It was early afternoon when I heard from Ruby. She said that Bossman called to apologize to her, as she put it, Bossman said, “it wasn’t supposed to go down like this.” He meant for the new owner “Mr. E” to keep the bartenders that were there working. But a big busted 19 year old (young sweet creamin’ meat) will get a man to compromise a whole lot. To hear Ruby tell it, that’s why she got dumped.
But I wonder why the apology now. Ruby still is out of work and she wonders why, why she was dumped when she proved her worth as a bartender with a good work ethic and a decent following. If “Mr. E” is in his 30’s, he must have been quite industrious and a hard worker to put away the kind of “cash” it takes not only to purchase a bar but to renovate it. I can’t fault anybody for being industrious and all souls have their own motives for doing things.
I had also heard from Cary, he wants to get every refugee from the Corner Tavern and have a get together on a Wednesday Night down at Backstage, in Woodmere. Kareoke and a chance for all the gang to kind of let out the bad feelings go and find new places to have our beer and “get comfortable” in. Nice Idea. Tell me what you guys think. I was asked by Ruby if I have been to the Corner since it changed hands. I said no, and I don’t intend to go there.
Yaega Lee calls me. “Yes, I know Wednesday is the last time we shoot pool for the Corner Tavern, what else is on your mind Yaega..” I got a pause and then she said, “after we’re finished shooting at Whiskey Business I want us all to stop by and see Rhoda at the Corner.” I said, fine! “Is Quietman going to join us Yaega?” “I don’t know said Yaega”. I took that as a hell no.
We finished the season Wednesday Night at Whiskey
Business and headed for the Corner Tavern. I met “Mr E” he is a young guy and I kind of spied the barren walls of what was once the place to hang for a few. The place was empty save Rhoda, stragglers were in and out but she was clearly uncomfortable inside the barren shack once called the Corner Tavern. “Mr. E” now calls it “1762 Broadway Lounge”. I sat with ERL, Yaega and Rhoda until some new faces popped in.
I left for home wondering if I should be naïve enough to give the benefit of the doubt to “Mr E” that is making the assumption that he is a young man who worked hard for his money. I mean to make a cash transaction of 10’s of thousands of dollars (liquor licenses cost a bit) rent, inventory, renovations, payroll and overhead, it adds up real quick. I know because I have acquaintances who own a restaurant and I helped with some confidential data bases for a security system.
Then I thought hard about my conversation with “Bear”. I told him about what happened and Yaega going to “Game On”. He brought me back to remembering when we were kids and what his Dad had told us one day when we were having a barbeque in his yard on Mansfield Place back in the late 70’s. His Dad was an Old School, Hard Bitten, No Nonsense, Throw Down, Beat Down, Ass Kicking Street Cop who “paid dues” and knew where all the “bodies were buried”.
When I told Bear about the Corner he stopped me and said, “Its just like the rest of the bullshit, how stupid can you be? Remember Dad said that Nassau County would be like Queens in 10 years, first the roads, then the schools, then the fuckin neighborhood. Old Timers who retired bought and owned those bars after WWII and the guys who bought them in the 70’s were also old guys in real estate or retired guys working a private business.” Bear hacked up a bad cough and continued.
Your going to tell me a 30 something year old kid, like a 40 something year old with no fucking visible means of income all the sudden has 50, 60, 70 large to throw into a corner fucking bar? RJ, how long you been a cop, you’ve been undercover, you’ve done investigations…” ‘LEAVE MY PAST OUT OF THIS BEAR’. “Listen, your not stupid as you look, its just like when the Jews left Southeast Queens and all the fucking dope dealers bought the bars to make their dirty money clean…that’s what the fuck is going on.”
“Bear, assumption is the mother of all fuck ups, and I’m not trying out to be a fucked up mother.” “RJ, if someone is pissing on you and you believe its raining, you need to be pissed on…if I were you I’d stay the fuck out of those places owned by those people. All of them lowlifes fit the profile…just like Dad said.” “Bear, you might be jumping to conclusions and profiling isn’t politically correct.”
