That is a cool story. Efren in the house! California was rocking and rolling in pool during this time.
Back in that era, there was a player known as "Charlie the Ape," a name that still echoes around old pool circles. He was a presence, one of those pool characters people remembered. When Keith was just a young gun, out on the road in the Midwest, Ronnie Allen set a game up between Keith and Minnesota Fats. Fats was curious how the young gun shot. Charlie the Ape was also in the house and shared a room with Keith and Ronnie. Fats and Keith played for a nickel a game, and Keith won eight dimes’ worth. It was a fun exhibition, though. The entire house was rooting for Fats, and Keith said he's be rooting for Fats too if he wasn't in action. Keith said he was laughing just as much as the railbirds, watching Fats put on a show. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Fats paid him off in $500 bills, but not just any bills. He signed every single one of them as he handed them over and not a stamped signature either. He knew exactly what that meant to a young player like Keith. Those bills weren’t just money; they were history. Priceless. And then they were gone. When Keith and Ronnie woke up the next morning, Charlie the Ape and Keith’s winnings were missing, and those signed bills were never seen again.
Fast forward years later, Keith and I are living in D.C., and out of nowhere, we get a call from a police department in California. They’re working a cold case and want to fly out to question Keith. Now I am thinking if they’re spending that kind of money to come across the country, this can’t be small. A week later, two detectives show up at our door. I checked their credentials before letting them in. Turns out, they were investigating the murder of Charlie the Ape. He had been found shot to death in a car years earlier, and the case had gone cold.
The court reporter in me, I recorded the whole conversation, with their permission, which lasted about an hour in my living room. I was wondering if there was something in Keith's past that I was not aware of, like murder. They asked Keith why they called him "Charlie the Ape.” Without missing a beat, Keith stands up and starts walking around the room like an ape, demonstrating exactly how the nickname came about. One detective put his hand over his mouth, as he couldn't control his laughter at Keith's demonstration. The other one chuckled. The rest of the conversation from there on in was more lax after that exhibition.
They left, and we never heard from them again. Later, I learned they had been reaching out to other pool players in California from that era, trying to piece things together. If memory serves me right, Mary Kenniston told me she was questioned too. Life on the road back then, it wasn’t just about the game. It was stories like this, some funny, some unbelievable, and some that never quite find their ending.
Keith still talks to Jeff Patterson every single day, who lives out in the Palm Springs area. He’s lucky to still have pool buddies from days gone by. A lot of the old crew is gone now. But the stories? They’re still very much alive
