Memories

[Frostbit]

Memoire sounds old and tends to denote memories at the end of life. So I chose memories instead of death bed confessions.

Gramps when he posted more regularly used to regale us with his remarkable life experiences. I for one would hope he joins in here.

I'll start......

Joyce and I met at a frat party on the Drexel campus in 1972. I desperately needed a female date in order to go to the annual inter fraternal ball, a gala event by college standards. She on the other hand had just been jilted by a different frat member and was hoping someone would ask her to the Ball in order to make said idiot jealous. I wonder where he is now? If he only knew what sheer awesomeness he had tossed to the curb.

I asked her to dance and she accepted. My mind had already calculated that she would be a potential date for the Ball. Afterall, she appeared to be female and breathed oxygen. Little did I know she was looking at me thinking what a goofy looking guy with a fro. Surely he hasn't found a date yet.

We danced and drank some beer. Chatted about something or another likely so insignificant I can't remember what it was. I invited her back to my room at my frat to see my fish. I had a 29 gallon high fish tank in the non-functioning fireplace in my bedroom of the old converted one time railroad mansion turned frat house. She said "sure".

Back at the frat we made out a bit and talked about angle fish and tetras. I got no further than the kissing. I asked her to the Ball. She enthusiastically replied yes.

Fast forward.......

At the Ball we danced occasionally but I spent more time partying with my frat brothers and she spent more time talking with other nursing students and attempting to spark jealousy in her "lost love". At the end of the night we danced more and more. Talked more and more. "You didn't tell me you had a motorcycle", she said. "I want a ride".

At that point I started to look at her as more than a warm blooded necessary date.

We both decided we had a good time and I was honest that I didn't try to impress her at the Ball. She laughed and admitted she only went to make the ex jealous. We decided another date should happen.

I picked her up on Saturday on my Honda 350 SL. A bike bred to be a road/dirt hybrid that was lousy at both. No matter where I took her she wanted faster, higher jumps, steeper hill climbs. I could not scare her. I fell in love that day and I'm still trying to scare her unsuccessfully.

[Gingersnap]

I was hot (temperature-wise), sweaty, and I had a head covered with hay because we we were haying. I saw some dude walking up to the fence line but assumed he was a hired guy. My brother waved me over and it was a cute guy from school visiting his cousin's house. He wanted to see if I could get off and go into town.

I demolished the land speed record for a French bath and yanking on a mini skirt and a band tee shirt.

He had an indifferent but serviceable junker Ford. We went to town and had fries and cokes and talked....and talked and talked until they threw us out. I called my Mom to assure her that I hadn't been raped by Baptists and got an earful. We drove out to the local lover's lane (which was pretty full) and did what teens do in places like that. (No sex, of course - we went to the same church.)

We went back to my place and I showed him my horse among other things.

'Straight Up' and 'The Look' were on the radio in the barn. I still can't hear those without thinking about that date. He wasn't a keeper but my, did he look fine that particular day.

[80zephyr]

Meant to be...

Before he was drafted, my dad worked in a factory in Chicago. He went there to find work after living his entire life in central Wisconsin. So, he is in a bar one night and a gorgeous woman is in the place. But, he was too shy to talk to her, and after she left, she didn't come back to that tavern again. He was not happy.

About a month later, he comes back to central Wisconsin to attend a wedding. When he sits down, the woman he had seen in Chicago is sitting right across the table from him.

As they say, the rest is history. He and mom were married after the war in 1946

Mark

[Frostbit]

My Grandfather came over from Poland in his 20’s with little money and poor English skills. He was a gifted brick layer though and had no trouble finding work. He also ran a speakeasy out of his house during prohibition but that’s another story.

He met my Grandmother here in the states in the Polish section of what is now a ghetto called Chester. He was smitten and made the proper advances yet my Grandmother would not marry him until he did something unthinkable but more on that after some background.

In the Catholic grammar school I attended there was another Wojciehowski in my class who was not related to us and spelled his last name Wojciechowski. I asked my Father why our names were so similar but off by one letter. My Father told me that Wojciechowski was the proper spelling but when my Grandfather came over the immigration people misspelled his name.

Later, when he was in his late 80’s grandpop moved in with us. His English was passable by that point but he would prefer to speak Polish and my father would not allow that in our house.

