This is an excerpt from Jay's new book. This new book is broader in scope than his first one and Jay in his own "the way it was" style, lays it down just like it happened. His ability to remember names, faces and facts is incredible...... Enjoy..... Merry Christmas..............from Jay Helfert.....
"***** SLAPPED"
Yep, you heard me right, I got seriously ***** slapped when I was a mere lad of eighteen. It turned out to be one of the best lessons of my life, delivered by one Eddie Henderson, a massive man who owned several bars, and ran with gangsters all his life. Just another good ole' boy in Dayton, Ohio in the 60's.
I was just out of high school and currently advancing my education at Wink's Billiards, a dungeon of a poolroom hidden away in the bowels of a shopping center. There were no signs on the street to let passers-bye know it even existed. The owner (Pappy Winkler) preferred it that way. It was an outlaw's lair, a place to meet up, socialize, and then organize their next caper.
As for me I loved rubbing shoulders with the thugs and ne'r-do-wells of Dayton society. These were the guys who occasionally got their names in the paper for all the wrong reasons. They would bail out of jail and strut in the poolroom, press clippings in hand, proud of their most recent foray on the dark side. "Man arrested on the roof of bank." "Two held on suspicion of auto theft." "Suspect in attack now in custody." These headlines were the proof of their accomplishments, and they wanted their peers to know it was them who garnered the accolades.
Of course I was not one of them. I was a kid from a well to do family who liked to play pool. I was tolerated there, as long as I kept my distance. The pool players with some skills were more accepted as contemporaries by the outlaws. They had something to offer that I did not. An ability to fleece someone, which gained them respect in these circles. Just by playing pool with the real pool players, I could gain limited access to the little knots of men who were notorious in the community for their bad deeds. I wanted to hear their stories straight from the horse's mouth. Shame on me.
Little by little I gained acceptance. I had become a fixture at Wink's, the rich kid who could be seen hitting balls day and night, trying to learn the game. I was an insignificant piece of the surroundings, someone who blended in, barely worthy of notice. But oh, did I notice them; The Stepp Gang and all their cohorts, the most dangerous men in Southwestern Ohio and the bane of law enforcement everywhere. And I was only a few feet away from them. COOL!
From time to time I would hear snippets of conversation about various crimes and misdeeds. They tended to ignore my presence, like a fly on the wall. My critical error was that I would take these little bits of information and pass it along to others, appearing to be in the know about something. Foolish me! My day of reckoning soon came, in the appearance of the aforementioned Mr. Henderson, aka The Hulk!
I was minding my own business one day at Wink's, sitting at the counter engaged in conversation with another young fool, when the shadow of this giant engulfed me. He glared down at me, "Are you Jay, Jay Helfert?"
I didn't know he even knew my name. "Yes, that's me." "Stand up he bellowed." So I did, quickly. BAM!, I was on the ground, more stunned than hurt. It all happened so fast. Henderson loomed over me, "DON'T EVER TALK ABOUT ME AGAIN TO ANYONE! UNDERSTAND?" I could only shake my head yes, as I was now struck speechless. He turned and walked away, done with me. I was still on the floor, half lying and half sitting.
My mind was trying to unravel what had just transpired. Not so easy as my head was beginning to throb. Slowly it dawned on me that I had retold something the previous day that I had overheard him talking about earlier in the day. The word had gotten back to him that I was talking about him. And he didn't like it. So he decided to let me know in no uncertain terms what he thought it. Guess what, I got the message, loud and clear!
I got to my feet and without a word, slunk out of the poolroom, headed home to mend my wounds. It was only after getting in my car that I saw the extent of the damage. There was an imprint of his massive paw etched in red on my face! I don't think that hand print or the pain that went with it subsided for several hours.
That was day I learned to mind my own business in the poolroom. And my teacher was Eddie Henderson, a master instructor of "street" psychology. They don't teach that in any schools. I never forgot that lesson.
---------------------------------------------------------
There's lots more to come. Poker and pool escapades non-stop......
"***** SLAPPED"
Yep, you heard me right, I got seriously ***** slapped when I was a mere lad of eighteen. It turned out to be one of the best lessons of my life, delivered by one Eddie Henderson, a massive man who owned several bars, and ran with gangsters all his life. Just another good ole' boy in Dayton, Ohio in the 60's.
I was just out of high school and currently advancing my education at Wink's Billiards, a dungeon of a poolroom hidden away in the bowels of a shopping center. There were no signs on the street to let passers-bye know it even existed. The owner (Pappy Winkler) preferred it that way. It was an outlaw's lair, a place to meet up, socialize, and then organize their next caper.
As for me I loved rubbing shoulders with the thugs and ne'r-do-wells of Dayton society. These were the guys who occasionally got their names in the paper for all the wrong reasons. They would bail out of jail and strut in the poolroom, press clippings in hand, proud of their most recent foray on the dark side. "Man arrested on the roof of bank." "Two held on suspicion of auto theft." "Suspect in attack now in custody." These headlines were the proof of their accomplishments, and they wanted their peers to know it was them who garnered the accolades.
Of course I was not one of them. I was a kid from a well to do family who liked to play pool. I was tolerated there, as long as I kept my distance. The pool players with some skills were more accepted as contemporaries by the outlaws. They had something to offer that I did not. An ability to fleece someone, which gained them respect in these circles. Just by playing pool with the real pool players, I could gain limited access to the little knots of men who were notorious in the community for their bad deeds. I wanted to hear their stories straight from the horse's mouth. Shame on me.
Little by little I gained acceptance. I had become a fixture at Wink's, the rich kid who could be seen hitting balls day and night, trying to learn the game. I was an insignificant piece of the surroundings, someone who blended in, barely worthy of notice. But oh, did I notice them; The Stepp Gang and all their cohorts, the most dangerous men in Southwestern Ohio and the bane of law enforcement everywhere. And I was only a few feet away from them. COOL!
From time to time I would hear snippets of conversation about various crimes and misdeeds. They tended to ignore my presence, like a fly on the wall. My critical error was that I would take these little bits of information and pass it along to others, appearing to be in the know about something. Foolish me! My day of reckoning soon came, in the appearance of the aforementioned Mr. Henderson, aka The Hulk!
I was minding my own business one day at Wink's, sitting at the counter engaged in conversation with another young fool, when the shadow of this giant engulfed me. He glared down at me, "Are you Jay, Jay Helfert?"
I didn't know he even knew my name. "Yes, that's me." "Stand up he bellowed." So I did, quickly. BAM!, I was on the ground, more stunned than hurt. It all happened so fast. Henderson loomed over me, "DON'T EVER TALK ABOUT ME AGAIN TO ANYONE! UNDERSTAND?" I could only shake my head yes, as I was now struck speechless. He turned and walked away, done with me. I was still on the floor, half lying and half sitting.
My mind was trying to unravel what had just transpired. Not so easy as my head was beginning to throb. Slowly it dawned on me that I had retold something the previous day that I had overheard him talking about earlier in the day. The word had gotten back to him that I was talking about him. And he didn't like it. So he decided to let me know in no uncertain terms what he thought it. Guess what, I got the message, loud and clear!
I got to my feet and without a word, slunk out of the poolroom, headed home to mend my wounds. It was only after getting in my car that I saw the extent of the damage. There was an imprint of his massive paw etched in red on my face! I don't think that hand print or the pain that went with it subsided for several hours.
That was day I learned to mind my own business in the poolroom. And my teacher was Eddie Henderson, a master instructor of "street" psychology. They don't teach that in any schools. I never forgot that lesson.
---------------------------------------------------------
There's lots more to come. Poker and pool escapades non-stop......
