Then and Now

Now, I know some pretty good pool players. But I would love to watch these folks play some time. This is a nice photo essay by Brooklyn-based photographer Christopher LaMarca that I came across yesterday while doing some research. He uses a square format camera for his work, which mixes documentary and portraiture. The essay beautifully conveys the seediness of the underground pool hustling scene, one of the "last remaining social clubs of 'Old New York'". LaMarca writes:

It's 4:30 AM inside the Golden Q, a pool hall in Woodside Queens, New York City. I sit and talk with a man who goes by the name Cornbread. He speaks to me about Harlem in the 1950's, the music and the nightlife. To his right is Lefty, an 82-year-old retired police detective who is whispering into the ear of a 17-year-old high school student. The feelings of isolation and intense passion linger like the smokey haze that surrounds the room.

LaMarca ruefully contemplates the rampant gentrification that has turned many pool halls into "flashy sports bars where waitresses serve martinis to the 'after work' crowd" and the rate at which NYC is losing its character. Indeed, the Golden Q Billiard Cafe is no longer. It is now called Play and the joint looks to have been completely gutted and rebuilt. Play features a smoking lounge, bowling alley and a games menu that features, absurdly, Twister, Connect Four, and something called Ghettopoly ("Buying stolen property, pimpin hoes, building crack houses...fun for the entire family!")

Carambole

Sometimes, when I'm renting a table somewhere and I'm worn out practicing 8ball, 9ball and straight pool, I'll just take out the yellow one ball and the red three ball and pretend I'm playing billiards. There are several reasons why it's so hard to make a three-cushion billiard shot on a regular pool table. First, the pockets obviously get in the way, but not as much as you'd think. Secondly, the cushions just aren't springy enough. The rebound action is simply not there. Another reason is that regular pool balls are too small and light and don't roll as far. Billiard balls are about the size of the oversized cue balls found on most bar tables and have significantly more heft to them. Finally, the playing surface cloth on a billiard table seems finer, the surface much harder. The table is electrically heated to keep off moisture and ensure consistent rolls. It's almost like playing on the moon, you barely tap a ball and it'll roll a foot. I would love to know of a place in Manhattan that has pocketless tables.

The first time I played billiards was last spring in Queens, somewhere near the 7 train, I can't remember the name of the place. I was so unsure of the rules of the game, it was mainly just to see what the tables were like. The second time I played was this summer in Wichita, where I was still struggling but at least I knew what to look for and made a point. My third time playing was during my recent Brighton Beach visit. During that session I scored seven points in an hour. The first and second shots came fairly early on, within the first 15 minutes. My third shot was pretty elusive and I figured I'd have a good session if I could just get three total before my hour was up. Eventually, I got it. I kept playing and my fourth shot came on a roll that seemed to go on forever, ending with the smallest kiss possible. Incredibly, my fifth and sixth shots were almost back-to-back; two successful shots in three attempts. I wrapped up my session once I had scored a seventh point.

A couple Sundays ago I went to check out the Carom Cafe, out in Flushing, Queens. I could feel that I was getting the hang of it, as I scored 15 points in one hour. The picture above is from that visit, of another player who I talked to briefly. I asked him what his high consecutive run was, he said 13. They have a dozen or so Verhoeven tables (heated) that are beautiful to play on.

By far, the most useful thing I've discovered about the game is to not hit the first ball head-on. Doing so results in a loss of momentum on the cue ball and it'll rarely travel two cushions after a full hit. So, by cutting the first ball really thin, you get to see your cue ball whip around the table. Also, I use my hands and arms a lot, sort of waving them around like a conductor trying to envision the path that the cue ball will take.

One of the trickiest things is being able to notice when the path of your first object ball will collide with the third ball (see diagram). In other words, it's not just the path of your cue ball that you have to figure out, there's also the path that the first collision sends the second ball on. Countless times I've been on a dead-on roll to score a point but the yellow or red will collide (I always use the white as my cue ball), thereby eliminating (moving) the target I'd aimed for. Next time I play I'm going to practice my "ticky" (rail or rails-first shots) as well as getting the feel of "just hit it" speed, where you end up with your cue ball relatively close to one of the others, the result of the second hit coming at the end of a roll (a good example of this is the diagram in the previous post), setting you up for a better chance at another point. My goal next time I play is to string together at least two consecutive points.

