Legendary Muscle

[pwd72s]

Tough Guys? A VERY tough guy hangs out at the cue ball in Salem, Oregon. He's elderly now, has a gentle demeanor. Still, I call him a tough guy. Anybody here watch the HBO miniseries "band of brothers"?

The real life Donald Malarkey... Any man who fought from Normandy through Germany is a tough guy in my book. Tough in the true sense of the word.

 

[Johnnyt]

Johnny,
Floyd was a nice man. Very humble & soft spoken but he also had a warrior's heart. I got my picture taken with him when he was at one of my fights in Pittsburgh.

Anyway, are you talking about "Crazy" Charlie Norkus? Floyd's chief sparring partner was a guy named Sherman Overton Jr, who fought under the name of Amos "Big Train" Lincoln. Charlie Norkus was Floyd's back-up when the Big Train was too sore!
Norkus died in 1996.

I never knew Charlies last name. Was Norkus Black or White? Johnnyt

 

[Terry Ardeno]

I never knew Charlies last name. Was Norkus Black or White? Johnnyt

White.

Let me go fish around on some of the boxing sites & see if I can round up a photo.
I'll be back....

 

[Johnnyt]

White.

Let me go fish around on some of the boxing sites & see if I can round up a photo.
I'll be back....

OK thanks Arnold. Johnnyt

 

[Terry Ardeno]

I never knew Charlies last name. Was Norkus Black or White? Johnnyt

Here's his front.....
http://antekprizering.com/moorenorkus6851.html

 

[Terry Ardeno]

I never knew Charlies last name. Was Norkus Black or White? Johnnyt

And here's his back...
http://www.eastsideboxing.com/news.php?p=13447&more=1

PS-Since you "Pearl Harbored" him, I figured I should include a back shot since that may better jog your memory!

 

[Johnnyt]

It looks something like but it can't be. This Charlie was never that good or I'd have known it. Thank you for posting it. Johnnyt

 

[freddy the beard]

Effective strategy

I had a friend of mine, who used to do the road, tell me about how they'd deal with the local Tush-hogs. They'd get into town on Thursday night and find out who the tush hogs were. On Friday night they'd slip them a little mickey in their drink and it was stuff that would give them the shi!s for a couple of days.
Not that I support any kind of drugging people, but seemed like a way to get them out of the picture. Always keep a close eye on your drinks. There are still a few of those people out there.

In the 70s there was an all-night bar on Rush St. in Chicago called, Martini's. It had 3 bar tables and good sucker action after 4AM. Made good money there, but this big tush-hog named Ron Shea would come in drunk and gorilla all the tables. He was big too, about 6'7 and 300 plus lbs. He would put his quarter up on all the tables, tush-hog the suckers and wouldnt pay off the hustlers, threatening and barking the whole time. My old pal, Johnny Morris, long departed, was a famous "Jar" hustler and bad drink mixologist. After we had all had about enough of Mr. Shea, Morris fixed up 'Ol Ron a sh*t mickey (composed mainly of some sort of rat poison) and doctored his drink. We then waited around for the show to begin, everybody (all the hustlers) were in on it. He was really drunk and obnoxious, and was hooting and bellering, spitting and fuming, when he stopped everything suddenly, and got an incredibly surprised look on his face. He made a mad dash for the bathroom, but Morris had beat him to it and was already in there with the door locked. While pounding on the door the medicine went into full effect, you see it's not only a sh*t mickey, but also a considerable puke mickey. He flew out of the front door with stuff coming out of both ends. He didnt return for months, and when he did he reverted to form again. But this time, my other pal, Race Track Phil had enough of Ron's shenanagins and ordered Ron to meet him outside on the street. Keep in mind, Phil was only about 5'9 and about 165 lbs. Phil was like a DiLiberto, but without the training. Ron was stunned by Phil's challenge, and the disparity in size, and finally said, "Whatta you got, a gun?" Phil told him he would find everything out when they got outside. Ron didnt say anything else, left the pool area and went and sat up front at the bar, quiet as a mouse.

the Beard

Postscript: Ron started hanging around in Old Town with the same act. The hippies gave him their own version of the "Jar." They doctored his drink this time with a massive dose of LSD. He woke up naked in an alley a couple days later. (That was 30 years ago. I do hope Ron is either dead, or never gets to read this. I figure for a story to have validity you got to use real names.)

