Tom Wirth Article by Steve Booth

fred bentivegna said:

My kind of joint.

Beard

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Tom Wirth said:

Here is one of the experiences I have from attending as a spectator one of the major tournaments held at Jack & Jill's Cue Club during the early '70s. I was far too green and new to the game to even remotely consider myself a viable contender in any contest which featured such greats and Ed Kelly, Luther Lassiter, Weenie Beenie, and a host of others. Such wild dreams were a long way off. But as a student of the game I could hardly be kept away.

From the street you would enter the Cue Club though a glass doorway that was never locked, descend a flight of steps, make a right turn, and enter through a second glass door. To the right was a raised counter where the house man dispensed the racks of balls, assigned tables to customers, and collected the rental fees. A little further along the same wall was a lunch counter as my poor memory recalls.

When first entering the club the first sight was of a sprawling sea of pool tables. Back in the seventies let me tell you, it was one impressive sight to see. I don't think there were any bigger pool rooms in the country at that time. Centered in the back of the room was an alcove which opened up into a room with two '9 foot tables. I don't remember if they were Gold Crowns or Gandy tables. That pool room had both. I seem to remember they were Gold Crowns. Someone reading this story may remember that detail better than I.

These two tables sat side by side with tiered Bleachers on three sides. This room was dark with the only lighting that which illuminated the beds of the two tables which were used for the final matches of the annual U.S. Open events and much of the after hours action matches which happened on a regular basis at Jack & Jill's. This remote, confined room projected something somber, something final, and serious on the senses of all who approached. At least that was the sensation which was impressed upon me. The tables in this room were to me like altars to the gods of pool. And the bleachers housed its congregation who bowed and paid homage to the champions who bared their souls in competition.

I was one of many parishioner of this holy temple. I was young and fairly new to pool. I had only been playing the game for about five years and just beginning to show signs that I might become a force in the game I chose to devote most of my conscious hours. One Pocket was it. The greatest game ever invented and as far as I was concerned. Man was I hooked, and as you may suspect, I still am.

This one night I wanted to arrive much earlier than my usual 1am or 2am arrival time. I wanted to watch a few of the tournament 9ball matches which were being played in the back room. I was late. Very late. The final match of the evening had concluded hours ago and the stands were empty except for two or three folks catching up on some much needed sleep. No one was playing pool on either of these two tables. However, I saw Steve Cook and Larry Lisciotti talking quietly in a corner of the room and by all appearances they were matching up to play some pool.

They had decided to play straight pool 125 points for $200 a game. I'm sure I was a tad disappointed they had not settled on a session of One Hole but watching these two greats and being the pool fanatic that is was, I was happy to pull up a ringside seat and watch them duke it out.

Most all of you who frequent this site know Steve Cook could play any pool game, and play it great. But for some reason he never seemed to get his due respect with the overall pool playing public. Maybe he liked it that way, I don't know. Steve was underrated by a lot of people. Maybe it was that baby face of his but Steve Cook was one of the greats. A true professional was Steve Cook.

He owned Larry in this first game. It didn't take long for Steve to gain a sizable lead and he eventually reached the point in the game where he needed but three or four balls for the win. I remember the shot like it happened yesterday.

It is funny how some things which you witness but once stick in your mind while other things which you see time and again become vague recollections. Steve's cue ball was frozen on the side rail and his key ball was also frozen along the same rail very near the first diamond close to the foot of the table. The only other ball on the table was in ideal position for a break shot to the same corner pocket.

Steve did not hesitate. He got down on the shot and stroked the ball smoothly in the hole just as he had done with 120 some balls previous to this one and drew the cue ball cleanly back for the break ball. The cue ball inched up the side cushion reaching a point near the side pocket and appeared to stop at a perfect location where he would have access to its center while stroking the shaft through the gap of the side pocket. The ball hung there as though floating in space. The ball appeared to be moving, infinitely slowly toward the abyss, finally and inexplicably after a second or two, it dropped in the side. No one in the stands could believe it. I couldn't believe it, and most of all neither Steve Cook nor Larry Lisciotti could believe it. After all, this was one of the tournament tables at the Jack & Jill Cue Club. This should not happen, but it did.

Larry, jumped from his chair. Life renewed, energy flowing through his veins he was instantly transformed into another player. Steve, head down, supported only by his chest shuffled like an old man to his chair.

