Remember Jimmy Time Bomb’s buddy Joe? He had a story about just happening to be driving with some friends south on Kennedy Blvd., down by Lincoln Park. Stopped at a light, for no particular reason, he looked off to the left only to see some Heights guy running literally for his life with seemingly all of Greenville — each and every one waving a 2 by 4, bat, chair leg or some similar term of endearment — not far behind. Joe yells for the passenger to open one of the rear doors on the car. The newly crowned champion of track and field actually leaps in and slams the door shut behind. Joe floors it and — even with a barrage of thrown blunt objects bouncing off the vehicle — manages a safe and speedy exit.
The explanation for the unusual event was that the star of the tale — whose name I forgot — had wandered on over to the even then Wild West of Jersey City to buy one or so $2 bag of heroin. (I was told that there was a time when deuce bags were readily available and purchased by novices or perhaps the broke and desperate.) When our hero — dollar bills in hand — approached an entrepreneur, the gentleman made the mistake of fetching a bag filled with the little envelopes. Sensing opportunity, the Heightster grabbed all and booked, leaving the street dealer now NOT holding the bag. As might be expected, a chase quickly ensued.
Joe related how he’d asked the rescued individual if he didn’t think about what would have happened if like the ol’ luck well had gone dry. The answer was — as others have told me — that the road to success — after a manner of speaking — was not thinking, but instead acting immediately when ever and if ever a chance presented itself.
