A Lifetime Ago: Chapter 2

Pin Boys

Upon waking, Father Pendle raised his head slowly. Checking the time on his new backlit wristwatch, his concern was no one had entered the confessional during his cat-nap. Stepping out, he peered across the hollow cavern of the church. The only sound, a lone pair of footsteps, echoed across the long wooden pews. Approaching the altar rail, a lack of patronage was painfully evident. A mere handful of electric candles flickered. Blessing himself, he raised his eyes to the ceiling while requesting more souls at Sunday services. He considered solicitation for activity in the confessionals but let it go.

After supper, the Pastor decided a taste of vanilla ice cream to be acceptable temptation. Sporting a fresh collar, he stepped from the rectory into an early summer evening. Interaction with the community had waned over the years; when first ordained in March of 1939, a different parish and appreciation of its church existed. Forty plus years had painted a completely new landscape. Few public buildings remained from his childhood; along with one he had called home. A minor conversation and two good evening nods were the only recognition his presence garnished on the sidewalk.

The line for ice cream extended out the door but he soon had two scoops draped with chocolate sprinkles. On his return trip, he sat outside a small park and watched a basketball game through the fence.

*  *  *  *

The excitement of waking on one’s birthday varies considerably with ones given age. Teenagers welcome the annual occurrence and privileges it delivers. On Saturday December 9th, 1926 Woody Belski turned sixteen years old.  Splashing water on his face, he was dressed and out the door faster than any school day. He pulled his wool cap over his ears and buttoned his pea coat while running for the trolley car. It was early and the empty sidewalks were welcomed.

Two miles away on the corner of Henderson and School Street stood the Nook; a two-story bowling alley that had grown popular of late for incorrect reasons. Constructed by a prominent brewing company in 1900, its bowling attraction helped maintain a law-abiding exterior. One of the heavyweights running the place was thirty-one-year-old Beedy Macoo. He and brother Ralph had taken possession of the alley five years prior and   implemented numerous ways of keeping their affairs profitable.

Beedy had a chance meeting with the Stick back in the summer of 1923. He’d been unloading the back of a truck with new tables and chairs for the second floor of the alley when a heavy rain began falling. It was early in the morning and he was alone. Woody happened by on his bicycle and offered his help without being asked. When they finished, Beedy asked his age and promised him a job as a pin boy at the alley when Woody turned sixteen. The Stick never forgot his promise and was hoping to find Beedy at one of the very tables he had helped carry in.

The Macoo’s were young, Irish, and rough. Beedy was nonstop energy. He was all business and rarely without a lit cigarette. Foul mouthed and ruthless, he paid off most to look in the opposite direction. He never raised his voice and observed his world through heavy squinting eyes. Whenever he grew tense, he’d take out a pocket comb and repeatedly run it through his dark thick hair. No one appeared to pick up on this, and if so, kept it to themselves.

In truth, the only lawful claim The Nook could boast was its address. Passing through its front doors brought you into an alley or onto thin ice.  Patrons walked through a modest rectangular vestibule with a recessed phone booth on the right. From 11:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., six days a week, it was occupied by Maury Sloan. Taking bets on anything that moved, Maury only stepped from his stand-up coffin to use the toilet. Only his grave needed digging; he was dressed and in his box. One of the Pin Boys would bring him coffee on the hour and only Houdini was accomplishing more in as small a space.

Two swinging doors with round ship windows opened into the huge alley. Thirty lanes monopolized the expanse and across its front from left to right, a snack counter, bowling shoe exchange, lockers, racks of house bowling balls, bathrooms, and finally a windowed booth for scorecard payment. Ten feet behind the bathroom entrances was a staircase leading to the second floor. At its base, a red velvet rope hung across preventing unauthorized entry. Upstairs, originally a huge dance floor, had been remodeled into a speakeasy and brothel. Atop the stairs opened into a large cozy parlor with couches, bar and colorful rugs varying in shape and size. Windows were covered with floor to ceiling drapes and a phonograph sat in wait for guests.

The parlor narrowed into a thirty-foot hall with seven small rooms on opposite sides. These were moderately furnished with basic comforts of evening. Dim blue lights lit the hall and at its end a spiral staircase stood hidden behind a sliding panel. This emergency exit led down to a tunnel beneath the rear of the building. Select clientele would utilize the passage in shadows of night. Individuals would arrive and descend into the entrance two-hundred foot from the building.

On given evenings an assortment of characters sporting desire and cash were cleared and frisked before ascending the rear stairs. The Macoo’s cared only about their bottom line; they were however select, as money and stupidity often occupied the same pair of pants.

