Proud to be 64!
Avenue J was home the toughest guys and most beautiful girls imaginable. Pauly Walnuts from The Sopranos (Tony Sirico) grew up with me on J. We had a big reunion in Connecticut on my birthday. Pix are on FB.
Today's topic of discussion is about an egg fight that happened some fifty years ago.
Flyer said:
that logo really comes off the screen nice, wear one of these in maine and life to tell ? more on what ave j is.
Since you asked here's the story of when I first turned on to pot. It's a book chapter.
Chapter 2
Avenue J: 1963
A guy named Cookie got the bright idea to open a string of restaurants along the BMT subway route in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn Avenue J, Avenue M, Avenue U, and so on. The kids from each neighborhood hung out in front of their Cookie's. Matty and I hung out in front of the Cookie's on the corner of East 16th and Avenue J with all the other kids from Midwood High.
Junior was the biggest badass on the corner. He was the kind of kid your parents warned you not to play with. His enforcer was a guy named Charley Morris. Charley once bit a kid's finger off in a fight and carried it around in a cardboard box. As teenagers they were the most feared delinquents in Brooklyn. They were a few years older than me.
On a typical summer night the crowd in front of Cookie's swelled to a hundred or more. One night the cops tried to disperse us. Junior got livid! That was his corner and no cop was going to tell him to move. He flicked a cigarette at a passing squad car. It's embers fractured on the windshield like fireworks on July 4th.
A couple of cops tried to arrest Junior. We got between them. A standoff ensued. More cops arrived. They quickly realized they were badly outnumbered and backed down on the verge of a riot. The next day it made headlines. A legend was born Junior! He didn't know me from Adam but that was about to change.
I can't overemphasize how taboo drug use was during the Kennedy era, even marijuana. That didn't stop me and a small circle of friends from turning on in our teens. Stanley was the neighborhood dope dealer. It was the worst kept secret on Avenue J. His father owned Arty's Pool Hall, the second most popular hangout besides Cookie's.
Stanley was forever scratching and in need of a shower and shave. He was a typical junkie but we treated him like royalty because he was our pot connection. Getting invited to Stanley's house was considered a rite of passage. We were his assembly line. He'd score a brick of Panama Red and my friends and I packaged it into nickel bags. We could smoke as much as we liked.
Stanley drank Phenergan cough medicine laced with codeine and nodded out. Cigarette burns were his alarm clock. His clothing was riddled with tiny little holes he lovingly referred to as "nod burns". Stanley paid us a buck apiece for each nickel bag we sold. I sold mine in Brighton Beach so nobody found out. That didn't fool Junior. He knew everything going down on Avenue J!
I was hanging out in front of Cookie's one night and Junior summoned me. "Hey, Weber, get your ass over here!" I was flattered he knew my name. I strolled over relishing my newfound popularity. Junior had a twinkle in his eye. "I hear you got something I want, Weber?" I had no idea what he was talking about. He gave me a friendly nudge and said, "You know, Stanley!" I asked him how he knew and he said Stanley told him.
Junior wanted a couple of nickel bags. I asked for the cash. He didn't want to front the money but promised to leave it by the stash. I didn't carry the stuff on me. I acquiesced but when I went to collect the money it wasn't there. Junior ripped me off and now I owed Stanley eight bucks!
A few days later I ran into Junior and asked for the money. He feigned innocence. He was insulted I would suggest he ripped me off. I half believed him until Stanley set me straight. I was Junior's new patsy. From that moment on I couldn't show my face on Avenue J without Junior and his gang shaking me down.
It became a game of cat and mouse, sneaking around to dodge Junior. I took circuitous routes to and from high school and stayed away from Avenue J. My luck ran out in a bowling alley a few weeks later. Junior cornered me. He wanted my stash. I told him I quit but he didn't believe me. I told him I was out but he didn't fall for it.
I had two choices get my ass kicked or give up my stash. The gig was up. I reluctantly told him it was hidden under a garbage can in an alley off Coney Island Avenue. It was total bullshit! I would've loved to see the expression on Junior's face when he realized I outsmarted him.
My "ass was grass" on Avenue J. Junior put a bounty on my head. I'd been hanging out in the village for years by then and I really didn't care. I belonged on Bleecker and MacDougal. Matty and I began to catch the subway on Avenue H to avoid the Avenue J station. It worked, I eluded trouble.
Then one night, around four in the morning, we got complacent. We were exhausted and figured no one would be out that late. We got off on Avenue J. The second we exited the station two members from Junior's gang spotted us. Eddy Morris and Felix Castro began chasing me. Matty and I began to run but they weren't after him, they were after me!
Eddy started chanting my name, "Weber, Weber!" It grew louder and louder. They had the jump. I decided to stand my ground. I turned, fists clenched, waiting for them to catch up. Matty and Castro knew each other. They stood on the sidelines, rooting us on, as Eddy and I began to duke it out. I'll bet we woke up the whole neighborhood!
Eddy outweighed me by seventy pounds but he was all blubber. He was Charley Morris' younger brother, but unlike Charley, he couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. He was flailing away but his punches missed. Those that connected were powder puff slaps. I landed a few stiff jabs and ducked his best shots.
Eddy was panting, mouth wide open, gasping for air. I couldn't take my eyes off his stomach. It bulged from beneath his undershirt like a watermelon. It was such an inviting target. He looked pregnant! I teed off and landed a perfect shot to his solar plexus right in the "labonza" as they say in Brooklyn!
Eddy doubled over and began to gag. The fight was over. Matty and I fled. It wouldn't sit well with Charley Morris that I beat up his younger brother. Because of my run-ins with Junior and his gang I would never hang out in front of Cookie's again.
And a reminder of a bygone era. Known to some as "the good old days" and to some as "the Camelot years," the Kennedy era was such a different time than now. Thank you for this step back in time.