Real Tales of the Boardwalk Empire

Whores are funny. Not Ha Ha funny. Strange funny.

I knew a few of them in my day. When you live the drinking life you would run into them all time. Especially since I worked in Midtown in the 1970's and early 1980's so there were a lot of them around in the dive bars we used to go to back in the day. Of course that was chickenfeed compared to Atlantic City.

There was whores everywhere. You couldn't wave around a dead pussy and not hit one in.....well the pussy. There were the high class ones in the big casinos like Caesar's and the Trump Plaza. Lesser but still semi-respectable ones in the more low rent casinos like Resorts or the Showboat. And of course the hot pants wearing hookers of legend lined up on Atlantic Avenue behind the boardwalk. The cops would always push them off the boardwalk and casino security would push them out of the casino. If they were blatant about it. Still some of them could pass for players. They might hit the slots for a couple of dollars and then hang out at the bar.

Real Tales of the Boardwalk Empire

Years ago my brother was a big collector of sports memorabilia and we went down to this big show in Atlantic City with a couple of his friends. They were teenagers at the time and too young to go to the casino. They had all the living 500 home run hitters at the time. Ted Williams, Joe D, Eddie Matthews, Willie Mays and Hammering Hank. It was in the Atlantic City convention center. Now my brother had a photo with all of them on it that he was bringing up to get signed. But he also had a boxing glove that he was collecting all of the signatures of the heavyweight champs. The line for the baseball guys was about a thousand people long. I mean you had Joe D and Teddy Ballgame. So he went to wait on that line. But he sent me to the line where they had the boxing guys.

Which had nobody on it.

It was a side table behind a curtain with Larry Holmes, Floyd Patterson, Ezzard Charles, Leon Spinks and of course Smokin' Joe Frazier. I got the glove signed and just hung around bullshitting with the champs. Larry Holmes was totally out of it. He was like Giggy the dog that Lisa Vanderpump carries around on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Larry didn't say shit. I don't know if he was punch drunk or just fucking with me. Periodically he would lean forward and we would all go "Yeah Champ?" and he would say "I like eggs." It was  a trip. Joe Frazier would go nuts. "Waz up with you dumb fuck. You senile or just dumb." Joe was enjoying busting balls with everyone. He goes and picks up a big black Hefty Garbage Bag and goes "Hey Leon look it's your Mama's underpants." Leon would just smile his gap tooth smile and shake his head. It was brilliant.

I fell into a conversation with Joe and he was one cool guy talking to an everyday kind of guy like me. They were bored out of their skull but since the promoter was paying them they hung out until closing.

Real tales of the Boardwalk Empire.

In the early 1980's there was a basic dichotomy in Atlantic City. You had your big hotels for the high rollers. And the punters who came down on the bus. It was all the new stuff that had come in since they brought in gambling.

Then you had the old school stands on the Boardwalk that had been there since the beginning of time. Pizza joints. Gyros. Soft Ice Cream. Cheese steaks. Great eats. But you had to be out on the Boardwalk. Which was scary to a lot of people. They were scared of how dark it got out there at night if you know what I mean. Me. I was obvious.

You see I was a big fat Irish guy in a cheap suit covered in donut crumbs who looked like a cop. So most of the youtes would look the other way. I must admit I never had a problem. Just lucky I guess.

 I had slacked off on the gambling and was concentrating on the eating and drinking. I would hit the various bars. Wandering around. Eating and drinking and then hitting the tables here and there in between a slice and a cheese-steak and a pint. Sparkys in the Claridge. Cleopatra's Barge in Caesars. The lounge on the Second Floor  at Ballys. Lots of good joints.

Plus the food. The neat little coffee shop in the Irish hotel I stayed at with some decent steaks and great pancakes. Angeloni's off the Boardwalk. The pizzeria right on the Boardwalk on the pathway to the Claridge.