Ralph Macoo was clearly the muscle of the family and gifted with razor sharp eyes. If trouble asked in; out it remained. Positioned at the rear door he could smell a skunk before it sprayed. Only once did the wrong fellow find his way up the stairs and he never showed up at the alley again. What bothered Ralph for the longest time was not the man’s sudden disappearance but how he managed getting past him in the first place.

Prohibition had been in effect for six long years but never impeded the flow of illegal spirits. The Macoo’s associated with unsavory characters and deliveries of liquor were steady and on time. Twice a month the sanitation workers required additional time to pick up the trash. A dumb waiter behind the snack counter operated as frequently as the phone rang for Maury. The liquor was upstairs and locked away before the garbage truck disappeared around the corner.

Shortly after nine a.m. Woody hopped off the trolley hoping his nickel would prove well spent; he had four blocks to gather his thoughts. Cold as it was he walked a normal pace allowing his nose to do the running. Becoming a Pin Boy would be quite the step up from his shine box days. No more getting trampled or requests for shoe polish. Turning the corner of School Street, The Stick had no conception of his lessons to come.

The outer doors were unlocked and he anxiously stepped into the cold vestibule. The stale smell of Maury’s cigars hung in the air. Regular clientele, familiar with it, took deep breaths while quickly passing through. The inner doors were still locked and he peered through the round window. Bowling lanes were still dark; only lights over the snack counter and shoe desk were lit. Taking out his pocket knife he tapped on the glass. One, two, three, and waited. Nobody answered; one, two, three and still no response. Woody stood patiently as not to annoy anyone who heard but was not quick in answering. After five minutes he was about to tap again when someone approached. It was Beady and Woody stepped away from the door.

“What is it? What now?” It was an agitated voice and the dead bolt was slid to one side. A lengthy passage of time had the two-looking eye to eye once more.

“What is it kid? What do you need?”

“Uh, excuse me, Mr. Beedy, I hope you remember me.”

“I can’t remember my mother’s name, kid, what do you need?”

“Well, Mr. Beedy…”

“Wait a minute kid; first off, it’s Mr. Macoo. Beedy is my first name. What’s yours?”

“It’s Woody Belski, but everyone calls me Stick.”

“Well, step in here from the cold. Take off that cap Stick and let me look at your face.”

Woody was happy to feel the heat and glanced across the darkened alley for the tables and chairs.

“I don’t see them sir but I helped you carry some tables in here a while ago.” Beedy took a step back, folded his arms and smiled with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Well, I’ll be a son of a …, you grew some kid! How old are you now?”

“I’m sixteen. Today is my birthday.”

“Today’s your birthday! Then what the hell are you doing here?”

Beedy’s question dealt a blow to Woody’s hopes for employment. He’d forgotten his promise!

“Sounds like I owe you one kid. How about a soda pop and a free game on the house? We don’t open for another hour. I’ll turn on some lights and even spot your pins. I’ll be your Pin Boy!”

“That’s awfully kind, sir, but….”

“Call me, Beedy, that’ll do fine.”

“Well sure, thanks Beedy, but that day in the rain you mentioned a Pin Boy job for me when I got to be old enough.”

Beedy walked to the counter and put out his cigarette. He always had been a man of his word and now this lanky young boy was calling him to task. He took out his pocket comb and went to work. Woody stood motionless. He held his cap while peering under Beedy’s heavy eyelids.

“Wait here a second”, said Beedy stepping behind the shoe counter. Two clicks were heard and the lights came on over lanes four and five. For the Stick that was like another guy getting in line for a shine. He felt a step closer to the job.

“Take off your shoes and walk with me kid.”

Beedy led Woody down the lane four.

“How much do you know about bowling? Never mind, I can tell by the look on your face. Well, each lane is sixty-two feet-ten inches long, and forty-two inches wide. The game originated in ancient Egypt and not many people know that.” They reached the end of the lane. “Now hop up there and sit your tail on that little seat separating the lanes.” The Stick was up in a flash! Beedy sat at the end of the lane with his feet in the pit.

“Alright, listen up. Always keep your back straight against that wall. If you stay hunched you won’t be doing this for a long time. You have to stay awake and pay attention at all times kid; those pins go flying in every direction. The partitions here keep most apart. Now look down here. You see these ten round metal discs?” Woody nodded. “Well, as soon as the bowler throws for the second time, you have to jump down and set the pins back on the discs. Then you pick up the ball and roll it back down the gutter. Do you think you can do that fast?” Woody answered yes.

