Big Al

Big Al was one of those people who make stereotypes seem true. He was a 50 year old mafia wannabe but he came pretty damned close to being the real thing. (I was in my 30s at the time) He wasn't a 'made' guy but he had all the trappings. He was, of course, very Italian and he spoke Brooklynese like it was his first language. His conversations were always laced with 'youse guys' and 'dem guys' and 'dose guys'. He even looked the part and a few years back, I was shocked when I saw Paulie Walnuts on the Sopranos series. Big Al looked a lot like Paulie. He had the salt and pepper hair, the 'don't fuck with me' look and when he spoke, you didn't doubt for a second that he was the real deal.

I met Big Al through one of those things that happened regularly in the business. We were connected through someone we mutually knew. Every so often, people would drop out of the scene due to a variety of circumstances. Sometimes a guy got a habit... sometimes they just split the scene... other times they got popped. Anyway, the mutual connection took a powder owing both of us some cash. We had met in passing a few times and when the middle guy took off, we got together and started doing things. Now, I have to say there is no way on earth that Al and I would have been connected in any other situation. Wannabe or not, he was a serious dude and had a crew.

Doing things with Big Al was double-edged. On one hand, you never felt quite comfortable with the guy... He could go from looking happy to looking deadly in an instant. But for some reason, we never got to that place. We showed each other respect and that held a lot of weight in the subcultures we were both moving in.

One time, during a drought, I remember getting a call from Big Al... "Hey... we gotta meet... I gotta some oranges...' And, since this was in the 1980s, and I was fairly well along in my 'career', I didn't give it much hesitation and just asked how much, how many and went to meet the guy with a bag of cash. At the meet, I get into his car and he starts telling me how he's nervous about the connection... It's 'dese spics who ain't got no rules'... and then he says there's nothing to worry about because his kids are backing him up. I don't have a real picture of what he's talking about but I realize immediately that I'm out of my comfort zone and can't wait to get done and leave. The next thing I know, we're in a huge warehouse down in Red Hook by the Marine Shipping Terminal and it feels like a big dark gymnasium with a surrounding catwalk. And in the middle of the place, in a circle of light, there's these three guys with a duffel bag and, as we got closer, I see that they are all holding pistols. I, on the other hand, am holding only a bag of cash. Anyway, we get there and after about 10 minutes of unintelligible haggling (the three guys could hardly speak English and were nervous as all hell waving their guns around) they open the duffel and the stuff is horrible. It's been wet, smells like old shoes, looks like alfalfa, and there's no way I would ever buy it or worse, sell it. But, the three guys are flashing their guns... Big Al, who had always been a customer and suddenly had a chance to be a supplier, and didn't give a crap about quality, just looks at me and says 'I cut a good deal for you, eh?' So here I am... three fucking lunatics with guns... a serious Italian who wouldn't know good pot from a bale of hay... and me... I start asking him about what happens if the stuff can't be sold... He looks at me... "Waddayamean? It's a drought... Anything'll move..." I go 'But what if?... and he looks at me again... then turns to the three guys and starts to bargain for a lower price... They start to get all crazy, talking a million words a second, waving the guns all around... I'm pretty much shitting my pants... But Big Al isn't nervous... He just takes my bag, holds it up to the guys and points to the catwalk where, when I look, there's a few guys holding what look like automatic weapons. I am almost in cardiac arrest so I tell Al to just do the fucking deal and let's get out of there. He says that they are his kids and not to worry. Worry? I'm pissing my pants and he's telling me not to worry. Anyway, in the end, he got the price down a little, I bought the stuff just to end the situation and get myself out of there... It turned out that the three guys had ripped off the stuff anyway and a few weeks later, trying to do it again, they got shot up. The stuff really sucked but it wasn't a huge bag and we managed to get the money back. But I'll never forget that scene in the warehouse...

So, despite all the weirdness, Big Al had one quality that made the connection work. He was 100% dead-on honest. You never had to run after him when he owed you and if he needed more time, which happened regularly in that business, he asked for it like a gentleman and didn't offer up lame excuses. He was a stand-up guy when it came to the business. Which is probably the reason why I found a new way to lose money. It's December 30, and Big Al owes me like 8 grand or so... I'm into my New Year's party mode so when he calls me to make the drop, I shine it on and tell him we'll get together after the weekend. The holiday happens and I give him a call afterwards... Mrs. Al answers the phone and tells me that Big Al died of a massive coronary on New Years Eve and he's being laid out at Finnegan's Funeral Parlor on Northern Boulevard. Now there's no way I'm going to his kids and asking them for the money. And there's no way I'm going to try to explain to Mrs. Al that Mr. Al owed me either. So the only thing I do is go to the wake to make sure the guy is dead and just write it off as 'one-a dem tings'. I had found a new way to lose money.

The last I heard, Big Al was still dead.