In the 1935 movie Bad Boy, Eddie Nolan, a billiards player and occasional hustler, is derided by a disapproving family as a “street-corner loafer,” a “pool hall hoodlum,” and a “bad boy.” In doing so, the family proffers the argument that passion and talent for pool is a one-way ticket on a path to reprobation. Thirty-five years later, the ABC sitcom The Flying Nun made a similar contention in the third season billiards episode “Armando and the Pool Table.”

Having never known that Gidget once flew through the air wearing a habit, I was tickled pink to have stumbled across this particular late-‘60s television series. (As one reviewer opined, “Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, and The Flying Nun constitute the troika of sitcoms that truly represented the 1960s.”) For the uninitiated, The Flying Nun starred Sally Field as Sister Bertrille, a 90-pound nun who in joining the Convent San Tanco in Puerto Rico, discovers she has the literal gift of aviation, a power granted to her by the combination of her light weight, the heavy winds, and the aerodynamic nature of her cornette.

In the 1970 episode, “Armando and the Pool Table,” Carlos Ramirez (Alejandro Rey), a local playboy and casino owner who is also a patron of the sisters, unloads a pool table on the convent. Though Reverend Mother Placido (Madeleine Sherwood) initially protests, saying, “This is a teaching order not a pool parlor,” she is swayed by Sister Bertrille’s assertion that pool might provide a good distraction for Armando, a sweet-hearted youth with a penchant for pursuing risky activities like swinging from tree branches and jumping from rooftops.

Once the convent finds room for the table in the cellar by clearing out the pickles (“and so where the briny pickle had reined the billiard ball now rolled”), the impressionable Armando quickly takes a liking to the game, especially when he watches and is then taught by a local legend Emilio Gomez (John Hoyt years before achieving wider fame as Grandpa Kaninsky on Gimme a Break!).

The lessons go so well that Armando’s education starts to suffer, providing the first thematic hint that pool is a gateway to a world of damnation. Acting decisively, the Reverend Mother says Armando must focus on “his schoolwork not his pool work” and instructs Sister Bertrille that “we must give up the pool table and he must give up the game.”

But, Sister Bertrille recognizes that taking the table away will only increase his love for the game, so she concocts a scheme in which he will be shown up by Carlos, who not surprisingly for a gambler and Casanova, is also a pool hustler. In a “big time pool game” waged for “six small ones,” the “Minnesota Fats of San Tanco” (Carlos) plays the “Minneapolis Skinny of the Convent” (Armando).

More confident than his years, Armando scratches after pocketing a few balls. Carlos, in turn, quickly runs the table. At this point, to further put pressure on Armando, Sister Bertrille raises the stakes to $5,000, putting up as collateral the convent’s prized “golden candlesticks” and exclaiming, “We’ve suckered him into the big one. Now we can clean up.” Terrified by the pressure, but not wanting to disappoint the sisters, Armando agrees to play, but is then glory-hallelujah relieved when the Reverend Mother appears, shutting down the game. Swearing off all sinful avocations, the saved (and duped) Armando confesses, “I will not be a pool player or a paratrooper or a trapeze artist. No sir.”

In the end, the pool table is excommunicated, returned to its rightful hustler Emilio Gomez, and the pool passion is drowned, leaving room for good schooling, religious teaching, and (with a comedic wink), other prosperous hobbies.

The full episode of “Armando and the Pool Table” is available here. Watch carefully for a brief appearance by future Charlie’s Angel Farah Fawcett.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AyvbtoCeK9s

In the cosmology of billiards film/television, there is an inherent yin and yang, meaning for every cinematic masterpiece such as The Hustler, there also exists a catastrophe like Virgin Pockets. The same holds true for billiards television. For masterworks such as “A Game of Pool” (from the Twilight Zone) or “Physical Education” (from Community) to truly shine, equivalent fiascoes must be produced to counterbalance and restore equilibrium. Such is the bottom-scraping role of Friday the 13^th – “Wedding Bell Blues.”

Friday the 13^th was an American-Canadian televised horror series that ran for three seasons from October 1987 to May, 1990. The series followed two antique hunters, Micki Foster (Louise Roby) and Ryan Dallion (John D. LeMay), who try to recover and safely store a variety of cursed antiques. In the case of “Wedding Bell Blues,” that antique is a hexed cue stick, which enables its user to play can’t-miss pool, so long as the stick’s power is periodically replenished via impaling someone and taking the person’s life.

