I'd like to delude my senility or sensibility just long enough to believe I mentioned the Palace for the sake of alliteration; however, you are right on the money with Cochran's. Seems I remember a Filipino hustler there that had all the finesse of switchblade surgeon using a broken beer bottle for a double sawbuck bypass on most of the raw talent this side of Top of The Hill. Never got there in time for any of the real class acts.
Truly enjoy your cloister-like description of the Palace counterpointing the spew-stained stench of Cochran's...it's amazing what fast money used to smell like and you've treated us to a real nose-full of damaged brandy and misqued dreams interlaced with those rare moments when the game attains poetic heroism. I watch pool on TV now and it looks like watered-down beach volley ball but I've lost the nerve and youthful eye that would carry me up and down those darker staircases of my past. Thanks for the trip back and please,