509, I was top dog at a pool hall in Buffalo. The owner was doing really well, and put on an addition. He bought all new tables. I had my own personal table at his hall, so he asked me if I wanted to buy "my" old table. He sold it to me for $280. I borrowed a truck and got a buddy to help me take the table apart, and move it. Three, two inch thick slates, each 4 and a half by three feet, and weighing at over 200 pounds each. The two of us carried them down into my basement. Let me tell you, there is no possible way to grip one of those slates. You probably know that. I leveled those slates for a solid week, and covered them with the best felt money could buy. I still remember stretching out the felt, and driving the tacks.
Anyway, when I first moved to The City, I went into a one bedroom apartment on a fourth floor walk up. I had my table appraised by the just bout the most notable pool table guy in the country (bronco: from Kansas City). I sold it sight unseen to a guy in Los Angeles for $2500. Where do you get a ten-fold turn around? Not that I feel good about selling the table. A lot of hours of my life were spent on that table. I would gladly pay $10,000 to get it back now that I again have room for it again.
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