“Well, I have pin boys working for me that handle two games at once. They make eight cents a game plus tips that get tossed down the alley. The faster you are, the more money you go home with. How’s that sounding? Do you like it?” Woody was getting excited and dared not interrupt. Beedy lit another cigarette and continued: “I’m concerned about something. You’re pretty tall for your years and the smaller guys, like jockeys, can move quicker given the room to work back here.” Woody bit on his lower lip and Beedy noticed a disappointed expression.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry kid. I’ll give you a shot after I’m through running my mouth. Here’s something else. A lot of my boys stick cotton in their ears while their working. The noise down here can send you home with a permanent ringing in your head. One of my boys was deaf when he took the job; he’s ahead of the game. Now, this is important. Every so often some wise ass is going to throw a ball while you’re still in the pit. As soon as those pins are set, you get your tail up on that ledge. I don’t want to be explaining to your mother why you can’t talk anymore. Got it?” The Stick smiled.

“Alright now, hop down from there and set those pins like there’s a game going on. People don’t like waiting.” Woody flew into action, had them set and was up on his perch before Beedy reached the front of the lane. “Good kid, that was fast. Now show me what you’ve learned.” Ralph had entered the alley was watching their impromptu interview while quietly standing behind the counter. Beedy threw three frames and realized how badly Woody wanted the job. Turning to his brother he motioned for him to kill the lights.

“Come up here, Stick, let’s talk some more.” They sat opposite on the lane bench seats and Ralph joined them. “Right now, I have nine boys that handle the whole place. They work in the summer during the day and a few hours a night during school months. Does that work for you?”

“It sure does Mr. Macoo.”

“Good. It pays to be kind kid. I never forgot you helping me that day but did forget promising you a job. How does eight cents a game plus your tips sound?”

Beedy already liked Woody Belski and winked at his brother Ralph. What the Stick said next took them by surprise.

“Well, Sir, I’d like to propose something if you don’t think me too forward?”

“What is it kid? Go ahead,” said Ralph.

“Well, I’ve got three good friends and we do almost everything together. We’ve been shining shoes since we were twelve and I’m sure there isn’t one of them that wouldn’t be willing to work for a nickel a game. You’d be saving three cents on every game.” Beedy and Ralph looked at each other and could not hold back their laughter. Woody’s business approach and dedication to his friends were a difficult combination to resist. As head strong as the Macoo’s were, they were blood and admired Woody’s loyalty.

“How old are your friends?”

“Stanley and Aaron are seventeen and Cheesecake is sixteen.”

“Who’s Cheesecake?”

“Oh, that’s Duffy. He’s always had a little pouch.”

“Well,” said Beedy, does his baby kangaroo get in the way of things?”

“Never,” answered, Woody. “He’s growing a bit and moves along nicely.”

“Alright, alright, I have to wrap this up now, we open in twenty minutes. There’s one rascal I’m not too pleased with. He’s comes in late and his hands are slower than his brain. You just took his job. I’ll start you at the wages promised and want you here Monday night a six-p.m. sharp. I’m making no promises here but bring your friends along and I’ll give them a once over. If I see potential in them your salary may go down to a nickel a game.”

Beedy said the last sentence smiling and The Stick felt great.

“Go on now, get moving. I’ll see you Monday night and on time”

“You sure will, Mr. Beedy, uh, Mr. Macoo. Thanks for the job. Oh, if you don’t mind me asking, where’s all that furniture we carried in here?”

“You get going, kid, said Ralph.”

Woody held his breath, walked through the vestibule and stepped out into the cold. Snowflakes had begun falling. He took a deep breath feeling strong as Babe Ruth. He woke swinging for the bleachers and had circled the bases before ten a.m.! There are days in life when decisions are made for good or bad; steps laying ground work for choices to come. A kind gesture had been returned yet Woody Belski was venturing into deep woods.

Inside the Nook the Macoo brothers were still seated.

“What did ya think of him,” asked Beedy. “When he told me who he was I almost fell on the floor. That kid hopped off his bicycle and helped me carry all the tables in here three years ago. You wouldn’t remember; that was another day you couldn’t get your ass out of bed.”

“I liked him,” answered, Ralph waving away smoke from Beedy’s cigarette. “Are you going to tell lard ass he doesn’t work here anymore?”

“Yeah,” said Beedy. “I’ll take care of that, but I want you to sit the other boys down and have a talk. You tell those monkeys if anyone gives this kid a tough time I’ll bounce their ass out the back door. Oh, and tell them I’m not too pleased with the way they’ve been working. That way, if I like Woody’s friends, it won’t be a shock when I fire them. Remember, Pete and Willy are the only two Pin Boys allowed upstairs. Tell them both I said not a word to this kid Woody about what goes on. Let’s go open up.”

