Re: BRING OUT YOUR DEAD (Part Whatever)
Jeez. Swami, we're channeling today. I used to run into the "check your car" dodge all the time outside Chicago Stadium. The trick was to ask the oldest kid his name, give him half the money, and tell him you'd give him the rest after the game. He was always there. Always.
As I've posted before, in those days on Madison Street, Chicago Stadium was surrounded by "dual use" businesses. During the day, mom and pop bodega. At night, young ladies lounging around in the front, waving to the men as they drove by. Some of them did substantially more than wave, if you get my drift.
There is a slight remnant of the polo grounds that's still around near 155th street....click the link below and scroll down about halfway until you get to a photo of the old staircase,,,,
http://forgotten-ny.com/STREET SCENES/155thstreet/155.html
Shibe Park, in a rather grim urban ghetto neighborhood in North Philly, was my first ballpark visit, and what I remember most was the my dad paying off the neighborhood kids to "watch your car, Mister". I didn't quite understand (I was five) why those kids got paid to watch my Dad's car. Seemed like a great gig for a kid.... My father later told me that the kids would destroy his car if they weren't paid, I got my first understanding of "extortion"...
Today, shibe park has been replaced by a huge church and it's parking lot. Pictures here (scroll down)
http://www.projectballpark.org/history/nl/shibe.html
Jeez. Swami, we're channeling today. I used to run into the "check your car" dodge all the time outside Chicago Stadium. The trick was to ask the oldest kid his name, give him half the money, and tell him you'd give him the rest after the game. He was always there. Always.
As I've posted before, in those days on Madison Street, Chicago Stadium was surrounded by "dual use" businesses. During the day, mom and pop bodega. At night, young ladies lounging around in the front, waving to the men as they drove by. Some of them did substantially more than wave, if you get my drift.
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