{"id":413,"date":"2019-12-19T05:46:06","date_gmt":"2019-12-19T05:46:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/?p=413"},"modified":"2019-12-22T19:48:52","modified_gmt":"2019-12-22T19:48:52","slug":"december-19th-swing-shift-part-two-by-spencer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/?p=413","title":{"rendered":"December 19th- Swing Shift Part 2 by Spencer"},"content":{"rendered":"

Click here for Part 1<\/strong><\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

Chapter Three<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

As they headed out for Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, the site of Hutch\u2019s next concert, Starsky didn\u2019t apologize for his blow-up of the night before and Hutch didn\u2019t mention it. Instead, Starsky kept his focus on the road ahead while Hutch hunkered in the back seat of the Galaxie with his nose buried in a book.<\/span><\/p>\n

Let him stew, <\/em>thought Starsky. I\u2019m not going to spend this whole trip coddling a temperamental artist. I got my own problems to deal with.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

The scenery flew by mile after mile, with each man alone with his thoughts. Starsky cataloged the various state license plates in his head and took in how the busy cities morphed into peaceful rolling hills. The change in landscape mirrored the settling of his troubled thoughts, the way he was usually able to scramble his way back up after getting dragged down. It was one of his better qualities.<\/span><\/p>\n

Twenty miles outside of Harrisburg, Starsky decided his biggest problem at the moment was his growling stomach. \u201cI\u2019m pulling off to get some lunch. I assume that\u2019s okay with you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky pulled off the exit without waiting for Hutch\u2019s acquiescence and followed signs to a diner a few miles down the road. Several trucks in the parking lot told him the place met the approval of people who made their living on the road fueled by a hearty, hot meal. A good sign.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky and Hutch took opposite seats at one of the vinyl-covered booths and picked up the laminated menus on the table. The entrees included chicken pot pie, meatloaf, and cabbage rolls. Beneath the list of sandwiches was a note that fries could be exchanged for potato chips for an additional charge of fifty cent.<\/span><\/p>\n

All of it looked good to Starsky. He glanced over his menu to see if Hutch had found anything to his liking, but Hutch wasn\u2019t looking at the menu. His eyes were focused a few tables over to where a young man with shoulder-length hair and a tie-dyed t-shirt sat alone, hungrily devouring a soup and salad combo. A peace symbol swung from a leather thong around his neck as he ate.<\/span><\/p>\n

Probably on a break from one of those liberal arts colleges,<\/em> Starsky thought. A psychology student or poet. Passing through a town he didn\u2019t fit in, or working his way out of it. <\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Two men wearing uniform shirts stretched over middle-aged spreads got up from the table next to the hippie. One of the men, whose name patch read \u201cStan,\u201d wiped his mouth on his paper napkin, then let the scrap fall carelessly on the table. He reached out a hand and tugged at the hippie\u2019s hair as he walked past.<\/span><\/p>\n

The hippie jerked at the unexpected breach of his physical boundary and his spoon dropped in his soup.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI was just checking to see if you were a guy or a girl,\u201d Stan taunted and his partner, \u201cBud,\u201d leered. \u201cIt\u2019s getting hard to tell these days.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The hippie leaned away but said nothing. He picked his spoon back up and tried to resume eating, doing his best to ignore the pair.<\/span><\/p>\n

Bud, however, was not to be ignored. He reached for the hippie\u2019s peace symbol. \u201cYou\u2019re probably one of those draft dodgers,\u201d he said. \u201cA bunch of pansies if you ask me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The young man\u2019s face flushed as he trained his eyes on his soup, continuing to resist Stan and Bud\u2019s provocation. The peace sign must have meant more to him than just a piece of jewelry.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky doubted it was the first time the kid had been harassed. Starsky had seen lots of Stans and Buds. Big guys with small brains who got their kicks from antagonizing anyone who was different. In New York, it was the Jews or the Italians, outside of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, it was a lone hippie who wanted to make love, not war.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky considered speaking up to defend the kid, but this wasn\u2019t his turf. Not that that fact alone stopped him, but he had Hutch to think of. He doubted Hutch would appreciate him causing a scene. Possibly having the police called and getting a lot of unwanted publicity. Up until now, Hutch had seemed the unobtrusive type. The kind to keep his head down and avoid trouble. Starsky couldn\u2019t blame him. People lived longer that way.<\/span><\/p>\n

