The Saga of Reed’s Billiards by Stan

The FNG
 
I was discharged from the Air Force in the spring of 1965.  I spent three and a half years in the Air Force as an enlisted man.  My service time was fairly easy and at the same time miserable.  I had good duty.  I was not involved in any wars.  My duty was easy but I hated being the low man on the pole.  I hated not being able to go and do what I pleased.  Even though I had never quit a job in my life I hated the fact that I could not quit.  I did not want to quit but the fact that I had lost that little bit of freedom bugged the hell out of me.
 
It was obvious that if I wanted to be somebody and not always be tied to something that I did not like I needed to get an education.  So, at the age of twenty-six, I swallowed my pride and went back to my parents home so I could attend college.
 
I grew up in Orem, Utah and that's where I returned to.  Orem is just up the street from Provo, Utah and Provo is where Brigham Young University is located.  I entered Brigham Young University in the summer of 1965.  I received aid from the government in the form of the GI Bill.  I guess it really wasn't aid because I worked for the Government for three and a half years to earn that money.
 
However, even with the GI Bill and free rent from my parents I still needed some additional income.  I applied for and got a job at Reed's Billiards.  My first day on the job is where this saga begins.  It is a saga of three years behind the bar.  It is a saga of dealing with drunks.  It is a saga of hiding my job from the University.  It is the saga of a beer bar, a pool hall and a young man getting an education about life while he was also getting an education from the books.  It is the saga of Reed's Billiards and me.

My first night on the job was not my first night at Reed's. I had spent a lot of nights and Saturdays at Reed's Billiards shooting pool and drinking beer. I did not spend any Sundays at Reed's because of the Utah Liquor Laws. Bars in Utah were not allowed to be open on Sunday.

At exactly 3:30 P.M. on the first Saturday in August 1965, 30 minutes before my shift was to begin, I pushed the traditional bat wing doors open to view friends, the bar, the smell of beer and the reek of tobacco smoke. On the right there was a small counter that contained hunting and fishing items.  There were a few fishing reels, a few knives, a couple of hand guns and some ammunition.  Reed's was also a small sporting good store that catered to hunting and fishing.  Behind the counter was an assortment of rifles and fishing gear.  Reed was also licensed to sell fishing and hunting licenses.  Just past the hunting counter there was a long bar with a red counter top. Standing in front of the bar there were 20 bar stools covered in red vinyl. Attached to the bottom of the bar one foot from the floor was a round metal foot rail.

There were twelve men sitting on the stools, drinking beer, eating steamed beer franks with horse radish and talking about what men talk about. There were no women. Reed's Billiards was a Man's bar. Women were allowed in but Reed frowned on them being there. He had decided many years earlier that women, men and alcohol was a perfect formula for trouble. Also, there was only one restroom and that one restroom had a urinal, an open toilet and no lock. If a woman were to use the restroom she had to get someone to guard the door. I do not believe there were a lot of women that would have felt comfortable at Reed's.

On the left was a long green wall with two pin ball machines centered between the door and the pool tables that decorated a big room that opened up at the end of the bar. Two men pushed and jiggled the pin ball machines trying to get the balls to drop in the holes they desired. There was a Juke Box playing country music pushed up against the green wall right where the bar ended and the pool room began. Reed, the owner and Big Bubba, his main bar tender were behind the bar pouring beer and serving steamed beer franks with horse radish.

Reed was in his sixties and had owned the bar for 30 years. He had made his bar a profitable operation. Having a profitable beer bar was not an easy thing to do in a Mormon state with very strict alcohol rules and the majority of the population anti-alcohol and tobacco. Reed poured the beer with a cripple left arm that he had sustained in a car accident. I was told that he had been "one hell of a good" auto mechanic before the accident. With his maimed arm he could no longer work on cars so he took the money he received because of the accident and opened "Reed's Billiards". He worked the bar all alone for twenty years. He would get there at 7 A.M., clean the bar, vacuum the pool tables, order his needed supplies, take care of his books and be ready to open at 10A.M. He would serve the beer. He would rent the tables. And take care of any trouble with the sawed off pool cue he kept behind the bar. He would close his bar at 12 midnight and go home to rest up for the next day. On Sunday according to God's law imposed by the state of Utah, he rested. In reality he never rested. He would go in on Sundays and give his bar a thorough cleaning. He tended to his pool tables like they were his children. The quickest way to get ejected by Reed holding his sawed off pool cue was to sit on one of his tables or put a beer on one. There were no second chances. If he caught you breaking the "rules" you were done for the night.

Big Bubba or Bubba's real name was Jerry. He was 6 feet 6 inches and walked on bad feet. He was unblessed with some kind of ingrown warts in his heels. He said he was going to have them removed but never seemed to get the job done. He couldn't afford to pay for it and didn't have any insurance to cover bad feet. He would hobble up and down behind the bar with a big grin on his chubby face, serve beer and holler "skin-er-back" when the next game card was sold out. The game cards were illegal but Reed got away with using them for gambling by advertising the winners got a stuffed animals. The winners got half of the take and Reed got the other half. The both got $25.00. It was a popular game and Reed's usually sold 3 or 4 cards a night and 8 to 10 on Saturdays. Bubba also loved to shake the dice with customers for the price of a beer. The customers loved to shake the dice with Bubba for the price of beer. A draft beer cost 4 bits (50 cents) so the stakes weren't that big. It was fun to play "Ship, Captain and crew" for the price of a beer. The dice were the same for both sides so the game was equal and over the long haul Reed came out even on the money side. However, Reed was way ahead by having the dice available. Men need something to do for fun and Reed understood that better than most. Bubba's short stubby fingers would flop the cup and the dice would roll. I have a ship he would say and then someone from the other end of the bar would yell, "Hey Bubba, hit me again." Bubba would hobble to the other end of the bar with a fresh beer.

Bubba looked up from the dice game he had going and saw me walking in. "Hey guys", he yelled. "Meet the Fucking New Guy". "He's going to work here" "Take it easy on him". A customer in the middle of the bar yelled, "Hey FNG bring me a draft." I poured my first beer before I was officially on the clock. Reed liked that. "Not too much head," he said.

Even though I knew everyone in the bar and even though I had known most of them all my life and even though they all knew my name was Stan, whenever I was behind the bar I was the FNG. However, it wasn't long before I was just called "Fang".