Richard Cain, Scalzetti

***** 1962****
He Might Look Gay, but…
It was the critical me observing a client in the shop. Hmmm, who was this guy talking to Sheriff Olgilvie? He looks like a school teacher that’s a little light in the loafers. It’s those small rectangular frame glasses; they look too stylish for a man. Ah yes, I’ve seen this guy around the terminal several times. I guess he likes to hang around here. That was never a good sign.
Carmie broke my silent dialogue by whispering to me, “Kid it looks like you’re staring at them. Go read a magazine. Get a newspaper, they’re taking care of business.”
“The sheriff and the fag?”
“Don’t mistake the guy with the glasses; he’ll just as soon stuff you in a trunk as look at you. He’s so tricky I don’t even know whose side he’s on. He’s like horse shit, he’s everywhere.”
“Who is he?”
“Sometimes he’s Rich, sometimes Rick or Dick Scott, Cain is his last name for sure. And just because you see him around the terminal that doesn’t mean he’s gay. People use high pedestrian traffic areas for drop offs, exchange of packages or information, shit like that. And don’t stare. Let’s go get some coffee.”
Then a voice from across the shop, “Hey where are you fellows going? I need a haircut.”
“Okay kid, he’s all yours.” That was the first of many haircuts I gave to Mr. Cain. He was one of those people you store in your mental file cabinet because he just seemed weird, and he made me feel very uneasy, almost creepy.

**** 1973 ****
Dick Cain, aka Scalzetti The Moran Detective Agency had some security guard contracts, too. They occupied an office in the same building as The Lion’s Cut. Having them as a neighbor was of no benefit to our business; their security guards looked like they were just released from Cook County Jail. However, Mr. Moran had a friend that came around to visit, my old "friend" Richard Cain from my early days at Melito’s. On a cold 20th of December, 1973 he, too, wound up on the front page. He got shot in such a way that it took days to clean up Rose’s little sandwich shop on 1117 Grand Avenue. They had to use his fingerprints to figure out who he was. It started to make me wonder if there were just that many shootings in Chicago? Is it some kind of message I’m supposed to get? Or was it simply a matter of the original client base that came through these shops?

Marvin Glass, This Glass changed my outlook on life.

Mr. Marvin Glass
Marvin Glass is a man who made a positive impact on my life, too. He was small of stature with gray, straight hair, heavy eyebrows, and always very well dressed in custom tailored clothes. He was quick to smile with approval or verbally take your head off and hand it back to you. He was always busy and at one time or another he received a haircut from all of us at the salon. He always got a manicure and a shoeshine. Marvin treated all of us with equality and fairness; although, I have heard he was tyrannical as a businessman. Marvin Glass held more patents on toys than any other toy designer in the world. He even got the phrase “Acapulco Gold” locked up in case they were to legalize “pot”. He was a renaissance man, he loved to be around bright people, and loved to share knowledge and exchange ideas good or bad. Music, art, politics, history, religion and food were some of the subjects we would touch on during the course of a haircut.
He decided to conserve his time and be consistent about his intervals between haircuts and with the stylist and manicurist. He asked me to put together a list of all the things I would need for a complete salon in his office. Marvin wanted to make sure that Frances, the manicurist, had all of her tools available also. He had his crew create a one chair styling salon complete with shampoo sink and anything else I thought was necessary for his personal hair or facial grooming. He said, “When you come through that door I don’t want to see anything in your hands.”
He showed me around his office which was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Behind his desk was a LeRoy Neiman wall mural painting. In the conference room were twelve paintings by Marc Chagall depicting the astrological signs of the zodiac. The security in the building was incredibly tight with cameras everywhere. As with most things, Mr. Glass saw the sign of things to come. He was always ahead of the times. Each of the designers that were in-house had a special shelf inside a huge safe. That is where any and all projects that were being developed, whether in the drawing stage or a working model, were locked up twice with a lock in the shelved area and then the huge safe door. It was from here that toys like the Light Brite set, Rock’em Sock’em Robots, Tommy Turtle, and the first anatomically correct boy doll were developed. But how do you build a toy empire? That was done with Yakety yak teeth, the wind up set of chompers gag gift and the ever favorite whoopee cushion, farts and false teeth. Not what you might call the American dream. Never the less, a tremendous income generating duo. One of the great lessons I learned was that no matter how strange or unusual the idea, if I can see it being used, I’ll go for it.
After about a year of using his office salon Marvin became ill. The chauffeur would come to pick us up and take us to his home in Evanston rather than the short eight blocks to his office. He would vary so much from visit to visit looking better and healthier, then tired, low energy, poor skin color and irritable. He surrounded himself with beautiful museum quality art work. I also observed that no matter how much money you have when your number is up, you go. Also, if you have enough money the going can be a little more comfortable.
After his passing the company continued on. I don’t know the details of that. However I still worked on his legal assistant, Fred, from time to time. One day in particular things became way out of the ordinary. Fred came into the shop for a haircut. The conversation went like this. “Thomas I was so pissed at my wife that morning. We had a big meeting scheduled and they needed my input on the legal side of things. My wife was not feeling well so I had to drop my kid off at school and take a parcel over to my mother-in-law. We argued a little, but even that was cutting into my time so I just did as she requested. I dropped my son off at school, delivered the package to my mother-in- law and then barreled ass to the office and on my way I got a speeding ticket. Now I was hopping mad. I was thinking of all the stuff I was going tell my wife about time, work, priorities and when I say I have to be someplace at a certain time, don’t find things for me to do on my way. As I was going through this dialogue in my head I realized that I couldn’t access any parking. Then it hit me. I’m already here, at the office. I got here by automatic pilot. What the hell is going on here? There are squad cars everywhere and ambulances going and another coming. I worked my way through the crowd and into the crime scene area. Our receptionist, Pauline, was an emotional wreck but she was alive. Four other people were dead and so was the shooter. He was one of the toy designers and was having some emotional problems and went way over the deep end. He killed everyone in the meeting room, except me. Was it the drop off at school? Was it the in-law delivery? Was it the traffic ticket? Or all three?”
Fred wasn’t scheduled to die yet. This funeral haircut conversation hit me in such a profound way at so many levels. I don’t have to dig very deep to feel it all over again. I passed my condolences on to Fred knowing that everyone there at the studio were like family to him. Even the shooter must’ve been under tremendous pressure. How that incident impacted all the families and the business was profound.

