Growing Up in Wilkes-Barre – Part 3

I could go on with memories of those times but it is getting to be time to move on. I will finish up with a little story about an old man and his little store, a rumble that almost happened, and how the music died for me. It wasn’t just getting older that killed the music; it was the world and what was happening to it.

Jake’s

When Hazel Street crosses Stanton Street heading toward downtown it splits. Hazel continues on the left and Park Avenue starts on the right. Jake was an old fellow who had a small store on the right side of Hazel just past Stanton. It was just a little corner store but it had the attraction of a back room containing two pool tables. Once we found Jake’s he became the beneficiary of many of the coins meant for the Sunday morning collection plate. We used the older number two pool table most of the time. It was on that table I learned to play, Eight Ball, French, Peacock, and straight pool, for some reason we didn’t play Nine Ball. Peacock was our game of choice when playing for money. The number one table was reserved for the big guys. They played straight pool and they were pretty darn good. We thought Dave was cool because he had his own two piece pool cue. His buddy Jeff drove the coolest car of our time. It was a customized 1956 Chevy known as the “Touch of Class.” We spent many days, and especially Sunday mornings, shooting pool in Jake’s. It was in Jake’s that I heard my first Beatle’s song; it was “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” Hanging out at Jake’s painted the classic image of an American misspent youth.

Rumble

Sometimes you just have to defend the honor of your turf. There was a slight altercation between our buddy Dale and a fellow from another hang out. I don’t know the details but Dale took care of business and we thought that it was over. Soon after that Dale broke both of his arms in an accident. Of course two broken arms would not stop a true Pool Gang member from hanging out so there he was at our alternative meeting place by the Hart Theater. Actually we were standing across the alley in front of the pizza parlor when a car load of guys pulled up. It turns out that they were friends of the fellow that Dale took care of and they were looking for trouble. They got out of the car being all bad but Dale and I got right back in their face; Dale wasn’t going to let two broken arms stop him. We bantered back and forth and I challenged one fellow to a one on one in the alley. It ended with a challenge, their boys against our boys at the pool a few nights later. When the night came our boys gathered. This was a matter of honor and everyone responded. We set up a little tactics. Most of the guys stayed out of sight and only five or six of us were visible on Lloyds Lane. I was the Parrish Street lookout and I stood at the end Lloyds Lane watching.

They came down Lloyds Lane in two cars. I’m sure it looked good to them at first. They had about twelve or thirteen guys stuffed in the cars. When the cars approached the pool we gave the boys the word. From behind trees, out of yards, and from around cars came the boys. We numbered well over thirty guys ready to get it done. Once our adversary saw the odds they thought better of it. They hit the gas, shot to the end of Lloyds Lane, and squealed tires around the corner never to be seen again.

I should add that the all fights, even rumbles; in our town in those days were bare knuckle affairs. There were no weapons of any kind. If it had turned into a full fledged brawl there would have been plenty of black eyes and busted noses to go around but there would have not been any serious injuries.

The Time the Music Died

The summer of 1967 was my last real good summer with the gang. From then on the world began to change. My brother joined the Marine Corp, and Matt was in the Army. Many of the other older members were beginning to drift away. I met a girl from HanoverTownship and I was in love. I began spending more time there than at the old hangout.

I graduated from high school in 1968 under the specter of Vietnam. The war took its toll on the gang. We lost one in battle; Frankie stepped on a landmine. The family of one of our girls was struck when her sister’s fiancé was killed. Two returned but not undamaged. One fellow was a medic and he never got the images out of his mind. He was rarely sober and he ended up driving into the side of the mountain at ninety miles an hour. Another fellow returned with the affects of Agent Orange. The government danced and avoided the issue until everyone forgot about it. Charlie died after twenty-five years of fighting the symptoms.

I was ready to take my turn in the war, but my father’s chronic ailment worsened in 1968. They didn’t know until it was too late that they were dealing with stomach cancer. He passed away in December and, with Tony in Vietnam, my income from the factory was the only money coming in. I was reclassified to 1S. I don’t want to hear that I was lucky to get out of the war. I would have gone gladly to keep my father and make him healthy.

So the music died. I got married in 1969 and I made my final visit to the wall that summer. That was forty years ago. It was a great way to grow up. I will never forget those carefree days and all of the great guys and girls that made up the pool gang. I hope life has been good to all of you.