*  *  *  *

The Stick was enjoying a huge birthday and immediately treated himself to two chocolate egg creams when he returned to the neighborhood. He would now round up the troops and tell them his news! Provided all went well on Monday, their shoe shine days might be ending. On the trolley back home, he’d been giving thought to Four Eyes. He knew he hadn’t a chance at becoming a Pin Boy but had no intention of leaving him out in the cold. Stanley had enough trouble shining shoes; he literally couldn’t see ten feet in front of himself. Woody had two days to come up with something.

Late that afternoon, the group was all together; snow was still falling and they had gathered in the basement of Aaron’s tenement building. Their hideaway was a small room in the rear. It was hidden behind the boilers and modestly furnished with an old torn couch, a few chairs, radio, cards, checkers, and resident mice. A small window over their heads allowed ample views of exposed legs as they passed on the sidewalk above. Woody stood, then proudly let his cat out of the bag.

“Alright, guys, here it is. Today’s my birthday and you should all have gifts for me; but as usual, you’ve shown up empty handed. Now, being the gentleman, I am, I’m giving you a gift instead.” They sat looking like owls at midnight. “It so happens that Mr. Woodrow Belski is now employed at the Nook Bowling Alley as a Pin Boy making eight cents a game plus tips! The place has a snack bar, music playing all the time and lots of lovely girls.”

“Sure, like the Cubs want me to play first base,” said Aaron.

“Keep that up Aaron and you’re not coming with us on Monday.”

“What’s Monday?” asked Cheesecake.

“Yeah,” said Stanley. “What’s Monday?”

“Well, my fellow shiners, Monday is the day with some luck you become Pin Boys too!” The room erupted with excitement and cheers. Cheesecake started to dance and Aaron was counting his money already. It took Stanley all of five seconds to grasp what was happening. He sat still and said nothing.

“Are we going to make the same doe?” asked Aaron.

“Are we going work the same days?” asked Cheesecake.

“Are we all invited?” asked Stanley.

The Stick had to calm them down and deliver the lay of the land. He did so without an inkling of where he was heading himself. He also seized the opportunity to get one up on Aaron. They were growing older and Woody was beginning to understand a man’s brain could do more for him than another’s brawn. As of late, Aaron was also grasping that concept but would never possess the tools for competing.

“Alright guys, shut up a minute and I’ll give it to you straight. Today I met with my personal friend Mr. Beedy Macoo and his brother. Beedy, and that’s Mr. Macoo to all of you, agreed to meet us on Monday night. That’ll be my first night of work.” Stick blew on his knuckles and continued: “I agreed on our behalf that we’d all settle for a nickel a game, including myself, if he gave us Pin Boy jobs. I figured if I got the price down he might take the bait. Now that also means if you guys get in then three others are on their way out. Those guys won’t take it lying down and we may have to do some swinging.”

“Fine with me,” said Aaron.

“The job is easy but we have to be fast. It’s also a little dangerous and you have to pay attention every second. That means no opening candy while you’re working Cheeeeeeeese cake! Beedy is nice but he’s all business and his brother Ralph looks like he eats babies for breakfast. That means we go in, be polite, yes them to death and get the jobs! Sound good?”

They all went crazy again and Aaron swung his fists like he had the job already. Stanley’s eyesight was becoming the relative everybody talks about and Woody saw his mood waning through the celebration.

“Don’t worry Four Eyes, we’ll get you something. It’s a big place and setting pins can’t be the only thing they need done.”

“You really think so Woody?”

“Sure, he does,” said, Cheesecake, putting his arm around Stanley’s shoulder.

Aaron reached under the sofa and pulled out half a bottle of bootleg gin. He’d found the spot his father stashed it. When his old man was in no condition to remember, he’d pour some into another bottle for the boys. They passed it around each pretending to enjoy the taste. There was now enough snow on the ground for snowballs and they went outside to make people miserable.

*  *  *  *

On Monday night the boys walked side by side while approaching the Nook. Time had leveled the pecking order and each maintained a pace for them to move in unison. It was a rare occasion they adorned clean clothes on the same day and would’ve raised eyebrows walking into church.

Though eager and nervous, they were determined and young. Wearing a certain face was essential to street life and the boys knew how a dog behaved when it sensed you were afraid. They were ready and the wait would soon be over. Though pulling for one another; inside the alley would be each man for himself.