Real Tales of the Boardwalk Empire

Look I went to AC for the action. That's what losers do. Or gamblers that is. If you are a gambler you are basically a loser. The house has the odds and they are not in your favor. When you are young and full of piss and vinegar you think youse is the guy who will beat the odds. You will count the cards. Pick the parley. Lay out the exacta. But you don't. You lose in the end. Every time.

It took a while but I finally figured it out. So I dialed back the gambling. Took my shots. I just enjoyed the life style. Late nights. Drinking. Jazz. So I would go with my buddies and leave them to the frenzied action. I would make my bets. I would go big when I bet but I tried to work the odds. I played the games with a little better chance here and there. I left the boys at the tables and went off to the lounge. I would bullshit with the Bartenders. Flirt with the hookers. Listen to some music. There was almost always a good jazz vocalist there. Saw Anita O'Day. Nancy Wilson. Steve and Edie. A bunch of them.

And of course I would organize tickets to the show. Those were the days when Trump and Steve Wynn were having a dick measuring contest. They would vie to bring in big names. Frankie Vallie. Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. Diana Ross. And of course....the Chairmen of the Board.

Frank was long past it. I mean he was suffering from dementia. His latest wife was rolling him out there and the cash was rolling in. One of his last appearances was at Bally's in their outdoor arena. It was sad and amazing all in one fucked up hot mess.

Real Tales of the Boardwalk Empire

Donald Trump and his then-girlfriend Marla Maples at the Holyfield-Foreman fight at the Trump Plaza in Atlantic City, N.J., April 19, 1991

Donald Trump used to own three casinos in Atlantic City in the 1980's. He started out with Trump Plaza on the Boardwalk and then he set Trump Marina which was at the other end of Atlantic City near the Showboat. Then he opened the big white elephant the Taj Mahal.

I never stayed in a Trump casino when I went to Atltantic City. I always stayed at the Irish Hotel on Atlantic Avenue behind the Claridge. Except for one time I got a comp at Caesar's. There was this guy who sat in front of me at the fights at the Felt Forum. I had season tickets as did he and he gave me a comp weekend once. He arranged stuff for high rollers. I was a little pischer but I got a freebie this one time.

Anyway this was the time I met the Donald in the Flesh. I had tickets to the Holyfield Forman fight. Cost $100 a pop. It was in the Atlantic City Convention Center. What was pretty funny was there was this Canadian Sportswriter who was sitting next to me in the last freaking row. He sold his ticket up front and bought a nosebleed seat. Sports journalists are the biggest whores going. This was before laptops and instant communications. He told me he was just going to copy off everyone else and the replay he could catch at the journalist center. What a bunch of jagoffs.

Real tales of the Boardwalk Empire

I used to go to Atlantic City a lot. A lot.

At one time I would head down there every other weekend. See when you are an accountant it is pretty fucking boring. So a couple of us would head down to AC to have some fun. We weren't much for the sun so we didn't hit the Jersey Shore or the Hamptons. You had a pasty fat Irishman, a skinny Chink and a couple of Hebes. We would take the bus out of the Port Authority right after work on Friday night. $20 and you got 12 back to gamble.

We would stay in this old school hotel behind the Claridge which offered cut rate rooms. You were a block off the Boardwalk. They had a great coffee shop that was run by an Irish guy from Belfast. Some of the waitresses we knew from Times Square worked their now and again.

Anyway I often went by myself. I was not scared to be on my own. I mean I can make friends. I might of told you about one of these friends. Sal who was the bartender in "Sparky's Pub" in the Claridge Casino. It was a tiny eleven seat bar against the back wall of the casino floor. It had a couple or three tables as well as a banquet against the wall. The pub was dedicated to Sparky Lyle the old time Yankee Relief pitcher. At the time there was a lot of turis about Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays and a couple of other baseball players being Casino greeters. They were even prevented from going to the Old Timers game one year. Bowie Kuhn was a cunt. Still and all the pub was a Yankee fans safe space.

Sal was a guinea from South Philly and I was half a guinea from Brooklyn so we knew some of the same things. And just like Bob Seger I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then. I always made sure I stopped off and visited. It was often my first and my last stop on a night of gambling.