I would ask my Grandfather about old stories and one day I asked him about my classmates spelling of our name. My Grandfather told me he dropped the one letter off our name because my Grandmother was very superstitious and would not marry a man with 13 letters in his name.

I later told my Father what grandpop said and my Father laughed it off saying Grandpop was pulling my leg.

The bricklayer died at 97 and many year later my Father died. While going through paperwork and photos I found my Grandfather’s immigration paperwork and the spelling of his name ......... Wojciechowski with 13 letters.

[phillygirl]

One set of my great grandparents were from Italy..more specifically one from Sicily and one from Naples. The g grandfather came here first. He saved up enough to send for a wife. My g grandmother was that wife. She got here and then refused to marry him telling him that she only agreed to the deal so she could get to America. He threatened to have her mother and sisters in Italy arrested if she didn't follow through with the marriage. She loved her sisters and mother very much. Romance doesn't run deep in my family.

[80zephyr]

One set of my great grandparents were from Italy..more specifically one from Sicily and one from Naples. The g grandfather came here first. He saved up enough to send for a wife. My g grandmother was that wife. She got here and then refused to marry him telling him that she only agreed to the deal so she could get to America. He threatened to have her mother and sisters in Italy arrested if she didn't follow through with the marriage. She loved her sisters and mother very much. Romance doesn't run deep in my family.

Did she ever come to love your grandfather?

Mark

[phillygirl]

Did she ever come to love your grandfather?

Mark

I assume so. I've never heard differently and I know that they were very important in the lives of their grandchildren (my mother and uncle specifically). In particular, my great grandfather always featured prominently in the stories told by my mother and uncle. He lived longer than the g grandmother.

They could only speak to each other in broken English because their dialects were so different. But they raised a family together, as well as helping to raise my mother and uncle during the Depression as my grandparents also lived with them.

[Gramps]

Chronicles of Gramps

here you go Frosty:

Chronicles of Gramps
My earlier life as a pool player and part time hustler.

I first stepped into a pool hall when I was in the 6th grade. It was Less Almer’s pool hall in Webb City Mo. The establishment had a minority co-owner Harry Warren.. It was small, 2 snooker tables, 4 pool tables and 4 domino tables.
One would wonder, at 10 cents a cue or 30 cents per hour, or 5 cents a chair per game at the domino tables, how it could make enough money to support to support two people. The answer was it didn’t. Les’s was a front for an illegal gambling hall on the second floor, accessed by another door on the alley, that led to a stairway.

As I said, first time, 6th grade, I was hooked.

So, by the time I could drive, I had spent an inordinate amount of time in Les Almer’s.
Eventually I was working there. I got paid by the rack or the rag (clean the domino table).
And I played.
We had so many games prior to the quarter tables that took the spirit out of the game.
Bottle pool… (sort of complicated, involved knocking over the bottle, made balls, and kisses)
9 ball kelly
Golf on the snooker tables.
10 ball
10 ball kelly
The winner of each game paid for the rack.

Assholes played 8 ball for a nickel a cue. Long game. Less money for the ‘racker’.

The gambling establishment that was only open on Sat nites.
It had a roulette table some slots but the game was poker.
Couples would come up. The women would play the slots or roulette while the men played poker.
The house took a cut of each hand. The house dealer was called Big Deal. He owned a junk shop on Main St in Carterville (where I lived about a mile way). He weighed over 400 lbs, had short fingers but he was a master with a deck in his hands. I never knew but suspected he tilted the game.

Les and his partner were associated with the Chicago mob.
Every year a ‘public announcement’ in a small free publication would announce that Les and Harry had purchased Federal Gambling licenses. Kept the Feds off their back.
Once a year the State Police would raid Les’. But he always had warning and the good games and furniture would be replaced with junk that didn’t work. They would break the door, go upstairs and break up the junk.

Joplin, the next town (largest town in SW Mo) had a restaurant on Main St called Wilders. At a point someone opened up a gambling hall on the second floor. A month later, about 3 am, on a Sunday, it blew up. Didn’t hurt Wilders. A few weeks later the gambling spot opened again, A week later it blew up and never re-opened.

