Hard Times - The True Story - Part 9

When I was 20, my fiancé - a New Orleans police officer - became enamored with being an undercover narcotics agent - a coveted position which rookies dreamt about. In the Irish Channel, most of the young boys became either cops, priests, or longshoremen. My fiancé was ambitious - eager to escape the “piss and vinegar” squad. My dad and I sat at the kitchen table and I told him about my fiancé’s passion. Soon after our table talk, my fiancé was assigned to a plain-clothes stake out in the French Quarter - and merited his first drug bust. It wasn’t long before he was officially an undercover narcotics cop.

All I said to Daddy about this was, "Thank you".  “Keep it under your hat, little girl. I’m betting on this boy…hope he doesn’t let me - and my friends - down”. He didn’t. He became an affluent lawyer and… the District Attorney of New Orleans…

Daddy knew a thing or two about passion. He never forgot when he was a young man, and needed a break. Earl loved two things: horses and boxing. In his early 20’s, standing at about 5”4, and weighing in at 115, some “businessmen” took a chance on him as a jockey. It was a calculated risk - Earl had hung around the racetracks since he was a kid and had a reputation for “just knowing how a horse is thinking and feeling”. He had some success riding, but he couldn’t keep his weight consistent. He retired his silks and was promoted to training and racing horses around the country.

Earl was in Chicago on February 14, 1929, taking care of some horse business with his friends. They put him up in an apartment on Clarke Street while he was in the Windy City. Across the street was an auto garage housed in a warehouse. He decided to take a stroll to a familiar coffee house, and noticed a Cadillac pull up in front of the warehouse. He would have continued walking, but two police officers stepped out of the car, along with two men dressed in plain clothes. They were all carrying Tommy’s…Something was going down…Earlier, Earl had spied some thugs shadowing the halls in his apartment building…that wasn’t unusual. The game in Chicago between Capone and his rivals was escalating, and the teams were setting up their pieces for the chess match. But "Cadillac’s with Cops Carrying Tommy’s" - that cast an ominous chill in Earl’s bones…


　
　

　

Hard Times - The Yankie Bat Boy

Daddy dictated this story to Momma...It is amazing!

I have a baseball which belonged to Daddy...but it is all smeared and I am not certain it is the one the Yankies gave him...I played with it as a kid...

Daddy was quite the storyteller, and Momma was quite the writer.  The two of them collaborated on this story...Much like I am doing from my memories to tell Daddy's stories...

HARD TIMES - The True Story - Part 3

HARD TIMES - THE TRUE STORY - Part 3

(continued from December 10, 2010 blog post...)

Now, at 65 years old - with still a full head of silver and black hair - he was going to meet the actor who was going to portray him. He had never heard of Charles Bronson - the last movie he’d seen was “The Ten Commandments”.

He strode onto the set like he owned it…This was his town, his life - and his story…


A cop stopped him - annoyed that he’d ignored him at the gate. “Got a pass, sir?” Hard Times stared him down, and shook his head “no”. The “badge” said, “Nobody enters without one…sir.” The old man gestured a knobby-knuckled finger for the officer to lean close. Then Hard Times spoke one word to him…the cop nodded and avoided the blue eyes piercing him…Hard Times passed through the gate…


He knew people. Important people. Really important people. He didn’t take advantage of his connections, but when he needed a favor - like getting on the film site of this movie and having “a little chat with a guy named Bronson” - a phone call was all it took…


Hard Times spotted some cameras, and with his characteristic fast walk, he weaved between the crowded site, and confidently positioned himself beside a boom man. “Which one of these guys is Bronson? I got a date with him in 15 minutes.” The man told Hard Times to go talk to “the guy over there” - pointing to the director. He walked over and caught the director’s eye - he had a knack of getting a person’s attention without saying a word - it was as if he willed another to look at him…


“My name’s Hard Times. Which one of these guys is Bronson?” The director pulled his eyes away from the old man, and yelled: “Charlie! Hard Times is here! Take a break…” The director turned back and shook his hand. “Sir. It is a real pleasure to meet you…Let me introduce you to Bronson…”

Hard Times chuckled to himself, “Yeah, the Judge must have made a few calls and done a little talking…”

(To be continued...)

HARD TIMES - THE TRUE STORY - Part 2

Daddy at Home with Muff & Me
1976

THE TRUE STORY OF HARD TIMES - Part 2

(Continued from my first writing posted on December 8, 2010) 

He sat on the “shoe throne” on Magazine Street, reading the States-Item. He had a philosophy about shoes: “I walk miles in a day - some people buy a Cadillac to get around - I buy Florsheim - the best damn pair of shoes a man can own. And I keep ‘em shined and buffed. Shoes tell a lot about a man…”