On the other hand, sometimes Starsky couldn\u2019t keep his mouth shut. It was the old, ingrained habit of rooting for the underdog — defending the defenseless — that he\u2019d picked up from his pop. A drive that he seemed to identify with more and more. Starsky was starting to rise from his seat when he heard a voice say in a low, even tone, \u201cLeave the kid alone.\u201d He was half-surprised it wasn\u2019t his own, but Hutch had beaten him to it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky looked up at Hutch and was amazed by his cool expression and crystalline eyes. A tough customer if ever he saw one. And he\u2019d seen plenty. Starsky hadn\u2019t missed that Hutch\u2019s words came out smooth as silk either, without a single stutter. It was hard to believe this was the same man who rarely spoke other than to lecture, craved privacy when not onstage, then played his best music in solitude. Or maybe Hutch had him fooled the whole time. But Starsky had known from the first that there was more to Hutch than met the eye. And didn\u2019t performing a complex concerto in front of hundreds of judgmental strangers take as much nerve as speaking up for one peace-loving hippie?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s it to you, blondie?\u201d Stan aimed his oniony breath Hutch\u2019s way.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not bothering anyone. Let him eat his lunch in peace,\u201d Hutch replied.<\/span><\/p>\n

Shit<\/em>, thought Starsky as Stan\u2019s attention shifted from the subdued hippie to them. An ugly grin formed on Stan\u2019s face and Starsky\u2019s sixth sense tingled. The guy was eager for a fight. Starsky could practically smell it along with the onions. Maybe he\u2019d just gotten his third traffic ticket or caught his wife cheating and thought throwing his weight around in a quiet, family diner would make him feel like a big man. Considering the trucker\u2019s oafish demeanor, if Stan\u2019s wife wascheating on him, Starsky couldn\u2019t blame her. Stan was like a gorilla in a work shirt. Cancel tha<\/em>t, he thought again. That comparison only gave gorillas a bad name.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Stan strode over to their table and glowered at Hutch, with Bud a step behind. A double side of greasy beef. The two waitresses took their opportunity to slip behind the glass pie display. Another customer stepped out of the restroom but quickly turned around and went back in.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t like his kind around here,\u201d Stan spat out.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you even know about his<\/em> kind<\/em>?\u201d Hutch asked in a darkly withering tone. Then he looked past them as he took a sip of water from his glass.<\/span><\/p>\n

Whether Stan took offense to Hutch\u2019s questioning his intelligence or the dismissive sip of water, Starsky didn\u2019t have the time to determine. Stan reached over the table and made a grab for Hutch. But the grab Starsky made was faster. He sprung up and yanked hard at the back of Stan\u2019s cheap cotton collar.<\/span><\/p>\n

Stan jerked back from the force, his whole body livid with rage.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky was ready for the fist Stan swung at him. He dodged left and swung back, connecting firmly with Stan\u2019s cheekbone. It wasn\u2019t all that difficult. Stan might have had forty pounds on Starsky, but he also had twenty years of sitting behind the wheel of a truck, while Starsky was fresh from the streets and graced with the moves of an alley cat, besides. Stan stumbled from the well-aimed blow and into Bud who fell into the table behind him, sending silverware skittering to the floor.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, Hutch, let\u2019s get out of here.\u201d Starsky knew the police would be arriving shortly and sticking around to answer a bunch of questions from the boys in blue would only make them late for Harrisburg.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch tossed a few dollars on the hippie\u2019s table, then followed Starsky out of the diner and back to the Galaxie. Starsky imagined Hutch had given the young man an encouraging smile along with the bills. A smile that would take him a long way.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky wordlessly put the car in gear and quickly got onto the westbound highway. Despite what had happened in the restaurant, he anticipated a repeat of their previously silent drive. His employer wasn\u2019t long on explanations. So Starsky thought he might have been hearing things when the words, \u201cThanks for having my back,\u201d came from behind him. But Starsky responded, \u201cYou\u2019re welcome,\u201d just in case.<\/span><\/p>\n