One of the domino players was called ‘plinky’.
One day I asked why…. Harry Warrren, the minority partner, told me to ask him to show me what he had in his trunk. I did.. he showed me a Thompson with magazines. He was about 70. Retired from the Chicago Mob. Southwest Mo was Chicago mob territory


Other ways to make money.
Les Almers had punch boards.
Nickle, Dime, Quarter.
For those who aren’t familiar with punch boards, you paid and pushed a piece of paper out of the board. It won or lost based on the numbers at the top of the board.
We kept the ‘paid out’ winners in a cigar box. Eventually Harry and I could determine if we could make money by buying the remaining punches
Pinball..
There were 2 pinball machines that didn’t involve flippers. It was a game of chance. Harry and I would watch until the payoff was good and then play until we won.

More later

[Gramps]

Chronicles of Gramps

Here you go Frosty


Chronicles of Gramps
My earlier life as a pool player and part time hustler.

I first stepped into a pool hall when I was in the 6th grade. It was Less Almer’s pool hall in Webb City Mo. The establishment had a minority co-owner Harry Warren.. It was small, 2 snooker tables, 4 pool tables and 4 domino tables.
One would wonder, at 5 cents a cue or 30 cents per hour, or 5 cents a chair at the domino tables, how it could make enough money to support to support two people. The answer was it didn’t. It was a front for an illegal gambling hall on the second floor, accessed by a door on the alley.

As I said, first time, 6th grade, I was hooked.

So, by the time I could drive, I had spent an inordinate amount of time in Les Almer’s.
Eventually I was working there. I got paid by the rack or the rag (clean the domino table).
And I played.
We had so many games prior to the quarter tables that took the spirit out of the game.
Bottle pool… (sort of complicated, involved knocking over the bottle, made balls, and kisses)
9 ball kelly
Golf on the snooker tables.
10 ball
10 ball kelly
The winner of each game paid for the rack.

Assholes played 8 ball for a nickel a cue. Long game. Less money for the ‘racker’.

The gambling establishment that was only open on Sat nites.
It had a roulette table some slots but the game was poker.
Couples would come up. The women would play the slots or roulette while the men played poker.
The house took a cut of each hand. The house dealer was called Big Deal. He owned a junk shop on Main St in Carterville (where I lived about a mile way). He weighed over 400 lbs, had short fingers but he was a master with a deck in his hands. I never knew but suspected he tilted the game.

Les and his partner were associated with the Chicago mob.
Every year a ‘public announcement’ in a small free publication would announce that Les and Harry had purchased Federal Gambling licenses. Kept the Feds off their back.
Once a year the State Police would raid Les’. But he always had warning and the good games and furniture would be replaced with junk that didn’t work. They would break the door, go upstairs and break up the junk.

Joplin, the next town (largest town in SW Mo) had a restaurant on Main St called Wilders. At a point someone opened up a gambling hall on the second floor. A month later, about 3 am, on a Sunday, it blew up. Didn’t hurt Wilders. A few weeks later the gambling spot opened again, A week later it blew up and never re-opened.

One of the domino players was called ‘plinky’.
One day I asked why…. Harry Warrren, the minority partner, told me to ask him to show me what he had in his trunk. I did.. he showed me a Thompson with magazines. He was about 70. Retired from the Chicago Mob. Southwest Mo was Chicago mob territory.


Other ways to make money.
Les Almer's had punch boards.
Nickle, Dime, Quarter.
For those who aren’t familiar with punch boards, you paid and pushed a piece of paper out of the board. It won or lost based on the numbers at the top of the board.
We kept the ‘paid out’ winners in a cigar box. Eventually Harry and I could determine if we could make money by buying the remaining punches
Pinball..
There were 2 pinball machines that didn’t involve flippers. It was a game of chance. Harry and I would watch until the payoff was good and then play until we won.

More later

[phillygirl]

Great story, Gramps. Thanks.

[Frostbit]

Gramps I was hoping this would lure you out of retirement.

[Frostbit]

The lucky cigarette.

We had a lot a big muscled Polish from the west end of Chester on our high school football team. We took the. Catholic league title pretty much every year because our offensive and defensive lines averaged well north of 250 pounds per player.

A very large Polish specimen from the west end had zero interest in football. He cared only about working in his Uncle’s junk yard and squeezing every horsepower out of his 327 Nomad.

Every year the PE teacher and football coach would beg him to try football. The answer was always no. Then, at the end of his junior year something happened. Joe got caught smoking in the bathroom. That’s an immediate 15 demerits and a three day suspension.

They gave Joe a choice. The demerits would disappear if he would play ball his senior year. The deal was struck.

