Boston Shorty Meets The Cat in Billiards SEPT. 20, 1972
http://www.nytimes.com/1972/09/20/a...at-in-billiards-billiards-fans-watch-and.html
By 2 o'clock yesterday af ternoon the dank subterra nean hall that is McGirr's Billiard Academy was filling with men who broke into groups and talked excitedly about the imminent head‐to head three‐cushion billiard confrontation between Jim my (the Cat) Cattrano and Larry (Boston Shorty) John son.
In all, about a 100 men filed down the steps of the pool hall at 709 Eighth Ave nue and bought $2 tickets for the first four matches between the two players, who in pool hall circles are generally believed to be the best three‐cushion players in the United States, or at least on the East Coast, or certainly in the Northeast. The assessments varied with the commentators.
Once inside the room, the fans clustered in groups, each of which had its own dis tinctive costume. One group were hats. These were men, mostly in their 60's, who seemed to be retired and sported straw fedoras or porkpies.
The hats liked Boston Shorty, who at the age of 43 has been around billiard tables a while.
“He's good with the pres sure,” said one of the hats.
A second large group was made up of young men in their early 20's, many of whom wore high ‐ heeled shoes. Like the hats, they were busily drumming up bets, but unlike them, the shoes flashed their money more openly, peeling bills off their rolls.
Mostly, the shoes liked “the Cat,” pointing out that lie was “the coming cham pion” and that he had not lost even a single game in his last eight tournaments.
About this time, Johnson entered the hall alone. He wore a porkpie hat and a windbreaker. He is 5 feet 2 inches tall and has been making his living with a cue stick for 29 years.
His home base is Boston, but he travels a lot. After the two‐day tournament here he will be going to Johnston City, Ill., for the annual pool championships.
Shorty differs from many pool hustlers in that he is equally adept at billiards as at pocket pool. “There's not much money in billiards,” he said.
Three‐cushion billiards, he explained, is to pool as chess is to checkers.
Stan Gordon, who owns McGirr's and booked the match, also compared the game to chess and said he hoped it would become pop ular. “Imagine,” he said, “Channel 13 could show a board, with no people, for five hours, with long waits between moves, and that was so popular.
“But three‐cushion is much more exciting. A player can play all his life and never have the same shot twice.”
The game is played with three balls on a table meas uring 5 by 10 feet. The idea, roughly, is for the player to hit his ball into another ball and then have his ball carom off three rails (cushions) and then strike the third ball.
It takes a geometric imag ination, a sure stroke, and if the money riding on the game is heavy, sure nerves.
At 3:30 Cattrano came in. He is a heavyset man who learned to play in his father's billiard parlor in Flushing. The 34‐year‐old player now works for his father. Unlike Shorty, he does not claim to be a hustler. Unlike him, too, he is married. He practices about three hours a day.
Mr. Gordon said that he had put up a prize of $500 for the winner of the 240‐point match, which was broken into four 60‐point blocs. Two were played yesterday, and two more will be played today. Mr. Gordon said there might be more money in volved somewhere.
This view was supported by a hat who pointed out that Boston Shorty would not always even go across town for $500 and that in this instance he had come from Arizona.
In addition, side bets were made on just yesterday's game. Marvin Braverman, a television actor and comic, admitted that he had put $5 on Shorty.
“For esthetic reasons,” Mr. Braverman said. “I mean, with a name like Boston Shorty, you got to like him.” Mr. Braverman, who often gets his phone calls at Mc Girrs, marks his own cue stick, “Chicago Marvin.”
Finally, at 4 P.M., the game began. The audience took seats around the table and talked only in whispers. Shorty made a double‐rail shot in which his ball hit the short rail, hit the red ball, veered backwards with re verse English on the same rail, spun off the long cushion and then hit the other ball.
The spectators applauded warmly. “What a hit,” said Bill Garmise, a retired an tique merchant and director of the defunct Carom Club, which he described as “a high‐class pool hall.”
“That was a terrific hit,” he said.
In the early part of the game, Shorty was winning. He would make two or three billiards or points before missing. Cattrano was miss ing narrowly, with the ball just passing that third elusive target.
But then with the score 11‐ 4 in Shorty's favor, Cattrano, who had been talking to him self, found his stroke.
He made one shot in which the ball swung around five cushions. Then another, and another. Shorty sat and smoked, looking impassive as his lead dwindled. After each billiard that Cattrano made, the crowd clapped in a show of nonpartisan sportsmanship.
The player from Flushing made 11 points before he missed. This kind of run is considered very good. The highest ever made at Mc Girr's is 18. The streak turned the game around, and al though Shorty fought back, with some applause, gaining shots of his own, he could not recover his advantage. After a game that took two hours he had lost, 60‐53.