Few know the reason why Hard Times didn’t own a car. Most presumed that he was too broke to buy one…the truth is, he had made a promise to God in the late 1930’s that he would never drive again…He had been in love with a woman - Eva Mae Smith - the only woman he had ever loved. But he wasn’t the marrying kind - and she wasn’t any other kind! He was having the time of his life traveling around the states following the horses he trained - and having a little tryst with Mary Pickford. Mary was a silver screen icon and took a real fancy to him. The two of them were pretty fiery - their spats were public and even made it into the newspapers. That’s how Eva Mae found out - and what triggered the whole “I’ll never drive again” vow…


Eva Mae - a pretty fiery gal herself - lowered the boom: “It’s over, Earl.” She was ten years younger than him, quite the beauty, and just as stubborn as him. She had values - never slept with him or even allowed any lingering kisses - and that was one of the things Hard Times loved about her. They were in his little yellow coupe, parked on St. Charles Avenue, when Eva Mae ended their four year on-and-off affair. She squeezed out of the tiny car, took off her heels, and walked away. Earl knew she meant what she said. He knew what he had to do to get her back. But he couldn’t - he just couldn’t settle down in one town with one woman and work a nine-to-five crappy job…


“Life ain’t worth living without her. It ain’t worth living with her, either”, is how my Daddy described his decision dilemma that day. On impulse, he drove his little coupe directly onto the rails of an on-coming street-car…It was a miracle that he survived!


“The Big Man in the Sky saved me that day…I told Him, “I ain’t ever driving again - and I’m gonna marry that woman.” He never did drive again. And he married that woman…

My memoirs of Daddy to be continued...

HARD TIMES - The True Story

The plaque reads:

DAN COHEN TROPHY

ORPHAN SHOW

4-22-32

E. VINCE

Momma always displayed this trophy in the "front room"...She often feigned indifference to dad's passions - like boxing, and the horses...but she was proud of him!

The trophy is old, even when I was a kid - it was a time-worn bronze and pewter.  Momma decided to "spruce" it up with some silver paint and gold leaf.  I tried to have it restored, but the cost was prohibitive. It remains today in my home, just the way Momma painted it... 

When Daddy died, it was one of the few memoirs I coveted of him...

One of Daddy's stories about his "glory days" is how he got the name "Hard Times".  In his twenties, he boxed as a bantam weight prize fighter.  One night, he was getting pounded - taking a lot of fists to his face.  He had a "following" of young women, (yep, Ole Blue Eyes was a player back in the day!).  One of the gals was crying, and in between sobs, was pleading "Stop hitting his beautiful face"!  In response to her torment, a man in the crowd comforted her with a nod and yelled:  "He's having hard times..."

It fascinates me how that mundane moment in time became my father's prophetic destiny for the next 50 years...



HARD TIMES - The True Story

THIS WAS A BEAUTIFUL TRIBUTE TO DADDY!

HARD TIMES - The True Story



Daddy certainly was a "character"!!!



The True Story of "Hard Times" - Part 1

The True Story of “Hard Times”

He took the Magazine Street bus to Canal Street, then walked a mile in 15 minutes to the film site of “Hard Times” - a good clip for a man of 65 who was a filterless Pall Mall smoker most of his life. He was going to meet Charles Bronson, who was playing the character “Chaney”, a down-on -his- luck street fighter.
Before the States-Item, or the Times-Picayune reported that the film was on location in New Orleans, he had gotten wind of the news at the racetrack. One of the sports writers in the press room had pulled him aside and told him that there was a movie being made in New Orleans with his name - his turf name - “Hard Times”.

He looked like his track tag, with clothes as loose and wrinkled as the skin on his face. His nose touted a few breaks, as did his knuckles. His eyes were unforgettable. They were a shocking blue - like pure, crystal waters - with an undercurrent of strength and pain. When the young man mentioned that the film was about an Irish street fighter during the Depression, the old man’s blue eyes narrowed and penetrated the messenger’s eyes. “Who’s playing the fists”? he asked, as he pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. The writer divulged another scoop saying, “Charles Bronson.”. Hard Times put a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, looked away from the cub reporter, and said, “Bet the Number 2 horse in the 5^th. Keep it under your hat”.

He hung around until the 5^th race, collected his winnings on the number 2 horse, then found a vacant phone booth. He pulled a small spiral notebook from his change pocket, located a penciled entry, then dropped some coins into the phone’s metal mouth. He dialed slowly, enjoying the clicking sounds. He lit a cigarette, took a puff, and put his notebook back in his pocket. “Judge? Hard Times. I need a favor…”

As he was leaving the track, heading for one of the two busses it would take to get him back uptown, he heard his name being yelled. “Hard Times! Slow down”! He kept walking. “Hard Times! Damn it, man. I know you need a ride home”! He wasn’t in the mood to spend the next 20 minutes dodging sharing his picks for tomorrow’s races. He never lied. And he never betrayed the owners and jockeys confidentialities, either. He only gave that stuff out to his paying customers…and sometimes as a favor - like with that baby-faced reporter. “Don’t need a ride. Stopping for a shoe shine”. Hard Times kept walking…

Hopefully, I'll find the time to add more memoirs to this blog about my father...