Tony Borsellino & my brother Dan, Good things from unexpected sources

Dan in photo:

Somebody Special, Somebody Dead p.252 Backstreets
Mom treated our families to “The Nutcracker Suite” at the Chicago Civic Opera House. For Mom it was a double treat: introducing her five grandchildren to a classic and a chance for her to reflect upon the days when she sang in the chorus. And for Dan in particular, when he was six years old and he sang with her as part of a street scene chorus in the opera “Carmen.” Dan loved the bright lights, the attention, and all the action. Back stage, front stage, and the audience, stuff going on everywhere he turned. It was yet another peek into what he was to become, an insight into his personality.
We all approached the highly polished brass doors and entered the red carpeted lobby. Dan’s husky six foot frame seemed to broaden, as well as his red beard did with a smile, when his eyes zeroed in on the ticket taker. He was a very well-tailored gentleman with full gray hair, about five foot eight, medium build, clean shaven with a boxer’s nose. The gentleman did his simple job with dignity. Dan’s enthusiasm drew our families into his energy field.
“Tony, how the hell are ya, man?” Was Dan’s greeting in a loud whisper and a simultaneous two-handed handshake. You could see the register of a deep insightful look of understanding of where each of them had been together previously. What they are doing now is so very tough, tedious and boring for them trying to stay on a straight and narrow path.
“Mom, this is my friend Tony.” The introductions went on, wives, me, the kids. Tony smiled, shook hands with all and mentioned to Dan that he’d be around at intermission tending the bar.
We found our seats and settled in. Our two families flanked Mom on either side. The performance was well received by all, a totally enjoyable evening. At intermission Dan and I got drinks. Tony asked Dan, “So what are you doing these days?”
“My brother, Tom, got me a job at place called The Lion’s Cut, a classy men’s hairstyling salon.” The conversation was stilted by orders for wine, vodka martinis and Black Russians. We did the polite thing and left Tony to do his job. Dan tucked a business card in Tony’s suit coat pocket.
The next day at work, Dan and I could talk without interruption. He shared this experience with me about him and Tony. Dan was twenty-six when he thought, “Wouldn’t it be great to write a check for whatever amount of money you wanted and not have to worry whether or not you would be overdrawn at the bank.” Dan also found out the U.S. post office uses a custom paint that no one else uses. It was difficult enough to deny possession of a mail bag full of blank postal money order checks and a postal money order machine, let alone the paint chips on his pry bar and paint chips in the car. Tony was thirty-eight when he decided to do a tidy $900,000.00 silver hijacking.
It was a special day for both groups. The kids at the local orphanage always enjoyed the day out with the guys. This was a once a year event. Most of these kids were passed over for adoption because they did not fall into the cutesy category or the ages most likely to be adopted. The picnic-like atmosphere was a little different than most family get-togethers. The team of prison guards supervising the adoptees and their counselors on this day in the sun gave the party an edge of oddness. What a mix…Men that were asked to leave society and kids that were not given the chance to be part of it. The inmates were quick to put together teams and games and the kids loved the attention and enthusiasm that was being generated.
Dan had already palmed a football from the sports table. He and Tony walked through the Leavenworth Penitentiary compound and noticed a mother and her ten year old son that looked like another case of being “left out again.” Tony and Dan approached them. When the guys arrived at the picnic table they saw that the boy’s skin was paper thin. As they found out later he had been burned over forty percent of his body. Parts of his head, arms and hands resembled a patchwork quilt. Some places on his head had hair and other spots were just tightly stretched skin.
Tony gently slapped the boy on the shoulder and said, “Hey, go out for a short one.” Dan handed off the football to Tony as if some magical play was just called by the quarterback. The boy awkwardly received the catch from Tony. “Aw right kid. Great catch!” … and on it went.
The mother was awestruck; these two men didn’t even introduce themselves, which would be inherent, considering their kind of businesses. They just treated her son like nothing was wrong with him. Everyone had always treated him as though he were made of glass, or worse, because he looked so scary and different as a result of the scaring from the fire.
It is amazing to note what some people develop by survival others get by attending classes. Reading people and situations is primarily what N.L.P. (neuro-linguistic programming) is all about; the subject is taught at adult education classes and universities all over the country and costs an arm and a leg for certification. Professional con-men, thieves, good card players and successful salespeople do the same thing the “N.L.P.’ers” do. They just don’t get a piece of paper that says “certified.” They have an ability to read people and situations like a book. Their certification comes under the auspices of “street observation”. Dan and Tony played football with the kid over an hour. Everyone eventually learned each other’s names by way of playing. Joey was the boy’s name; however, Mom remained Mom to all. Joey was enjoying the attention and played so enthusiastically that he even surprised himself. He had never played so long or so hard as to become winded so even that was something new for him.
He took a couple of falls, realized he was okay and came back for more of the same.
After one tumble Joey looked a little dazed. That prompted Dan to say, “My arm is tired do you mind if we rest?”
Tony looked at the kid and told him, “Joey, you got the heart of a lion. How about we give the old guy a break?”
They all took a break and got some hot dogs, lemonades and cokes. Joey was shocked when Dan asked him how his lemonade was and then took a slug out of his cup. Nobody, other than his mom, felt comfortable enough to be that pleasantly forward with him. Joey was accustomed to having people treat him like he had a contagious disease.
The day progressed with a little Frisbee catch and conversation until their food settled. The young boy looked at Tony’s broken nose. Tony said without hesitation, “I got it from boxing. What about you?” Joey hesitated and started to look at the ground. Tony read Joey’s response and quickly said, “Boxing. Do you do any boxing?”
A look of confused relief came over Joey. He would not have to talk about the fire again as he first thought might have to do. Dan brought back a set of boxing gloves; they were by most standards quite thick. The headgear was only for Joey. Tony and Dan had fun coaching Joey as Mom looked on in total disbelief. Tony and Dan both took turns being Joey’s punching bag and showing Joey how to bob and weave, when and how to fake a blow and how to maximize his punches. The two cons did more in an afternoon for the kid’s emotional scars and his self-esteem than any of the head shrinkers were able to do in the previous years.
The loudspeaker announced the end of the picnic. Dan and Tony gave the kid a handshake and a slap on the shoulder, walking away kind of half backwards waving to the mom. Mom ran up to Tony and Dan, shook their hands and thanked them so very much for treating her son like an ordinary normal boy. No one had ever played with him like they had. Her eyes welled up with tears as she mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
“Hey Joey, take care of your mom, she’s a neat lady.” The two men walked through the compound to their respective cells.
Dan was released seven months later after completing his five year sentence. Tony finished his time three years later. Dan went on to own a successful restaurant and bar after five years of cutting hair. Wish I could tell you how Joey is doing. He would be in his forties now.
As for Tony: Some years later at the barber shop I picked up the Chicago Sun-Times. At the top of page twenty-two, May 24, 1979, it read “Hood, Tony Bosellino’s body is identified”. The article went on to talk about how he was in debt to some loan sharks in the amount of $200,000. He took five shots to the back of the head and his body was found by a farmer near the entrance to a Will County forest preserve. His fully clothed body with an expensive watch and diamond studded Christ figure still attached to his body meant that this was a lesson and not a robbery. At least Joey and his mom will always think of Tony kindly.

Frank "Strongy" Ferraro, My First Big Shave....

