few moments but heard nothing.
When the Roggebusches arrived the next day, Daniel, one of Frank's adopted sons and one of the oldest of this entire motley brood, cried when he saw all the work that needed to be done to fix up the house. Alexander could see in no time that Daniel was a high-strung guy, his supposed age and wisdom notwithstanding. He was like an older version of John. That night, before Super Bowl XVII started, they all had Burger King in the pool room on a bunch of foldout card tables George Taylor brought over. Alexander sat at the same table as Daniel and impressed himself with his ability to talk Daniel into not worrying so much about the sorry state of the house. A month from now it'd be fixed up. And look at how awesome it would be. Look at all the space. This brightened up Daniel in no time. Also at Alexander and Daniel's table was Frank. As he was wont to do whenever he had an audience, Frank regaled the boys with tales of his high school and college days playing piano for a jazz band in nightclubs and cruise ships.
Frank also talked about his idol, African-Canadian jazz pianist Oscar Peterson, who was part of a trio that included bass player Ray Brown. Alexander grabbed onto Ray Brown's name the way other kids grab their security blankets. Ray Brown on bass. Bass? What was bass? Where could he find out more about it and perhaps even see one? When he peppered Frank with these questions, it provided 48 Broad's new patriarch with that much more room to bloviate. He'd never in his life played bass, but of course for years he'd played in a jazz band that included a bassist, so he knew a thing or two. That was the beginning of Alexander's friendship with Frank. The latter became much more than his stepfather. He became his mentor. And not just in music. In all things.
Several times over the next several months, Alexander made Frank and/or Faith drag him to the music store to drool over the bass guitars. Soon enough the store proprietor let Alexander test out one of the display basses. It was love at first thump. Alexander found his instrument. Most days, when he got home from school, he'd run up to his room and blast music and pantomime the bass. It's all he did until Frank rang the dinner bell at seven. Then he'd do his homework and a bit more bass miming before hitting the sack. Rarely did he deviate from this pattern.
In the summer of '83, when Alexander was about to start sixth grade, Frank and Faith decided to end the kid's suffering and get him a bass guitar. Although I should say he had to pay them back bit by bit with his allowance. It took over a year's worth of allowances, but what else was he was going to do with the money? Alexander was officially in heaven.
His bass devotion made him disengaged socially and culturally. That's why he needed Frank's mentorship and guidance. He had no qualms about walking into Frank's office on the second floor and sitting down and asking Frank whatever was on his mind. Why did only men go bold (ironic since Alexander himself would go bald in his thirties)? Why didn't women like him (that was a tough one for Frank, who'd never had woman problems, at least not that kind)? Why did the black kids stick together? Why did the gym teacher pick on him? How did the outsides of the third-floor windows get cleaned? Frank did his best. Otherwise he'd have to help Alexander on an ad hoc basis. When they went to the Burlington Center Mall one time, Alexander walked into the entrance ahead of a woman who'd been walking up at the same time. Frank had to explain the whole thing about ladies first. During a game of Oh Hell!, Frank shuffled the cards and told Alexander to cut the deck. Alexander pulled out his Swiss Army knife and was literally about to cut the deck when Frank stopped him and showed him what he meant.
Sometimes Alexander's lack of grace and tact got him into serious hot water. For some reason, the water was always hottest with his brother John. While their sibling rivalry was a mere fraction of Jonathan and Stephen's, it still had its moments. In May of '86, a spring rain washed through overnight. The backyard never did drain water properly, so you had a massive puddle, a small pond really, over by the side of the garage, where home plate was during whiffleball games. The boys went out the morning after the storm to look it. They'd never seen it that big before. Alexander said something about how John would drown in it if he wasn't careful. John didn't know how to swim after all, Alexander pointed out. Even Barry knew how to swim. Everyone at 48 Broad knew how to swim. Except John. Be careful you don't fall in, John.
John exploded. He didn't have any trouble throwing the first punches, but he did have a big problem when Alexander fought back. And that's how Alexander ended up chasing him straight through the water. The other boys cheered them on. None of them gave a flying fuck who won. They just wanted to see someone fall into the giant puddle. For a second it seemed both of them would when Alexander got John in a clumsy headlock. Barry in particular felt a huge rush. In the end, though, while the Peterson boys got plenty wet, neither fell. Barry was disappointed. Later he felt guilty about that.
John exploded. He didn't have any trouble throwing the first punches, but he did have a big problem when Alexander fought back. And that's how Alexander ended up chasing him straight through the water. The other boys cheered them on. None of them gave a flying fuck who won. They just wanted to see someone fall into the giant puddle. For a second it seemed both of them would when Alexander got John in a clumsy headlock. Barry in particular felt a huge rush. In the end, though, while the Peterson boys got plenty wet, neither fell. Barry was disappointed. Later he felt guilty about that.
