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...