My First Big Shave and the Tuna’s Princess is Getting Married
It was great being on the close outside circles of a three ring circus. Tony Accardo's (also known as “The Tuna”) daughter was getting married. “Outfit” guys were coming in all week long to get fixed up for that wedding. The faces showing up in the barber shop were familiar to me from the ten o’clock news as well as the local papers but I had not learned all their names as yet. I was still the new kid at Melito’s.
It was Thursday at 10:30 a.m. when Frank “Strongy” Ferraro came through the Clark Street door. His bodyguard, Hy Godfrey, came in through the building’s concourse entrance, as usual.
The three manicurists were always kept busy; Laura won over most of the high rollers. Laura was my favorite too. She gave me my first manicure and a major piece of advice both at the same time; “Kid, look at their socks. If they spend money on their socks they’ll drop it.” She was right. It wasn’t Khalil Gibran, but the lady knew how to size up customers.
Millie, who was short, chunky, with a piercing nasal voice and critical of everyone, was working on a client when Strongy came in with Hy. Millie wished Laura would drop dead and maybe then she could possibly get some of that money crowd.
Flash was a sexy woman with a deep throaty voice, but time had not been kind to her. She spent all of her slow time reading the racing forms through her rhinestone studded glasses. She was also on a first name basis with every gangster that came through the doors of the shop. Maybe today she would get to work on Hy.
Laura was the classiest and was always Strongy’s first choice. However, Laura had a bad combination of addictions: astrology and playing the ponies. I asked Laura, “Who’s got the valuable birth date? The owner of the horse? The jockey? The trainer? The horse? YOU?”
“Kid, when you find out come back and tell me.”
Of the three porters Pope was a droopy eyed, pie faced man that would rather be sleeping than working. He always had a kind word, and a quick biblical reference to anything that would transpire. Slicker Sam was never in the running for most of the outfit guys and was sent to the downstairs barber shop which catered mostly to the out of town commuters. Charles was quick, lithe and willing to help, also very classy, from the old school of service. Strongy liked him the best.
Since I was the new kid and nineteen years old, I was lucky to be in the upstairs shop. I was assigned the ninth chair down past Carmie, in the eighth chair, and Dennis in the seventh chair. I frequently thought it was more for security reasons that Carmie and Dennis were positioned so far into the shop as opposed to being on the Clark Street side of the shop. Strongy would be attending the Accardo wedding that weekend.
The Big Tuna’s daughter was getting married. Tony Accardo, being Chicago’s Godfather, it was understood that when invited, you showed up. Most of these men were carry-overs from the Capone era. They were young enforcers at that time and had worked their way through the system so that by 1961 they were the major players. Strongy made himself comfortable in Carmie's chair and Hy made a once over sweep of the shop before sitting down in the waiting area and giving his boss the “everything is okay” nod.
Strongy asked Carmie, "Is the kid is doing anything?"
Whoa! That’s me. I am the kid. My asshole tightened like a hangman’s noose. I hated shaves. I was terrible at them. The last shave I gave was at barber school. “Hunchback Frank” was one of the more popular neighborhood bums. He slept in the basement of Healy’s grocery store with their dog. I remember accidentally cutting him because his hump wouldn’t allow him to lay flat. As I would apply pressure on one side he would rock to the other. That’s when I nicked him. It was like trying to shave someone in a rocking chair. But this is a mafia boss’ bodyguard. No doubt he’ll kill me if I cut him.
Carmie said, pointing to my chair, “He’s not doing a thing, sit down over here, Hy.”
And so the show began. I wrapped the chair cloth around Hy’s big body, and tilted the chair back to put him at a comfortable height for me to do my work. Carmie put the jar of prep in front of me with out saying a word. I picked up on the queue. I placed the first hot towel on Hy’s face and his wide broken nose stuck out of the towel.
Hy spoke up and said, “I like these hot towels. They really feel great, boss.”
I liked hearing something favorable. So it went, more prep, more lather, more hot towels. My sink was starting to get kind of sloppy wet with all of these hot towels. Hy had two hot towels on and I was reaching for the hot shaving lather to start in on the shave for my life. Since I share Carmie's new, all chrome, hot lather machine, I chose to make the reach rather than walk around the manicurist, porter and Carmie. I depressed the chrome button and began filling my hand with lather. Then physics increased my learning curve. The corner of my wet sink that I was leaning against dampened my trouser leg through to my right testicle, which became the electrical ground. I gave a shout that was heard throughout the shop. Hy was standing up ready to reach for his gun. There was a beautiful foamy white arc across my back bar mirror from the shave cream that slowly began to weep. Everybody wanted to know what happened. Carmie and Dennis came to me immediately and huddled, just like two baseball managers going to the mound to tell the pitcher, “one more of those and you are out of the game.”