Some more about billiards

I want to spend some time talking about three-cushion billiards. I've been practicing every chance I get and have seen steady improvement in my game. Soon I'll post some photos. Until then, there is a scene from The Hustler that is very worthy of discussion. It's when Eddie and his new manager, Bert Gordon, travel to Louisville to find James Findlay, a gentleman gambler who gets his kicks playing hustlers. In a hotel lobby filled with people in town for the horse races, Findlay recognizes Bert and comes over to chat. Once introduced to Eddie, Findlay commends Eddie's reputation as a "pocket billiards" player. Although Findlay admits to generally losing that game, he invites the two to come to his home that night for a "game of billiards." Watching the movie, one can sense an intentionally ambiguous differentiation between pool (slang for pocket billiards) and billiards. But it's more apparent when reading this crucial sentence from the book: "Eddie did not like the word 'billiards' when it was used to mean pool." Once in Findlay's basement, Eddie pulls the dust cover off the table and immediately notices there are no pockets. Here is what follows:

--Eddie: I thought we came here to play pool.

--Findlay: I don't play pool, Mr. Felson. I play billiards. My house, my game. You don't have to play if you don't want to.

--Bert: Well we won't!

--Eddie: Come on Bert, let me play him.

--Bert: You ever play billiards before?

--Eddie: Sure.

--Bert: You hustling me?

(Findlay convinces Bert to let them play for $100 a game. Then one of the most brilliant editing moments of the movie occurs when Findlay empties a cloth bag onto the table and three billiard balls come rolling out, which fades into Eddie making the follwing six-cushion billiard shot)

--Findlay: Beautiful shot, Felson. Beautiful. You've played billiards before, Mr. Felson. (leaves to get a drink).

--Eddie: (to Bert) How do we stand?

--Bert: About even.

--Eddie: When do I raise the bet?

--Bert: (pensive) I don't know.

--Eddie: Bert, if that's his best game I can beat him.

--Bert: Level with me Eddie, you ever play billiards before?

--Eddie: Well what's the difference? A pool cue, balls on the table, all you gotta do is get the feel of it.

San Gennaro Pool

This time every year, there are two pool tables on Mulberry Street, just below Spring, set up for the San Gennaro festival. You could call it "carnival pool." The rules are simple: three balls are set up on the foot spot in a triangle, the player must break the balls and then call all shots afterward. Each game costs three dollars, and a miss is a loss. I've seen lots of people play over the past few years. Personally, I think three dollars is a lot to commit to that type of game, no matter the reward (stuffed animals). Still, I asked a couple of the workers if I could get four dollars back if I won, but nobody would agree to that.

A little publicity never hurts

Thanks go to fellow APA player Janet Ozzard of New York Magazine for bringing this to my attention. It's a link to and description of bankthenine featured on the Manhattan User's Guide website. They write:

If ever a website cried out for a mournful sax on the soundtrack, this one does: a new blog that casts a noirish eye on the city's pool halls. It would look good in book form, too.

Russian Pool

I recently paid a visit to Brooklyn to check out a pool hall that I had walked into once earlier this year. It's called Boardwalk Billiards and it's located at 3200 Coney Island Avenue, in the community of Brighton Beach. During my initial visit I saw a unique game of pool being played in which players were hitting these huge, oversized balls on what looked like 6x12 snooker tables. I went back and it was just as I had remembered. The majority of the action was centered around three or four of these large tables, where old Russian men were playing one another. Apparently the game is called "Russian Pool," features 15 white balls and one red, and I'm still trying to figure out the rules (I was more into my own practice session of three-cushion billiards, lots more on this topic soon). From what I could see it looked like one aspect of scoring was to carom one's cue ball off an object ball into a pocket–-a deliberate "scratch by carom." I couldn't figure out what was up with the red ball. As you can see from the photo below, the balls barely fit into the pockets. But these guys were rifling their shots in. Also, they all had their own one-piece cues made of some sort of dense, dark wood. They'd have to be like clubs to move those heavy balls around the table. I'm guessing somewhere in the 23-ounce range.

Sophies III

How does one get onto a pool league team? I was talking with a fellow "Killer Pool" participant last night at Edge Bar and he lamented the fact that all the East Village team rosters are full. It made me think of how fortunate I was with getting onto Sophies III (our team's official name). I was really drawn to the structured environment of the league matches that I had seen at several places, but I liked playing at Sophies the most. So I started by deliberately going in there to watch the matches and try to figure out how league pool is played, scored, etc. I asked a few people questions every once in a while. Then, once I had been around enough, I started to take pictures of the pool scene there, which led to prints I'd drop off for people, which led to them recognizing me and thanking me. One day I summoned the courage to ask Caveman, "What do I have to do to get onto one of the teams here?" He said, "Show up Tuesday around 7. We need the bodies." So I showed up, paid my APA dues and lo and behold he put me up as the first player of the night. A "baptism by fire" was how he put it. I decisively beat my opponent, to which Caveman said to the others, "I'm hanging onto this guy's contact info!"

