A Bad Day In Dallas
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(I am posting this story for my friend, SJDinPHX, "San Jose" Dick McMorran, who is currently experiencing computer technical problems and is unable to post it under his own name)
A Bad Day in Dallas
by Dick (San Jose) Mc Morran
For more years than I care to remember my life has consisted of matching up and getting down. The larger cities had great old rooms where all the guys doing the same thing would come together to try and get the best of each other. But most of the time, it was on the road in a strange town where you could slip in, unknown, and get some "soft" action playing the hometown champion. Many times I have wished I'd chosen a little softer career path.
Shortly before the assasination of JFK, I left San Jose and moved to Dallas. It was an ominous beginning to the best 7 or 8 years of my life. Within a few hundred miles of where I settled in Arlington, there was all the action (soft and tough) any player could want. Wichita, O.K. City, Tulsa, Shreveport, and Houston were all less than a tank of gas away. With gas at thirty cents a gallon, my 1959 Buick rarely saw under 80 MPH getting to where the action was.
Now to my story. I'm awakened at 3 AM from a sound sleep by a voice I recognized immediately. It's Puckett and he said "Get your ass down here right now"! Only half awake and lying next to the sweetest "pool groupie" I'd ever met, I said "F--- you"! U.J. went on to explain. A mutual acquaintance of ours, George McGann was loser some serious money, backing U.J. against some young stranger. George wants you to get over here and try and get him even. The kid says he'll wait so hurry up". I threw on some clothes and got a warning from Sweetie Pie (she tended bar for George) and she said "Watch out for him, he can be real mean". I knew that very well. I said "Not to worry, he's going to be on my side". I was forty minutes away from George's bar on Lemon Street; I made it in twenty five.
I knew that George was probably the most dangerous and unpredictable tush-hog in all of Texas. T.J. Parker, who owned a pool room in Houston, was just as mean, but not as crazy. George was known to brag about his many enemies "disappearance"..Yeah, they found him dead in the desert shot full of holes, terrible case of "suicide".
As I entered, George, Puckett and Billy T. (another Dallas tough guy and a real good friend) were sitting at the end of the bar. A young handsome blond guy was dancing to some loud music with his girlfriend. This kid, I learned later, was Surfer Rod. It was our first of many encounters. The guys filled me in on what had happened. George was $800 loser backing U.J. at $50-$100 eight ball. Billy T. was a few hundred loser side betting. That's a lot of money in today's dollars. After trying to get him to play nine ball, Rod finally stopped dancing long enough to flip a coin and we kicked it off for $50 a game eight ball.
Bar table eight ball was not my best game. After a few hours of see-sawing, I was a game or two loser. Rod was playing pretty solid. In a flash of brilliance I said "Let's jack it to $100 and play last pocket". Rod danced over to the juke box and said "You got it". Puckett agreed that should give me an edge and sheepishly admitted he should have thought of that.
Sure enough, I won about 5-6 games in a row and Rod said "That's all, I quit". I sensed something was going down. Billy T. left (very unusual)
and James Pelfrey came in. James was one of George's pet gofers and a poorly educated, big, mean tush-hog. James would literally "kill" for George. He was a real loose cannon. As Rod is gathering up his stuff, George came out from behind the bar with the biggest handgun I'd ever seen. He put it right up to Rod's temple and said "You ain't quitting Mother F-----r!" I tried to calm George down and even told him I wouldn't play under those conditions. He's still got the gun two inches from poor Rod's head, he turned his wild eyes in my direction and said "Yes you will, Dick".
Whatever medication George was on, in his mind, this was an honorable way to get his money back, short of an outright heist. He told Rod if he busted us, he could leave with no problem..right! Rod and I had no choice but to continue the charade at virtual gunpoint. He threw me a few more games (George was still a few hundred loser) and Rod, never short on pure guts, said "I quit, shoot me if you want to". Puckett had gotten George calmed down a little by that time and he let Rod and his sobbing girlfriend leave the joint. I followed him out to the parking lot and his car had been ransacked, trunk pried open, seats and floor mats pulled up, etc. I hadn't noticed but James had been absent for the last half hour.
I was profusely apologetic about what had taken place. He understood it was not my fault. In fact we met and played the very next night, just the two of us, at an undisclosed location. Once again, Rod did not like it. He got robbed without a gun to his head! But that's another story.
If anyone wants more information about what a dangerous character this George McGann was
See post # 13 (This thread) for link to Geo. Mc Gann. It is a fascinating read by an old friend...Johnny Hughes.
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Last edited by Charles M : 03-02-2008 at 07:15 PM.