Yeah, Hutch had lots of sides to him. Starsky doubted he\u2019d ever understand them all. \u201cIf you\u2019d gotten beat up by those goons, you wouldn\u2019t be able to get on that stage tonight. And I would have lost my meal ticket. I didn\u2019t even get a chance to try the meatloaf. What were you trying to do anyway?\u201d asked Starsky, as if he didn\u2019t already know.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe only thing n-necessary for the triumph of evil is for g-good men to do nothing,\u201d Hutch said, the stutter reappearing.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPretty fancy words.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not me. That\u2019s Edmund B-Burke.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEdmund who?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEdmund Burke. He was a p-political philosopher from the seventeen hundreds. A little education g-goes a long way, you know.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFunny — I don\u2019t think Stan and his pal were all that interested in discussin\u2019 philosophy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky\u2019s point was made and Hutch retreated back into silence.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong>Chapter Four<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch\u2019s itinerary called for them to stay in Harrisburg for a few more days before moving on to their next gig in Baltimore. Starsky used his free time to explore Harrisburg\u2019s local hangouts, trying out a few of the local bars and shooting hoops at a neighborhood basketball court. He even stopped in at the Civil War Museum (as Hutch\u2019s words “\u2026education goes a long way” echoed in his head). It wasn\u2019t as boring as he\u2019d thought it might be. Skimming through a dog-eared textbook was nothing like coming face to face with the artifacts left behind by people who\u2019d been treated as less than human, as well as those who\u2019d sacrificed to change that.<\/span><\/p>\n

Meanwhile, Hutch stayed holed up in his hotel room when not at the piano, with only his books and guitar for company. Starsky knew next to nothing about concert tours, but he thought it would have been nice for one of the many classical music enthusiasts who lauded Hutch on stage to invite him for dinner. So, although Hutch leaned more toward health food, Starsky found himself picking up a pizza with extra everything and a six-pack of beer and carrying it all up to Hutch\u2019s room one evening.<\/span><\/p>\n

Pungent smells of garlic and onion hung in the hotel hallway as Starsky knocked on Hutch\u2019s door. It took a few minutes for Hutch, wearing loose cotton pants and an open robe to answer it. Starsky didn\u2019t miss the look of surprised pleasure on Hutch\u2019s face before he masked the expression. He also didn\u2019t miss the half empty bottle of Crown Royal and plastic tumbler sitting on the dresser, along with the guitar out its case next to the bed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d asked Hutch brusquely, making a show of irritation that his solitude was being disturbed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA pizza. Thought we\u2019d share.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho said I wanted p-p…\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo one turns down pizza,\u201d Starsky finished for him and stepped into the room before Hutch had a chance to close the door. \u201cYou wouldn\u2019t be human<\/em> if you did.\u201d Starsky set the pizza box and six-pack down on the small round table that served as the room\u2019s dining table or work station. When he flipped open the lid of the box, the smells that had been following him in the hall filled the room with full force.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHmmmmm,\u201d Starsky moaned appreciatively.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have any p-plates.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll have to make do, the same way you did with that glass,\u201d Starsky said, with a nod toward the tumbler. \u201cYou\u2019ve made pretty good use of it tonight, haven\u2019t you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch\u2019s eyes flashed. \u201cThat\u2019s none of your business,\u201d he snapped.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky was unfazed. \u201cSeein\u2019 as how I\u2019m responsible for you — at least for the next few weeks anyways — gettin\u2019 shit-faced alone in your room every night kind of is<\/em> my business. Besides, my ma always said drinkin\u2019 alone wasn\u2019t good for you.\u201d He spun one of the table\u2019s two chairs around and straddled it. \u201cMind if I join you?\u201d Starsky snapped open a beer and taking a quick swig without waiting for — or expecting — an answer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI believe we\u2019ve already determined that we c-came from very d-different families.\u201d Hutch reached for the bottle of whisky and refilled his cup as Starsky pulled out a triangle of pizza, lifted it deftly to his mouth and bit in deeply. \u201cHappy f-families are all alike,\u201d Hutch commented as he watched. \u201cEvery unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky looked at Hutch expectantly, his mouth full.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTolstoy,\u201d Hutch supplied.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky swallowed. \u201cEnough with the philosophy already. Just eat some pizza. It\u2019s one of life\u2019s simple pleasures. You can put that down as \u2018Starsky\u2019s philosophy.\u2019\u201d He gave Hutch a wink.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch said nothing in response, but his gaze softened somewhat. Reluctantly, he took a seat across from Starsky. He set down his drink and carefully separated a wedge of pizza, wary of the oozing cheese.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky nodded at him encouragingly. \u201cGo on. It\u2019s good. I didn\u2019t know what you might like on it, so I got one with everything.\u201d Starsky grinned as he watched Hutch bite into the pizza and a dollop of sauce dripped onto his chin. \u201cWhat did I tell ya?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch licked his lips then wiped his chin delicately with a napkin. \u201cIt\u2019ll do.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky devoured three more pieces and finished off a beer before he nodded to the guitar propped up against the bed. \u201cI heard you playin\u2019 the other night. Sounded pretty good. Do your fans know about your secret?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch choked on his pizza. He washed it down with the contents of the tumbler and set the empty cup down hard. If the plastic had been more substantial, it would have made a loud bang rather than a modest thump. Then Hutch got up and stalked over to look out the window. Starsky didn\u2019t think Hutch realized how his reflection was caught in the dark glass. He knew Hutch enough by now to know he wouldn\u2019t have wanted anyone to see the desolation etched on his face.<\/span><\/p>\n

