There was a time that pool was magical.
My belief is that most of us here are far too young to have experienced that in full bloom but some of us were still there at an age where you could catch a wafting scent of it on the breeze.
So many rooms, so many players, local and off the road, so much action.
Personally, I recall the big rooms in San Franciso like The Palace and Cochans, of which there were similar editions of all over the country. As well as the smaller rooms notable in their own way like The Billiard Palacade, Town & Country Billiards, Family Billiards, and Vans. The sport was thick with legendary players, match ups, and accomplishments. And when someone like Mosconi, or Caras, or Lassiter, or Balsis came to a room nearby it was something so special, and they made the game look so elegant, it made you swoon and a devotee for life.
Of course there were the scalawags too. And that was exciting too when someone like Ronnie Allen or Jack Cooney came to your town and set up camp, like a fisherman happy to wait for a bite on his line and the bobbin to sink and wiggle. Action always seemed available to anyone and everyone at any skill level. If it was your home room you could walk in at any time and be guaranteed a game of pool, or if the pool tables were full some 3C, or perhaps some gin, cribbage, tonk, or even chess along the rail.
Road players would come, be instantly recognized, hailed heartily, and would always find a way to get into action (and still usually win).
Pool was better. Before the boats, before FR, before a lot of other things.
Lou Figueroa
