One of the oldest traditions of human culture is that of storytelling. Nothing could more be more representative of that than in the pool world. I think most here who have a history in any given pool room will agree there have always been old-timers who have been more than happy to tell stories of "the old days." And if you're like me, sometimes the more unbelievable the story, the more you wanted to hear it again. I suppose that speaks to our collective need to want to be entertained. So with that in mind, does anyone have a story about any old players or, just as entertaining, any stories you remember hearing from old players? I'll start off.
A very good player, an old road warrior who ran the pool room in Tallahassee when I lived there in 74 had more stories than you could shake a stick at. His name was Howard Barrett. Here is one of my favorites of his:
Back in the 40s, when he was fairly young and out scuffling pretty much full time, he spent a lot of time in Chicago ( Howard was from North Carolina ) because, as he told it, the action was non-stop in Chi-town in those days. He got steered to a one pocket game with a guy who could be best described as a "gangster", even though he wasn't, according to Howard, in the "Mafia". But he had a dangerous reputation and Howard was a bit leery of playing him but, he had been told by reliable sources, the guy was a go-off artist and was a possible very big score for back then.
So they make a game and Howard shows up at the guy's nightclub. They go upstairs where there is a beautiful 10' Brunswick table with brand new cloth. They walk in, Howard takes off his coat, the other guy takes his off and when he does, Howard sees
he's wearing double shoulder holsters with a .45 in each one under his coat. He proceeds to take them off and hang them on the coat rack. Ok... tone is now officially set.
So Howard wins. Pretty tidy score. The guy seems ok with it, pays, and they make a date for the next night to play again.
Now, according to Howard, back in those days, or, at least in Chicago, when you played 1 hole, you picked a pocket and that was your hole for the duration. So Howard's hole was the far right. When he comes back the next night, he notices that, in the interim since last night, the guy has had Howard's pocket converted into a snooker pocket, with rounded snooker tits. Keeping in mind the dual .45s hanging a few feet away, Howard says nothing and the guy proceeds to win his losses from the night before back and then a little more for good measure. Howard never says a word. So they make another date for 2 nights later to play more.
The next day Howard finds a kid he had gotten to know, gives him a 20 dollar bill ( a small fortune in the 40s for a kid ) and tells him to break into the guys club at like 5 in the morning, take a hammer and beat the S**T out of the snooker tits 'til they're flat again.
The next night, they start playing and the gangster notices Howard's pocket is, for all intents and purposes, back to it's original shape but doesn't say a word. So Howard ends up winning it all back and a little more on top of it. As the guy pays him, he smiles and says to Howard "You're a pretty smart motherf***er. Don't ever show your a** around here again." Howard said "No sir... I sure won't." :grin:
End of story.
Anyone else have one?
A very good player, an old road warrior who ran the pool room in Tallahassee when I lived there in 74 had more stories than you could shake a stick at. His name was Howard Barrett. Here is one of my favorites of his:
Back in the 40s, when he was fairly young and out scuffling pretty much full time, he spent a lot of time in Chicago ( Howard was from North Carolina ) because, as he told it, the action was non-stop in Chi-town in those days. He got steered to a one pocket game with a guy who could be best described as a "gangster", even though he wasn't, according to Howard, in the "Mafia". But he had a dangerous reputation and Howard was a bit leery of playing him but, he had been told by reliable sources, the guy was a go-off artist and was a possible very big score for back then.
So they make a game and Howard shows up at the guy's nightclub. They go upstairs where there is a beautiful 10' Brunswick table with brand new cloth. They walk in, Howard takes off his coat, the other guy takes his off and when he does, Howard sees
he's wearing double shoulder holsters with a .45 in each one under his coat. He proceeds to take them off and hang them on the coat rack. Ok... tone is now officially set.
So Howard wins. Pretty tidy score. The guy seems ok with it, pays, and they make a date for the next night to play again.
Now, according to Howard, back in those days, or, at least in Chicago, when you played 1 hole, you picked a pocket and that was your hole for the duration. So Howard's hole was the far right. When he comes back the next night, he notices that, in the interim since last night, the guy has had Howard's pocket converted into a snooker pocket, with rounded snooker tits. Keeping in mind the dual .45s hanging a few feet away, Howard says nothing and the guy proceeds to win his losses from the night before back and then a little more for good measure. Howard never says a word. So they make another date for 2 nights later to play more.
The next day Howard finds a kid he had gotten to know, gives him a 20 dollar bill ( a small fortune in the 40s for a kid ) and tells him to break into the guys club at like 5 in the morning, take a hammer and beat the S**T out of the snooker tits 'til they're flat again.
The next night, they start playing and the gangster notices Howard's pocket is, for all intents and purposes, back to it's original shape but doesn't say a word. So Howard ends up winning it all back and a little more on top of it. As the guy pays him, he smiles and says to Howard "You're a pretty smart motherf***er. Don't ever show your a** around here again." Howard said "No sir... I sure won't." :grin:
End of story.
Anyone else have one?
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