“OH YEAH, WELL I’LL ASK THE QUESTIONS YOU GIVE THE FUCKING ANSWERS. OK!” ALRIGHT Bear, take it easy, go ahead. “Both the bar in Valley Stream and the other in Hewlett how fast did the sale go down, in a few weeks or a few days?” “Days, maybe hours Bear.” “Next, the owners are they retirees or young guys, our age or younger?” Younger Bear.
“Next, are they Black or White, or are they of spic decent” WHOA BEAR! “OK, HISPANIC”.
“I think Hispanic decent but I won’t guess.” “What the fuck happened to you RJ, where is the fucking cop in you?” “RETIRED!” I proclaimed. Bear continued, “OK, but I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, the neighborhood will find a way to fuck with the bar or the boys will sit for months even years making a case…nobody’s stupid RJ, your retired, you got that kind of scratch, but no one offered to sell the bar to you, why? Just like they didn’t want to sell a house to your father, your black and you’re a straight shooter – trash sells to trash for cold hard cash!”
(I had the phone on speaker and heard the distinct sound of a bolt going home on a rifle, then I heard the magazine as it clicked in place. I thought about the Obama comment about bitter blue collar white people holding on to guns and religion - I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY)
OK BEAR, I hear you. Bear ranted on, “Dad was right, he said when dope dealers own bars, they don’t give a fuck about the clientele, first thing you know faggots, dikes and whores of all sorts go crusin in the local watering hole and then the Mick’s and the Dago’s start getting that Nigro poon tang on the side, even worse, the spic’s they’re fuckin, here without any god damned papers, are expectin the bartender to understand them jabbering in Spanish….Dad was right, glad I’m here in the shadow of Old Smokey.”
(Note: Bear is my big brother from another mother and he worked for my Dad when my family owned and operated a moving company – much of his view of people came from working with people of all races, my Dad worked with and loved everybody – especially Bear.) “RJ, just watch where you hang out, sounds like the Corner, formerly Cheers, formerly the Beverly isn’t going to be a neighborhood bar anymore.”
Bear may be right. But I will give the benefit of the doubt to anyone, until they fuck up.
But I wonder why the apology now. Ruby still is out of work and she wonders why, why she was dumped when she proved her worth as a bartender with a good work ethic and a decent following. If “Mr. E” is in his 30’s, he must have been quite industrious and a hard worker to put away the kind of “cash” it takes not only to purchase a bar but to renovate it. I can’t fault anybody for being industrious and all souls have their own motives for doing things.
I had also heard from Cary, he wants to get every refugee from the Corner Tavern and have a get together on a Wednesday Night down at Backstage, in Woodmere. Kareoke and a chance for all the gang to kind of let out the bad feelings go and find new places to have our beer and “get comfortable” in. Nice Idea. Tell me what you guys think. I was asked by Ruby if I have been to the Corner since it changed hands. I said no, and I don’t intend to go there.
Yaega Lee calls me. “Yes, I know Wednesday is the last time we shoot pool for the Corner Tavern, what else is on your mind Yaega..” I got a pause and then she said, “after we’re finished shooting at Whiskey Business I want us all to stop by and see Rhoda at the Corner.” I said, fine! “Is Quietman going to join us Yaega?” “I don’t know said Yaega”. I took that as a hell no.
We finished the season Wednesday Night at Whiskey
Business and headed for the Corner Tavern. I met “Mr E” he is a young guy and I kind of spied the barren walls of what was once the place to hang for a few. The place was empty save Rhoda, stragglers were in and out but she was clearly uncomfortable inside the barren shack once called the Corner Tavern. “Mr. E” now calls it “1762 Broadway Lounge”. I sat with ERL, Yaega and Rhoda until some new faces popped in.I left for home wondering if I should be naïve enough to give the benefit of the doubt to “Mr E” that is making the assumption that he is a young man who worked hard for his money. I mean to make a cash transaction of 10’s of thousands of dollars (liquor licenses cost a bit) rent, inventory, renovations, payroll and overhead, it adds up real quick. I know because I have acquaintances who own a restaurant and I helped with some confidential data bases for a security system.
