THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, April 7, 1996 TAG: 9604050679
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J2 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Book Review
SOURCE: BY CHILES T.A. LARSON
LENGTH: Medium: 74 lines
PLAYING OFF THE RAIL
A Pool Hustler's Journey
DAVID McCUMBER
Random House. 367 pp. $25.
Journalist David McCumber and Tony Annigoni met in 1991 at Annigoni's San Francisco poolroom, the Q Club. Their talk and love of the game quickly fused their musing into motion. An idea for a collaboration emerged.
Annigoni, a talented player, thought getting away from the stress of business would be beneficial to him. McCumber, his bank account flush with royalties from a successful book, had no constraints on his time. He was impressed with Annigoni's talk about ``the architectural theory of dynamic symmetry'' and had long placed him on a level far removed from the average ``poolroom denizen.''
Their plan was simple. They would travel from coast to coast, much of it by train as the pool hustlers of the 1920s and '30s did, seeking high-stakes action for hard cash. McCumber would cover all expenses, assume the payout for all losses, if there were any, and split their winnings 50-50.
And, oh, yes, McCumber would write a book.
To finance their tour, McCumber converted $17,000 into traveler's checks, carried in his briefcase, and stashed 10,000 $100-bills in a ``leg wallet.'' Taking the advice of experienced ``stakehorses,'' he also carried a ``Chicago bankroll,'' consisting of 60 one-dollar bills tightly rolled and covered with a 20-dollar bill. The theory was, if accosted, McCumber would toss the roll as a diversion while fleeing.
In the course of their four-month odyssey, McCumber and Annigoni would play a variety of games: nine ball, snooker, one-pocket, straight pool, frequently spotting odds with players of unknown skills and unpredictable temperaments. Some games were sweated out for more than 12 hours, and not all resulted in their taking cash ``off the light'' - winning.
McCumber's Playing Off the Rail: A Pool Hustler's Journey penetrates, with raw images, the pool hustler's unusual subculture. It photographs posh private billiard clubs and world-class tournaments, but also filters through smoke-filled joints so dark and jaded that everyone lurks in the shadows. In this subculture, power and grace combine smoothly with confidence, psychology, talent, discipline and futility.
It is enthralling.
As McCumber reveals, world-class pool players do not fit a common mold. Most carry expensive, custom-made cue sticks, and many are recognized by their colorful nicknames: Cornbread Red, Kamikaze Bob, Waterdog. Richard ``Bucktooth'' Cook, a k a ``The Tooth,'' a colorful character and Annigoni's mentor, freely comes and goes in Playing Off The Rail.
A raconteur, millionaire, ex-convict and jeweler, The Tooth has not lost his enthusiasm for hustling even after 40 years. Besides having the largest ego and mouth in the game - ``Thousand? Thousand? That ain't no kind of gambling. A thousand bucks? I didn't come up here to play for meal money . . . I don't count my money, I weight it.'' - he is believed to have made more money than any hustler in the history of the game.
McCumber delivers smooth word pictures of this nether world. He does not spare the reader a steady stream of low-level lewd language borne of anxiety and misplaced macho emotions. But his sparse one-liners waste little energy:
``This game at its best, as it was being played before me, had the transcendent power of a Handel chorus; the three men at the bar turned and looked at us, their stony expressions giving nothing away - neither courtesy nor invitation; his sense of humor still sneaks up on you, just like his pool game.'' MEMO: Chiles T.A. Larson, a photojournalist, is working on a series of
photo-essays on Virginia institutions. he lives in Ivy, Va. by CNB