Airing in May 1989 during the series’ second season, “Wedding Bell Blues” includes embarrassingly inaccurate pool sequences, a third-grade script, and robotic acting. The full episode is available to watch here. As an example, early in the episode, Danny, the unwitting owner of the cursed cue, is at the Silver Dollar Pool Hall playing an opponent, who is trouncing him in 8-ball, calling shot after shot…except, none of the pocketed balls actually match the called shots.

https://youtu.be/Ijq3visRMvs

The title, “Wedding Bell Blues,” refers to Danny’s girlfriend, the bridezilla Jennifer, who has convinced herself they will marry as soon as Danny wins the big pool tournament. She understands that feeding the stick (i.e., impaling pool hall patrons) is a necessary evil to keep his game sharp. As she says, “Long as I’ve known him, shooting pool is all he’s ever wanted to do.”

Her dirty little secret is that she is carrying Danny’s baby, so marriage is more important to her than anything. She doesn’t want the baby born out of wedlock. Thus, when her younger sister, Christy, played by the then-unknown actress Lolita Davidovich, says with cardboard conviction, “Why don’t you grow some brains and walk away from him?” she replies, with dramatic wallop, “Because I can’t.”

Clearly, my Friday the 13^th bad luck came a couple of weeks late this year, as a more apt title for this time-sucking episode would have been “Billiards TV Blues.”

Early last week, a familiar debate raged within the AZ Billiards forum: Who is the greatest living cue maker? The question received 2,771 views and 59 responses in three days. Many names were suggested – Dennis Searing, Danny Tibbitts, Thomas Wayne, Ernie Gutierrez, Bill Schick, etc – though there was nothing close to consensus.

In December 2005, a variant of this same question was presented by the television series The Genuine Article in the episode “Puzzles and Pool Cues.” Their answer was Richard Black, the “finest craftsman of pool cues” who has dedicated his life to making “the most beautiful cue sticks in the world.”

The Genuine Article was a 30-minute television series that aired on the Fine Living Network from June 2004 through May 2007. Each episode featured British-born host Gordon Elliott taking an in-depth look at the quality behind two of the finest products and/or services in the world. Mr. Elliott would introduce these master craftsmen, who on different episodes included makers of everything from Turkish rugs and Venetian glass to belt buckles and barbecue grills, and then follow with his signature refrain that what they are creating is “nothing less than the genuine article.”

Richard Black

It is hardly a surprise that Mr. Black was the subject focus of “Puzzles and Pool Cues.“ (His name was also mentioned repeatedly in response to the aforementioned AZ Billiards Forum question.) A former successful stockbroker, Mr. Black began making cues as an avocation. But, starting in 1974, when he got to “express [himself] through artistic designs, it got to be so much fun…Once I found a canvas I could work on, it just flowed.”

For 40 years, he has treated cues as his “canvas” and drawn on sources as “eclectic” as Paul Gauguin, Pablo Picasso, Fabergé eggs, and Parker pens to inspire his craftsmanship and to win fans and accolades across the world. His cue, the Chantilly, earned a permanent home at the National Museum of American History of the Smithsonian Institution in 1998. His cue, the Rhapsody, was featured in the 1999 “Pool” episode of the Pretender television series. BCA Hall of Famer Steve “the Miz” Mizerak dedicated his Complete Book of Pool to Mr. Black, thanking him for “renewing [his] interest in pool.” And, not surprisingly, several years after the airing of The Genuine Article episode, he was inducted into the American Cuemaker’s Hall of Fame.

In “Puzzles and Pool Cues,” Mr. Elliott introduces Mr. Black by saying his custom cues can cost as much as $50,000 (though the traditional ones range from $1700-$5400). One cue described at length in the episode is the Antipodes, which is made from 16 different types of wood from 16 different countries around the world. Though it has 600 inlays, the cue stick took only three weeks to create. At $30,000, it is “moderately priced.”

Also included in “Puzzles and Pool Cues” are interviews with Victor Stein, author of The Billiard Encyclopedia, and Jack “Gentleman Jack” Colavita (who once starred alongside Minnesota Fats in the long-lost billiards movie The Player.) Mr. Colavita said, “Without no doubt in my mind, [Richard Black] is the best cue maker…I don’t play with no other cue than Richard Black…there is no doubt about it.” (Sadly, Mr. Colavita passed away in September 2005, three months before the “Puzzles and Pool Cues” episode actually aired.)

