The first time I met Bernie Alwes, Ravella Coffman, and I were looking for a frame to complement a painting that she planned on entering in a local competition the following morning. In those days there were very few frame shops in town and this was our last stop after spending hours in an unsuccessful attempt to find a frame to fit her work. This small frame shop was our last hope.
We pulled into the parking lot just as Bernie was slamming shut the rear door of his truck. He called “Hello” to us and asked if we were artists. When we said yes, he strode across the lot and pumped our hands with great enthusiasm telling us he had just started painting and invited us to visit his new studio sometime. We assured him we would be glad to do that and waved goodbye to him.
Entering the shop, we commented to the owner that we had just met a nice artist. He laughed and explained that Bernie was a millionaire who had just sold his commercial sign painting company and planned now on turning from the commercial art field to that of fine art.
“And he bought every frame I had in stock!”
Ravella and I stared at each other in disbelief. As a successful businessman, Bernie had simply used his practice of gathering all the supplies he needed for a project before he began to work. And probably, we thought, at that very moment was on his way to also depleting the supply of canvases, tube paints, and brushes from local art establishments.
Years later, when a group of us had studios at The Cloister, Bernie would visit. His studio was close by and he would take a break from his painting day.
I was the Executive Director of the non-profit Gallery on the second floor of the renovated Ursaline Academy located at the corner of downtown Shelby and Chestnut Streets. The Gallery exhibited and promoted the works of local artists and craftsmen. I could count on being entertained whether I was in studio or Gallery area when Bernie walked into the building.
To get publicity for our Cloister Community Art Gallery, the Board of Directors decided to select one of our exhibiting artists to be interviewed on a local radio station. Because of his charming personality, Bernie Alwes was chosen to accompany me to the station. The Board felt this was a marvelous way to present the idea that local artists should no longer be regarded as living a hippie lifestyle but be looked upon as quite dignified individuals.
I had a serious talk with Bernie about how we should be careful about what we said and he nodded with sincerity and promised not to call me, “Gerry-Baby” in front of the talk show host. In Bernie’s world, any female’s last name was “Baby”.
The half-hour show was going quickly with the host praising the Gallery and its many community programs on-air and when the interview was off-air for commercial breaks as well.
I gave up trying to understand if our relaxed conversation was limited to the three of us in the studio or whether our chatting was being broadcast to the entire radio audience.
When the subject of Bernie’s studio arose, his eyes sparkled as he excitedly described his lighting system and his floor easels. “And I have champagne in my frig. What I have is really a sexy pad.”
Did I really hear what I thought I heard? Were we on-air I wondered.
When we arrived back at The Cloister we were met at the front door by a group of applauding artists who told us we sounded very successful. I pulled one of the artists aside and quietly asked, “The part about the sexy pad, was that broadcast? And “Gerry, Baby?”
She sighed, “Yes. We heard the sexy pad part. But he only called you,, “Gerry, Baby” three times.”