We sat in the NCO Club in Mannheim, Germany having a steak dinner and awaiting the start of the floor show.  Our table was on a level about a foot lower than the tables "at the bar".  We were separated from the those tables by a one-foot step-up and an open railing.  The table behind and slightly above us was occupied by a group of the entertainers that would soon be part of the show.  They were discussing another of their group and going on about his "rhythm and artistry".  MamaCharlie and I were on the verge of laughing out loud at them, they were so pretentious and full of themselves and acting like they were ready to go on stage at the Apollo or something. 

It was 1968 and if you don't clearly remember what 1968 was like, I would like to remind you that we,( that is "we" as in the United States of America, and "we" its Army, and "we" the patrons of that club) were three or four years into a increasingly more unpopular war in Vietnam.  Politically, our country was split into two camps - Hawks and Doves - and a bunch of young people were trying to overthrow the "establishment" by burning their draft cards, their bras, and their college admin buildings.  Folks like the darlings at the next table would not impress the audience they had come to entertain with their "rhythm and artistry";  for the most part the audience would only be impressed with long legs, short skirts, big lungs, and a rocking band.  In 1968, not as much as today but almost, we, the audience, knew that if we hadn't already been to Vietnam, we shortly would be.  Many of us who had been would go again...and again.  The conversation at the next table was indicative of a lot of the USA, one group not having a clue what mattered to the other group.  Forever after that afternoon, whenever MC and I want to convey a thought about a person who seems shallow and full of themselves, we comment on their "rhythm and artistry".

But that is not what I wanted to write about.  In the sixties, when I got started in the Army, the NCO (Non-Commissioned Officer)and EM (Enlisted Men) Clubs were a great perk for soldiers.  We had clubs everywhere that provided cheap liquor, cheap food (and GOOD food) and quality entertainment.  For example:  our club in  Bad Kissingen, the Dew Drop Inn (isn't that original?) had a live band in the club almost every weekend and almost every Sunday evening there was a live floor show with two or three acts - magicians, torrid dances, singers, comedians, and so forth.  Every month or every other month a floor show with an entertainer whose name we had actually heard of would headline the show.  A British Band came through our club three or four times  in '64 and '65 that had two girl singers...a blonde and a dark-haired girl.  They sang British Invasion songs and were good.  The band itself introduced me to the Great British guitar band, The Shadows.  The band played Shadows' (Britain's answer to the Ventures) music and they were excellent.

The club system provided soldiers with a very real benefit and we  appreciated it.  Over the years we saw some big-time entertainers come through our clubs...and more than a bunch of the "rhythm and artistry" crowd who hoped to boost their careers by putting a "European Tour" on their resumes.  More than a few famous entertainers credited touring the military clubs for getting their names in front of folks. 

Our club in Bad Kissingen wasn't a "full-service club"...it was primarily a bar that had a limited menu.  But drinks were a quarter, beer about fifteen cents or so,  American and German.  And you could get French Fries, Burgers, a sirloin steak, or a shrimp plate...the most expensive being the steak which cost a dollar.  A GOOD cut of sirloin, with fries, for a buck.  The burgers were as good as any and were about a quarter each. 

All this was possible due to the subsidies the Congress set aside for military benefits and the special services professionals who ran the clubs and knew how to network with other clubs and could work the system.

Then something happened.  In 1969 someone got their feelings hurt or felt slighted or got angry or something.  That somebody complained to somebody else and the next thing you know, there was a big investigation into the military club system.  Congress held hearings, investigators investigated, snitches came forward, injured parties appeared out of nowhere and then the press got involved.  Some newsie coined the term, "Khaki Mafia" and we had a full-blown scandal.  The press has always had a special place in their little black hearts for the chance to smear the military;  and  admittedly we have been really good at providing them the opportunity.  Remember names like Matthew Calley, SMA Kinney, Eddie Slovak, and SMA Wooldridge?  No?  Well, the last one was the first Sergeant Major of the Army and his name got dragged into the investigation and hence the headlines and he was elevated to the position of the Godfather.  In the midst of all this some young entertaineress published a book called "Khaki Mafia", a novel that detailed how the senior ranks of the Army abused tax-payer money, abused the entertainers, abused their powerful positions, and abused just abouty everything else under the sun. 

I don't know how much was true and how much was the manuevering of the Dove press and the opportunity they had to drub the military and especially drag down one of the Army's genuine heroes.

Stories started appearing out of the investigation, which spread from Europe across the States all the way to Vietnam.  A Navy Captain in charge of the port of Saigon wound up in the crosshairs:  importing enough hairspray into the Navy BX at Cholon so every woman who was authorized to shop there could have a couple hundred cans each.  There was a rumor of shower shoes that were imported in numbers equally preposterous (the legend was that the shower shoes could be dissolved in some sort of chemical and converted into plastic explosive) and it was enhanced by the Captain's lifestyle in Saigon, which included a regular rotation of young oriental women to warm his feet at night.

Club managers all over the world were ID-ed as fixers and enforcers and users and so on and so on. 

  Almost overnight the club system was drastically changed.  The first thing was the firing of a huge number of club managers;  the reduction of available money to run the clubs; and the big names from the entertainment world started to avoid being connected to the "Khaki Mafia" (they preferred, I guess, to be associated with the civilian mafia that was running Vegas, Atlantic City, and Hollywood). 

So the prices in the clubs went up.  The floor shows dwindled.  The entertainers of the "rhythm and artistry" ilk increased and the number of names-you-recognized entertainers found other places to go.  By the seventies, the club system was a mere shadow of its former self.  On most posts the NCO clubs had to combine with the EM clubs to keep operating.  And if it weren't for the USO, we might never have seen any big name entertainment overseas again.

Amid a piling-on by the minor lights of the entertainment industry, the veracity of which many of us doubted, the real victims turned out to be the average GI.  A kid like me, who lived in the barracks, who had to stretch his limited funds from payday to payday, who was away from home for the first time and had no one close at hand except the other young guys in the barracks, could find a good meal, a beer, and a show worthy of Ed Sullivan and only have to spend a buck or two to have it.  There is so precious little we can do for the young soldiers today, it seems a shame to me that the club system as a whole took a huge hit because of a political convenience.