Today, I'm far more sensitive to the issues caused by the likes of; Aspergers, ADHD, OCD or adult ADD. So, I'm sad to admit that my ignorance of Kush’s eccentricities, left him hysterical to watch.
There must be something strange about the name Barney because Kush remains the only person I ever met with that name. Years later, I thought Barney the Purple Dinosaur was the essence of weirdness while the only other Barney I can think of (Fife), was a fictional oddball too.
A week before I started school, Barney had been reinstated from a suspension. The carefully worded agreement that Barney was compelled to sign shied away from any link to neurological disorders. Instead, it centered on him falling behind on his scheduled tuition payments. In reality, the director used it as a worthy excuse to be rid of him without risking legal liability while avoiding any type of refund. In addition to stipulations regarding sexual harrassment and fighting, the main claus in the document that he signed-off on specified a six-month window to pay the full lump sum of his remaining debt, in cash before being permitted to return to class.
There must be something strange about the name Barney because Kush remains the only person I ever met with that name. Years later, I thought Barney the Purple Dinosaur was the essence of weirdness while the only other Barney I can think of (Fife), was a fictional oddball too.
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| FROM 1960-1965, DON KNOTTS (left) AS TV's BARNEY FIFE SYMBOLIZED THE SMALL TOWN, BUMBLING FOOL, POLICE OFFICER. |
A week before I started school, Barney had been reinstated from a suspension. The carefully worded agreement that Barney was compelled to sign shied away from any link to neurological disorders. Instead, it centered on him falling behind on his scheduled tuition payments. In reality, the director used it as a worthy excuse to be rid of him without risking legal liability while avoiding any type of refund. In addition to stipulations regarding sexual harrassment and fighting, the main claus in the document that he signed-off on specified a six-month window to pay the full lump sum of his remaining debt, in cash before being permitted to return to class.
To the dismay of the instructors and students, and the mixed feelings of the money grubbing administrators, Kush managed to meet those demands and was restored after a six-week absence.
The student body was overwhelmingly under thirty-years old, (I was twenty-three). Despite the age similarities, three main cliques divided the pupils, (the jet-setters, the good people and the *kruds). Barney Kush was so aggravating that no group wanted any part of him. Unfortunately for him, his ambition was to be accepted by the jet-setters...and that NEVER happened!
*It's true that the term “nerd” was already in use. But alternative epitaphs like “krud” were popular in certain social circles until “nerd” earned its eternal universality.
At school, I was one of the “good people.” Like intermediaries, good people could blend with the social climbers while also being inclusive to awkward personalities . Of course we made one exception, Barney Kush. It was a moot point because Barney shunned the good people by lumping us together with the kruds.
Kush was intelligent and good-looking. But he was a hyper, selfish, (self-centered) chatterbox, know-it-all. I surveilled his annoying yet entertaining behavior and saw why he was a friendless pariah.
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| THE STEREOTYPIC TERM "NERD" SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN CEMENTED INTO THE FABRIC OF OUR CULTURE IN 1973. IT USUALLY REPRESENTS THE UNCOOL OR SOCIAL MISFITS WHO ARE OVERLY INTELLECTUAL, SHY, UNATTRACTIVE OR HAVE DEEP-SEEDED INTERESTS IN NON-MAINSTREAM ACTIVITIES. THE TERM REPLACED,"SQUARE" OR "DRIP" AND IS CURRENTLY AN ACCEPTABLE SYNONYM FOR "GEEK." MANY PEOPLE FEEL "NERD" ORIGINATED FROM "KNURD" (DRUNK SPELLED BACKWARDS) WHICH IMPLIED THOSE INDIVIDUALS STUDIED RATHER THAN PARTY. |
At school, I was one of the “good people.” Like intermediaries, good people could blend with the social climbers while also being inclusive to awkward personalities . Of course we made one exception, Barney Kush. It was a moot point because Barney shunned the good people by lumping us together with the kruds.
Kush was intelligent and good-looking. But he was a hyper, selfish, (self-centered) chatterbox, know-it-all. I surveilled his annoying yet entertaining behavior and saw why he was a friendless pariah.
A jet-set couple, Rick and Tish advocated for the others to stop picking on Barney. Tish had less conviction and was likely to contradict herself by calling Barney a creepy asshole seconds after saying, nobody deserves to be bullied.
Kush’s biggest problem centered around inappropriate contact with female body parts. which he called "accidental grazing." But his inability to be still or keep quiet was constant. It seemed impossible but everyday, his nervous energy made him more detestable as he tried to get in good with the, “in-crowd.”
The three distinctly segregated social groups were blended into every course, (craps, blackjack, roulette, baccarat and an advanced management program). The only time this caste system was clearly defined was before class, during breaks and after school. The king of the jet-setters was an enormous gym-rat who worked as a nightclub bouncer in the Bronx named, “Party” Artie Cisco.
Sweet-talking Party Artie was having his way with one of the receptionists (Phyllis). Artie was big on nicknames and dubbed this tramp, "Sif,"(as in Sif-Phyllis). Whether she took this "abbreviation" as a term of endearment or knew the truth, I don't know. But in exchange for clubbing outside school, free access to pot, cocaine and membership with the elite, she dedicated herself to satifying Artie. Soon, during business hours, Sif and Artie were having sex in empty conference rooms ...and upon request, Artie pimped her out to his high echelon cronies.
Artie bragged about these magnanimous gestures . The whole school knew and Barney Kush decided to tap into Sif on his own. She was so infuriated by his hands on advances that her grievance didn't go to school management, it went to Artie. To prove how messed-up Barney was…even with a new black eye and bloody lip, he kept hitting on her.
Learning to deal craps, DID NOT come easily to me. In my defense, only a few people such as Barney Kush stood-out as naturally talented. For the vast majority getting the knack was a slow process, (it was a 240-hour course for a reason). Additionally, a small amount of others gave the impression that they would never “get it.”
"Party" Artie Cisco had a hilarious personality and enough charisma for the rest of the school. But it was apparent that he'd never, "get it." He lacked the math agility to quickly solve simple craps tasks or the dexterity to handle casino chips.
Kush’s biggest problem centered around inappropriate contact with female body parts. which he called "accidental grazing." But his inability to be still or keep quiet was constant. It seemed impossible but everyday, his nervous energy made him more detestable as he tried to get in good with the, “in-crowd.”
The three distinctly segregated social groups were blended into every course, (craps, blackjack, roulette, baccarat and an advanced management program). The only time this caste system was clearly defined was before class, during breaks and after school. The king of the jet-setters was an enormous gym-rat who worked as a nightclub bouncer in the Bronx named, “Party” Artie Cisco.
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| WAY BEFORE I HEARD OF STEROIDS OR HUMAN GROWTH HORMONES, PARTY ARTIE (stock photo above, not him) WAS THE BIGGEST GUY I KNEW. THE ULTIMATE CONTRADICTION, ARTIE WAS A DOPEY, WORK-OUT JUNKIE WHO EPITOMIZED THE "JERSEY SHORE" MENTALITY. HE SPOKE OF THE HEALTHY BENEFITS OF DIET AND EXERCISE WHILE PREACHING ABOUT VITAMINS AND NUTRITIONAL SUPPLEMENTS. YET HE SMOKED UNFILTERED PALL MALLS LIKE A FIEND, BRAGGED ABOUT "RECREATIONAL" DRUG USE AND DRANK LIKE A FISH. |
Sweet-talking Party Artie was having his way with one of the receptionists (Phyllis). Artie was big on nicknames and dubbed this tramp, "Sif,"(as in Sif-Phyllis). Whether she took this "abbreviation" as a term of endearment or knew the truth, I don't know. But in exchange for clubbing outside school, free access to pot, cocaine and membership with the elite, she dedicated herself to satifying Artie. Soon, during business hours, Sif and Artie were having sex in empty conference rooms ...and upon request, Artie pimped her out to his high echelon cronies.
Artie bragged about these magnanimous gestures . The whole school knew and Barney Kush decided to tap into Sif on his own. She was so infuriated by his hands on advances that her grievance didn't go to school management, it went to Artie. To prove how messed-up Barney was…even with a new black eye and bloody lip, he kept hitting on her.
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| IS IT GOOD MEDICINE? TODAY, OVER SIX MILLION AMERICAN CHILDREN (EVEN TWO-YEAR OLDS) ARE BEING FORCE-FED CONTROVERSIAL, POWERFUL, TOXIC, PSYCHIATRIC MEDS, LIKE RITALIN. LORD KNOWS WHAT WAS WRONG (IF ANYTHING), WITH BARNEY KUSH BUT IF RITALIN WOULD HAVE HELPED HIM, THEY SHOULD HAVE PRESCRIBED HIM A DAILY BUCKET FULL. |
Learning to deal craps, DID NOT come easily to me. In my defense, only a few people such as Barney Kush stood-out as naturally talented. For the vast majority getting the knack was a slow process, (it was a 240-hour course for a reason). Additionally, a small amount of others gave the impression that they would never “get it.”
"Party" Artie Cisco had a hilarious personality and enough charisma for the rest of the school. But it was apparent that he'd never, "get it." He lacked the math agility to quickly solve simple craps tasks or the dexterity to handle casino chips.
Far worse, Artie was a power junkie. His disposition left no room for constructive criticism and his response to failing while in the spotlight of a classroom drill ignited an explosive temperament.
When Artie’s cherished twenty-minute turn to deal in a mock craps game came up, he’d usually fail miserably. The class may have silently been amused as he struggled but outwardly, we seemed patient during these lulls. Except Barney. He had learned the hard way not to offend Artie. So when vapor-lock came over the big fellow, Kush pent-up his instinct to make corrections.
When Artie’s cherished twenty-minute turn to deal in a mock craps game came up, he’d usually fail miserably. The class may have silently been amused as he struggled but outwardly, we seemed patient during these lulls. Except Barney. He had learned the hard way not to offend Artie. So when vapor-lock came over the big fellow, Kush pent-up his instinct to make corrections.
During Cisco's indecision, I was amused watching Barney agonize, twitch and contort while holding himself back from springing over the table to "help." Artie might have been stupid but he could sense (and hated) being in that position. So he'd give Kush a murderous stare down. If Barney lost control and insulted him, a Charlie Chaplin-like chase scene followed, except with a real chance of Kush getting hurt.
Barney developed a defense mechanism by pretending that he wasn't watching and boast to whoever was next to him about his winning football bets or whine about his losses, (he did a lot more whining).
Several times, Barney loudly went off on a tangent to include his mounting debt and eluding loan shark collectors. Artie could barely concentrate on his work without distractions, so when these sob stories were brought up, the practice session temporarily came to a halt, until the instructor told Barney to be quiet...or Artie threatened him.
Artie once implied that he had been an enforcer for a bookie. He stopped short and probably never mentioned it again because mob connections might hinder his pending New Jersey casino license approval . Plus, he didn't want to hear about a pissant like Kush risking life and limb over mounting penny-ante ten-dollar bets. So Cisco’s response always was, “If yuh don’t eat garlic, yuh don’t stink.” That was his way of saying; if you pay your tab, you have nothing to worry about.
Like picking at a scab, Barney's inherit wiring couldn't stop him from pestering Artie for acceptance. I was shocked when he violated Cisco's personal space and poked his massive bicep. Like flicking away a bug, the giant reflexively shoved Barney and drew blood when the cockroach's head hit the craps table's wooden ledge on the way down.
Several times, Barney loudly went off on a tangent to include his mounting debt and eluding loan shark collectors. Artie could barely concentrate on his work without distractions, so when these sob stories were brought up, the practice session temporarily came to a halt, until the instructor told Barney to be quiet...or Artie threatened him.
Artie once implied that he had been an enforcer for a bookie. He stopped short and probably never mentioned it again because mob connections might hinder his pending New Jersey casino license approval . Plus, he didn't want to hear about a pissant like Kush risking life and limb over mounting penny-ante ten-dollar bets. So Cisco’s response always was, “If yuh don’t eat garlic, yuh don’t stink.” That was his way of saying; if you pay your tab, you have nothing to worry about.
Like picking at a scab, Barney's inherit wiring couldn't stop him from pestering Artie for acceptance. I was shocked when he violated Cisco's personal space and poked his massive bicep. Like flicking away a bug, the giant reflexively shoved Barney and drew blood when the cockroach's head hit the craps table's wooden ledge on the way down.
Kush NEVER stopped instigating battles in this unwinnable war. On a couple of ocassions when he didn’t get the attention he demanded, his facial muscles convulsed and he exploded into a tantrum aimed at humiliating Artie. Cisco would've been justified to punch his lights out every day whether he needed it or not...but he didn't.
Barney came up with new strategy aimed at reducing Artie's dealing time. At the first sign of weakness, for Artie's sake and everyone’s betterment: the group would learn more about dealing craps by watching him.
The title of Judge Judy’s 1996 book, “DON’T PEE ON MY FOOT AND TELL ME IT’S RAINING,” sums up Kush’s rationale for stealing Cisco's dealing time.
Kush’s obsessive compulsive behavior and condescending personality made for a toxic learning environment. Too bad it was indeed beneficial (for me) to watch him deal craps. The jerk thrived during the pressurized, frenetic pace and easily made sense of what seemed like incredible chaos. One of my class friends Ciro (before he became Ciro the Hero and eventually Ciro the Zero) was mesmerized too. He confided in me that he fantasized about being as good as Barney.
It was hard to believe that a tough-guy like Artie wasn't sharp enough to know he was being manipulated away from something he needed, (he had to know that craps dealing, like body-building was based on repetition).
The scuttlebutt among the "good-people" was that our instructor was directed by his superiors to avoid siding against Barney on this vital issue. Maybe "they" sensed Artie would never get craps. If he stepped aside on his own due to stage-fright, nature might run its course, (he was already paid in full and craps was the last cell in his training).
The title of Judge Judy’s 1996 book, “DON’T PEE ON MY FOOT AND TELL ME IT’S RAINING,” sums up Kush’s rationale for stealing Cisco's dealing time.
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| JUDITH SHEINDLIN (1942-PRESENT) WAS A NYC LAWYER AND FAMILY COURT JUDGE. IN 1996, HER HARD-NOSED TV SHOW "JUDGE JUDY" REVITALIZED COURT ROOM REALITY PROGRAMMING, (EIGHTEEN SEASONS AND 4,375+ EPISODES). |
Kush’s obsessive compulsive behavior and condescending personality made for a toxic learning environment. Too bad it was indeed beneficial (for me) to watch him deal craps. The jerk thrived during the pressurized, frenetic pace and easily made sense of what seemed like incredible chaos. One of my class friends Ciro (before he became Ciro the Hero and eventually Ciro the Zero) was mesmerized too. He confided in me that he fantasized about being as good as Barney.
It was hard to believe that a tough-guy like Artie wasn't sharp enough to know he was being manipulated away from something he needed, (he had to know that craps dealing, like body-building was based on repetition).
The scuttlebutt among the "good-people" was that our instructor was directed by his superiors to avoid siding against Barney on this vital issue. Maybe "they" sensed Artie would never get craps. If he stepped aside on his own due to stage-fright, nature might run its course, (he was already paid in full and craps was the last cell in his training).
The last time I saw him give away his dealing time, he claimed that he studied and practiced at home before whimpering, "I should concentrate more on blackjack. So, it would be better for me to watch."
Kush had no internal shut-off switch even after the embarrassed lummox stepped-down. While dealing, Kush took on the role of teacher and rattled off a barrage of basic questions that Artie (who rarely paid attention) wasn't prepared to answer. Artie's retaliation leds to harsh death threats. Kush smiled, “If you’re serious about learning, during the break, I’ll give you some real drills. And a one-on-one ‘ultra-work-out’ which is more than this ‘gentleman’ would ever do, (as he pointed to our oblivious instructor whose head was buried deep into the Racing Form).”
Barney Kush knew Artie Cisco better than Artie did. These promised work-outs never happened because during the breaks, Artie was addicted to the nickel-a-point Hearts game that was played in the school’s lounge area.
This break room was an opened-ended alcove that overlooked the casino-like classroom. Crammed into this tight space was an el-shaped formation of five vending machines, two round tables and chairs, and a counter with four bar stools.
Artie and his jet-set crew played their hardcore game there. Like a minor league, the other table featured "good people" and sometimes "kruds," doing the same, at a slower pace and not for money.
Ciro told me that Barney Kush had been excluded from the cash game because he wouldn't shut-up and the regularity of his annoying tics, shudders and surpressed fits distracted everyone's concentration. Plus the quirkiness of his OCD? required him to continuously tinker with his nickels and dimes into more precise formations. But the biggest problem was...he was always broke...and tried to play on credit. He could've played for free but he didn’t want to hobnob with anyboby beneath his social strata.
Kush was relugated to watching the game. I was focused on him as he positioned himself behind Cisco. His constant drumming on Artie's chair was unnerving. Cisco said, "Fuckin' Barry, beat it yuh goddamned skidmark."
Barney Kush knew Artie Cisco better than Artie did. These promised work-outs never happened because during the breaks, Artie was addicted to the nickel-a-point Hearts game that was played in the school’s lounge area.
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| HEARTS IS BEST SUITED FOR FOUR PLAYERS. AT FIVE MINUTES PER HAND, THIS EVASION-TYPE, TRICK TAKING GAME IS IDEAL FOR KILLING SHORT PERIODS OF TIME. THE OBJECT IS TO AVOID THE HEARTS (ONE POINT EACH AND THE QUEEN OF SPADES, THIRTEEN POINTS). |
This break room was an opened-ended alcove that overlooked the casino-like classroom. Crammed into this tight space was an el-shaped formation of five vending machines, two round tables and chairs, and a counter with four bar stools.
Artie and his jet-set crew played their hardcore game there. Like a minor league, the other table featured "good people" and sometimes "kruds," doing the same, at a slower pace and not for money.
Ciro told me that Barney Kush had been excluded from the cash game because he wouldn't shut-up and the regularity of his annoying tics, shudders and surpressed fits distracted everyone's concentration. Plus the quirkiness of his OCD? required him to continuously tinker with his nickels and dimes into more precise formations. But the biggest problem was...he was always broke...and tried to play on credit. He could've played for free but he didn’t want to hobnob with anyboby beneath his social strata.
Kush was relugated to watching the game. I was focused on him as he positioned himself behind Cisco. His constant drumming on Artie's chair was unnerving. Cisco said, "Fuckin' Barry, beat it yuh goddamned skidmark."
Barney didn't have a nickname to fit Artie's level of cleverness. But he managed to make everyone laugh by referring to Barney as; Fuckin' Bernie, Fuckin' Bart, Fuckin' Bobby or the most used, Fuckin' Barry.
Barney drifted next to Tish who was watching the game behind her boyfriend. Kush was uncomfortably close so she shooed him away, "Pervert, stop kibbitzing Ricky and get outta here."
Under the pretense of wanting a candy bar, Phyllis came to hang-out with Artie. During the heat of the next hand, she wasn’t getting the attention she was craving and said to Artie, “I want uh Ah-Min Joy but I ain't got no change…” No one responded as the game continued. Seconds later, Artie got stuck with the queen, (he was the big loser again…this time for over a dollar). Frustrated he emptied out his arsenal of cruel profanity. The other players didn't want to further piss him off and didn't respond to her.
Phyllis wasn't bright enough to be insulted. She held out a five-dollar bill and carped, “Ar-dee, I doan want it fuh nuthin', I jus' need change." Artie had an odd smile as he raised up out of his seat and sneered, “You want a friggin' Almond Joy?” She perked up, “Uh-huh.” The goliath reached around the candy machine. With an unearthly grunt, he pinned the over-sized dead weight against the wall and lifted it off the ground. Pulsating veins were protruding from Cisco's neck and forehead as he heavily dropped it. Artie repeated the process. Others from the classroom and office rushed over to see about the loud commotion. On the third try, like a beating a slot machine, candies fell into the hopper as a flood of quarters spit out onto the floor.
Artie pulled out two Hershey Bars, a bag of chips and a roll of Life-Savers. He laughed, “Sorry Sif, we’re all out of Almond Joys.” He gave the candy to Phyllis, put his arm around her waist and led her away as his hand slid down to squeeze her butt.
The second Cisco's back was turned, Barney dove on the floor and started picking up coins. Artie turned and yelled, “Fuckin' Bernie, you low-life scum! This is for G.P.," (general principals or maybe Barney was annoying someone else with those initials). Cisco grabbed Barney off the ground by the back of his collar, slammed his back against the soda machine and broke his nose with one enormous punch.
The next day, all the vending machines were bolted to the wall. Also, it was no surprise that Barney had two shiners and a huge bandage taped across his nose...but never spoke of the incident.
Barney graduated in early December and said he was moving to Las Vegas. The director probably refused him job placement because Kush's screwiness might be a poor reflection on the school. Barney's grating personality wouldn’t take no for an answer. If that was the case, I could understand the director relenting just to get Barney out of his face. Kush would now be someone else's problem. Barney negotiated himself into getting sent to the El Cortez, which for a newbie in 1978, (grossing about $300.00/week), was the top of the line.
Artie graduated a couple of weeks later. He (and many others) soon learned the hard way that the school lied about being accredited by the *State of New Jersey. So if he pursued a gaming career in Atlantic City, he would have been required to retake, (and repay for) , all the courses he spent over $1,500.00 and six months on.
*I guess Artie Cisco never got into the legitamate end of the gaming business because nobody knew what happened to him. The New Jersey Casino Control Commission (NJCCC) was so afraid of the underworld infiltrating the industry that the licensing background check mandated strict disclosure of family associations and prior employment histories. So if Cisco was a bookie’s collector with ties to organized crime, I doubt he would've been granted a license.
The school’s job placement service sent me, (January 1979, in Las Vegas), to a terrible craps dealing job. I toiled at the Slots-A-Fun Casino for $150.00/week (gross) until early April.
On a wind -chilled rainy afternoon in February, Barney Kush came into Slots-A-Fun. He had no jacket and was drenched and shivering when he asked for an audition, (a job try-out). He acted as if he didn’t know me…and that was fine. Despite being sopping wet, he seized the opportunity, wowed the bosses and was told that he'd start that night.
On my break, I saw him leaving. He was calm and in control. I figured it would be harmless to flag him down. What a mistake!
We chatted outside, underneath an awning. He was hyped-up in seconds and was twitching, complaining and looking over his shoulder as if he was expecting to get jumped. Between facial tics he asked, “Can I borrow twenty bucks?” I politely said, “No.” He scanned the area before whispering, “Does Tish work here?” I said, “No.” “Does she gamble here?” I said, “No.” “Does Rick or any of their friends?” I said, “No.”
Oddly, Barney wasn’t reacting to run-off water dripping on his shoulder. To annoy him I said, “Bernie, you okay?” His body had a split-second spasm as he said, “It's Barney. How can you forget my name?" He stopped himself before continuing, "Well, I'm not okay. I got fired from the El Cortez last week and I’m fucked for cash. I had to hock my car.” He used his thumb to point to a 50CC dirt bike laying on its side in a puddle and added, “So I had to borrow my neighbor’s Honda.”
I said, “Why did you get fired?” Barney said, “I was the only one who knew craps in that whole shithouse. If someone needed help, I wasn’t trying to be a hero, I helped because I’m a team player…” I rolled my eyes as he plowed on, “The games always get out of control but at least I can handle it. Then some flea comes in and buries me with tons of nonsense props (proposition bets are long shots). When the prick gets impatient, I tell him if you want to keep the game moving, stop making all these cockamamie bets.”
I said, “Geez.” Barney said, “My supervisor, was a drunken old-timer who couldn't follow that kind of action if his life depended on it. Wanna know what that fossil said? ‘You can’t tell some sap to NOT make prop bets, that’s our bread and butter. You know the PC (house percentage) on them?’ So I say, you know how much this toilet losses if those cockamamie bets cause the dice to stop?” The prick says, "You're FIRED, yuh Cockamamie kid, yuh."
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| "KIBBITZING," IS UNSOLICITED, UNWANTED OR UNHELPFUL ADVICE FROM SPECTATORS, ESPECIALLY DURING CARD GAMES. |
Kush returned to Artie and noodged him about his poor strategy. Cisco generally ignored his badgering. But he was on a losing streak. Suddenly he got fed-up with the nagging and snapped! Artie Cisco stood up, grabbed his chair and swung it at Barney’s head. Kush used waterbug-like agility and zig-zagged his way to safety while laughing. In the classroom, his short attention span got the better of him when he crossed paths with Phyllis the receptionist and made a U-Turn, back to harm's way.
Under the pretense of wanting a candy bar, Phyllis came to hang-out with Artie. During the heat of the next hand, she wasn’t getting the attention she was craving and said to Artie, “I want uh Ah-Min Joy but I ain't got no change…” No one responded as the game continued. Seconds later, Artie got stuck with the queen, (he was the big loser again…this time for over a dollar). Frustrated he emptied out his arsenal of cruel profanity. The other players didn't want to further piss him off and didn't respond to her.
Phyllis wasn't bright enough to be insulted. She held out a five-dollar bill and carped, “Ar-dee, I doan want it fuh nuthin', I jus' need change." Artie had an odd smile as he raised up out of his seat and sneered, “You want a friggin' Almond Joy?” She perked up, “Uh-huh.” The goliath reached around the candy machine. With an unearthly grunt, he pinned the over-sized dead weight against the wall and lifted it off the ground. Pulsating veins were protruding from Cisco's neck and forehead as he heavily dropped it. Artie repeated the process. Others from the classroom and office rushed over to see about the loud commotion. On the third try, like a beating a slot machine, candies fell into the hopper as a flood of quarters spit out onto the floor.
Artie pulled out two Hershey Bars, a bag of chips and a roll of Life-Savers. He laughed, “Sorry Sif, we’re all out of Almond Joys.” He gave the candy to Phyllis, put his arm around her waist and led her away as his hand slid down to squeeze her butt.
The second Cisco's back was turned, Barney dove on the floor and started picking up coins. Artie turned and yelled, “Fuckin' Bernie, you low-life scum! This is for G.P.," (general principals or maybe Barney was annoying someone else with those initials). Cisco grabbed Barney off the ground by the back of his collar, slammed his back against the soda machine and broke his nose with one enormous punch.
The next day, all the vending machines were bolted to the wall. Also, it was no surprise that Barney had two shiners and a huge bandage taped across his nose...but never spoke of the incident.
Barney graduated in early December and said he was moving to Las Vegas. The director probably refused him job placement because Kush's screwiness might be a poor reflection on the school. Barney's grating personality wouldn’t take no for an answer. If that was the case, I could understand the director relenting just to get Barney out of his face. Kush would now be someone else's problem. Barney negotiated himself into getting sent to the El Cortez, which for a newbie in 1978, (grossing about $300.00/week), was the top of the line.
Artie graduated a couple of weeks later. He (and many others) soon learned the hard way that the school lied about being accredited by the *State of New Jersey. So if he pursued a gaming career in Atlantic City, he would have been required to retake, (and repay for) , all the courses he spent over $1,500.00 and six months on.
*I guess Artie Cisco never got into the legitamate end of the gaming business because nobody knew what happened to him. The New Jersey Casino Control Commission (NJCCC) was so afraid of the underworld infiltrating the industry that the licensing background check mandated strict disclosure of family associations and prior employment histories. So if Cisco was a bookie’s collector with ties to organized crime, I doubt he would've been granted a license.
The school’s job placement service sent me, (January 1979, in Las Vegas), to a terrible craps dealing job. I toiled at the Slots-A-Fun Casino for $150.00/week (gross) until early April.
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| BY COMPARISON, BARNEY'S SELF-MADE "JUICE" BROUGHT HIM TO PARADISE. LOCATED DOWNTOWN, THE EL CORTEZ CASINO IS A BLOCK FROM THE EASTERN EDGE OF TODAY'S "FREMONT EXPERIENCE." BUILT IN 1941, THE "TEZ'S" SPANISH COLONIAL REVIVAL-STYLE EARNED THE STRUCTURE A PLACE IN THE NATIONAL REGISTRY OF HISTORICAL BUILDINGS. |
On a wind -chilled rainy afternoon in February, Barney Kush came into Slots-A-Fun. He had no jacket and was drenched and shivering when he asked for an audition, (a job try-out). He acted as if he didn’t know me…and that was fine. Despite being sopping wet, he seized the opportunity, wowed the bosses and was told that he'd start that night.
On my break, I saw him leaving. He was calm and in control. I figured it would be harmless to flag him down. What a mistake!
We chatted outside, underneath an awning. He was hyped-up in seconds and was twitching, complaining and looking over his shoulder as if he was expecting to get jumped. Between facial tics he asked, “Can I borrow twenty bucks?” I politely said, “No.” He scanned the area before whispering, “Does Tish work here?” I said, “No.” “Does she gamble here?” I said, “No.” “Does Rick or any of their friends?” I said, “No.”
Oddly, Barney wasn’t reacting to run-off water dripping on his shoulder. To annoy him I said, “Bernie, you okay?” His body had a split-second spasm as he said, “It's Barney. How can you forget my name?" He stopped himself before continuing, "Well, I'm not okay. I got fired from the El Cortez last week and I’m fucked for cash. I had to hock my car.” He used his thumb to point to a 50CC dirt bike laying on its side in a puddle and added, “So I had to borrow my neighbor’s Honda.”
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| BARNEY'S "RIDE" LOOKED LIKE TOY. IT WAS DIFFICULT BUT I CONTROLLED MYSELF FROM SAYING, "I'D RATHER SEE MY SISTER IN A WHOREHOUSE THAN MY BROTHER ON A HONDA." |
I said, “Why did you get fired?” Barney said, “I was the only one who knew craps in that whole shithouse. If someone needed help, I wasn’t trying to be a hero, I helped because I’m a team player…” I rolled my eyes as he plowed on, “The games always get out of control but at least I can handle it. Then some flea comes in and buries me with tons of nonsense props (proposition bets are long shots). When the prick gets impatient, I tell him if you want to keep the game moving, stop making all these cockamamie bets.”
I said, “Geez.” Barney said, “My supervisor, was a drunken old-timer who couldn't follow that kind of action if his life depended on it. Wanna know what that fossil said? ‘You can’t tell some sap to NOT make prop bets, that’s our bread and butter. You know the PC (house percentage) on them?’ So I say, you know how much this toilet losses if those cockamamie bets cause the dice to stop?” The prick says, "You're FIRED, yuh Cockamamie kid, yuh."
“Could you believe it, I'm killing myself teaching this douche the ins and outs of his own business and he axed me? I can’t imagine who they dragged in off the street to take my place…” I looked at my watch and cut him off, “I gotta go.” He grabbed my arm, "I picked up my pay the next day and a jerkoff from my crew said, "Lookey here boys, it's the Cockamamie Kid riding off into the sunset..."
Barney knew I was trying to give him the brush and growled, "Brilliant." He switched gears, perked up and said, "Can you at least spot me ten till pay day?" I flashed back to the degenerate gambling habit he advertized at school and said, "Sorry." Most people would have said; thanks anyway, but the sleazy opportunist looked disappointed and surprisingly said nothing. I can't imagine what he was calling me in his mind as he spun in place and walked out into a stronger rain.
I was turning away as he called out, "You know, um, er...my brother..." Slots-A-Fun was so cheap we had no name-tags . So it was obvious he never invested any brain space at school for the names of good people, kruds or whatever I was to him.
Barney knew I was trying to give him the brush and growled, "Brilliant." He switched gears, perked up and said, "Can you at least spot me ten till pay day?" I flashed back to the degenerate gambling habit he advertized at school and said, "Sorry." Most people would have said; thanks anyway, but the sleazy opportunist looked disappointed and surprisingly said nothing. I can't imagine what he was calling me in his mind as he spun in place and walked out into a stronger rain.
I was turning away as he called out, "You know, um, er...my brother..." Slots-A-Fun was so cheap we had no name-tags . So it was obvious he never invested any brain space at school for the names of good people, kruds or whatever I was to him.
His body had a frenzied shuddering convulsion as I watched the rain pelting him. I was convinced that he was out of his mind. In that awkward moment, I failed to recall the term; idiot savant.
Barney returned, put his wet, shivering hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes, "Wouldn't you feel better lending me at least five dollars and know I had enough gas to get back for my first night?"
I had twelve dollars on me, (as bright as he was and with all that dealing ability, I wondered if he realized how awful this job was...). Either way, I didn't want to donate even a penny to him. But he looked so pathetic. My armor-coated force field was dissolving when the rain cascading off his pant-leg. I felt like he was peeing on my foot. I said, "Sorry, I'm broke." He was violently waving his arms and MF'ing the world as he marched back to the tiny bike and puttered away.
In a steady drizzlle at five minutes to six that day, I noticed Barney walking (not riding) the motor bike into the alley. He was all wet again except his white shirt was stained by automotive grease. Inside, he walked past my craps table. I saw blood seeping through at his elbow. His black slacks were badly frayed to the middle of his right shin and two mud streaks extended across his right cheek.
The casino manager that hired him had already gone home. So the swing-shift boss says, “Are you Kush?" Barney nodded. The boss said, "What happened to you?” Barney said, “Hit a pot-hole, skidded and took a spill. But don't worry about me, I’m here to work!” The boss said, “Son, I admire your willingness but we can’t have you looking like this. I’ll hold your job. Can you be back all cleaned up in an hour?” Barney's nose involuntarily went into a wrinkling spasm as his left eye fluttered. White gauze formed at the corners of his mouth as he said, “F-f-fuck you! I didn’t want to work for this cockamamie outfit anyway.” I watched limp away, pass the bike and vanish on foot into the darkness.
I phoned Ciro the Zero (he was still Ciro the Hero). I told him about Barney. He said, “I’ll make a couple of calls and we’ll find out what’s what.”