Though The Genuine Article long ago stopped broadcasting, Mr. Black, now in his seventies, continues to make a little less than 20 cues per year. His shop, Richard Black Custom Cues, is in Humble, Texas, and his cues are viewable on his website.

On a final note, this blog post could not have been written without the individual help of Mr. Black. There is only a handful of The Genuine Article episodes available on the web, and “Puzzles and Pool Cues” is not one of them. Most fortunately, Mr. Black responded to my last-ditch effort to obtain the episode by personally mailing me a copy of the DVD for my viewing pleasure. Mr. Black, you are indeed the genuine article.

Lee Majors, the former Six Million Dollar Man, delivers a six cent performance in the mind-achingly awful “Eight Ball” episode of The Fall Guy. This 1983 episode from the second season offers a 45-minute checklist of everything that is wrong with the typical use and portrayal of billiards in the majority of television shows.

For those who missed this action/adventures series when it aired for five seasons on ABC from 1981 to 1986, The Fall Guy starred Majors as Colt Seavers, a Las Vegas stuntman who moonlights as a bounty hunter. He is regularly joined by his cousin and stuntman-in-training Howie Munson (Douglas Barr) and, for some ‘80s eye candy, stunt performer Jody Banks (Heather Thomas). In “Eight Ball,” Colt must protect his long-time friend, “Joltin” Joe O’Hara (Tony Curtis), a world-class pool player and recovering alcoholic, so that he can enter a tournament in Reno, Nevada. A local kingpin, who has a lot of money riding on the tournament, wants to make sure Joltin’ Joe does not compete. The full episode is available to watch here.

http://youtu.be/e1MTMRxUNpc

Now for the checklist. Here’s five things this episode gets so embarrassingly wrong it makes you want to scratch on the eight:

1. 

   A wasted use of “Machine Gun Lou” Butera

   “Machine Gun Lou” Butera, the great straight pool player known for his rocket-fast billiards skills, stars at “Machine Gun” Louie Kramer, the chief rival to Joltin’ Joe. But, rather than let Butera show off his pool chops , his one significantl scene features him making a distressed phone call to Joltin’ Joe’s wife. Butera should be there to shoot, not act. After all, he was inducted into the Billiards Congress of America three years later. (Fortunately, Butera was able to leverage his role by acting as a technical advisor and making brief appearances as a pool player in future movies, such as Racing with the Moon and Police Academy 6: City Under Siege.)

2. Tony Curtis, ever a gifted actor (Some Like It Hot; The Defiant Ones; Spartacus), is woefully unconvincing as a denim-clad pool shark who curiously keeps a pair of plumber gloves in his back pocket. Trying to show he’s a speedster, his actions, from chalking to shooting, come across as rushed and fake, with Curtis acting far too giddy, considering the relative simplicity of the shots he’s taking. It’s an unfortunate irony that Butera, once referred to as the “fastest pool player the game has ever known,”[1] gets little camera time to show his speed, while Curtis must fumble his way through fast-action billiards sequences.
3. Every billiards shot is a two ball, two pocket carom. These shots are so orchestrated that any verisimilitude a real pool game is completely abandoned. Even worse, there is no imagination behind these shots. They are the trick shots of Billiards 101, notwithstanding an onlooker’s comment that “This guy [Joe] makes the ball do everything but folk dance.” (In contrast, for a show that nails the billiards sequences, check out my post from last week on Murphy’s Law – “Manic Munday.”)
4. To earn some cash, Joltin’ Joe and Colt hustle some pool (of course!) in one of the least convincing scenes to occur in billiards television. The inert set-up is that Colt compliments a local pool-player, who says he is the “second-best in town.” Colt responds, “You’re the third best now. My pal [Joe] thinks he is the greatest.” When the local pool-player scoffs and insults Joe, Colt adds, “I wouldn’t let him hear you…he’ll want to play you. That’s how he got down to his last $20.” Cue the cash register.
5. Finally, there is the clichéd Minnesota Fats reference. In this case, a local sees Joltin’ Joe and says, “You played Minnesota Fats, you played all the greats. My father watched you win the world championship in Baltimore.” Yes, Fats was great and remains the sport’s most famous personality, but he was hardly the best. Now, if the line had been, “You played Willie Mosconi” or “You played “Wimpy” Lassiter,” then some real billiards history would have been documented.

[1]       The Snap Magazine, May/June 1991.