LSJohn
Verified Member
Willis Sears was a lifelong scuffler. Never had impressive skills, but they were sufficient for him to scrape out beer money while his wife's work -- as a nurse, I think -- brought home the meat an' 'taters.
Willis was not a big man, but he could slug down an impressive amount of beer in a day's time. Only near the end of the day could any but those who knew him best notice any deterioration of his diction or motor skills. Once he descended to the final stages, he became "Willard."
"Is he Willard yet?" was often heard in the 9:00 to 10:00 PM hours. This could be important to know, because if you had any business with him during the Willard stage, he'd not remember a penny or a syllable of it the next day. The good news for you, though, was that if you told him he owed you $325.00 from last night, he'd believe you and try to pay.
Willis gambled at all the board games most likely to be seen around the pool halls and other gambling hangouts -- pitch, pinochle, tonk, knock poker, hearts, spades, rummy, cribbage, gin, dominoes, checkers and poker -- and was pretty good at all of them, and so, incredibly, was Willard.
I don't know how he might have been when he was younger, but by the time I met him around his age of 40 he was already showing signs early in the day that would make outsiders think he was already drunk, but he was still as sharp as a tack at that stage. He was one of those people who would make you wonder how well he might have done in some professional discipline if he had applied himself.
You might also wonder whether he was quite content with his choice. He was a gentle soul, as was Willard, and always seemed happy, though not effusive.
Willis had a brother that I'd guess was 15 years younger. He played poker with us occasionally in the various games I drifted in and out of over the years; entirely different personality than Willis, and not a good player, but contrary to his beefy, solid-looking physique and his gruff appearance, was also a peaceful character. I gave him the nickname "Slow Joe" for his tortoise-like pace of play whatever the game of cards or dominoes, and he didn't like it. Everyone was soon calling him that, and I finally enjoyed the coup de gras when he called the poker game and asked, "Seat open?" When asked, "Who's this," he said "Slow Joe, g-dammit." He had finally given in.
I think I might have told my favorite Willis story here sometime, but most who might read this won't have read that. When Willis was about 50, he and one of his buddies were on bar stools at our regular hangout and it was nearing Willard time. They had been eyeing two ladies at a table nearby. It was faithfully reported to me that the ladies were 72 and 79, but how or whether my source might have actually known their real ages seems less than certain.
Eventually, the guys decided to make their move. As Willard -- with the exaggerated caution typical of him at this time of day -- arose from his stool, he was heard to say, a little too loudly, "Come on, Junior. You can have the young one."
Willis was not a big man, but he could slug down an impressive amount of beer in a day's time. Only near the end of the day could any but those who knew him best notice any deterioration of his diction or motor skills. Once he descended to the final stages, he became "Willard."
"Is he Willard yet?" was often heard in the 9:00 to 10:00 PM hours. This could be important to know, because if you had any business with him during the Willard stage, he'd not remember a penny or a syllable of it the next day. The good news for you, though, was that if you told him he owed you $325.00 from last night, he'd believe you and try to pay.
Willis gambled at all the board games most likely to be seen around the pool halls and other gambling hangouts -- pitch, pinochle, tonk, knock poker, hearts, spades, rummy, cribbage, gin, dominoes, checkers and poker -- and was pretty good at all of them, and so, incredibly, was Willard.
I don't know how he might have been when he was younger, but by the time I met him around his age of 40 he was already showing signs early in the day that would make outsiders think he was already drunk, but he was still as sharp as a tack at that stage. He was one of those people who would make you wonder how well he might have done in some professional discipline if he had applied himself.
You might also wonder whether he was quite content with his choice. He was a gentle soul, as was Willard, and always seemed happy, though not effusive.
Willis had a brother that I'd guess was 15 years younger. He played poker with us occasionally in the various games I drifted in and out of over the years; entirely different personality than Willis, and not a good player, but contrary to his beefy, solid-looking physique and his gruff appearance, was also a peaceful character. I gave him the nickname "Slow Joe" for his tortoise-like pace of play whatever the game of cards or dominoes, and he didn't like it. Everyone was soon calling him that, and I finally enjoyed the coup de gras when he called the poker game and asked, "Seat open?" When asked, "Who's this," he said "Slow Joe, g-dammit." He had finally given in.
I think I might have told my favorite Willis story here sometime, but most who might read this won't have read that. When Willis was about 50, he and one of his buddies were on bar stools at our regular hangout and it was nearing Willard time. They had been eyeing two ladies at a table nearby. It was faithfully reported to me that the ladies were 72 and 79, but how or whether my source might have actually known their real ages seems less than certain.
Eventually, the guys decided to make their move. As Willard -- with the exaggerated caution typical of him at this time of day -- arose from his stool, he was heard to say, a little too loudly, "Come on, Junior. You can have the young one."