page 132 of Backstreets by Thomas Terlikowski
“Crippled” Frank (Schweihs, The German)
Carmie was out of the shop at the moment. He was probably having lunch with the Redhead so there would be no interrupting him at that point. Dennis just went to lunch with Crippled Frank who was a known hit man. Dennis clued me in on that fact when he realized I don’t ask too many questions and I proved myself to be tight lipped about what goes on in the shop. The other guys were having lunch so that left just Jack Frenzone (who was on the #1 chair that looked out on to Clark Street) and I (at my usual #9 chair next to the building’s inner concourse). The entire middle of the shop was empty.
Two men came into the shop wearing sport jackets and walked up to Jack and myself asking for a trim. Neither man wanted to remove their sport coats. However, when they turned to sit in the big Paidar barber chairs’ their sport coats flared away from their torsos. I couldn’t help but notice each man had a 45 caliber pistol stuffed in their trouser belts. No holsters. That stopped me cold. The thought of being caught in crossfire was distressing. This could turn into another Albert Anastasia murder sequence, a highly publicized barber shop Mafia hit, or the sloppier gunfight at the O.K. Corral where bullets flew everywhere. At least the New York mobsters were thoughtful enough to push the barbers out of the way as they wasted Albert. In either case I didn’t want any part of it.
Frank was a well respected man in his field and wasn’t really crippled; he just had a slight limp. However nicknames are quickly doled out at the slightest of differences. “No Nose”, “Greasy Thumb”, “Teets”, “Mad Sam”, “The Stoop”, “Apes”, “Joe Battters”, “Joey Doves”, “Jackie the Lackey”, “The Wizard of Odds”, “Cowboy”. But Jack in the number one chair didn’t put any of this together he was completely oblivious, which might have helped the situation. I looked too young, clean cut and inexperienced in life situations to create any suspicions by the two men with sport coats and forty-five automatics. After I wrapped the chair cloth around the client’s neck I told him I had to use the rest room and that I would be right back. When I got to Toffenetti’s I whispered the situation in Dennis’ ear and let him use his own discretion as to whether or not to tell Frank. Then I did go to pee.
The man calmly lounged in the barber chair waiting for me to return. I was hoping to be through and have him out of the chair before Dennis and Crippled Frank returned. I was almost done when my eye caught the flicker of Dennis’ white barber coat reflecting off the ceiling to floor barber shop windows. Frank, with his distinguishable gait, was at Dennis’ side. I felt the blood drain from my head not knowing what would happen next. Dennis wasn’t eager about walking into a potential hit so he hung back out on the concourse. He took a long drag of his cigarette and let Frank step into the shop alone.
Frank walked up to my client first since my chair was next to the door that accessed the walkway inside of the building. Frank stood directly in front of the man, locked eyes and leaned toward him for about seven seconds without saying a word. It felt like forever to me. He walked away without ever looking back. My only thought was whether he was going to be shot in the back of the head. Frank continued to the front of the shop and stood in front of the other man, fixing his steely gaze into his eyes and again leaning forward toward the stranger. Not a word was spoken. Frank walked toward Dennis’ #7 chair, shrugged his shoulders, cocked his head, and turned out both hands gesturing - nothing here to worry about here. The two men paid their tab and weren’t so careless about showing their weapons. They both headed out the Clark Street door and disappeared into the pedestrian traffic.
Dennis and I both smiled with relief. Dennis finished the haircut and Frank headed toward the door. I was amazed that I didn’t hear his brass balls clang as he walked out to Clark Street. I guess that was one way to deal with one’s own possible assassination.
“Crippled” Frank (Schweihs, The German)
Carmie was out of the shop at the moment. He was probably having lunch with the Redhead so there would be no interrupting him at that point. Dennis just went to lunch with Crippled Frank who was a known hit man. Dennis clued me in on that fact when he realized I don’t ask too many questions and I proved myself to be tight lipped about what goes on in the shop. The other guys were having lunch so that left just Jack Frenzone (who was on the #1 chair that looked out on to Clark Street) and I (at my usual #9 chair next to the building’s inner concourse). The entire middle of the shop was empty.
Two men came into the shop wearing sport jackets and walked up to Jack and myself asking for a trim. Neither man wanted to remove their sport coats. However, when they turned to sit in the big Paidar barber chairs’ their sport coats flared away from their torsos. I couldn’t help but notice each man had a 45 caliber pistol stuffed in their trouser belts. No holsters. That stopped me cold. The thought of being caught in crossfire was distressing. This could turn into another Albert Anastasia murder sequence, a highly publicized barber shop Mafia hit, or the sloppier gunfight at the O.K. Corral where bullets flew everywhere. At least the New York mobsters were thoughtful enough to push the barbers out of the way as they wasted Albert. In either case I didn’t want any part of it.
Frank was a well respected man in his field and wasn’t really crippled; he just had a slight limp. However nicknames are quickly doled out at the slightest of differences. “No Nose”, “Greasy Thumb”, “Teets”, “Mad Sam”, “The Stoop”, “Apes”, “Joe Battters”, “Joey Doves”, “Jackie the Lackey”, “The Wizard of Odds”, “Cowboy”. But Jack in the number one chair didn’t put any of this together he was completely oblivious, which might have helped the situation. I looked too young, clean cut and inexperienced in life situations to create any suspicions by the two men with sport coats and forty-five automatics. After I wrapped the chair cloth around the client’s neck I told him I had to use the rest room and that I would be right back. When I got to Toffenetti’s I whispered the situation in Dennis’ ear and let him use his own discretion as to whether or not to tell Frank. Then I did go to pee.
The man calmly lounged in the barber chair waiting for me to return. I was hoping to be through and have him out of the chair before Dennis and Crippled Frank returned. I was almost done when my eye caught the flicker of Dennis’ white barber coat reflecting off the ceiling to floor barber shop windows. Frank, with his distinguishable gait, was at Dennis’ side. I felt the blood drain from my head not knowing what would happen next. Dennis wasn’t eager about walking into a potential hit so he hung back out on the concourse. He took a long drag of his cigarette and let Frank step into the shop alone.
Frank walked up to my client first since my chair was next to the door that accessed the walkway inside of the building. Frank stood directly in front of the man, locked eyes and leaned toward him for about seven seconds without saying a word. It felt like forever to me. He walked away without ever looking back. My only thought was whether he was going to be shot in the back of the head. Frank continued to the front of the shop and stood in front of the other man, fixing his steely gaze into his eyes and again leaning forward toward the stranger. Not a word was spoken. Frank walked toward Dennis’ #7 chair, shrugged his shoulders, cocked his head, and turned out both hands gesturing - nothing here to worry about here. The two men paid their tab and weren’t so careless about showing their weapons. They both headed out the Clark Street door and disappeared into the pedestrian traffic.
Dennis and I both smiled with relief. Dennis finished the haircut and Frank headed toward the door. I was amazed that I didn’t hear his brass balls clang as he walked out to Clark Street. I guess that was one way to deal with one’s own possible assassination.
good story,thanks for sharing
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