My legs were still vibrating as I explained to Carmie and Dennis that “I just electrocuted my right nut.” Unfortunately, Hy, Strongy and Laura all heard what I told Carmie and Dennis. Strongy looked at me and laughed. He instantly gave me a nickname.
"Hey, Thundernuts, how’s it going?"
They all laughed. Hy laid back down for his shave and I did an okay job from that point. His leathery knuckles were flat from hitting things, no peaks and valleys like everyone else I knew. They just remained there on top of the chair cloth like two resting Rottweilers. When I got to his upper lip I had to pick up that busted up nose. Hy reached up slowly wrapped his hand around my wrist, like mine was a little babies’ hand. He said, “Don’t be nervous, I ain’t gonna hurt you kid. Everybody has to learn their business and it’s always tough at the beginning. If I was a real good boxer at the beginning, I wouldn’t have a broken nose, right?”
I finished the shave with a witch-hazel steam and looked at those big hands with knuckles flattened from years of punching, thinking “Wow, this guy still has a heart.” I found out later that he raised show dogs. Boxers, what else?
During their first visit after my big shave I wondered if I was going to be addressed as Thundernuts. I almost liked the name because it did have somewhat of a Native American sound to it. I never mentioned it to the guys I ran with because the name might have stuck. This time when they came in they both acknowledged my existence.
"Hi, kid."
"What du ya say, Junior."
I was befuddled----What should my response be? Should I say “Hello, Frank”? “Good morning, Mr. Ferraro”? No one ever calls him Strongy except when he’s not present. Maybe I should not use any names at all. There was nothing in my Christian Courtesy book we studied in grammar school that taught us how to greet mafia bosses. Yo would never do. No names, that's it.
"Good morning, sir," was it. I said it twice and prayed that Hy didn’t want a shave. My prayer was answered and I busied myself with stropping my razors.
There was much hyperbole about The Tuna’s princess’ wedding and wisecracks were made about how the groom would have a short lifespan if he were ever caught cheating. The general consensus was that no one wanted to be the husband in a marriage like that.
I began to notice every Thursday when Strongy came in he was always impeccably dressed. It was the first time for me to see a man with jewelry like that. Most of the other outfit guys wore gold chains with the Italian horn or cross and a diamond pinky ring. Strongy always wore a tailored suit, custom made shirts with French cuffs and ties with a CM logo sewn into them. Eventually I asked what the CM was all about. Old Matt clued me in, “Oh kid, dose are da most expensive ties around. Dat stands for Countess Mara. She’s some kinda special designer broad for big shots all over da world.”
When Strongy wore a black suit he would wear a full set of diamonds; cufflinks, tie tack, and pinky ring all in a platinum setting. If he wore grey, it would be a set of star sapphires; a brown suit brought out a set of rubies. Any of the watches complemented the ensemble and none of the watches were ever thicker than a half dollar. Always upon finishing the manicure Laura got his box of English Ovals and lit his cigarette for him while his nail polish dried. The old saw of “crime does not pay” was turned on its head for me. That was for a short while though. During those months I thought that not only did it pay, it paid quite well.
A couple of Thursdays went by and all was well. I was an accepted personage and, even more important to me, nobody wanted me to shave them. Carmie had finished Strongy and Laura was still finishing up his manicure. I headed over toward Toffenetti’s to meet Carmie and realized I had forgotten my wallet in the drawer of my back bar. As I walked back into my area and opened the drawer. I heard Hy say; “Aw, c’mon, boss. He’s got a wife and kids.”
My stomach just turned. Some guy is going to get whacked; and I…uh, …I’m uh…. I’m going to get a cup of coffee. Carmie corrected me about what I heard. I was right about Hy. He did have somewhat of a heart, he only did protecting. He didn’t do hits. Someone else would whack the poor doufas.
Dan’s philosophy on living was inspired by Dad’s comments we both had heard him say too many times: “I wished I’d…or If I only would have…” Neither one of us wanted to find ourselves in the regret department at the Pearly Gates Super Store. Dan would frequently say, “Better to be a has been than a never was-er.”

