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Some people say the 1950's
were the last big snooze this great country had. If that
is so, then, during those years, Poco Cabesa was positively
comatose.
It was into this stagnant
state and time that Baby William Jefferson Alvarez Wu was
born. His father (whose own father acquired what passed
for a fortune on Poco Cabesa speculating in bean curd imports
and then rum-running during Prohibition) owned two of the
six taverns licensed to operate in (then) Klinkleburg. His
mother (who lavished attention on her only son and gave
him his nom de plume) kept the family books.
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Baby
Willie as a schoolboy giving national salute, circa
1962.
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Grandfather
Sigmund Yu was a wealthy speculator.
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Because of his parents'
exalted social and economic status, Baby Willie's boyhood
was, by Poco Cabesa standards, quite privileged.
Unlike his peers, whose
families survived on funds from the tightfisted Limited
Trust, Baby Willie benefited from having parents who actually
earned a living.
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Schooled
at home by a string of pious tutors, Baby Willie also took
lessons from his saloonkeeper father in the big classroom
of life. And there was much to learn.
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After Comrade
Joe the First's unusual ascension to power in the early
1960's, Poco Cabesa (except, of course, for Medillo
Grande) was quite similar to Florence during the time
of the Medici family (but without the great art and culture).
Kingpins obtained and
retained their economic, political, and social clout by
whatever means necessary and available. Turf-wars settled
with scathing insults and big sticks were a monthly occurrence.
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Baby
Willie's great-aunt Giselle Yu Fraser was tragically
killed by Congolese rebels in 1965.
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Baby
Willie promoted groups to Motown in the 1970's but
missed the Disco wave.
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Hustles and cons were
as common as lobbyists in the foyer of your state capitol.
Those lucky enough to have connections to the rest of
the world profited most, because those limited to island
resources had use of an extremely tight currency supply
that made borrowing and lending a fairly static affair.
Only funds brought
in from outside could change the status quo, and the lucky
"jet-set" few (like the Wus) had no reasons
to invest in this decidedly unpleasant island. Excluding
Medillo Grande, there was nothing to attract anything
but flies to Poco Cabesa.
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Through the Swinging
Seventies, Egregious Eighties, and dotCom Nineties, Baby
Willie used his smarts and his family position to carve
out a niche for himself atop the island's demi monde.
Resisting entreaties from expatriate family members to join
them in Virginia Beach or Houston, in many ways this dapper,
chubby fellow is Poco Cabesa's version of Sydney Greenstreet.
Recently, inspired by
events like OktoberFest, Mardi Gras, or the Sundance Film
Festival, Comrade Joe the Only
and Baby Willie staged a "PirateFest" to attract
tourists. The first night drew some of the biggest names
in entertainment (well, Charo showed up), but a methane
explosion in the southern cesspool dampened the evening's
gaiety.
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| That (combined with the
surplus tents pitched in the rocks and billed as "beach
bungalows") led to the quick exodus of the few curiosity-seekers
who stopped in to see the "pirates." (One of them
was that long-haired Australian guy who wears real short denim
cutoffs and not much else. He goes to the most unattractive
locales imaginable and yet he always has a charming female
companion. Who is that guy anyway?) |
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Angry performers demanding their wages.
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Despite Baby Willie's
best efforts, including importing Cubans to pack the audience,
the whole production closed early amid accusations of financial
improprieties and misplaced payrolls.
Undeterred, Baby Willie
presses on in his efforts to bring prosperity to his home
island. Like all great men (or women), Baby Willie dreams
big.
His goal is to be the
Warren Buffett of the Caribbean. But, he'll settle for being
Bebe Rebozo if he must.
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Why is it that we
rejoice at a birth and grieve at a funeral? It is because
we are not the person involved.
-- Mr. Twain |
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