Then I thought hard about my conversation with “Bear”. I told him about what happened and Yaega going to “Game On”. He brought me back to remembering when we were kids and what his Dad had told us one day when we were having a barbeque in his yard on Mansfield Place back in the late 70’s. His Dad was an Old School, Hard Bitten, No Nonsense, Throw Down, Beat Down, Ass Kicking Street Cop who “paid dues” and knew where all the “bodies were buried”.
When I told Bear about the Corner he stopped me and said, “Its just like the rest of the bullshit, how stupid can you be? Remember Dad said that Nassau County would be like Queens in 10 years, first the roads, then the schools, then the fuckin neighborhood. Old Timers who retired bought and owned those bars after WWII and the guys who bought them in the 70’s were also old guys in real estate or retired guys working a private business.” Bear hacked up a bad cough and continued.Your going to tell me a 30 something year old kid, like a 40 something year old with no fucking visible means of income all the sudden has 50, 60, 70 large to throw into a corner fucking bar? RJ, how long you been a cop, you’ve been undercover, you’ve done investigations…” ‘LEAVE MY PAST OUT OF THIS BEAR’. “Listen, your not stupid as you look, its just like when the Jews left Southeast Queens and all the fucking dope dealers bought the bars to make their dirty money clean…that’s what the fuck is going on.”
“Bear, assumption is the mother of all fuck ups, and I’m not trying out to be a fucked up mother.” “RJ, if someone is pissing on you and you believe its raining, you need to be pissed on…if I were you I’d stay the fuck out of those places owned by those people. All of them lowlifes fit the profile…just like Dad said.” “Bear, you might be jumping to conclusions and profiling isn’t politically correct.”
“OH YEAH, WELL I’LL ASK THE QUESTIONS YOU GIVE THE FUCKING ANSWERS. OK!” ALRIGHT Bear, take it easy, go ahead. “Both the bar in Valley Stream and the other in Hewlett how fast did the sale go down, in a few weeks or a few days?” “Days, maybe hours Bear.” “Next, the owners are they retirees or young guys, our age or younger?” Younger Bear.
“Next, are they Black or White, or are they of spic decent” WHOA BEAR! “OK, HISPANIC”.
“I think Hispanic decent but I won’t guess.” “What the fuck happened to you RJ, where is the fucking cop in you?” “RETIRED!” I proclaimed. Bear continued, “OK, but I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, the neighborhood will find a way to fuck with the bar or the boys will sit for months even years making a case…nobody’s stupid RJ, your retired, you got that kind of scratch, but no one offered to sell the bar to you, why? Just like they didn’t want to sell a house to your father, your black and you’re a straight shooter – trash sells to trash for cold hard cash!”
(I had the phone on speaker and heard the distinct sound of a bolt going home on a rifle, then I heard the magazine as it clicked in place. I thought about the Obama comment about bitter blue collar white people holding on to guns and religion - I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY)
OK BEAR, I hear you. Bear ranted on, “Dad was right, he said when dope dealers own bars, they don’t give a fuck about the clientele, first thing you know faggots, dikes and whores of all sorts go crusin in the local watering hole and then the Mick’s and the Dago’s start getting that Nigro poon tang on the side, even worse, the spic’s they’re fuckin, here without any god damned papers, are expectin the bartender to understand them jabbering in Spanish….Dad was right, glad I’m here in the shadow of Old Smokey.”
(Note: Bear is my big brother from another mother and he worked for my Dad when my family owned and operated a moving company – much of his view of people came from working with people of all races, my Dad worked with and loved everybody – especially Bear.) “RJ, just watch where you hang out, sounds like the Corner, formerly Cheers, formerly the Beverly isn’t going to be a neighborhood bar anymore.”
Bear may be right. But I will give the benefit of the doubt to anyone, until they fuck up.
RJ
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