Monday, October 22, 2018
The Deuce
I have been catching up on the HBO series "The Deuce" which is about Forty Second Street back in the day. My day. The 1970's and the 1980's.
This series specialized in the sex trade. Whores, pimps, massage parlers and bars of Times Square. It is by the same guys who did the Wire and it is just about as great as that series. David Simon, George Pelecano's and Richard Price are the main writers and they do an unbelievable job.
I started working in Times Square in 1970 when I was about 12. I would go with my Dad to an accounting firm where he did taxes and I made copies or filed or ran off downstairs to get coffee or sandwiches. It was the way it was depicted in this series There were whores all over the place but they pretty much left you alone. Later as a teenager I used to go with my buddies to the movies on the Deuce. Bruce Lee. Kung Fu. Pam Grier and the Hammer. All of the flicks that used to play in the movie houses that you see on the marquees on this show. We would go to the Garden and catch a Knick game and then go to Thads steakhouse for a three dollar steak I think I ate many times in the diner they show with Leon the dude who went upstate for shooting a pimp. It was always full of pimps and hos. And cops. I know I had hung out at the bar that they called the "High Hat." It was based on a couple of joints from that time that we were real familiar with so to speak. I started going to hang out when I was about 15, I was big for my age and if you had money nobody carded you. The thing that they show about the Mafia is right on the money. In fact there was a half a wiseguy we knew from President Street that got us into a couple of after hours like the one they use as a main part of Season Two.
The scenes with the cops on the pad also brought back a lot of memories.. I remember having to hand over an envelope. Both to the cops and the wise guys who both wanted a taste. You know what? Things were better in those days. Sure you had to pay but you got service you know what I mean. Homeless guys couldn't set up shop outside your store. You could call the cops and they would take care of it. Or better yet you could call the crooks and they will really take care of it.
I have been nostalgic the past few days. I am rereading a bunch of Lawrence Blocks books about his alcoholic detective Matt Scudder. His life was a lot more like mine as opposed to Vinnie the Barman in this series. Still and all they remind me of how it was.
I have to say the whole thing is right on the money and very well done. Gritty and realistic. Highly recommended if you want to know what New York was really like back in the day.
(Enjoy the clip. I heard variations of this rap several times when a pimp was working on a girl in one of the gin mills like Smiths or the Blarney Stone. Shit you could hear while you were waiting on a light to cross the street. The scene is really well written and Method Man can really act. He's got some chops)
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10 comments:
Interesting. I'll check it out. 'Cause I'm a checkerouter.
Sure you had to pay but you got service you know what I mean.
There were rules then. Everybody knew them. You broke the rules and you went down and nobody shed any tears. You were a jerk and you deserved what you got.
I've got 10 years on Troop so my old days are a little different, but The Good Old Days really were.
I tried to like it but couldn't get past Maggie Gyllenhall and James Franco..TWICE. I remember going to 42nd St when I was in high school and did like the nostalgia.
The Good Old Days seem to be especially good in the minds of men, more so than women. Not that I'm a fan of what passes for feminism these days, preferring something in between then and now where women experienced the freedom and opportunity to stay at home and raise a family, work or do both. Reminiscing in this way about the Good Old Days seems to be a male pastime.
Mama, what made the Good Old Days for women is that they were worshipped by men.
Since then, they've never been happy.
These ARE the good old days! We're living alongside some weirdos but don't let that ruin it for you.
My grandparents were part of a family organization, very common among immigrants, that bought an apartment house on President Street just off Utica Avenue. After my grandparents sold the bookstore they owned in Newark NJ they were moved into a first floor apartment in that apartment house to "manage" the building. When my parents would visit my grandparents part of the visit was taking chairs outside in good weather and sitting in front of the building. President Street is no abstraction to me.
When you talk about President St and crime you are referring to the Gallo Brothers from down President all the way by Van Brunt and the Docks.
I just enjoyed the clothes and the cars and the music.
And the freedom.
Did you notice how everyone smoked? Drinking was normal. Music was everything.
What the fuck happened to us man?
Of course, smoking took 5 years on average off the old life expectancy, but, yeah, people were free to enjoy themselves.
Different world because the people in charge grew up in the Depression and came of age in WWII. They'd earned their fun.
Then the Commies came along and convinced the dummies that it was all bad and they were superior and that they should be in charge to save the world for Peace and Love.
Which turned out to be Hate and Envy.
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