Cafe Reviews

EATING MCDOWELLA COOK'S TOUR OF PHOENIX'S FUNKIEST RESTAURANT ROW

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GREAT MOMENTS IN MIDWIFERY: Paulo Cruz, fourteen-year-old quarterback, rushed from the field and helped deliver his girlfriend's child. "I was rattled from then on," he later admitted. "It was difficult to concentrate on the game."

POSTPARTUM IMPRESSION: Cruz's team lost, 51-0. WOMAN GIVES BIRTH TO UFO ALIEN'S BABY

Source: Sun (June 6, 1989)

BLESSED EVENT: While taking a moonlight stroll through the countryside, 38-year-old spinster Monica Clergue was seduced by an extraterrestrial who'd landed in a field near her home. Two years and several dozen trysts later, Clergue conceived, giving birth to an ET a mere four months afterward.

NATIVITY SCENE: Caracassone, France
NOTABLE QUOTES: "He was short and bald with grayish skin and a head shaped like an upside-down pear," the mom said. "I guess he wasn't the most attractive creature in the universe, but then neither am I."

GREAT MOMENTS IN MIDWIFERY: None. Alien father didn't even show up in delivery room.

POSTPARTUM IMPRESSION: Currently embroiled in a legal battle because she stubbornly refuses to enroll six-year-old Zibish in school, the mom claims the boy's father will soon return to whisk his son away to another planet. (Mom says she'll have to stay behind--her lover has warned her she would die in his planet's atmosphere.)

HUMAN DAIRY MILKS POOR MOMS TO FEED RICH BABIES Source: Sun (January 19, 1990)

BLESSED EVENT: After giving up their babies for adoption, poverty-stricken teenage moms lactate for a living in super-secret "human dairy" barns equipped with electric milking machines! Claiming that "human cows" produce a milk superior to that of their barnyard counterparts, heartless entrepreneurs package the milk in fancy bottles, then market the product as a gourmet dairy treat. NATIVITY SCENE: South America and India

NOTABLE QUOTES: "These human dairies are run by unscrupulous businessmen who only want to milk their employees for all they're worth."

GREAT MOMENTS IN MIDWIFERY: None. But this has to be some kind of first in farm machinery.

POSTPARTUM IMPRESSION: Fearing that imported mother's milk may soon be headed for America's specialty food shops, the head of a Finland women's organization urges a national boycott of the bizarre beverage.

STAYING THE COURSE HE'S OLD ENOUGH TO GO... nv-59-90

Pub:Publication:Phoenix New Times
Info:nv-59-90 Category: Feature
Page: 99
Keywords: Sport
Correction Date: Correction:
Photo/Graphic:

STAYING THE COURSE
HE'S OLD ENOUGH TO GO ON SOCIAL SECURITY, BUT HE WON'T GIVE UP RIDING THOSE HORSES Paul Rubin

Jack Keene stretches his 63-year-old body and steps out of the Turf Paradise jockey room into the midafternoon sun. Fallbrook Flyer, Keene's mount in the seventh race on this glorious Saturday, waits for his rider in stall twelve.

Keene, all 5-3, 108 pounds of him, cuts a dashing figure in green silks as he strides into the paddock with eleven other jockeys. He has the athletic gait of a much younger man. In case anyone doesn't know him, Keene's surname is sewn into the crotch of his white riding pants.

But something's missing. Race time is about the only time Keene doesn't have an unlighted stogy stuck in his mouth. Without the milelong cigar, it's easier to focus on his bumpy ride of a nose and an askew left eye.

He chats in the Turf Paradise paddock with retired track veterinarian Doc Hinshaw. The two men attended college together in the early 1950s.

"We were both gonna be vets," Doc says. "Then these ponies got the best of him, I guess, and he's rode ever since. Riding got stuck in Jack's blood. That's why he's still doing it, I guess."

Keene smiles politely, but his mind is on Fallbrook Flyer--a horse that defines the words "long shot." Keene's one or two mounts a day are usually average or below average. Fallbrook Flyer is below average.

"Gotta go," Keene tells his old pal, as the jockeys approach their mounts. Spectators crowd the paddock wall to stare at the talent. Dozens hold racing forms close to their faces, studying the horses' records like rabbis reading the Torah. Some mutter strange incantations: "Skahn Chei Lee. No way. Breu. Lousy post. Breaks early. Odds on. Box him."

Keene sidles up to Deb Meredith, who trains and co-owns Fallbrook Flyer.
"Did you tell him to win today?" Keene kiddingly asks the nervous woman. She nods, but doesn't stop chewing a thumbnail.

"If he goes out early like he did the last time, let him run, okay?" Meredith tells the jock. "I think he might want to run." She and her husband race six horses, and have another fourteen at their northeast Phoenix farm.

"You betcha," Keene replies. "Same old same old."
Someone shouts, "Go get 'em, old man." Keene hardly hears him. He's been called "old man" since Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play. That was in the 1960s.

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Penelope Corcoran