Manny Skar, aka Mr. Stone’s, I had a new client for at least seven haircuts.

Manny Skar, aka Mr. Stone’s Haircut Ruined
Months later I was well entrenched in the shop, developing my own clients and being fed new clients by Jader and Powell more than the others. One man in particular, who was pleased with my work and was passed on to me by Jader, was Mr. Stone – A.K.A. Manny Skar. His previous haircuts were way too close and he needed some corrective reshaping of style. The style was looking good and the left side was really shaping up quite well. After about the sixth visit I figured out who he really was. I mentioned it to my brother during one of our visits to Stateville Prison. Dan said, "Oh that's cool."
I felt disappointed in his lack of response. But what could I really expect? Ooohs and aaaahs? Look at where I’m visiting. Manny Skar was “connected.” He owned a hotel called Sahara Inn, an underground gambling casino on Manheim Road in Schiller Park. I thought of him as a big time gangster. In my own warped way I thought it was cool to be working on such a character.
Jader greeted me one morning with his great voice; "Thomas, Mr. Stone will not be seeing you anymore."
"Why not Jader, are you going to be doing him?"
"No, Thomas, he's suffering from a severe case of lead poisoning." Jader then showed me the morning newspaper: September 11, 1965, Manny Skar found shot to death in his car in front of his home after dropping off wife and daughter.
My next visit with my brother at Stateville was enlightening. He said; “I knew your ‘Mr. Stone’ was going to get whacked; everybody in here knew. The grapevine in this place is phenomenal. That’s why I couldn’t say anything to you. You don’t need to know about any of that kind of shit anyway. Just stay clean.”

My Experience with Frank Schweihs

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.

Diving for the Pearce Arrow

Scuba diving was always fun but when you add trespassing, at night, into some old Italian guys gravel quarry you just might wonder about your own sanity. Like why is this old Pearce Arrow at the bottom of the quarry. Was somebody behind the wheel when it was sent over the edge? Who gives a shit. I really wanted to see that old classic car. Driving down the gravel road was scary even at 15-20 mph. I hit a bump and the loudest PFFFSSSSS I have ever heard in my life. I jumped out of the car, opened the trunk turned off the air valve and wondered how much I lost. From that point on I walked in front of the car as my wife drove slowly enough to not even register a speed on the odometer. Ken and I put on our wet-suits pointed our flash lights into the water. It illuminated a heavy murky green algae with a total of 7 or maybe 8 feet. Ken and I stayed connected with a clothes line for safety. We followed a twisted steel section rail track. That rested on a railroad trestle that reached down to the quarry floor. About 50 feet below us. The rail ended and pointed downward as we got further down my air began to run out after 25 minutes or so we surfaced with great disappointment . never to see the great Pearce Arrow we were so enthused about. Many promises and talks about "Next Time we'll...." and we knew there would never be a next time. But we dreamers and doers keep our ideas filled with fresh hot air, hope and calculated b.s. ...........TT