 

[ShootingArts]

that's funny!!

(That was 30 years ago. I do hope Ron is either dead, or never gets to read this. I figure for a story to have validity you got to use real names.)

That is funny! I usually make a habit of cutting enough of somebody's name out of a story that people can't be sure, but hard to do that with the one you just told. It would be rough to open the door one morning and find Ron on your porch!

I knew a man maybe in his late sixties at the time that picked up a 250+ cop and threw him like a ragdoll. Age ain't enough to make me count anyone out.

Hu

 

[satman]

Rat poison?

In the 70s there was an all-night bar on Rush St. in Chicago called, Martini's. It had 3 bar tables and good sucker action after 4AM. Made good money there, but this big tush-hog named Ron Shea would come in drunk and gorilla all the tables. He was big too, about 6'7 and 300 plus lbs. He would put his quarter up on all the tables, tush-hog the suckers and wouldnt pay off the hustlers, threatening and barking the whole time. My old pal, Johnny Morris, long departed, was a famous "Jar" hustler and bad drink mixologist. After we had all had about enough of Mr. Shea, Morris fixed up 'Ol Ron a sh*t mickey (composed mainly of some sort of rat poison) and doctored his drink. We then waited around for the show to begin, everybody (all the hustlers) were in on it. He was really drunk and obnoxious, and was hooting and bellering, spitting and fuming, when he stopped everything suddenly, and got an incredibly surprised look on his face. He made a mad dash for the bathroom, but Morris had beat him to it and was already in there with the door locked. While pounding on the door the medicine went into full effect, you see it's not only a sh*t mickey, but also a considerable puke mickey. He flew out of the front door with stuff coming out of both ends. He didnt return for months, and when he did he reverted to form again. But this time, my other pal, Race Track Phil had enough of Ron's shenanagins and ordered Ron to meet him outside on the street. Keep in mind, Phil was only about 5'9 and about 165 lbs. Phil was like a DiLiberto, but without the training. Ron was stunned by Phil's challenge, and the disparity in size, and finally said, "Whatta you got, a gun?" Phil told him he would find everything out when they got outside. Ron didnt say anything else, left the pool area and went and sat up front at the bar, quiet as a mouse.

the Beard

Postscript: Ron started hanging around in Old Town with the same act. The hippies gave him their own version of the "Jar." They doctored his drink this time with a massive dose of LSD. He woke up naked in an alley a couple days later. (That was 30 years ago. I do hope Ron is either dead, or never gets to read this. I figure for a story to have validity you got to use real names.)

I think the stuff may have been a mixture used for horses when they got constipated. And like you said, when it hit them, it hit hard. Lasted a couple of days. My buddy said they were in a strip club working some average players and one of the strippers ripped them off. So they slipped her one and she lost it all when she was on stage dancing. He said it was one of the funniest sights he ever seen.

 

[bigskyjake]

I think the stuff may have been a mixture used for horses when they got constipated. And like you said, when it hit them, it hit hard. Lasted a couple of days. My buddy said they were in a strip club working some average players and one of the strippers ripped them off. So they slipped her one and she lost it all when she was on stage dancing. He said it was one of the funniest sights he ever seen.