But Shorty made a come back in the second bloc, which was played last night. The total score after half the match was 120 for Shorty and 96 for Cattrano.
http://www.nytimes.com/1972/09/20/a...at-in-billiards-billiards-fans-watch-and.html
By 2 o'clock yesterday af ternoon the dank subterra nean hall that is McGirr's Billiard Academy was filling with men who broke into groups and talked excitedly about the imminent head‐to head three‐cushion billiard confrontation between Jim my (the Cat) Cattrano and Larry (Boston Shorty) John son.
In all, about a 100 men filed down the steps of the pool hall at 709 Eighth Ave nue and bought $2 tickets for the first four matches between the two players, who in pool hall circles are generally believed to be the best three‐cushion players in the United States, or at least on the East Coast, or certainly in the Northeast. The assessments varied with the commentators.
Once inside the room, the fans clustered in groups, each of which had its own dis tinctive costume. One group were hats. These were men, mostly in their 60's, who seemed to be retired and sported straw fedoras or porkpies.
The hats liked Boston Shorty, who at the age of 43 has been around billiard tables a while.
“He's good with the pres sure,” said one of the hats.
A second large group was made up of young men in their early 20's, many of whom wore high ‐ heeled shoes. Like the hats, they were busily drumming up bets, but unlike them, the shoes flashed their money more openly, peeling bills off their rolls.
Mostly, the shoes liked “the Cat,” pointing out that lie was “the coming cham pion” and that he had not lost even a single game in his last eight tournaments.
About this time, Johnson entered the hall alone. He wore a porkpie hat and a windbreaker. He is 5 feet 2 inches tall and has been making his living with a cue stick for 29 years.
His home base is Boston, but he travels a lot. After the two‐day tournament here he will be going to Johnston City, Ill., for the annual pool championships.
Shorty differs from many pool hustlers in that he is equally adept at billiards as at pocket pool. “There's not much money in billiards,” he said.
Three‐cushion billiards, he explained, is to pool as chess is to checkers.
Stan Gordon, who owns McGirr's and booked the match, also compared the game to chess and said he hoped it would become pop ular. “Imagine,” he said, “Channel 13 could show a board, with no people, for five hours, with long waits between moves, and that was so popular.
“But three‐cushion is much more exciting. A player can play all his life and never have the same shot twice.”
The game is played with three balls on a table meas uring 5 by 10 feet. The idea, roughly, is for the player to hit his ball into another ball and then have his ball carom off three rails (cushions) and then strike the third ball.
It takes a geometric imag ination, a sure stroke, and if the money riding on the game is heavy, sure nerves.
At 3:30 Cattrano came in. He is a heavyset man who learned to play in his father's billiard parlor in Flushing. The 34‐year‐old player now works for his father. Unlike Shorty, he does not claim to be a hustler. Unlike him, too, he is married. He practices about three hours a day.
Mr. Gordon said that he had put up a prize of $500 for the winner of the 240‐point match, which was broken into four 60‐point blocs. Two were played yesterday, and two more will be played today. Mr. Gordon said there might be more money in volved somewhere.
This view was supported by a hat who pointed out that Boston Shorty would not always even go across town for $500 and that in this instance he had come from Arizona.
In addition, side bets were made on just yesterday's game. Marvin Braverman, a television actor and comic, admitted that he had put $5 on Shorty.
“For esthetic reasons,” Mr. Braverman said. “I mean, with a name like Boston Shorty, you got to like him.” Mr. Braverman, who often gets his phone calls at Mc Girrs, marks his own cue stick, “Chicago Marvin.”
Finally, at 4 P.M., the game began. The audience took seats around the table and talked only in whispers. Shorty made a double‐rail shot in which his ball hit the short rail, hit the red ball, veered backwards with re verse English on the same rail, spun off the long cushion and then hit the other ball.
The spectators applauded warmly. “What a hit,” said Bill Garmise, a retired an tique merchant and director of the defunct Carom Club, which he described as “a high‐class pool hall.”
“That was a terrific hit,” he said.
In the early part of the game, Shorty was winning. He would make two or three billiards or points before missing. Cattrano was miss ing narrowly, with the ball just passing that third elusive target.
But then with the score 11‐ 4 in Shorty's favor, Cattrano, who had been talking to him self, found his stroke.
He made one shot in which the ball swung around five cushions. Then another, and another. Shorty sat and smoked, looking impassive as his lead dwindled. After each billiard that Cattrano made, the crowd clapped in a show of nonpartisan sportsmanship.
The player from Flushing made 11 points before he missed. This kind of run is considered very good. The highest ever made at Mc Girr's is 18. The streak turned the game around, and al though Shorty fought back, with some applause, gaining shots of his own, he could not recover his advantage. After a game that took two hours he had lost, 60‐53.
But Shorty made a come back in the second bloc, which was played last night. The total score after half the match was 120 for Shorty and 96 for Cattrano.