Table of Contents for Backstreets

More photos to come
Page Chapter Title
5 One Dan Coffee Grounds
6 Dog Fights and other Noisy Games
7 Dan’s Crash
9 Hourglass Bread
10 Two Dziadzia Sajewski Died
11 August 1948
12 In a Fog Moving the Piano
13 Cotton Top
14 Welcome to the Neighborhood Helcha
16 Three Dat’s Miiine
17 Dan nailed it
18 Ziggy
19 Bombs Away Don’t Run, Don’t Wrestle, Don’t do…..
20 Dad’s Drinking and Family Encroachment
22 A New Friend Playing from Zur ta Zur
23 The Green 1951 Pontiac with Visor
24 The Burma Shave Road Comparing the Road Trip to City life
25 Dan Missed This One
26 Cotton Top on a Blessing Spree
27 Luminous Paint Not Quite the Same Since
Street Vendors: Rag Man, Ice Man, Produce Man, Sharpener
29 Flying Kids and Open Windows Wake You Uppers
31 Koswelski’s Tavern; Three in, Two Out
I See Your Can of Ravioli and Raise You a Mum
32 Cotton Top; How She Got her Name
33 Smash and Grab Duck Soup aka Czarnina
34 Junkin’ Kids Getting Money, 1954
36 Payback Breaking Monotony
37 Dan Dodging Dad
38 Four TV with Cotton Top
39 Polish Beavers on TV How considerate Cotton Top Could Be
40 Go West Young Polish Guys
41 The Torch Eckhart Park
42 Dime Store Dillinger
43 Helping an Old Lady Tina and Sandy
45 Great Party, Tom Pizda, Pizda, Pizda
46 Dad’s Snitch
47 Early Big Brother Delights
Father Pastor, Goldfish & Coffee
48 Child Support Cuts into Dad’s Drinking Money
Name Calling in a Mixed Neighborhood
49 My Saturday Ritual and Observation
Those Little Moments and Cryogenics
51 Friday Nights with Bob and His Dziadzi A Life Lesson
52 A Fight That Changed My Life
54 Tom? He’s Dead.
Altar Boys & Father Gruza it’s not what you think
55 A Dan Lesson to Younger Brother
56 April 1955—Fire Hoses and Unspoken Confidence
58 Want Some Chips?
60 Five Federal Highway Act Bullies are Pussies Dan’s Quest
62 Flash Gordon, Come in!
The Cold War -The Beginning of the End
64 Early Protesters
65 The Real Definition of “Eminent Domain” Concurrently
67 These Are Grunts Lose the Fancy Spices
68 New Understandings and Emotions and a Bathtub Ride
69 Hey You Forgot to Tell Us.
71 A Long Way to the Assayers Office in Disneyland
74 Six Holy Trinity High to Wells
75 Music and Attitudes
77 A City Guy Gets a Lesson from a Country Girl
78 A Dan Letter Eric and Bridget
79 Collita Francesca Espinoza de Jesus (aka Vickie) and Sasha
85 A Dan Phone Call Understanding Time and Gravity
86 Come with Me to Meet My Dad Gang Wars
87 Senior Year Jimmy La Farge, Big Ron, Rich Breakaglass,
Roger Price and me.
90 Dare to Step Out of the Box? Jonathan Livingston Seagull Did.
91 Seven Changes Out of High School Out of Our Minds
92 I Finished Barber School, All 1,872 Real Hours
Back to Vickie and an Undercover Subway Cop
93 Sasha and Her Changes
94 Dan and His Changes “I’ll stay here in California for a while.”
95 No Problem I Can Handle It… and a “Saturday Night Special”
96 Eight Downtown Chicago Barber Shop
July 1961 Tommy This Is Tony
97 Meeting the other Man in Her life
98 Son
99 Interview at Melito’s Barber Shop
100 John and Sophie
103 Planting a Seed for the Club Apartment Norge Ski Jump
105 Eau D’Volvo
107 Dan meets Ben
108 Getting Acquainted with the New Widow, Clients
(including) Action Jackson and Sol Levine story
114 There Goes the Neighborhood
115 Speaking of Hitting Things
116 My First Big Shave The Tuna’s Princess is Getting Married
119 Mike Prepares Spaghetti a le digit
122 Four X Skins
124 416 State Street
125 Carmie’s Radar Always Working
Someone Was Stealing My Stuff
126 Got This New Pistola and Haven’t Shot Anyone Yet
127 Enjoying the Moment He might look Gay but………
128 He’s Not Dead
129 I never wanted to miss out on anything
131 Carmie’s antennae still working
A different kind of coming out party
aka “Crippled Frank”
133 Is That All There Is? I Killed a Garbage Can at 3 in the Morning
134 February 17th 1962 Wishful Thinking in a Bad Situation
139 We All Recall Our Firsts
140 A Cacophony
141 What’s In a Name?
142 Nine Everyone Off To Prison
144 Carmie’s Super Day
145 Members of the Cast or “Kid don’t look now, but there’s….”
146 We Should’ve Called Him Mike The Ferret
147 There’s Nothing Like a Cops Bar
148 Dan and Lightning
149 He Just Looked So Clean Cut Protocol: Who acknowledges
150 “Hey Kid do me a favor” I recognize this guy from the……
151 The Club/Apartment, Mike and Cosette
152 A Different Kind of Peanuts A Legend in Our Time
153 Milk Carton and Machine Gun
154 Another Great Character from The Melito Years
155 Da Guys Coming by to dere Pay Respect
156 I Guess I Better Go Now
159 Ten End of An Era Nov. 22nd 1963
160 Mike Finds a Woman with Class The Marriage Mirage
My First Wife Lehrerin
162 Eleven July 4th 1964
163 Wire-room April Closing one Door and Opening Another
165 Twelve On The Right Path
166 Enter Thelonious Our Monkey
168 Don’t Take any Crap from Those People
169 July 20th 1965
170 Carol Does Something Special for Her Husband
