I walked into the Five Points (now Kelly’s) and this guy was trying to make a call on the pay phone in the foyer. I offered to help him, and he accepted. Then we talked while having a couple of beers that he bought. This was 1971. I was 19, he was 22. His name was Mike Bassett.
Everyone knew one another in the bar, as we frequented it almost daily. Mike and I knew many of the same people and since he is older than me by a few years, our friend groups combined and we went everywhere together.
One night we went to hear some bands at the Huddle 2 in Briarcliff Manor. Everyone was having such a great time partying, dancing, and laughing. It was getting late, close to closing time when a slow song came on and across the room I saw Mike staring at me. I stared back and he walked over and we kissed. Our friends couldn’t believe it and started moaning and groaning loudly, “Oh no, what is going on?!”
At the time, I lived in White Plains with two girlfriends, and Mike came home with me that night. We have been inseparable ever since. I moved out of the shared apartment in with Mike. Mike and I came up with a plan to go to California because — why not?
On March 2, 1972, we road tripped to California and lived there for six months doing odd jobs and having the best time of our lives. We came back and moved into an apartment in Mamaroneck. On May 4,1974, we got married — and we just celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. Three kids and six grandchildren later, we still live in the same house on Elmwood Avenue. Were we too impulsive? Or too young? It was the ’70s — and when you know, you know!
—CathyAnn Bassett (married to Michael)