I'm guessing the guys at the tip bar got their dollars worth........ provided they were fecal freaks

 

[Terry Ardeno]

In the 70s there was an all-night bar on Rush St. in Chicago called, Martini's. It had 3 bar tables and good sucker action after 4AM. Made good money there, but this big tush-hog named Ron Shea would come in drunk and gorilla all the tables. He was big too, about 6'7 and 300 plus lbs. He would put his quarter up on all the tables, tush-hog the suckers and wouldnt pay off the hustlers, threatening and barking the whole time. My old pal, Johnny Morris, long departed, was a famous "Jar" hustler and bad drink mixologist. After we had all had about enough of Mr. Shea, Morris fixed up 'Ol Ron a sh*t mickey (composed mainly of some sort of rat poison) and doctored his drink. We then waited around for the show to begin, everybody (all the hustlers) were in on it. He was really drunk and obnoxious, and was hooting and bellering, spitting and fuming, when he stopped everything suddenly, and got an incredibly surprised look on his face. He made a mad dash for the bathroom, but Morris had beat him to it and was already in there with the door locked. While pounding on the door the medicine went into full effect, you see it's not only a sh*t mickey, but also a considerable puke mickey. He flew out of the front door with stuff coming out of both ends. He didnt return for months, and when he did he reverted to form again. But this time, my other pal, Race Track Phil had enough of Ron's shenanagins and ordered Ron to meet him outside on the street. Keep in mind, Phil was only about 5'9 and about 165 lbs. Phil was like a DiLiberto, but without the training. Ron was stunned by Phil's challenge, and the disparity in size, and finally said, "Whatta you got, a gun?" Phil told him he would find everything out when they got outside. Ron didnt say anything else, left the pool area and went and sat up front at the bar, quiet as a mouse.

the Beard

Postscript: Ron started hanging around in Old Town with the same act. The hippies gave him their own version of the "Jar." They doctored his drink this time with a massive dose of LSD. He woke up naked in an alley a couple days later. (That was 30 years ago. I do hope Ron is either dead, or never gets to read this. I figure for a story to have validity you got to use real names.)

Another fascinating tale from yore that needs to be included in next book we keep begging you to write.

As an aside, I would like your opinion on something. From what I've read and heard, Detroit could give Chicago the wild 7 when it came to "mickeying up" somebodies drink in the pool room. Especially if Detroit Whitey was around. I would put a lot of veracity in your honest opinion. I know you're strong for the hometeam, but I'll trust your opinion either way!

Also, since you're naming names, remember when Cornbread's crew slipped RA something extra as payback for an earlier such favor done to Burge?

 

[Matt_24]

The toughest man I knew.....

Since the thread has veered a bit, I'll share with you the toughest son of a gun I ever knew. My PA.

He was raised farm tough, oldest of 11 brothers and sisters -- of dirt poor migrant workers (meaning they didn't own a farm, and worked for whomever in TN needed help). So, after 5th grade he was working full time. Money came over education.

He joined the Army at 18, and was in the Invasion of Normandy, and saw roughly 2 years of action. After several bronze stars, and a purple heart he came home because he couldn't keep food down. Basically, stress caused half of his stomach to become ulcerated. In the 50's the VA decided it needed to be removed, so he lived the rest of his life with half of a stomach.

After coming home from World War II he married my Mema, and drank whiskey with his old Army friend Buck. They basically travelled around for a few years playing poker and drinking whiskey. Lots of it. He finally wrecked his car, had to pay a big fine, and then my Mema became pregnant with my mother (in around 48) so he decided to give up the drink.

He got a job, and worked hard for about 10 years and finally bought a farm. This man drew tobacco, had a green thumb and grew a huge garden that was always beautiful and overflowing. Worked hogs, cattle, etc. This man put in a hard days work - oh, and that was just on weekends. He also worked for Kraft Foods for 30 years full time finally retiring around the time I was born. He then worked for the city full time doing something for another 10 (he believed in hard work). He could ride and rope, and in his 60's had a 6 pack and arms that looked like they could bend steel. He had big meat hooks as well, and didn't stand for bullsh*t.

To his grandkids he was Superman. He took us everywhere and devoted all of his retired years to, well, US. Everywhere we went everyone liked and respected him (remember, this was a small town where everyone knew everyone). He didn't say much but when he did people listened, but, he was also a jokester and had the best sense of humor. I remember him telling us jokes that perhaps we were too young for and my Mema always getting onto him about it, which made it funnier. He drove her crazy, but she worshipped the ground he walked on to.

