Brooklyn Secrets by Triss Stein

here? And what was it like then?”
    â€œLike it is now, more or less. I guess. Sad. Angry. Rough. Lots of street fighting, even little kids. Most of those guys, their families moved away eventually. Really, I came to play pool. Somewhere around here. There was a place…yeah, it’s kind of coming back to me.” He made a sudden turn.
    I looked around. “Dad, what are you doing?”
    â€œHold your horses, kiddo.” We went a few blocks and stopped across from a long building with many tiny storefronts, many empty, at street level.
    â€œSee? At least I think it’s here. The second floor was a pool hall. I did a certain amount of hanging out there in my misspent youth.”
    â€œA pool hall? Really? What would you have said if I…?”
    â€œAnother subject altogether. I’m giving you some information here. Want it or not?”
    He sounded irritated. I responded with a polite “Yes, please.”
    â€œIn my day, it was a pool hall. I was underage to even be there, but it’s not like anyone ever asked. And I could get a drink, too. Betting, yeah, always, that’s part of the game.” He glanced at me. “And a place to find someone who sold weed, if that’s what you wanted.”
    â€œDad? You?” I was shocked. My dad was always a very by-the-book guy.
    â€œIt was a very, very long time ago. But you get what I’m saying? And the building was owned by a guy who was the Brooklyn Borough president for a while. If anyone asked about the pool hall, I guess he would have said he didn’t know a thing about what his tenants did.” Dad kind of snorted.
    â€œDad?”
    â€œOkay, you want me to get to the point?”
    â€œIf you have one, which I am beginning to doubt, yes.”
    â€œThere were old guys who hung out there. They always claimed this was the toughest neighborhood in the city and the pool hall used to be a through-and-through mob hangout back in the old days. I dunno. The storytellers were petty crooks, kind of gangster wannabes, I think. The gangsters were gone a long time by then.”
    We turned a corner, heading toward the library.
    â€œNow this street looks a little familiar but I’m just not sure.”
    â€œThey changed the name. It was Stone Avenue back then.”
    â€œYeah, I know it now. I rented my prom tux along here somewhere. Powder blue.”
    â€œPlease tell me you are kidding.”
    â€œNope. Thought I was as spiffy as, I don’t know, Frank Sinatra, maybe. Or The Four Tops. Yeah. This used to be the block where the wedding stores were.
    â€œAnd here’s something I forgot, speaking of weddings. When I started dating your mother, her mother cried and cried. She was sure I must be a gangster if my family came from Brownsville.”
    â€œDad, you never told me any of this!”
    He laughed at my indignant look. “It was such a long time ago. By then my folks lived in Levittown, the most ordinary place in the world, and I lived with them when I got out of the Army. But your grandmother, boy!” He shook his head in disbelief.
    I thought hard. “But I remember visiting them when I was little, lots of hugging and kissing and me getting my cheeks pinched. It didn’t seem like she disliked you.”
    He moved a hand off the steering wheel to make a dismissive gesture. “She got over it. I had too many cop friends, she decided, to be a crook. And I drove a cab every day for a living. That was proof to her. If I was a crook, I couldn’t be a very successful one.”
    I had to laugh. “It sounds like Grandma’s logic!”
    We drove around slowly. I had a few more addresses to find, a few more old buildings to look for. I kept my eyes open for those boys, without saying anything to my father. Dad spotted a few blocks with new rowhouses, small and neat and bright. A sign of renewal, perhaps?
    And it was Dad who muttered, “Now there’s a sight you