Toledo Tales

(Sylvania, OH) Phillip Obertacz has seen many things in his 84 years on this planet, but there is at least one item that has eluded him.

"I want my goddamn 15 minutes of fame," he told Toledo Tales reporters yesterday. "Every other Tom, Dick, and Paris got theirs. Where the hell is my 15 minutes? That's what I want to know. But you want to know something else? That cancer is a killer. My uncle Bobo had five operations. Didn't do a damn thing for him. If they tell you, you have cancer, you might as well pack your bags."

Obertacz said that the closest he ever came to his 15 minutes of fame occurred in 1977.

"I was living in Queens, and my flat was a block away from where that crazy Son of Sam shooter killed some poor girl," he said, pouring hot water into a tea cup. "Had I been outside that night, I might have stopped that lunatic sonofabitch from killing her, and been a hero. I was still pretty quick on my feet back then, and knew my way around a gym, yes sir. Why, I once held the chin-ups record at PS 121, what they used to call the Throop School. 114 chin-ups, and not those bent arm deals, but real chin-ups. But did anyone from the Times ever call me? Nope."

Obertacz in a 1938 photo, back when fame was not an elusive, fickle vixen

Unfortunately, said Obertacz, his options for attaining fame are dwindling.

"I had a colostomy done back in 1996 because my bowels were not functioning without the use of strong laxatives. Turns out I had a tumor the size of a goddamn grapefruit," said the retired ironworker, sipping his tea. "So the clock's ticking here. When I lived in Brooklyn I was in a brownstone, in a room on the third floor, for $25 a week. Twenty-five dollars. Imagine that! These days you can't even get a cheap hooker for that kind of money, and then she gets all nervous and shrieking about the colostomy bag. Listen, Fame? Hurry your ass up - that's all I gotta say."

Labels: fame, old folks