171 Goodbye, Lake Shore Drive
172 Thirteen What Bosses! First Jader, Then Powell
175 Fourteen Cotton Top—It Finally Happened, August 1st 1965
175 Summer Time 1946
177 Why Such a Darky? Crystal Radio Set
178 Coming Back to Hudson Street, After the First Visitation
180 The Czarnina Scam The Forgetful Thief Angry Raisinettes
181 Kitchen Wonders and Gross Outs The Kitchen Towel Rack
183 Day Two Goot Zupa, No?
185 Sam, the Baby Gorilla Squirrel Monkey, Future Hit-man
186 Jim Bowie and PB&J Sandwich Cemetery Time
188 Back to Jader’s: A London Fog with a Big Surprise
189 Is There Room for Anyone Else in Here?
190 No Problem, I’m a Professional, I Can Handle This
191 Getting Acquainted with Powell
192 With a Name Like Pappa, You’d Think He’d Be Kind
No One Tells Heinzie How to Cut Hair
193 Mr. Stone’s Haircut Ruined Back at Jader’s
194 Welcome to Leavenworth Diving from the Sky
195 There’s Gold in Them Thar Flatlands! Short Letter to Dan
197 Fifteen Strategies of a Clever Businessman Spring 1967
198 Thank You Beetles Now there has to be a Gazillion Michelles
Maybe It’s the Planets…. Goodbye Rush and Delaware Hello…
199 Women Get Bored; They Need Excitement in the Bedroom
201 We Weren’t Ever Meant To Be Real Close Friends
202 Back to the Lion’s Cut
205 Dan Writes Nick Pilferwrist
207 Another Nick Delight Starting a letter to Dan
208 An Infectious Laugh is Hard To Beat A Costly Brush Off
209 Oops, Home too Early 22vs 357 Mamma Mia, it’s Maria
211 It’s Time to Live on Fast Forward
212 Some Decorating Ideas Take a Different Turn
My Boss Looked Different from the floor
214 Tolerated, Not Accepted
215 An Advertising Adventure Gas For Less
217 It’s All About The Tttttttiming
218 Like A Human Shell Game
219 Friends Come and Go but their memories linger on.
Mr. Camel Lashes Lawyers Dilemma—Be a Manly Man or Sue
221 Sixteen Welcome Home Dan - winter 1969
Dan Comes to Work with Us at The Lion’s Cut
223 I Want to Get Out of Here
224 Dan moves to Woodstock, Il. Weatherman Riot
225 Isis
227 Do I say I remember you? Or just Shut up
228 I remember this date quite clearly
229 Buying Poverty July 1970 Sly and the Family Stoned
230 Auto Shower—Inner City Style Dan and a Kid’s Haircut
231 The Housewife’s Friend is different when done I.V.
Setting some turkey dressing aside for the kids
234 This Glass had an important impact on my life
236 Hey Honkey! Uh oh….That would be me they’re calling
238 I want to see that Pearce Arrow
239 Somehow I could feel a Fox in the Chicken coop
240 Maybe Going to the Mountains
Making a choice. Who has been good to you?
241 Last Laugh Together
242 September, 1971-- Leaving Home
243 We All Deserve Another Chance First Date After Moving Out
244 Hippies from Arkansas
245 Hey, Tom, Now Just You Wait Until You See the Kitchen!
December Snow in Chicago Evening Rush Hour
246 Psychotherapist and Trust Issues
Mr. Dougherty
247 5:30 PM -- Rush Hour Sports
248 Dan Puts Things Together
249 Dick Cain, aka Scalzetti Barry Lipin
250 Somebody Special, Somebody Dead
253 Remember Me?
254 Astro Date
257 The Euphemism Is “Business Agent”
259 Spring of 1972 – Reunion
Tony the Tout, Taking Things Too Far
260 A Simple Pleasure
263 Life Changes One More Time
264 A Lesson from Viet Nam for Rich
265 Gorillas, Opera and Guns
266 A Subtle, Haunting Daymare
268 Seventeen A Busy Weekend February 13, 1974
273 Eighteen Lifestream Another Major Turning Point
274 A Great Wedding for Two Hundred Guests for Less Than Four
Thousand Dollars June 6th 1976
Chaser: Dog, Friend, Teacher – June 7th 1976
275 A New Restaurant in Town—July 15th 1977
276 New Marriage, Home and a Suburban Mentality….Berwyn?
277 August 8, 1977
279 Man, These Outfit Guys a Stricter Than Sister Assumpta
E. Mason Income Tax Service
281 Nazis with a solid I.Q. of 52 Trying to Create a Riot –June 1978
283 I’d Cry but I can’t- July 1978
285 June 4th 1979
286 The Obelisk
287 Paul Meets George
289 Bert’s Heart Attack Brings Us to Leo’s Warehouse
291 February 13th 1983 Ken Eto
292 The “Good Doctor”
295 Casket Races “Excuse Me I need to Borrow a…..”
298 We Learn a New Phrase Upon crossing the Texas Border
August 1985
301 One Promotional Idea for The Bar was to Advertise…
Volkswagen Fastback
304 Re-Introduction to my old friend Mike earlier in this collection
306 Back to School
308 Woodstock, Il. Uncle Dan’s
309 Back to Texas
310 The Dallas Saga- on a Downward Spiral
311 What a Phone Call – Dan Repairing a 40 year old Lie
312 Back to Life in Texas
313 Another Call from Dan
314 A New Profession for Her Too
315 Part Deux- “You Just couldn’t leave it alone” or “Open your
mouth, insert your feet & dance, dance, dance.”
316 Cable Guy – August 4th 1991
317 I Create an On-Site Massage Program at the While Foods Market
in Richardson Texas Christmas of 1988
318 Dan’s Shortest Day
320 “Mr. Terlikowski Dan is ready for you.”
322 “Tell Her to Climb Over the Gear Shift”
323 Years before Dan Died
325 Tom!
328 About The Author