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(I am posting this story for my friend, SJDinPHX, "San Jose" Dick McMorran, who is currently experiencing computer technical problems and is unable to post it under his own name)
A Bad Day in Dallas
by Dick (San Jose) Mc Morran
For more years than I care to remember my life has consisted of matching up and getting down. The larger cities had great old rooms where all the guys doing the same thing would come together to try and get the best of each other. But most of the time, it was on the road in a strange town where you could slip in, unknown, and get some "soft" action playing the hometown champion. Many times I have wished I'd chosen a little softer career path.
Shortly before the assasination of JFK, I left San Jose and moved to Dallas. It was an ominous beginning to the best 7 or 8 years of my life. Within a few hundred miles of where I settled in Arlington, there was all the action (soft and tough) any player could want. Wichita, O.K. City, Tulsa, Shreveport, and Houston were all less than a tank of gas away. With gas at thirty cents a gallon, my 1959 Buick rarely saw under 80 MPH getting to where the action was.
Now to my story. I'm awakened at 3 AM from a sound sleep by a voice I recognized immediately. It's Puckett and he said "Get your ass down here right now"! Only half awake and lying next to the sweetest "pool groupie" I'd ever met, I said "F--- you"! U.J. went on to explain. A mutual acquaintance of ours, George McGann was loser some serious money, backing U.J. against some young stranger. George wants you to get over here and try and get him even. The kid says he'll wait so hurry up". I threw on some clothes and got a warning from Sweetie Pie (she tended bar for George) and she said "Watch out for him, he can be real mean". I knew that very well. I said "Not to worry, he's going to be on my side". I was forty minutes away from George's bar on Lemon Street; I made it in twenty five.
I knew that George was probably the most dangerous and unpredictable tush-hog in all of Texas. T.J. Parker, who owned a pool room in Houston, was just as mean, but not as crazy. George was known to brag about his many enemies "disappearance"..Yeah, they found him dead in the desert shot full of holes, terrible case of "suicide".
As I entered, George, Puckett and Billy T. (another Dallas tough guy and a real good friend) were sitting at the end of the bar. A young handsome blond guy was dancing to some loud music with his girlfriend. This kid, I learned later, was Surfer Rod. It was our first of many encounters. The guys filled me in on what had happened. George was $800 loser backing U.J. at $50-$100 eight ball. Billy T. was a few hundred loser side betting. That's a lot of money in today's dollars. After trying to get him to play nine ball, Rod finally stopped dancing long enough to flip a coin and we kicked it off for $50 a game eight ball.
Bar table eight ball was not my best game. After a few hours of see-sawing, I was a game or two loser. Rod was playing pretty solid. In a flash of brilliance I said "Let's jack it to $100 and play last pocket". Rod danced over to the juke box and said "You got it". Puckett agreed that should give me an edge and sheepishly admitted he should have thought of that.
Sure enough, I won about 5-6 games in a row and Rod said "That's all, I quit". I sensed something was going down. Billy T. left (very unusual)
and James Pelfrey came in. James was one of George's pet gofers and a poorly educated, big, mean tush-hog. James would literally "kill" for George. He was a real loose cannon. As Rod is gathering up his stuff, George came out from behind the bar with the biggest handgun I'd ever seen. He put it right up to Rod's temple and said "You ain't quitting Mother F-----r!" I tried to calm George down and even told him I wouldn't play under those conditions. He's still got the gun two inches from poor Rod's head, he turned his wild eyes in my direction and said "Yes you will, Dick".
Whatever medication George was on, in his mind, this was an honorable way to get his money back, short of an outright heist. He told Rod if he busted us, he could leave with no problem..right! Rod and I had no choice but to continue the charade at virtual gunpoint. He threw me a few more games (George was still a few hundred loser) and Rod, never short on pure guts, said "I quit, shoot me if you want to". Puckett had gotten George calmed down a little by that time and he let Rod and his sobbing girlfriend leave the joint. I followed him out to the parking lot and his car had been ransacked, trunk pried open, seats and floor mats pulled up, etc. I hadn't noticed but James had been absent for the last half hour.
I was profusely apologetic about what had taken place. He understood it was not my fault. In fact we met and played the very next night, just the two of us, at an undisclosed location. Once again, Rod did not like it. He got robbed without a gun to his head! But that's another story.
If anyone wants more information about what a dangerous character this George McGann was
See post # 13 (This thread) for link to Geo. Mc Gann. It is a fascinating read by an old friend...Johnny Hughes.
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Last edited by Charles M : 03-02-2008 at 07:15 PM.
Last edited:
