“Lovely hostesses waiting to serve you. Air conditioned for your comfort.” Times Square in  the Seventies was dotted with adult bookstores, live sex shows, porn film palaces, and prostitutes.

It was dark. Real dark. Shadows. Outside the window a neon sign reflected through the rain streaked glass. I couldn’t tell where I was. A couch? A bed? My body ached, my stomach was queasy, and my throat dry, pasty.  I keep seeing Uncle Louie and Billy tumble down the stairwell at Pumpkin’s. Police cars, gunshots, lights now all seem to merge into one big kaleidoscope of the evening. There was a cab, a friendly face, don’t worry it said and smiled.  If that was then, well then is now, I guess. It’s dark.

The neon light outside bre...

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