Word: billiard
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...what's this? The Manhattan pedestrian spots a banner flapping in the cold night wind: THE BILLIARD CLUB. Yet the scene beneath it is not a dimly lighted doorway, attended by a tattooed bouncer, but monstrous picture windows straight out of Trump Tower. Behind the glass, peacock feathers wave from porcelain planters. Within, fashionable men and women lay cues to green felt. A sticker at the door indicates that, yes, the club does take American Express. Welcome to the new world of pool...
...cues like old-timers and gladly shell out up to $10 an hour for tables, as classical music and the latest in jazz and rock play in the background. During the past 14 months, Manhattan has seen the opening of four plush pool palaces catering to upscale players. The Billiard Club, which opened in August and takes in an estimated 1,500 customers on weekends, has a downstairs Safari Room, where players shoot pool amid zebra skins, mounted sailfish and a stuffed bobcat. In Boston, Jillian's Billiard Club has a private room, furnished as an English gentleman's library...
...People want to see and be seen," says the Billiard Club's co-owner Barry Renert. At M.K., one of New York City's trendiest night spots, the club's two tables are always occupied, as the glitterati take turns shooting and racking 'em up. In Chicago the equally hip Limelight has eight-ball tournaments, and at the new-wave Star Top Cafe clients can munch on soft-shell crab while waiting their turn. Even at old game dens, the pool surge is evident as the gentry mix with the proletariat. Says Richard Gaedt of Chicago's North Center Bowl...
...fact, on the West Coast, where billiard gentrification has yet to catch on, the large, established pool halls cater to families. Says manager Mort Brock of Tommy T's in suburban Portland, Ore.: "Pool has cleaned up its act. A lot of people come in here and say, 'Gee, we can't believe there's a place like this...
Today Jersey Whitey, Carolina Slim, Alex the Greek and other pungent monikers of old sharks are simply quaint and colorful, and Minnesota Fats is the name of the overstuffed sandwich served at the Billiard Club. Still, mainstream pool will not wash away its old legacy. Slang like "snookered," "behind the eight ball" and "bad break" still means misfortune or treachery. The sport's new respectability may sadden those who savor the raunchiness of the old dives. For it was there, in the ramshackle shelter of the pool hall, on the margins of society, that one could, with luck...