Larry, a good friend of mine in the late 1950’s to early 1960’s lost his arm to a boat prop while we were hydroplane racing on one the channels on Long Island. He helped me pull a nice pool hustle many times after the loss of the arm. We would pick nice upscale bars where young white-collar types with money hung out after work. Larry was about a C player playing one handed.
We would go in the bar or club separately and with in an hour we would wind up playing head to head 8-ball for $5 then $10 or $20 a game. Big money in a bar back then. I would act like a real two-bit hustler beating him about every game and trying to get him to play for more a game. I missed shots that anyone that could hold a stick could see I missed on purpose. I never showed more than a weak “B” player.
It wouldn’t take long for a crowd to gather and feel sorry for the guy with only one arm getting hustled by a better player. They would shout out, “Why don’t you play him with one hand?” or “Why don’t you play someone with two arms?” I’d yell at the crowd to mind their own business. It didn’t take long before I’d hear the magic words, “Why don’t you play me for $50 or $100.” We always walked out of these kinds of places with hundreds of dollars between me beating the guy for a few hundred and the rail. That was a real nice score in those days.
One time we went into a place and it started to backfire on us. The railbirds saw Larry couldn’t win and started side betting me. They must have been lawyers or some other thieves like used car salesmen. So we just got them to put up a few hundred on me on a short set and then I dumped. Easy money. Those were the days. Johnnyt
We would go in the bar or club separately and with in an hour we would wind up playing head to head 8-ball for $5 then $10 or $20 a game. Big money in a bar back then. I would act like a real two-bit hustler beating him about every game and trying to get him to play for more a game. I missed shots that anyone that could hold a stick could see I missed on purpose. I never showed more than a weak “B” player.
It wouldn’t take long for a crowd to gather and feel sorry for the guy with only one arm getting hustled by a better player. They would shout out, “Why don’t you play him with one hand?” or “Why don’t you play someone with two arms?” I’d yell at the crowd to mind their own business. It didn’t take long before I’d hear the magic words, “Why don’t you play me for $50 or $100.” We always walked out of these kinds of places with hundreds of dollars between me beating the guy for a few hundred and the rail. That was a real nice score in those days.
One time we went into a place and it started to backfire on us. The railbirds saw Larry couldn’t win and started side betting me. They must have been lawyers or some other thieves like used car salesmen. So we just got them to put up a few hundred on me on a short set and then I dumped. Easy money. Those were the days. Johnnyt