I heard a story of when he was about 55. He went to my Cousin's house and they had bought a new horse which was still a bit wild (meaning it didn't let people ride it). He told them, "I'll break it." They said, "Ok.." thinking he was joking. He jumped on that horse and took off, and calmed her right on down, to everyone's amazement.

My Great-Uncle Tony told a story of my Pa and Uncle Danny (Pa's son) walking downtown (it was a small, one stop sign town) one day. My Pa went into some store and my Uncle was outside talking to some other young guys, all around 17 and 18 years old. This one guy who thought he was the town tough started to mess with my Uncle. He was a big son of a gun, like 6 ft and all muscle...full of piss and vinegar and probably some booze that day. My Uncle is a certified genius, and the non-violent type, a true nice-guy. I guess my Pa was watching what was going on, and this guy just hits my Uncle for no reason. Tony said my Pa took after this big son of a b*tch in two seconds flat, and knocked four teeth out with one punch. They said that tough guy was on the ground crying, "I'm sorry Mr. Parkerson, I didn't want to fight you." (I might add, this guy was a lot larger than my Pa) We all still laugh about that.....but Pa was no joke.

Anyhow, this was the toughest guy I ever knew - and I still miss the hell out of him. Here is a pic of me as a little boy with my hero!

 

[jay helfert]

Since the thread has veered a bit, I'll share with you the toughest son of a gun I ever knew. My PA.

He was raised farm tough, oldest of 11 brothers and sisters -- of dirt poor migrant workers (meaning they didn't own a farm, and worked for whomever in TN needed help). So, after 5th grade he was working full time. Money came over education.

He joined the Army at 18, and was in the Invasion of Normandy, and saw roughly 2 years of action. After several bronze stars, and a purple heart he came home because he couldn't keep food down. Basically, stress caused half of his stomach to become ulcerated. In the 50's the VA decided it needed to be removed, so he lived the rest of his life with half of a stomach.



it funnier. He drove her crazy, but she worshipped the ground he walked on to.

I heard a story of when he was about 55. He went to my Cousin's house and they had bought a new horse which was still a bit wild (meaning it didn't let people ride it). He told them, "I'll break it." They said, "Ok.." thinking he was joking. He jumped on that horse and took off, and calmed her right on down, to everyone's amazement.

My Great-Uncle Tony told a story of my Pa and Uncle Danny (Pa's son) walking downtown (it was a small, one stop sign town) one day. My Pa went into some store and my Uncle was outside talking to some other young guys, all around 17 and 18 years old. This one guy who thought he was the town tough started to mess with my Uncle. He was a big son of a gun, like 6 ft and all muscle...full of piss and vinegar and probably some booze that day. My Uncle is a certified genius, and the non-violent type, a true nice-guy. I guess my Pa was watching what was going on, and this guy just hits my Uncle for no reason. Tony said my Pa took after this big son of a b*tch in two seconds flat, and knocked four teeth out with one punch. They said that tough guy was on the ground crying, "I'm sorry Mr. Parkerson, I didn't want to fight you." (I might add, this guy was a lot larger than my Pa) We all still laugh about that.....but Pa was no joke.

Anyhow, this was the toughest guy I ever knew - and I still miss the hell out of him. Here is a pic of me as a little boy with my hero!

I always used to say the toughest guys in the world are the family men if you mess with their family. When I was just starting to come into the poolrooms in Dayton, the Stepp gang ruled the city. A bunch of big tough outlaws, who feared no one or anything. There was a dumb kid who used to come around and blow off his mouth about how rich he was (his Dad actually).