Looks like I touched a nerve. <\/em>Maybe playing a mean guitar wasn\u2019t Hutch\u2019s only secret. What was it that caused him to stay hidden away when he wasn\u2019t on stage? His public persona was someone other than this tortured soul who quoted poets and philosophers, who stood up for outsiders against the odds, and got drunk alone. What was it he had said a few nights ago? That he was a disappointment?<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky walked over to the bed and lifted up the guitar. \u201cPlay me somethin\u2019,\u201d Starsky said quietly, offering him the instrument.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch turned back to Starsky and looked at the guitar like an addict being offered a hit — not wanting to take it but knowing he would, and knowing it would bring relief. Hutch\u2019s left hand curled tightly around the long neck as he pulled the guitar\u2019s body to himself. His long fingers positioning themselves along the frets instinctively as the fingers of his other hand began to pluck at the strings creating a melodic line that was painful yet beautiful.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky found himself caught up in the music but soon felt a familiar prickling of danger and fought to break the spell Hutch was casting over him. \u201cThat\u2019s great, Hutch, but don\u2019t you got somethin\u2019 a little more upbeat?\u201d If I wanted to feel sad, I\u2019d go look at my bank account. How about something we could tap our toes to. A little Beach Boys or CCR.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch paused. \u201cI don\u2019t usually take requests,\u201d he said dryly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t usually do a lot of things either, but here I am. So quit stallin.\u2019 Or else I\u2019ll take the pizza and leave.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs that a promise?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky got up to gather up the pizza box in the pretense of a huff, but before he could close the lid Hutch broke into the introductory bars of Ventura Highway, a song Starsky recognized right off. He stopped going through the motions of cleaning up and Hutch sang out a clear tenor voice:<\/span><\/p>\n

Chewing on a piece of grass
\nWalking down the road
\nTell me, how long you gonna stay here, Joe?
\nSome people say this town don’t look
\nGood in snow
\nYou don’t care, I know<\/em>*<\/span><\/p>\n

When Hutch reached the chorus, Starsky joined in, adding \u201cdo-be-do\u201d sound effects.<\/span><\/p>\n

They both looked at each other and grinned. Starsky could swear he felt an electric current jump between them. \u201cAnd he sings, too,\u201d he teased when they got to the end of the song. \u201cNot half bad, but I\u2019ve been known to carry a tune myself.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWas that n-noise you singing?\u201d asked Hutch. \u201cI thought there was c-cat with its tail caught in a t-trap outside.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky might have knocked him in the head for the jibe but for the fact that Hutch was finally smiling. And Hutch\u2019s smile was a glorious thing. It had a luminescence that lit up his entire face, making his features even more appealing, his blue eyes even bluer. Starsky did his best to ignore the alarm bells they set off.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch followed up Ventura Highway<\/em> with the Eagles Take it Easy<\/em>, Here Comes the Sun<\/em> from the Beatles, and a couple of Neil Diamond songs, with Starsky chiming in after “good times never felt so good.” And while he was singing, he didn\u2019t stutter once.<\/span><\/p>\n

When Hutch finally set his guitar down, he seemed a different person — relaxed, happy. The shadows that always seemed to engulf him had been pushed aside for the time being.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you ever decided to take a break from the piano, I bet you could make a decent living slinging a guitar,\u201d said Starsky. \u201cYou never smile like that after a concerto.\u201d \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? And give p-people something else to b-be horrified by?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you keep sayin\u2019 stuff like that? Your music makes people happy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy music, yes. It\u2019s just me<\/em> that d-doesn\u2019t. Not the real m-me, anyway. Only the K-Kenneth Hutchinson who d-dresses up like a b-bellhop, plays Mozart by rote like a trained lapdog, then d-discreetly disappears. The real me scares them. Hell, the real me scares m-me<\/em>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

