By Stanley Greenberg

The Time - Summer of 1954.

The Place - The corner of 174th St. and Longfellow Avenue in the East Bronx in front of Stubby's Luncheonette.

The Scene - A floating crap game organized by Herman Small (name changed to protect the guilty).

Who was Herman Small?

Herman was gnome-like. He was about 5 ft 1 inche with no trace of facial or body hair even though he was about 20 years old. He was rosy-cheeked with a high, squeaky voice and he looked like he was 12 years old and about to be a bar mitzvah. He shuffled when he walked and he had only one major bad habit: He was a wild, crazy, inveterate risk-taking gambler!

You name it and Herman was into it.

Poker games - he organized at least two a week.

Baseball pools - Pick three hitters, six hits and for your dime or quarter you got eight to one odds.

Pickboards - A quarter a pick. Win whatever the folded paper says. (Usually the winners had already been picked out.)

Bowling - Bet on the scores. Give odds. In a doubles match one guy was dumping. He would try to lose believably. It was really three against one. It shocked me.

The Pool Hall - Playing 8-ball, 9 ball, Chicago or Straight Pool were popular gaming adventures. Pop's Pool Hall was a comfortable setting for gambling in a leisure atmosphere.

Bookmaking - This was Herman's real love. You could bet baseball and football games with him.

Back to that summer day in 1954.

Herman had put together a crap game and about 15 or 20 guys were into shooting and betting on craps. Herman was the lightning rod. In his fist were bills of one and five dollars (It was the 1950s - today it would be 20s and 100s).

The game had been going on for about 45 minutes and the action was intense.

No one saw or heard the patrol car from the 41st Precinct pull up. Two or three police officers jumped out and lined the players against the wall. The guys had their arms above their heads touching the wall.

One by one they lined up the gamblers. When they got to Herman, the cop grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and tossed him away from the group. He snarled at Herman, "Scram, kid."

"Scram, kid???" He was the leader, the organizer. He was released because of his baby face.

The guys went to the Simpson Street Station house (known today as Fort Apache) where they were booked and fined for gambling.

"Scram, kid!" What a joke!!