As a joke Bill Stepp (the leader of the gang) humiliated the kid by making him kiss his d--k, and then gave him an ass kicking to boot. A pretty bad one at that. A couple of days later, the Dad showed up in the poolroom asking for Bill Stepp. When he was pointed out the old man walked up to Bill and asked him if he was Bill Stepp. Bill looked at the old man and said sure, who are you. The guy pulled out a .25 and shot Bill three times in the chest from about five feet away. Then he told him he was the kid's dad. Bill Stepp never moved an inch, just stood there. The old guy turned and walked away, gun in hand.

Bill Stepp got rushed to the hospital by a couple of his buddies and narrowly survived. This was one family the Stepps never messed with again.

 

[freddy the beard]

Michigan hillbillies

Another fascinating tale from yore that needs to be included in next book we keep begging you to write.

As an aside, I would like your opinion on something. From what I've read and heard, Detroit could give Chicago the wild 7 when it came to "mickeying up" somebodies drink in the pool room. Especially if Detroit Whitey was around. I would put a lot of veracity in your honest opinion. I know you're strong for the hometeam, but I'll trust your opinion either way!

Also, since you're naming names, remember when Cornbread's crew slipped RA something extra as payback for an earlier such favor done to Burge?

Actually, Detroit Whitey wasnt a jar hustler. Not that he wouldnt jar somebody if he had some, but it wasnt really in his repertoire. It wasnt the Detroit guys per se that were ferocious with the jar either, but the small town Michigan hillbillies that hung around Detroit. Junior Sweatman for example.
The story of Ronnie Allen writhing on the floor, foaming at the mouth from a Red jar payback can be found in one of my books (I forgot which one).

the Beard

 

[DRW]

Shi! mickey

I think the stuff may have been a mixture used for horses when they got constipated. And like you said, when it hit them, it hit hard. Lasted a couple of days. My buddy said they were in a strip club working some average players and one of the strippers ripped them off. So they slipped her one and she lost it all when she was on stage dancing. He said it was one of the funniest sights he ever seen.

Satman, I think you could be talking about a player with the initials of S.O. This happened with me and him in the Bare&Ball in Lafayette, IN in the late 70's. We talked about it at this years DCC. The other initials could be GS.

 

[JoeW]

Not pool but a good story anyway to kick in for all the good ones I have read.

Fellow here in Youngstown is as big as they come, and I mean big. Rides downtown in his truck. At the time car jacking was a problem on Market Street. Sure enough, three guys approach his truck at a red light, one with a gun in hand, according to the cops.

My man gets out of the truck with this big s**t eating grin and a ball bat in hand, He put all of them in the hospital. Guys in the hospital were confused as to why he was grinning, after all one of them had a gun -- go figure.

 

[oldroller]

Horse

Laxitve for sure!Just a tad bit mixed in a little bottle(toothache med) perfect size for palming.I know a guy that used it many times.He was a B.Stepp protege'It works fast,it ain't pretty it don't smell pretty.WHEW

 

[corvette1340]

I always used to say the toughest guys in the world are the family men if you mess with their family. When I was just starting to come into the poolrooms in Dayton, the Stepp gang ruled the city. A bunch of big tough outlaws, who feared no one or anything. There was a dumb kid who used to come around and blow off his mouth about how rich he was (his Dad actually).

As a joke Bill Stepp (the leader of the gang) humiliated the kid by making him kiss his d--k, and then gave him an ass kicking to boot. A pretty bad one at that. A couple of days later, the Dad showed up in the poolroom asking for Bill Stepp. When he was pointed out the old man walked up to Bill and asked him if he was Bill Stepp. Bill looked at the old man and said sure, who are you. The guy pulled out a .25 and shot Bill three times in the chest from about five feet away. Then he told him he was the kid's dad. Bill Stepp never moved an inch, just stood there. The old guy turned and walked away, gun in hand.

Bill Stepp got rushed to the hospital by a couple of his buddies and narrowly survived. This was one family the Stepps never messed with again.

So what happened to the kid's dad? Isn't that illegal?

 

[Johnnyt]

So what happened to the kid's dad? Isn't that illegal?

The kids Dad was rich. It was like if the glove don't fit back then too. Great court system...for the rich and famous. Johnnyt