Larry was fearless and confident that no matter what, he knew he was destined to win. His stroke was a joy to watch. He was one smooth player.
With a rhythm Gulfportdoc would be proud of and needing a ball count in the seventies, Larry proceeded to run the game out making it all look so easy.

Steve was obviously stunned. Who could blame him. The gods were cruel beyond measure. To his credit Steve, (if you look at it one way) played a second game. He wanted to find the will to overcome the adversity he suffered in that first game but he just wasn't up to it and Larry won easily. Just enough of the fight was gone from Steve after this wicked twist of fate to seal the deal in the second game. Maybe he too had a sense of destiny and lost his belief that on this day he could win.

Tom

I hope you enjoyed.

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JAM said:

Oh, sure. Here's a cute story how I met Tom-Tom.

I was a regular bar table player at a one-table tavern in my area called Hank Dietle's. It's still there, believe it or not, in Rockville, Maryland. We had regulars at Dietle's. We were like family. We had Cardiac Corner where the old folk congregated each morning as soon as Dietle's opened up. We had the bar people, who used to drink draft beer and put it on their tab. Dietle's only sells beer and wine. Then we had the pool people, which I was a part of.

It is where I first got into pool full-time, and I mean full-time. In the beginning, I couldn't run two balls in a row. At night time, Dietle's was packed, and instead of putting quarters on the table for who's next, they had a list that ran about 20 names. Eventually, the people decided to play partners to shorten the list. We played for a couple bucks each, nothing big.

Well, one night, my name is next. I asked who wanted to be my partner, and everybody already had their pool partner, somebody who could actually play. They knew I couldn't shoot a lick. It felt like the last guy that gets picked to be on somebody's baseball team. Nobody wanted me as a partner.

There was a stranger in the bar this night, though, and he saw me struggling. He asked me if I wanted him to be my partner. I'm thinking, man, it's $2 apiece, and I don't even know this cat. I said, "You know we're playing for money, right?" like $2 would dissuade him. Much to my surprise, he said, "Okay. Let's do it."

Well, this stranger in the bar was Tom-Tom, and he was probably one of the best one-pocket players in Maryland at that time, but I had no idea who he was. Best of all, though, neither did anybody else in the bar. Ka-ching!

We proceed to win, win, win, and I made almost 20 bucks shooting with Tom-Tom. I was in heaven. Of course, later on after I got to know him, I found out who he was. It was Tom-Tom who introduced me to Geese at the pool room. That's when my pool journey started, I guess. Going on the road with Geese is an experience I will never forget. May he rest in peace.

Here's a photo of the inside of Dietle's. We did everything togethere there, had a pool league, softball team, even played music.

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Tom Wirth said:

Hey Jennie,
Well the tavern hasn't changed much from those days has it? I see the pool table and the booths on either side of the room are still there. The counter is in the same old place of course. A new generation of tavern goers is all. The one thing that appears to be missing is "Jennie's box". I suppose there isn't much need of that old phone booth anymore, is there? It probably belongs in a museum for old beer taverns.

Do you ever think what your life would be like today if some small event had or had not happened? A chain of events started by one innocent night of pool can alter so many lives.

I don't remember why I wandered into Dietle's that night. Had we not met there and played pool together as partners who knows, maybe you would never have met Geese. Had you not met Geese you would not have gotten as involved in pool to such an extent. Had you not gotten involved in pool you certainly would not have met Keith.

Pretty amazing when you think about it. We all can speculate on these ideas once in a while. It's probably not a good idea to dwell on such things for very long, just go with it. It is fun to ponder occasionally about the roads we unknowingly take.

Thanks for the support.

Tom

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Island Drive said:

If my DAD would of never grounded me....(IwasBoredandPickedUpaStick)....I would Never of played the game, Its because he sold the home table during my grounding yrs. So I went to Swanks Pool Room on Roosevelt Rd. outside Chicago, next to Hesterman Bowl.

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Tom Wirth said:

That doesn't count if your Dad grounded you because he caught you going to Swank's pool room on Roosevelt Rd. outside Chicago, next to Hesterman Bowl.

Tom

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Island Drive said:

Your right, BUT, since I was grounded and at home so much, and he saw how much time I was spending on the table in our basement....passing the time, he sold it for $20 to someone???...Soon I realized there was a pool room in town and went there. Within a week I beat another kid out of $24, easy money....:lol

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Island Drive said:

Yep, it's where we go....

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sidepocketkid said:

where can i find that article?

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