Irish Mike, dodging Saturday night traffic, crossed Frankford Avenue and headed to the El Stop. Unlike his associates, Mike was always well-groomed and meticulously dressed. Tonight was no exception, as he wore a three-in-one tan storm coat, over a baby blue mohair sweater, a white turtleneck, and the latest style featuring continental, gabardine, black trousers that were beltless and cuffless. Glancing at his Rolex, it was 5:50 pm. As he approached the landing near the El steps, under the lights were Finn, Liam, Tim, and Tommy. “Everybody clean?” Mike asked. Looking around the group, his gaze stopped at two of the gang members who were standing the farthest away from him. With a slight smirk, he pointed at the twosome and said to Tommy, “Take them into the alley over there and pat them down. No need to violate the terms of the meet… besides, I gave my word we would come clean, and if this deal is to work, then both sides will have to trust the other.
Tommy came back five minutes later with Finn and Liam trailing behind, and nonchalantly stated. “They're clean now.”
Nodding his head, Irish Mike, aware of the time, said, “Let's go,” as he scrambled up the stairs. Following their leader, the remaining B &C leadership took the El steps two at a time as the six o’clock train could be heard approaching in the distance.
After Jimmy and Estelle were picked up at Wanamaker’s, the switch was finally made at the Chelsea Mall. Here, Sally moved from the front seat to the back and into Jimmy’s arms. The action was followed by a reaction as Estelle vacated her seat, moved to the front, and slid across the leather upholstery next to Richie. Finally, the four were paired correctly. Richie put his right arm around Estelle, and in doing so, he utilized the suicide knob on his steering wheel, which allowed him to drive one-handed. Pulling out of the mall parking lot onto Western Lane, he headed south towards Lincoln Drive. Utilizing the Schuylkill Expressway, it would take them 50 minutes, in traffic, to get to the Palestra. Knowing the route, he would exit at Chestnut Street, and like everyone else driving to the game, he would scramble to find a parking place. The Palestra on Penn’s campus was within walking distance to college basketball’s mecca.
During the drive, Richie glanced into his rearview mirror only once. Jimmy had apparently ‘slipped the mac’ as soon as Sally got into the backseat. Envying Jimmy and Sally for being able to flame their passions, he still felt the electricity of having Estelle next to him, “Forbidden Fruit” as Jimmy had called her that snowy day practice in the junior high gym. Estelle, for her part, was happy to be free of the shackles that had defined her relationship with Richie. For once, she was with the person she loved, free of worry that they would suddenly be exposed. Since Richie was preoccupied with driving, she took control of the AM car radio. Going from A to B to C, she picked out one hit song after another from the two Philly radio stations and the one New York City radio station that you could hear after sunset. Her choices were upbeat top 40 hit songs, and whenever a slow romantic song was ‘introed’ or introduced, Estelle punched the dial, eliciting a swift vocal response from the two lovers in the back of, “Leave it on,” which she ignored to both hers and Richie’s delight.
“Chestnut Street Exit,” Richie announced, which put everyone on alert. “Keep your eyes open for parking.” After turning left on 32nd street, the hunt for parking commenced, commanding everyone’s full attention. Having circled Penn’s campus and the Palestra for about twenty minutes, it was Jimmy who found a spot off of Sansom Street, on Moravian Court. Out of the way, Richie backed into the parking space between two cars. Feeling safe on Penn’s campus, Richie took Estelle’s hand in his and commenced the ten-minute walk to a basketball palace that he was certain he would play in one day.
The B&C gang made the Frankford to Market train with a minute to spare. They got off at the 34th Street exit with a lot of basketball enthusiasts. Liam asked, “Which way, when they departed the El?” Tim responded, “Follow the crowd.” Which is exactly what the five of them did. The sporting throng and the reluctant spectators moved swiftly to the Palestra’s doorstep. Not one of the five B&C Gang members had ever stepped foot inside the massive brick edifice, which now loomed directly in front of them.
“Wait here, I have five tickets at Will Call”, which was located on the other side of the building, Irish Mike announced. There was a buzz in the air, foreign to the five outsiders, as they observed the pregame ritual that was taking place around them.
Richie and Estelle walked hand and hand as Jimmy and Sally did on the sidewalks of the University of Pennsylvania’s campus. In doing so, they passed various Penn students who, judging by their response, couldn't care less as to the pairing of white with black or vice versa. It wasn’t until the Cathedral of College Basketball was directly ahead of them, and they were about to cross 33rd Street, that the four of them reverted into their pre-drive disguise. Richie walked up to the “Will Call” window, leaving Sally with Estelle and Jimmy, and stood behind a man with bright red hair, fair skin, and choirboy looks. He waited patiently while he retrieved five tickets under an Irish name.
Richie’s source for his tickets was his cousin, a senior and an All-Ivy football selection at defensive end. Since Penn was one of the schools that was recruiting Richie, he figured that his cousin went to the head football coach, who, in turn, gladly gave him the four ducats. The quid pro quo was that during the game, one of Penn’s football coaches would make an appearance asking Richie if he enjoyed his seats. When the ticket agent handed him his admission to the games, Richie triumphantly turned around and waved them into the air as his three companions shouted their approval.