Joe knew nothing about football. They put him at defensive end and told him to knock down the guy in front of him and then find the guy with the ball and cream him.

Joe ended up all Catholic that year and got a free ride to Temple on a football scholarship.

He got drafted by the Jets in the 6th round. Played for them ten years with four trips to the pro bowl. They retired his jersey.

In high school we had a kid who’s mother always packed him an apple. He would toss it to Joe and say, “How do you feed five guys with one apple”? Joe would laugh and crush the apple in a single hand. As it squirted between his fingers he laugh, “applesauce”.

The dude was ridiculously strong and never picked a weight up in his life until senior year of high school.

Joe Klecko

[Gramps]

Games and observations

There is a nondescript bar in S St Louis County that you would have to know it or look for it
I happened on it because my service manager and I wanted to watch the NCAA tournament. Missouri was in and we slipped away to watch.
Missouri lost but it became an occasional place to hide and have a couple of beers.
One afternoon the barkeep asks ‘you guys play pool?’…. well yeah …he’s seen us at the tables. So he tells us that 2 times a year the bar is closed after 7:00 and a professional player, who is a good friend of the owner, comes in and takes on all players.
Well shit.. I’m in.
I show up at 7:30. The pro shows up at 8/00. He announces that the first round will be for $10. I get in line and am 3rd.
It was a miserable loss.
But it was an eye opener to watch a pro play on a bar table. He walked away up 2k.

[Frostbit]

The year was 1960, the place Connie Mack Stadium (formerly Shibe Park) in Philly.

My Father played semipro baseball for a short time before I was born. One of his teammates was Danny Murtaugh who later went on to play for and then manage the Pittsburgh Pirates. My Father went on to cofound the Chester Suburban Little League and coach in the league for three decades.

We didn't have much money growing up but two times a year my Father would scrap together enough money for two tickets to a Phillies game and always when they played the Pirates.

We would head to the stadium early and during warm-ups my Father would go down to the fence by the Pirates dugout and talk with Danny Murtaugh. In 1960, a year Pittsburgh won the series, I was 7 years old and waiting to turn 8 so I could play Little League. We made the trip to Connie Mack for a twilight double hitter. As usual we arrived early.

I always took a glove (foul ball protection) and a Little League baseball (in case an autograph opportunity arose). I followed my Father down to the fence behind and beside the dugout as Danny came out to say hi. Mr. Murtaugh looked at me and asked what was in my glove. A ball, I answered. He then said, "You hope to get an autograph"? I said "sure".

Next thing I know my Father picked me up and handed me over the rail to Danny who took me into the dugout and had me sit down next to Roberto Clemente while he called out to the rest of the players present telling them my name and told them to sign my ball.

I still have that ball!!

[scott]

The year was 1960, the place Connie Mack Stadium (formerly Shibe Park) in Philly.

My Father played semipro baseball for a short time before I was born. One of his teammates was Danny Murtaugh who later went on to play for and then manage the Pittsburgh Pirates. My Father went on to cofound the Chester Suburban Little League and coach in the league for three decades.

We didn't have much money growing up but two times a year my Father would scrap together enough money for two tickets to a Phillies game and always when they played the Pirates.

We would head to the stadium early and during warm-ups my Father would go down to the fence by the Pirates dugout and talk with Danny Murtaugh. In 1960, a year Pittsburgh won the series, I was 7 years old and waiting to turn 8 so I could play Little League. We made the trip to Connie Mack for a twilight double hitter. As usual we arrived early.

I always took a glove (foul ball protection) and a Little League baseball (in case an autograph opportunity arose). I followed my Father down to the fence behind and beside the dugout as Danny came out to say hi. Mr. Murtaugh looked at me and asked what was in my glove. A ball, I answered. He then said, "You hope to get an autograph"? I said "sure".

Next thing I know my Father picked me up and handed me over the rail to Danny who took me into the dugout and had me sit down next to Roberto Clemente while he called out to the rest of the players present telling them my name and told them to sign my ball.

I still have that ball!!

That is an awesome story, and quite an experience.

I'm also glad you decided to become a Nurse Practitioner and not use that to think you could be a professional baseball player. The odds are even if you went pro you wouldn't be where are you are now.

One of the coolest guys I knew lost 20 years off his life because he was amazing in waterskiing (he taught me how to barefoot), literally world class. He was awesome, but that's a tough way to make a living and now he owns part of a construction company and a restaurant.