Old Players Stories

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?

Seriously? Not one person has a story about the old days, about an old player or one you remember from an old player? Get out... I don't believe that!

pt109 said:

George Chenier, the undefeated North American snooker champion, was playing one
pocket in Joplin MS...it was a game he knew very little about, even though he was a world-
class straight pool player.....well, he beat this guy like a red headed stepchild for two days.
The guy was complaining that his best game was one hole on a 5x10....
..George was chuckling to himself....the bigger the table, the better for him.

The guy says “If you want to stay a couple days, I’ll have Schmidt send me down some
pool. rails for the billiard table and we can play some more...
...George was happy to oblige.

Well, George got murdered at what he thought was an even better game for him....
...the guy got all his money back and George quit.

I was a teenager when he told me this story...he warned me to always respect a man’s
best game...and don’t let your pride get you broke.

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Talking about Richie Florence ( a world class 9 ball player ), Ronnie Allen once said something along the lines of "He never missed a ball but in one hole, he didn't know which balls to shoot..."

garczar said:

Some of the stuff i've seen would send me to WitnessProtection if i yakked about it!!

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Oh, c'mon Gar... think of it like this: new people, new places, new kinds of food, all on the govt dime... spill it!

Inaction said:

Here is an old player story:

Kenny plays at the local Center every afternoon and about 3 hours on Saturday. Just turned 88. The game is 8-ball with the 1 & 15 going to designated side pockets. He never shies away from blasting a cluster apart, and will choose to shoot a crazy shot on the 1 or 15 just to move it closer to the side pocket. Even though there are other good shots available.

Kenny can run 5 or 6 balls occasionally, but he has no cue ball control at all.

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Sounds like the geezers at the VA hosp rec center when I was there for a few months in the mid 70s. Nice "old player" story... :groucho:

jokrswylde said:

This is long, but this is one of the stories I grew up hearing....

So here is an old story about my grandfather and his time in the phillipines during ww2. He always had a heart for Filipinos as long as I could remember. He would tell stories of some of the atrocities he witnessed them suffer during the war. In fact, every time someone he knew bought a new toyota or datsun (back in the day), he would tell them a story about the brutality of Japanese soldiers in the Islands and why Americans should never buy a Japanese car.(Never seemed to bother him about all the Japanese electronics in his house, but I digress)

Anyway, he was in the battle to liberate the islands and after spent a good deal of time in Subic Bay (i think that is right). To hear him tell it, Subic Bay had a terrible reputation for debauchery, and many of his fellow sailors got introduced to every VD known to modern medicine.

My great grandpa owned a gas station that had a pool table and some checker boards in the back, so pawpaw grew up in the '30's playing pool and was very good by the time he shipped off to war. Evidently, pool was still not widespread in the islands during and immediately after the war, but him and some of his buddies found a bar/brothel where the owner had a couple of tables and that is where they spent most of their shore leave.

According to pawpaw, the Filipinos were crazy about pool, even then. They would play and always wanted to bet, even though the people in post war Subic Bay were very poor. Being an experienced player, he rarely ever lost and soon people were coming from all around to get a chance at the young americans money.

During one of his last sessions there, he was in a long match with the son of the bar/brothel owner. He didn't remember the specifics of the matchup, only that it was a rotation game and he had busted the son out of $500 bucks (most of which had come from the US sailors!) The son was prideful and wanted to keep playing for a chance to win his money back. As the morning sun broke, pawpaw had won the $500, a motor scooter, a cow, some chickens, and had just dropped the winning shot on the last double or nothing game!!

His young opponent, being out of cash and most of his worldly possessions, was devastated. He quickly walked to the bartender and whispered in his ear. Pawpaw was getting nervous for the first time that there might be trouble. Instead the bartender came back with a young pretty girl, probably no older than 14 and offered her to my pawpaw as payment for the debt.

Pawpaw took the young girl by the arm and led her out the back door, where he proceeded to give her the keys to the motor scooter, the IOU's for the cow and chickens, and half of the $500 cash. He always said he would never forget the look on the young girls face as the realization dawned on her that he probably just made her the richest young girl on the island.

I don't know how much of the truth got stretched about this story, but man I used to love hearing pawpaw tell it, and he always smiled when he told it...one of the only stories about the war he told with a smile.

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What a GREAT story, Joker! Wow... that's one of the best pool stories I've ever heard. Not a whole lotta "feel good" pool stories around. Thanks for sharing it. :thumbup:

alphadog said:

I was only 50. But after 8pm I was the oldest guy in the room! A 20 year old was woofing at everybody to play a 9ball set for 50. He said "even the oldguy".
I knew he could play a little but it was 50 so...
We played a race to 7. He won 7/6.Grabbed the 50 and hit the door. A friend said we weren't going to play him because we knew he was busted. Well I thanked them for the favor and said hope I can help you out likewise.
2 weeks later I see the guy again . He woofs you want more? Sure I do post up. He has a friend who I know is ussually good for a couple hondo,post up the 50.
I win first set,backer hands me a hundred i give him 50 back. Play another set. I win,backer hands me a fifty. Still got 50 posted up he says dbl or nothing. Sure I know I can destroy this punk. Win the set and backer has snuck off
I took the post money down and asked punk for the last 50. Of course he is tap. I said you f with the oldguy you go by the oldguy's rules. Give me your cue. Now I get a song and dance about it isnt even his cue. Said thats fine I will hold it a week. He gives me the cue gets my # swears he will be in touch do not sell cue.
10 days go by I sell the shaft for 50 and saw the butt in half.The punk comes back throws a crumpled up 50 in my face and demands his cue back. I put his money in my pocket,hand him both halves of the butt and tell him who has the shaft.

He never woofed at me again.

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I'm guessing he might never woof at ANYBODY again! :rotflmao1:

jokrswylde said:

Great story, Just wondering what you would have done if he would have refused to hand over the cue?:shocked:

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*I* would'a just called him a nit, pinned his photo up on the "This is a nit" bulletin board and left it at that...:wink:

pt109 said:

I’ve had people tell me their credit is good....so I tell them to use that excellent credit...
....to borrow the cash we’re going to play for.

There are times it’s not a good idea to post...but for pool hall scufflers, it’s always the
right time.

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Busted someone at a tournament once, 50 a pop, got him for @ a grand. The last three games, he had to wonder off into the crowd, mysteriously, before I got paid ( paying after each game ). Hmmm... I wonder what THAT could be all about? So the last three games takes him 5 minutes, then @ 7 or 8, then finally @ 15. So as soon as he pays me the last game, I break my cue and he goes apoplectic, yelling "You can't quit! I'm a thousand stuck!!!" I said, come back with some cash... you're tapped. So he tries to sell me his watch first, then his cue. I said, "Lotsa people here. Go sell 'em and come back, we'll play s'more." He almost cried...

Cash is what I'm about.