Ten minutes later, Irish Mike reappeared with his tickets. Handing them out to his antisocial crew, he declared, “Not bad seats, second level up.” Collectively, like sheep, they headed for the gate.
Navigating their way through the growing crush of fans from the West end of the building to the East, Richie’s party finally arrived at their entrance gate. Richie looked at the location of their seats and exclaimed, “Wow, these are really great seats, almost courtside.” He said it so loud that the five men in front of him heading towards the entrance gate turned around, one of whom Richie recognized as the man with bright red hair, fair skin, and choirboy looks.
Upon finding their seats, Richie felt like he had died and gone to heaven. For Estelle, Jimmy, and Sally, this was the first time that any of them had set foot inside this 8,700-seat arena, with its north-south glass windows, steel arches, and numerous banners that seemed to hang from every nook and cranny in the place. The Palestra was the home court of the University of Pennsylvania basketball team and the site for Big Five basketball. The Big Five basketball concept was the brainchild of one of the city’s college athletic directors, who convinced his counterparts of the value of a Big Five tournament for both prestige and recruiting. Working around each team's schedule, a date was chosen where they would play against one another for the ultimate bragging rights as to who was the best basketball team in the City of Philadelphia. Readily embraced by both students and alumni alike, it was a success from the start.
Richie looked at his three companions and then at the overly enthusiastic crowd, who were now settling into their seats. The first game of the basketball doubleheader featured a Big Five rivalry between the host team and their catholic college rival. Richie took in his surroundings and wondered if his friends from Terloff Gardens might be in the rafters, taking in tonight’s game. Looking around at the nosebleed sections to see if he saw a friendly face, he saw none. This city rivalry game was an impossible ticket to procure unless you knew somebody.
The B&C gang found their seats five rows back from the last row in the building and, with disdain, took in the Palestra atmosphere. They watched without emotion as the two local teams warmed up. Mike and Liam spotted their cousin on the court during warm-ups, going in for a layup, and relayed the information to their crime brethren. In the end, the five of them might as well have been at a viewing, the kind where no one knows the body in the casket.
Sitting in the Marist section, the four amorous spectators were caught up in the exuberance of the White and Blue, Marist’s colors. The overall school spirit at the Palestra was something that had to be experienced firsthand. Richie sat next to Sally, and she sat next to Jimmy; separated by the two seniors was Estelle. Richie didn’t mind being a chauffeur on the way to the game, but on the way home, Jimmy could drive, and he would sit in the back with Estelle. The rivalry game was close from the opening tipoff. Tied at halftime and with no less than twenty lead changes, it was coming down to whomever had the basketball last. With thirty seconds left in the game, Marist had the ball for one final shot. With five seconds left, a shot was taken and missed. Then, from out of nowhere, the dominant player on the court came in from his wing position, unblocked as the ball bounced into the air, catching it with his right hand, he palmed it and then jammed it back into the basket as time expired. The crowd’s reaction was mixed as half the crowd screamed with joy while the other half moaned in disappointment. Superman wore blue and white tonight, and his name was Bobbie White. The Palestra was a buzz. It took a full fifteen minutes for the crowd to quiet down and return to normal as the two teams for the second game of the doubleheader took the court to warm up.
Irish Mikes crew sat without any outward signs of emotion throughout the entire game. This was a business trip, and at one level, they resented the environment that surrounded them. Mike kept tabs on his watch and patiently waited. After the two teams came out for the opening tipoff of the second game of the doubleheader, Mike waited another ten minutes before finally giving the signal that it was time to go. Relieved, his recalcitrant crew followed in his footsteps.
Listening to the end of the first game in his car without emotion or interest, Shorty turned off the college radio station after the game and waited. Confounding anyone who met him for the first time, as to the origin of his sobriquet, the head of the Devils was actually three inches over six feet tall. He acquired his shorter-than-average nickname before his growth spurt at the end of his junior year in high school, yet he refused to explain his less-than-descriptive name to anyone who inquired. For those who knew him and did business with him, they would have chosen a more veracious name for the leader of the West Philly Devils: coldblooded, merciless, indurate, case-hardened, or any other adjective that described a soulless person.
“Park it here,” Shorty ordered. He was sitting in the passenger seat. Looking at his watch, he estimated that the B&C boys would be arriving at the meet location within the next twenty minutes. In Shorty’s entourage were Tallboy, Faye, Will, Tommy, and Harold, his accountant, who carried the stuff. The city and the surrounding suburbs were divided into three turfs. The Devils controlled the West and some parts of North Philly, B&C owned the North and Northeast, and the Italians who had ties to the mob ruled South Philly, Center City, and parts of South Jersey. Shorty figured there was enough opportunity for all of them to make money. However, when push came to shove, he couldn’t trust the Italians. They resented the coloreds, which is why he approached Irish Mike and the B&C gang. They were independent, and their leader was smart and ruthless, two traits that Shorty admired.