I've searched the net twice for it. About 2002 I found it mentioned briefly in the forum of some Las Vegas brothel, I think. About a month ago I got that same hit as well as a few more instances, all or primarily all involving local Bloomington, Indiana discussion boards. The most interesting was written by a musician who'd said he'd been rushed off their open mike stage by John Mellencamp, at the time I suppose probably still (0r possibly not yet) calling himself Johnny Cougar. I'd forgotten there was an open mike there at all; I feel reasonably sure now that Lynn Fredericks, a housemate of mine and a crazy-intense guitar/mandolin/banjo/trombone player, actually built that stage, which I'll guess was a four by eight sheet of 3/4" plywood nailed to some 2x4s, probably painted black, I'll bet. It was in the west room of the 6th Street house (Rapp's opened a Pizza Train 'annex' in Eastland Plaza, or whatever that's called, about 1973. There were a few small tables in the Eastland store, I think, but it mostly seemed to exist just to help us speedy, courteous delivery pros get to our eastside clientele faster).
But generally our mass consciousness' answer to the question of Rapp's is that no, it's not important to waste people's time or space on the Internet either, saying anything about it. I have to wonder, though...
In 1975 I reluctantly emigrated from Bloomington after discovering I could make more than a dollar sixty an hour elsewhere. Yes, I sold out. I know. So what you probably have too, one time or other. And there's still time in life to keep my promise to myself to one day return, too. Actually I was just there January 2nd of this year.
But what I meant was that I'd always imagined that my living somewhere other than Bloomington would just be temporary, that Bloomington [insert something mushy here and then go on].
Before I forget: I do remember that in three years or more I spent pizza delivering there I managed about sixty-three cents in tips, total, which really was pretty much more than most of us managed. The guy who gave it to me laughed when I came to his door, cried "I used to be just like you!" and told me to cut my hair. What a weirdo. Seemed like a business school type. To be straight on this, I am in no way anti-business. Not by a longshot. But there is, I think, something creepy about suits and ties, except when worn by blues guitarists or otherwise look slept in. And I do have to give begrudging near-respect to members of the Indiana University business school--though just because words like "anomaly" and "surrounded" come to mind. Those people were certainly outnumbered. As arguably short-sighted and shallow as they may have been, the over-arching spirit of that place and time still sums up best in my ex-friend and fellow Bloomingtonian Annieo's motto-y thingie-wing (previous post): "There's room for them, too." We no doubt even had a few business school people working at Rapp's. I'd bet you a burnt strom we did, in fact.
To be continued, I hope. Possibly continued a bunch. I think I could write a book's worth of stuff centered around the Pizza Train, the incredible times, color and diversity we all basked in then. I think somebody could write something that would make Breaking Away fade in comparison. (Nice movie, really, for what it was. It misses something, though. Like the whole point of what was actually going on there at the time. Almost as though it missed deliberately.)
With all due respect to the other operating fine pizza places there (there are at least two still operating that were there in those days as well), a joke at the time was that everybody in Bloomington had worked at Rapp's. If you did during that period (1972-1975), it'd be great if you spoke up. I may not remember you but hey.