As they neared the outer doors Woody gave last minute instructions. Cheesecake was told to spit out whatever was in his mouth. Aaron to speak only when spoken to. Four-eyes to keep his newspaper opened to the crossword puzzle and all to hold their breath for the next fifteen seconds. They weren’t fast enough and were greeted with a curtain of Maury’s cigar smoke as the doors opened. ‘You’re laying one sixty with the Cubs’ was all they heard while passing thru the vestibule.

Inside, standing behind the register was Burt Eden; the Nook’s evening floor manager. Burt wore fancy bowling shirts but never bowled. He had a bad hip and was happy he could still walk. The boys came through the door and stood huddled. The Stick gazed over at Burt.

“What can I do for you boys? How many of you are bowling?”

“Oh, we’re here to see, Beedy, please.”

“Are you Woody?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“I’m Burt. The boss is waiting for you and your friends in the back room. Go to the end of the snack counter and make a right. You’ll see the office. Make sure you knock first.” Cheesecake, Aaron, and Stanley followed in single file weaving their way through people. They took in sounds of falling pins, music, and caught sneers of a few pin boys at the end of the lanes. Passing the snack counter Cheesecake slowed momentarily then continued with a push from Aaron.

“It’s open, come on in.”

Woody was not happy when he first looked inside. Behind a huge wooden desk littered with papers was Ralph. The office was very small, Beedy was nowhere to be seen and four folding chairs were open and waiting.

“Let’s go, take a seat boy,” said, Ralph, while cuffing his shirt sleeves. Woody nervously shut the door. “Which one of you is Cheesecake?”

“I am, sir”, answered, Duffy raising his index finger.

“Stand up for me, how old are you son?”

“I’m sixteen. I’ll be seventeen in two months.” Duffy pulled his gut in while trying to speak clearly at the same time.

“Are you as quick with your hands as your pal Woody? We already saw how fast he can set pins.”

“I’d be lying if I said yes sir but I can move pretty fast.”

“Are you willing to work for a nickel a game, plus tips?”

“Sure am.”

“Good,” said Ralph, “sit down.”

He then looked at Aaron and told him to stand up. Without being asked he offered his name, age, and the fact he had quick hands and feet. Ralph did not appreciate the forwardness.

“I didn’t ask for that information. Don’t anticipate me again kid; you’ll be doing yourself a favor, alright?”

Aaron nodded in agreement and Woody shook his head back and forth to let him know he spoke without being asked. “What I’d like you to tell me, Aaron, is how you figure on getting here? You do live two miles away, don’t you?” Aaron hadn’t planned on the question but had a decent answer.

“Well, sir, I have the trolley, my bicycle, my feet and hopefully a job waiting here. I’ll always be on time and that’s a promise.”

“Alright,” said, Ralph lighting a smoke and turning his attention to Stanley. “What’s your name?”

“Stanley Mycroft, sir.”

“Woody, go tell Burt I said to start you at seven o’clock. Cheesecake, Aaron, go wait outside for your pal Stanley and leave the door open.” The three were gone faster than a horse out of its gate.

“Do you have some difficulty seeing, Stanley.”

“No, sir, I do alright.”

“Is that why you felt for your seat before sitting down?”

“Well, maybe just a bit of trouble, sir.”

“Did you fill in that crossword puzzle?”

“Well, I had a little help.”

Stanley’s hands trembled and Ralph could feel his anxiety. “Don’t worry, son,” said Ralph coming around the desk and taking a seat beside him. “Listen, Stanley I don’t think we can give you a job as a pin boy but perhaps I can offer you something else.” Stanley was crushed. Ralph continued:

“Do you know Keenan’s produce market?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Well, it’s only two blocks from here and it happens the owner is quite the friend of mine. Now, I’m certain if I were to ask, he’d put you on working in the market.”

“What would I do?” asked, Stanley.

“He’ll probably start you sorting fruit and filling baskets for the horse carts. Its close by and you wouldn’t be far from your friends.” For two days Stanley had anticipated the interviews outcome and was clever enough to take up Ralph’s offer.

“Well thank you, Mr. Macoo that sounds fine to me.”

“Good,” said, Ralph clapping his hands. “Now, go and tell your friend Aaron and that dessert kid they start work next Saturday at noontime; a nickel a game plus tips. Tell them to be clean and on time. I’ll call Joe Keenan and see that he takes care of you. Come back and see me this Saturday.”

Stanley began accepting his separation from the gang. It was inevitable and he’d already come to terms by the time he passed Maury in the phone booth. Inside the alley, The Stick was setting pins and getting an eyeful from his co-workers. The outer doors swung open and Stanley gave Aaron and Duffy the thumbs up. They were Pin Boys!