A group picture taken this Tuesday outside of Sophies before our last match of the summer session. The fall league starts October 3rd, and I can't wait. Thanks to my teammates who make Tuesday nights so much fun. From left, team captain N. J. Gonzalez (aka Caveman), Wilfredo Correa (aka Freddy), Noah Rider, Cary Conover, Joseph Williams (aka Slima) and Josh Vietze. Photo by Po Chen.

Apparently, pool is cool

I've been thinking lately about how I can't go a single day without coming across some sort of pop culture reference to pool. Whether it's an HBO billboard advertisement that features people sitting around a pool table, or a movie trailer I saw on Apple's website (check the one for Beerfest, there's a computer animated shot where a guy makes an insane break) or simply just walking around with my camera, I always seem to notice pool.

Pool in the Flatiron District

Two noteworthy pool halls are located on 21st Street, on opposite sides of Fifth Avenue. The dichotomy of the two places, located so close to one another, is pretty amazing. One is Broadway Billiards Cafe (at 10 E.). I've only been there a handful of times. But at $4.00 per hour, their rates are some of the cheapest in town. It's a no-frills pool hall with a lot of well-worn character. Some cool memorabilia hanging from the green walls, flourescent lighting, and a couple ping pong tables tucked away in the back. A real pool player's pool room. (Click here to read one player's speculation that it is a decscendent of Ames.)

On the other hand there's Slate (54 W.), whose presence I was only vaguely aware of until recently. I had walked by there one night a few years ago and saw people playing pool but dismissed it because it was too upscale for my taste. The place popped back into memory several months ago when skimming through Jeanette Lee's book (she mentions playing at Chelsea Billiards, Slate's predecessor). I was in the area last week, not looking for it, when I spotted its banner outside. So I went in for a look. Just like I remembered, very upscale, very elegant, very chic. There are six black-felted tables on the main level and and probably 20 or so green-felted tables in the basement. But Slate's eight or so ping pong tables seemed grossly out of place. It was a Thursday afternoon and only one pool table was being used. One of the players told me there's a "lunch special" for $10.00. Not sure of the details, but it sounds pretty pricey (unless it actually includes food).

The first two photos are from Slate, this last one is from Broadway Billiards Cafe.

Pitt pool

Since February, I've been playing fairly regularly at the Hamilton Fish Recreation Center. It's a beautiful Beaux Arts style building over on Pitt Street, just below Houston. With vaulted ceilings and nice light coming in through arched windows, the place has the feel of an old train station or cathedral. An excellent history of the facility can be found here.

An entire wing of the building is set up for pool, with two full-size tables and a bumper pool table. There's a core group of about 20 players, all of whom are pretty good. A large percentage of the them are hispanic, and I've come to appreciate their game of choice, called "last pocket." It can, however, be utterly monotonous to watch, so I sometimes refer to it as "purgatory pool." Fortunately, whenever the list is long they'll speed things up and play "any pocket, scratch the cue on the 8 and you lose." If it's my table I'll often suggest a game of "bank the 8, any pocket." I've introduced many of the players to 9ball, but they don't seem to ever remember that you can combo on the nine for a win. I've played race-to-25 straight pool with a few of them, but by and large they love their last pocket.

I described the place once to a friend and he said, "Sounds like a sleeper." I asked him to clarify what he meant by sleeper, which he explained was a little-known place that has a lot of action. That seems to fit. A few other commonly used words there:

juice = excessive english on cue ball
lipstick = chalk
smokey = the 8 ball
ace, deuce = one and two ball, respectively
banking out = must bank or kick the last ball
two times = using two rails to make a shot
gametime! = an easy run-out

There's a lot of playful bantering between players that always makes me laugh. The undisputed Dean of the place is Larry H. (above), who gives the center the feel of a billiards academy.

No more pool at Pioneer

Walking down Bowery the other day I walked into Pioneer Bar to check out its new interior (the bar has been closed all summer for renovation). First thing I noticed was the plush red lining along the walls behind the cash registers. Then I saw the newly tiled surface of the bar itself. But I was curious to see if the pool table would still be there. I asked a woman cleaning behind the bar if there was going to be a pool table. She left to get somebody else to talk to me as I went to the back area of the bar and didn't see a table. Then a man came from the kitchen and said he didn't know. When I was walking out of the bar there was a guy coming in and I asked him about it. "No, we don't need it," was his reply.