An hour later, he called back, “Rick (one of the jet-setters from school) said, ‘Vegas was eating Barney alive way before losing his job. Just like New York, he had no friends. Except here, he got caught-up with more gambling, booze and whores than ever. He was penniless. Last week, Barney found out that Rick and Tish broke up. He conned her into letting him sleep on her couch a few days until he got on his feet. She came back from work a couple of days later and her apartment was stripped to the walls of anything that could be sold…and a neighbor’s putt-putt scooter was missing too.’”
I said, "I knew he was a looney-toon but..." Ciro interrupted, "Someone like Barney always has someone after him. I bet he only had the clothes on his back...and nowhere to go. Guys like that get desperate, do stupid things and wind up six feet under...we got a pretty big desert out here..."
Over the next thirty-four years, I have NEVER heard of a Barney Kush sighting. That doesn’t mean he’s dead maybe he's doing time…but I never heard even a rumor about him. So, maybe he is dead.
Too bad I can't contact "Party" Artie Cisco, I'd love to tell him that Barney earned a better nickname than "Fuckin' Bobby." If they're sharing a cell somewhere, then he already knows.
Barney returned, put his wet, shivering hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes, "Wouldn't you feel better lending me at least five dollars and know I had enough gas to get back for my first night?"
I had twelve dollars on me, (as bright as he was and with all that dealing ability, I wondered if he realized how awful this job was...). Either way, I didn't want to donate even a penny to him. But he looked so pathetic. My armor-coated force field was dissolving when the rain cascading off his pant-leg. I felt like he was peeing on my foot. I said, "Sorry, I'm broke." He was violently waving his arms and MF'ing the world as he marched back to the tiny bike and puttered away.
In a steady drizzlle at five minutes to six that day, I noticed Barney walking (not riding) the motor bike into the alley. He was all wet again except his white shirt was stained by automotive grease. Inside, he walked past my craps table. I saw blood seeping through at his elbow. His black slacks were badly frayed to the middle of his right shin and two mud streaks extended across his right cheek.
The casino manager that hired him had already gone home. So the swing-shift boss says, “Are you Kush?" Barney nodded. The boss said, "What happened to you?” Barney said, “Hit a pot-hole, skidded and took a spill. But don't worry about me, I’m here to work!” The boss said, “Son, I admire your willingness but we can’t have you looking like this. I’ll hold your job. Can you be back all cleaned up in an hour?” Barney's nose involuntarily went into a wrinkling spasm as his left eye fluttered. White gauze formed at the corners of his mouth as he said, “F-f-fuck you! I didn’t want to work for this cockamamie outfit anyway.” I watched limp away, pass the bike and vanish on foot into the darkness.
I phoned Ciro the Zero (he was still Ciro the Hero). I told him about Barney. He said, “I’ll make a couple of calls and we’ll find out what’s what.”
An hour later, he called back, “Rick (one of the jet-setters from school) said, ‘Vegas was eating Barney alive way before losing his job. Just like New York, he had no friends. Except here, he got caught-up with more gambling, booze and whores than ever. He was penniless. Last week, Barney found out that Rick and Tish broke up. He conned her into letting him sleep on her couch a few days until he got on his feet. She came back from work a couple of days later and her apartment was stripped to the walls of anything that could be sold…and a neighbor’s putt-putt scooter was missing too.’”
I said, "I knew he was a looney-toon but..." Ciro interrupted, "Someone like Barney always has someone after him. I bet he only had the clothes on his back...and nowhere to go. Guys like that get desperate, do stupid things and wind up six feet under...we got a pretty big desert out here..."
Over the next thirty-four years, I have NEVER heard of a Barney Kush sighting. That doesn’t mean he’s dead maybe he's doing time…but I never heard even a rumor about him. So, maybe he is dead.
Too bad I can't contact "Party" Artie Cisco, I'd love to tell him that Barney earned a better nickname than "Fuckin' Bobby." If they're sharing a cell somewhere, then he already knows.
I still like to consider myself to be a "good person." And now that I’m aware of Aspergers, ADHD, OCD and adult ADD, I guess I’m supposed to feel sympathy for those afflicted…but forgive me, whether the Cockamamie Kid was sick and couldn't control himself or not, I still draw line and don't pity Barney Kush.
2 comments:
I really liked The Cockamamie Kid. Judge Judy is one of my all-time favorites, and you too...of course. --- AMGB in GA
I was once crossing 34th Street (heading south), a few blocks from our bookmaking office ... some guy with a guitar on his back (heading north) eyed me as we passed ... a few feet later I heard footsteps ... and as I turned a wad of clam (spit) nailed me in the neck. I went ape shit and started pounding him on the NE corner of 34th (in front of a temple) ... 3 old ladies saw me and assumed I was a lunatic (hmmm) ... long story short, a cop car approached and I panicked big time (I was carrying the work from that afternoon's business) ... fortunately, the whackjob tossed a bottle at me and hit the police car ... they told me to take off and they handled it (how, I don't know) ... later in life I wondered the same thing (about ADD, mental issues, et al) ... I do feel bad about pounding the guy now, but not then ... not for about 30 years. Good stuff again, Sir Steve.
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