Harley Goes Down
Dad would take me day drinking when I was young. He would make the rounds to all his downtown bars, union halls, truck yards. Taking care of business, passing envelopes, boxes of ill gotten goods, nefarious, backdoor, evil business I’m sure. I don't know why he took his kid with him. Maybe this was his way of teaching me the family business.
One of his stops was Joes Green Dot lounge at West Lafayette Ave. and 14th street. Place is still there, now it's called Green Dot Stables. When I knew the place 40 years ago, the proprietor was named Joe Griswold. He had race horses at the local trotter course Northville, a ‘trotter’ is a horse in harness racing.
When Joe had a horse in a race, it was a party at the Green Dot as all the thugs, wise guys, union guys, were all in on the odds, which were usually fixed. I knew the supposed “Doctor” who would give the shots in the barns before the race.
As most joints do, Joe's had a “Swamper” a cleaner who would come in and clean the place and mop the floors. Joe’s swamper was a 50 something old dude named Harley.
Harley was a bit ‘touched’ as the Irish would say, Harley was a little bit off but boy could he play pool, and that's what we did, for hours upon hours.
All the guys would sit at the bar while I drank Cokes, played the jukebox and played pool with Harley. I used to play ‘Maggie May’ by Rod Stewart, over and over and over again.
One day I was playing pool with Harley. The ‘guys’ were at the bar. Rod Stewart was blazing on the jukebox. I was getting ready to take a shot, moving towards Harley, who for some reason didn't move.
I looked at Harley and I saw his eyes were rolled back in his head. I'm thinking, wow that's weird.
Then Harley fell, face first, straight as a board, fast, on top of me!
I now know this was the second guy I saw die. Oswald was the first. I was 12
One of his stops was Joes Green Dot lounge at West Lafayette Ave. and 14th street. Place is still there, now it's called Green Dot Stables. When I knew the place 40 years ago, the proprietor was named Joe Griswold. He had race horses at the local trotter course Northville, a ‘trotter’ is a horse in harness racing.
When Joe had a horse in a race, it was a party at the Green Dot as all the thugs, wise guys, union guys, were all in on the odds, which were usually fixed. I knew the supposed “Doctor” who would give the shots in the barns before the race.
As most joints do, Joe's had a “Swamper” a cleaner who would come in and clean the place and mop the floors. Joe’s swamper was a 50 something old dude named Harley.
Harley was a bit ‘touched’ as the Irish would say, Harley was a little bit off but boy could he play pool, and that's what we did, for hours upon hours.
All the guys would sit at the bar while I drank Cokes, played the jukebox and played pool with Harley. I used to play ‘Maggie May’ by Rod Stewart, over and over and over again.
One day I was playing pool with Harley. The ‘guys’ were at the bar. Rod Stewart was blazing on the jukebox. I was getting ready to take a shot, moving towards Harley, who for some reason didn't move.
I looked at Harley and I saw his eyes were rolled back in his head. I'm thinking, wow that's weird.
Then Harley fell, face first, straight as a board, fast, on top of me!
I now know this was the second guy I saw die. Oswald was the first. I was 12
I started screaming, my feet kicking. The Guys yell out “Harley, leave the fucking kid alone, will ya?”
Harley was dead, lying on top of me.
I don't think I ever went back to the Green Dot again.
Harley was dead, lying on top of me.
I don't think I ever went back to the Green Dot again.
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