The Pool Hall

At times I have thoughts about nostalgic priceless pieces of history in our small town. Some have memories for me as a child, others were part of my children’s growing up time. I will admit to having posted this article on Yahoo a short time ago. I just needed to move it over here as want to do some more pieces in the future on some of the quaint and not so quaint features of our small town. If you read this before, perhaps you will enjoy a second read.

Consuming my thoughts this morning has been the passing of the pool hall. Trust me, I’ve NEVER been in the pool hall. This was a guy’s only place, and no lady ventured through those doors. I can remember as a child almost running past the pool hall. What lurked behind those doors didn’t seem at all pleasant to me. It wasn’t even a very clean looking place, and I assumed it must be some sort of den of sin. I figured if I looked the other way, held my breath, and scurried past as fast as possible, I might arrive out of range of something grabbing me and sending me to oblivion. Somehow I survived.

When Son Right Back reached the beginnings of his teenage years, the pool hall became an interest. It was still there all these years later. I will say that I’d never given the pool hall any real thought, other than getting past quickly in my younger years.

Now, here was Right Back, wanting to go to the pool hall. I immediately took more of an interest in the place and just what was going on in there. I learned that the pool hall was owned at that time by a good guy who had retired after years working in surveying. It was now a retiree’s thing to do with his time. I also found that the pool hall, which bore his first name... Henry’s... had been the hanging out place for many a lad. There was a certain amount of education that went on at the pool hall, much of it a good thing.

So, in spite of some criticism, I made up my mind that my son would be allowed to go to the pool hall. I still maintain it was a good decision.

According to Right Back, the pool hall consisted of two snooker tables, three pool tables, and two domino tables. No liquor was served there. Henry bought pop and candy bars, keeping them in the refrigerator. Chips were kept above the cash drawer. If you wanted something, you helped yourself. When you were ready to leave, you told Henry how many games you’d played and how much you owed for pop, chips, or candy bars. Everything was on the honor system.

I asked Right Back if anyone ever took a broom to the floor, and he laughed and said that about once a week it would get swept. My observation from the outside was a land of dirt and darkness. Even the walls of the pool hall had need of a good fresh coat of something to cover up whatever the years had left. It certainly didn’t have any feminine touches about it, but, after all, it was a ‘guys only’ haven on Earth. I suppose they liked it that way... dark... dirty... smelly... etc. He said that if something fell on the floor, they left it there and took bets on how long it would take for a roach to come along and carry it off. In all respect to Henry, I hope Right Back was exaggerating on that one. I’m a little on the squeamish side about critters.

I figure Right Back learned more real history in the pool hall than he’d ever learn in school. I’m not knocking school, but there are things they don’t teach there. Most of the fellows who ‘hung out’ in the pool hall were what I might refer to as the ‘old coots’. The Old Coots must have been very interesting people from diverse backgrounds. Right Back said that the rule was, ‘Leave your title at the door!’ He said there was a sign saying that. So, people just went in to hang out, play a little pool or dominoes, and tell a few tales.

When Right Back started going into the pool hall, the lad was ‘fresh meat’. All the stories that needed to be told and retold by people who had lived during prohibition needed to be explained to this young lad. History must be preserved. He was there with ‘fresh ears’ as well, and absolutely loved their stories.

Yes, Prohibition was a great topic at the pool hall, according to Right Back. Several of the pool hall patrons had a big hand in the development of ways to get around the law. Since liquor couldn’t be bought in stores, it had to be run in from other states or just homemade and sold. I’m afraid Right Back was given all the instructions needed to carry on such a thing. He learned about stills, recipes, running techniques, etc.... all the practical things a young teenager needed to know. Well, that’s history! I’m not saying he ever put any of these into personal practice. He just listened and learned.

I remember a day when Right Back came home and told about one of the Old Coots passing away. Apparently one of the other guys told Right Back that the Old Coot had left a message that Right Back was to inherit his still. Right Back said, ‘You’ve GOT to be kidding!!’ I guess he wasn’t. Right Back was taken out in the countryside and shown where the still was located.... not working, just the remains...a piece of history. According to Right Back, it has since been removed and located to a museum somewhere.

I know Right Back could write a book on all the happenings he learned about at the pool hall. I have to admit loving to hear Right Back retell the stories. He tells it with such excitement and makes me long to hear more. Who knows how much was pure history and how much was exaggeration on the part of the Old Coots. Right Back seems to think most of it really was history. I’ve made Right Back promise to tell all of it to me one day. It might be a very interesting read.

The cast of characters from the pool hall have gone now. Henry has passed away, and the building has sold to be put to another use. It is another one of those sad passings in Small Town.

Right Back loves to watch the History Channel. He seems to absorb trivia of the past like a sponge absorbing water. I wonder how much of this interest came from his early fascination with real small town people.. gathered in a darkened pool hall..playing pool and spinning yarns, excitedly reliving a part of history with their personal stories.