Fight

While the slime in the DC swamp argue over the meaning of the word “fight,” today’s blog will focus on someone who lived the term for a significant part of his life. About a decade ago, when I began operating the floating book shop just about every day, a middle age man introduced himself and asked if I’d be willing to be interviewed for his cable access TV show, Dellapeppo Village. Neil and I did two interviews on the street promoting my books during the next few years. Soon we were communicating regularly on Facebook. I love the pictures he posts of his family, his grandkids, and his pro-Trump political commentary. A couple of days ago he emailed me info on his late dad, who I had learned, from an interview he had done with a former referee, was a pro boxer. Since the name Tony Pellone was unfamiliar to me, I assumed his career was brief and/or undistinguished. Wrong! Born in Baltimore, he grew up in Greenwich Village. His career spanned 1943-’52. His record was 51–19–6. He had ten knockouts and was kayoed a few times himself. A welterweight (140–147 pounds), he fought at Madison Square Garden, Chicago Stadium and Detroit’s Olympia Stadium. In 1945 he beat Billy Graham, undefeated, 52–0–6 at the time, a split decision. In 1947 he bested world lightweight champ Bob Montgomery, a unanimous decision. In 1948 he was TKO’ed by eventual welterweight champ Kid Gavilan. He and his family owned several bars and restaurants in Coney Island, including the Hollywood Bar in the Stillwell terminal and the Lido on the Boardwalk. He knew all the wise guys and they knew him. Topps included him in its 1951 set, card #71. It’s listed at Ebay for $8.06. He passed away at 67 in 1995. Here’s a shout out to a great Italian American.

I don’t know if it was a political statement in support of the man who fought slavery and is now in the crosshairs of cancel culture, but a New Jersey man built a 14-foot snow sculpture of Abraham Lincoln in his front yard. Kudos, sir:

In the fight to sell books curbside, the home team was victorious. I’ve always felt life’s futility and it was acute today, as I had to clean snow from the car while the skies seemed threatening. I forced myself to give it a go, as the forecast said “cloudy” the rest of the day. When I rolled up to the Chase bank I was relieved to find two-thirds of the area was almost completely clear of the white stuff. I didn’t have to shovel out a niche for the display. Still, snow was falling from the nearby tree, a lamppost and the wires. I kept my own books in plastic and in a box, which always makes it feel like a lost session. It seemed like lunacy to try to sell stuff outdoors on such a day. Once again it was proven that weather does not determine sales, at least at my dog and pony show. It’s always been a matter of catching the right people at the right time. A young woman I recognized as a previous customer arrived. She picked out six books, among them Wicked by Gregory Maguire, Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson, The Knife by Ross Ritchell and Milk and Honey, a poetry collection by Rupi Kaur. She said she has a Kindle but prefers physical books. So do I, although I told her I loved when people bought an electronic copy of one of my books (hint). She asked if I had any with me and it led to a sale of the Billionths of a Lifetime short story collection. My thanks, and also to the couple who bought The Prodigal Daughter by Jeffrey Archer, Footfall by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle, The Integral Trees by Larry Niven, and a book in Russian; and to the lovely woman who purchased two in that language; and to the gentlemen who donated about 20 books between them, all of them marketable. Most surprising of all was that in the two-plus hours I was there I did not have to sit in the car to warm up. There was just enough sunshine peeking through the clouds to take the sting out of cold. Go figure.

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