Pin Action: Small-Time Gangsters, High-Stakes Gambling, and the Teenage Hustler Who Became a Bowling Champion by Gianmarc Manzione
Authors: Gianmarc Manzione
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preferred to exhibit only before an audience of disbelievers who paid in cash. He swiped his C-note from the score table and asked his victim if he cared to do any further business.
By the time Russo made Avenue M Bowl the locus of his machinations, he learned that there was a lot more money in hustling than there was in stunning the unsuspecting with his skill. Why bother showing them how good you were if no one dared to bowl you? Russo needed to feign vulnerability; he needed to play that game Ernie Schlegel called “the spider and the fly.” Russo would prove to be one of the city’s most able spiders. He became a “dumper”—the epithet reserved for bowlers who secretly bet against themselves and then bowled badly on purpose to score some easy dough. Russo hardly was the only dumper in the action bowling scene; he just happened to be the most brazen and notorious of them all. The specter of dumpers soon would imperil action bowling as it was known, as bowlers tired of trying to discern betweengamblers and crooks. If your opponent missed a spare, you wanted to believe he missed it because he threw an errant shot, not because he secretly was scheming to bowl badly on purpose for his own personal gain. You wanted to believe that the difference between an action match and a boxing match in the 1960s was that the action match was not fixed. As dumpers eroded that notion, they eroded an era. Even Ernie Schlegel regarded Russo as a bad apple that threatened to ruin the batch, the kind of con man who might have driven away many fish who thought, thanks to Russo’s shenanigans, that the whole action bowling scene was rigged. But on one night in particular—the night witnesses would tell about for the rest of their lives—Russo, for once, proved too smart for his own good.
Russo was locked in a match against a bowler named Pat Feely, who also was known to dump matches. Russo, as usual, had bet against himself and was bowling as badly as he possibly could. He had to bowl particularly poorly on this occasion, though, because Feely, unbeknownst to Russo, happened to be betting against himself as well. By the 10th frame, Russo was leading by a score of 156-155, which was exceptionally low for bowlers of their well-known talent level. Russo and Feely each had their backer, guys who funded the match with their own stolen cash. Most backers fit the same profile: tobacco-stained fingers the size of meat hooks; huge, gnarled noses that looked like tubas; massive, balding heads of silver hair, and suits tailored so expertly they looked like a layer of skin. Their expressions remained as unsmiling in times of fortune as they did in times when they had to rain unspeakable harm on enemies and debtors. Most people thought they were in the mob. But if they ever considered making that suspicion known to others, they usually thought better about it. Backers prowled the action bowling scenefor good bowlers to bet on and, if they were as good as they thought they were, ride them to riches. With each backer betting on the other guy to win the match between Russo and Feely, and with the scores as miserable as they were, the backers started to suspect foul play.
The problem for Russo and Feely was that most backers—especially those at Avenue M Bowl—were the kind who brought guns to the party.
Russo got up in the 10th frame and left the 2-4-5 on his first shot. That spare combination, a cluster of pins in the left half of the rack, is one of the most common leaves for a right-handed player, and it often is the result of what bowlers call a “light” hit. The ten pins in bowling are arranged in four rows, with the headpin having the first row to itself. The headpin, or 1 pin, is followed by a row of two pins, the 2 and 3. That is followed by a row of three pins, the 4, 5 and 6, which is followed by the final row of pins in the back of the rack, the 7, 8, 9 and 10. The addition of one pin per row allows the rack of pins to be arranged in
By the time Russo made Avenue M Bowl the locus of his machinations, he learned that there was a lot more money in hustling than there was in stunning the unsuspecting with his skill. Why bother showing them how good you were if no one dared to bowl you? Russo needed to feign vulnerability; he needed to play that game Ernie Schlegel called “the spider and the fly.” Russo would prove to be one of the city’s most able spiders. He became a “dumper”—the epithet reserved for bowlers who secretly bet against themselves and then bowled badly on purpose to score some easy dough. Russo hardly was the only dumper in the action bowling scene; he just happened to be the most brazen and notorious of them all. The specter of dumpers soon would imperil action bowling as it was known, as bowlers tired of trying to discern betweengamblers and crooks. If your opponent missed a spare, you wanted to believe he missed it because he threw an errant shot, not because he secretly was scheming to bowl badly on purpose for his own personal gain. You wanted to believe that the difference between an action match and a boxing match in the 1960s was that the action match was not fixed. As dumpers eroded that notion, they eroded an era. Even Ernie Schlegel regarded Russo as a bad apple that threatened to ruin the batch, the kind of con man who might have driven away many fish who thought, thanks to Russo’s shenanigans, that the whole action bowling scene was rigged. But on one night in particular—the night witnesses would tell about for the rest of their lives—Russo, for once, proved too smart for his own good.
Russo was locked in a match against a bowler named Pat Feely, who also was known to dump matches. Russo, as usual, had bet against himself and was bowling as badly as he possibly could. He had to bowl particularly poorly on this occasion, though, because Feely, unbeknownst to Russo, happened to be betting against himself as well. By the 10th frame, Russo was leading by a score of 156-155, which was exceptionally low for bowlers of their well-known talent level. Russo and Feely each had their backer, guys who funded the match with their own stolen cash. Most backers fit the same profile: tobacco-stained fingers the size of meat hooks; huge, gnarled noses that looked like tubas; massive, balding heads of silver hair, and suits tailored so expertly they looked like a layer of skin. Their expressions remained as unsmiling in times of fortune as they did in times when they had to rain unspeakable harm on enemies and debtors. Most people thought they were in the mob. But if they ever considered making that suspicion known to others, they usually thought better about it. Backers prowled the action bowling scenefor good bowlers to bet on and, if they were as good as they thought they were, ride them to riches. With each backer betting on the other guy to win the match between Russo and Feely, and with the scores as miserable as they were, the backers started to suspect foul play.
The problem for Russo and Feely was that most backers—especially those at Avenue M Bowl—were the kind who brought guns to the party.
Russo got up in the 10th frame and left the 2-4-5 on his first shot. That spare combination, a cluster of pins in the left half of the rack, is one of the most common leaves for a right-handed player, and it often is the result of what bowlers call a “light” hit. The ten pins in bowling are arranged in four rows, with the headpin having the first row to itself. The headpin, or 1 pin, is followed by a row of two pins, the 2 and 3. That is followed by a row of three pins, the 4, 5 and 6, which is followed by the final row of pins in the back of the rack, the 7, 8, 9 and 10. The addition of one pin per row allows the rack of pins to be arranged in
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