It was a curious statement. Starsky found himself reaching over to touch Hutch on the arm. \u201cI guess it’s good that I don\u2019t scare so easy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hutch gave him a curious look. \u201cThat\u2019s why I hired you,\u201d he said. \u201cBut I think I better turn in now. Tomorrow\u2019s going to be a long day.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Chapter Five <\/strong>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Baltimore, with its sprawling neighborhoods and bustling commercial port, dwarfed Harrisburg. The boisterous city was filled with working class people of all nationalities — a great place for drinking beer, eating seafood, and catching an Orioles game. After the bucolic Harrisburg, Baltimore felt as welcoming as a second home to Starsky. That was, until he went to check the piano that had been set up on stage for Hutch. When he propped up the cover, he pulled out a ragged scrap of paper that had been stuck between the strings. On it was written, \u201cGo home fag.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Fag. Seeing the terse words felt like being slapped in the face. The ominous note must have been meant for Hutch. Starsky took a staggering step backward. It was all starting to make sense now — the topic Hutch had been avoiding. Hutch was gay. And the secret had somehow slipped out and put his tour in jeopardy. Gays weren\u2019t exactly welcomed everywhere with open arms. That was why someone like Ken Hutchinson had hired someone like David Starsky. Who had left the note there? A member of the stage crew, most likely. Someone they counted on to have their backs but who choose to bait Hutch instead.<\/span><\/p>\n

Anger flared within Starsky like a lit match. Starsky never needed to use name calling to make a statement. That was a cheap and cowardly trick. If he had a bone to pick with someone, he\u2019d damn well tell them straight.<\/span><\/p>\n

What was it that made people fear or even hate homosexuals? In Starsky\u2019s old neighborhood gays were ostracized like lepers. Right after they were beaten up, that is. But what about Starsky\u2019s own dark fantasies? He\u2019d always thought they were the result of a violent and troubled childhood. It had left him unsuitable to love even as sexual desires threatened at times to overwhelm him. Like when he watched Hutch on stage or listened to him play guitar late at night. He\u2019d grow hot as he imagined them touching each other.<\/span><\/p>\n

Would it be so horrible to admit? Starsky had heard in other places like San Francisco and Miami homosexuality was becoming more accepted as another expression of love. An emotion as elusive to him as a winning lottery ticket — and just as much of a wasted effort thus far.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky felt a chill as he recalled how Durniak\u2019s lips would curl as he growled about unsavory characters doing unspeakable acts. He didn\u2019t want their<\/em> kind at Swing Shift. But Hutch was far from unsavory. In fact, Hutch would make Joe Durniak look like a pig who\u2019d rolled in muck, thought Starsky. Besides, if Hutch was gay, it wasn\u2019t any of Starsky\u2019s business. Someone like him could never be interested in a hood like Starsky. His only concern was getting Hutch from one gig to the next, he told himself firmly. That\u2019s all. He crumpled the paper in his fist.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d Hutch asked, coming up behind him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky stuffed the note in his pocket. Ever since their impromptu jam session, Hutch had been more relaxed around him, easier to talk to during their long car rides. The change in Hutch\u2019s mood had made the time go by more enjoyably. Hutch had a quick wit and a wide range of knowledge. He could actually be fun <\/em>to be with, although he made terrible choices when it came to restaurants and didn\u2019t always appreciate Starsky\u2019s jokes. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNothing,\u201d Starsky said, forcing his voice to stay light. \u201cIs this piano going to be okay for you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The deflection did the trick. Hutch turned his attention to the piano, an older and seemingly more worn down instrument than they\u2019d been provided at other venues. He stepped forward to run his hands over the keys and played a quick arpeggio, as he did each time he checked over a new piano. The tone was lovely, but even to Starsky\u2019s ears something seemed off.<\/span><\/p>\n

Starsky watched Hutch\u2019s face and noted the tight line around his lips. \u201cYou want me to say something?\u201d he asked. \u201cTell\u2019 em we need a better piano, maybe?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Hutch said carefully. \u201cThis will be f-fine.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe. Maybe not<\/em>, Starsky thought. Funny how the only one Hutch didn\u2019t seem to stand up for was himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

To be continued….<\/strong><\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Click on the image to view it larger.<\/strong><\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Click here for Part 1 Chapter Three As they headed out for Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, the site of Hutch\u2019s next concert, Starsky didn\u2019t apologize for his blow-up of the night before and Hutch didn\u2019t mention it. Instead, Starsky kept his focus … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,9,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-413","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fic","category-sfw","category-slash"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/413","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=413"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/413\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":557,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/413\/revisions\/557"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=413"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=413"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2019\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=413"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}