Why would I start a blog? Because I want to share my experiences, introduce some strange characters, and different than average situations. Things like lowering a dead, two foot alligator from a second story roof top to just above two winos drinking from a paper bag.
Getting thown out and ultimately failing my bookkeeping class because my grand mother stole my homework.
Finding out that Thelonius Monk, and Mile Davis really sound different when those L.P.'s were played at 78rpm instead 331/3 and how much deeper the groves become.
That when it comes to cryogenics and pets, that should be left to the professional scientists and movie makers.
Never let your big brother talk you into bringing his car to another location.
When your boss leaves an Alice B. Toklas brownie on your back bar put it imediately away or in a drawer.
What to do when you get a nervous giggle when kneeling at a casket of a loved one.
What does an 18 year old brain think when witnessing a completely naked 87 year old woman bending over into a refrigerator? These questions and suggestions are addressed. In Backstreets...........TT

Cotton Top our Nemesis

Sam was a great new friend/monkey a squirrel monkey to be clear. Cotton Top was the name my friend Bob and I gave to my grandmother. She thought he was a baby gorilla that I had purchased to do my dirty work, and to do her in. In her warped mind she figured to avoid any problems she would make friends with him by feeding him. After all the good Polish woman that she was, raised nine children, five boys, four girls and all were well fed. She knows how to make friends with food. I asked her many times and ways to NOT feed Sam. Since I was in my senior year of high school she had access to him all day long.

In all my viewing of Marlin Perkins wild life nature movies, jungle movies, Disney animal specials I have never seen a stuffed Cabbage Roll tree, Kraut Pierogi bush, or a smoked sausage plant. That never stopped Cotton Top. This day in particular was an all American dish, fried chicken wing and small drumstick. Sam had already figured out how to unlock his cage and sneak out.

This time he heard the slippers shuffling across the linoleum floor. That soundmeant food was coming so he climbed high on the cabinets in the utility room that separated Cotton Tops apartment from ours. As she entered that room he leaped off the cabinet and grabbed the chicken wing and was back up high on his new perch. The problem was having a long prehensile tail, he wrapped it around her neck in order to reach down from her shoulder to the saucer where she had the chicken pieces. That choking action was all she needed to be convinced my Sam was a KILLER MONKEY. She dropped the saucer and ran downstairs to the store and told her son Alvin she was attacked and almost died. She was lucky enough to fight off the viscious beast and get to the safety of my mom and uncle.

When I came home from school I got the notice that Sam will have to go. The look on my uncles face was true mixed emotions. As he retold the incident to me I cold see him envisioningthe entire comical event but he also had to maintain that wee bit of autoritarian look of discipline. I read it all, loud and clear Cotton Top always got her way. I found a good ownwer, a father and daughter came to buy Sam and he found a new happy home, but no pierogi, sausage or cabbage rolls. TT