Looking for the address of the beatnik coffee house “Cup of Socrates”. I believe it was near Wayne State. Thanks
Looking for the address of the beatnik coffee house “Cup of Socrates”. I believe it was near Wayne State. Thanks
4415 Second Ave, NW corner of Canfield.
MikeM executes a slam dunk in only seven minutes and then just calmly walks away.
That has to be a record.
I just happened to be passing by at the time.
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Here's one of the first mentions of the joint in the main stream media, from 1959:
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You had to be young AND attractive to work there:
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Also, from 1960, it didn't make a good impression on Judd Arnett, lol:
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Yeah, Judd Arnett was the most hep cat that ever strode the streets of Detroit. But I never saw him at Plato's Phalapheler King.
My favorite beatnik scene, Phillipa Fallon performs 'High School Drag' in High School Confidential 1958.
https://im3.ezgif.com/tmp/ezgif-3-6811ad5744.gif
Here's that film with sound. That scene begins at about 33 minutes.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_-QOeBkQzw
High School Confidential!
{Full Movie with Trailer at Beginning}
Quote:
Here's my first 1950's juvenile delinquent movie upload, the classic anti-marijuana propaganda flick, "High School Confidential!"
Lots of jazzy jive talk {Kookie, eat your heart out!}, outrageous situations and even crazier plot twists, familiar faces {like the future "Uncle Fester" Jackie Coogan and "Little Joe Carwright" Michael Landon}, Hollywood family members in the cast {Drew Barrymore's dad and Charles Chaplin's son!} and "The Killer" Jerry Lee Lewis doing his "killing" on a flat bed truck!
And then, there's Mamie Van Doren...
I was a big fan of "Zen and the Beat Way" by Alan Watts. It had this unique quality of repeatedly presenting repressed truisms. It left me wondering why no one else was talking about these ideas and why truisms would need to be repressed at all.
But then that's the whole point of counterculture.
I'll read it. But please, in eleven words or less, what's a repressed truism?
P.S. In the immortal words of my co-religionist Little Joe Gould, enshrined in his poem My Religion: In winter I’m a Buddhist, And in summer I’m a nudist.
P.P.S. Before Joe's untimely disincarnation, there were two of us in this seasonal faith.
P.P.P.S. Now that winter's coming on, I'll put on my best threads and read Alan Watts. :)
Joe Gould’s Secret—I | The New Yorker
Joe Gould’s Secret—II | The New Yorker