Received a note for this thread from a non-member via email...
Dear “Wedge”—
I have a memory of Babe Cranfield which goes back to 1966 or 1967. I attended the World’s Straight Pool Championship in NYC as a youth. Other than Lassiter and Crane and Balsis, I didn’t know who any of the players were, having recently arrived from the Midwest. The tournament was, as I recall, in The Commodore Hotel. I began to watch a match in which “Arthur Cranfield” was playing, whoever “Arthur Cranfield” might be. I still remember that the referee was Ed “Cue Ball” Kelley—not the Ed Kelly who is around now but the man who could snap the cue ball with his fingers and make three-cushion shots, and whose real name may have been Zingale, if I am not mistaken. So Arthur Cranfield, whoever he is, finally busts loose from a safety and gets a pattern that you can see your way through. He shoots a ball and draws back about six inches to perfect position, but his face turns into a scowl. He points with his cue tip on the table to a spot about three inches away from where the cue ball stopped. He’s not happy. He shoots the next ball and goes into a rail and back and gets nearly perfect position. He frowns. He shakes his head. He has missed his position slightly. He gets down and shoots the next shot. Once again, he is dissatisfied and looks in complaint at Kelley for sympathy. Kelley stares back impassively. I think to myself, “Man, this guy never gets his position.” “Arthur Cranfield” makes the shot, which is virtually a hanger anyway.
And so it went for about thirty minutes. When “Arthur Cranfield” finally got up to something like eighty-two balls in his run and was still going strong and his chagrin over his position had continued after every shot, I said to myself, “According to him, this guy is NEVER going to be in position!”