May 31, 2023
Just Saying…
Professor Harold Hill was Wrong – The Case for Pool Halls
By Q.C. Jones
A quick refresher, Professor Hill was the conman hero of the long-running Broadway hit “The Music Man” which ironically was set in River City, Iowa. You know the guy, fond of saying, “Trouble with a Capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for Pool.” The mastermind behind the story line grew up in Mason City, Iowa, so most people surmise his play was set in that North Central town.
For QC Jones who happens to ankle through the streets of our great Quad-Cities of Iowa/Illinois, and has an inside track on such things, the whole thing shebang happened in Davenport. Afterall, the Winnebago River which runs through Mason City is, but a creek compared to our Mighty Mississippi. For those of you who thirst for scientific data. The Winnebago flows at a rate of 330 cubic feet per second while our Mississippi produces 700,000 cubic feet per second with flood surges pushing into the 3.2 million level. That is a River.
Pool halls have been on my mind. Over the past couple of weeks, I have stumbled upon several references to the topic. A few weeks ago, I discovered an ancient book entitled, “Them Was the Good Old Days” online. Written by and signed by a gentleman named W.L. Purcell, in 1922, the book is a collection of writings from The Davenport Democrat and bears this note:
“To the Old Timers of Davenport. May your journey through the Indian Summer of life be brightened with happy memories of the good old days.”
I was originally attracted to the book for two reasons. First, I have been toying with the thought of creating a book containing some of the best of my nearly 90 articles appearing in this publication. Secondly, the author weaved the same light-hearted musings as found in Just Saying.
As I read through the book, I discovered several references to pool halls with details of the interaction of the men and boys within. The folks mentioned are long dead. Perhaps they were the ancestors, probably the great or great-great grandfathers, of some of our readers. If you happen to have a Billy Catton or Lanny Macaffee perched in your family tree, they were mentioned by name as regular denizens of a place called Lewy Boquillion’s.
Soon after reading selections from Them Was the Good Old Days, my online marauding took me to a Facebook group devoted to the history of my childhood home called “Taylorville Now, Then, and Forever.” One recent historical finds is a 1920’s picture of a pool hall located on the east side of the city square. Standing directly in front of the building were eight men of various ages.
Coincidence or no, the very next day while engaging in a conversation with a long time Quad City resident, the conversation turned to pool halls. He claimed the best one was located downtown Davenport between Third and Fourth Street. He could not remember if it was on Main or Harrison, but such are the travails of reminiscing.
These recollections brought back my own memories of time spent at Baker’s Pool Hall on East Main in Taylorville. The place was an old storefront, with century-old wood floors, dimly lit, with the only light coming from fixtures directly over each of the 10 or so tables. The outer walls of the hall were lined with rough-hewn benches and worn-out barstools. There were a few spittoons scattered in convenient spots, but not used much. The place carried the smell of stale tobacco, talcum powder, and chalk dust. It was rustic in a manly man’s sort of way. That was part of the appeal.
I attended Baker’s on a regular basis from 7th grade through high school. It was the meeting place for my friends. If we were going to a movie, we’d meet there before and often head back when the movie had finally ended. If walking through the “downtown” area, if you can call a ring of stores around a town square such, we would always find a way to stop in.
Shooting pool served as a backdrop to conversation. We talked about everything. What we were going to do when we were old enough to move away, town gossip, and plain old trash talk flowed with the same volume as the Mississippi at flood stage. The conversations crossed generations. As a teenager, I engaged with coal miners, farmers, lawyers, and men from every walk of life.
This interchange is something missing in our world today. I believe it had an impact on men and culture in general. It’s probably socially unacceptable to say, but men need this to stay grounded. Interaction between generations is good for everyone.
Could pool halls be the reason there was far less crime, violence, and societal distress? All I can say is there were far fewer drive-by shootings when pool halls were the norm.
Just saying…
PS – Read “Them was the good old days here” https://tinyurl.com/QCJonesbook
