Thus went the prosperous career of Tony B. He made enough money in the Fish Market to live a verycomfortable life. In 1961, when a new housing development called Chatham Green was build on Park Row, Tony B got himself a nice two-bedroom, 12

floor apartment. He also bought a lakeside house inGreenwood Lake, New York, 50 miles north of the George Washington Bridge. With it's mountains,9-mile long Greenwood Lake (which was once called Long Pond) and snake-like roads, GreenwoodLake was light years away in style from New York City.The town of Greenwood Lake is located on the New York side of Jersey Avenue, whichconnects New York and New Jersey. On the New Jersey of Jersey Avenue side sits the tiny town of West Milford, which is the gateway for New Jersey residents to enter into New York State. Theseparate drinking laws of the two states is what made Tony B a ton of money in the 1950's through the1970's. In New Jersey, the legal drinking age was 21. But the law in New York state lowered that age to18. As a result, on Friday and Saturday nights, people from all parts of Northern New Jersey spedthrough West Milford, down twisting Jersey Avenue, to New York to drink in one of the about 50establishments within a five mile radius of Greenwood Lake, New York.There was the Long Pond Inn, a motel/bar/restaurant, where prize fighters, from heavyweightchampions Rocky Marciano to Floyd Patterson came to train. The Club Car was another hot spot andwas known for showcasing new bands. In the early 60's, the rage was the Sterling Hotel/disco, whichfeatured topless dancers, which was not allowed in New York City at the time..Greenwood Lake was quite frankly a gold mind for the New York City mob. Almost everydrinking establishment was owned by New York City mobsters and Tony B himself was sole owner of five of them himself.Tony spent the weekdays in NY city, but when the Fish Market closed from Friday morningaround 10 am, to around 10 pm Sunday night, Tony B sped off to the friendly confines of GreenwoodLake to enjoy the weekend.Summers in Greenwood Lake were idyllic. Because of the cool breeze that emanated off thelake, most homes didn't have air conditioning. The winters were cold, but even when the temperaturedipped below zero, it felt warmer in Greenwood Lake, than during frigid 20 degree days in New York City .Tony B's four-bedroom lakeside home was smack on Jersey Avenue, two miles from the townof Greenwood Lake. In the back of his house, he had a dock where he kept his pontoon boat -- the “BaFongool.” Tony B loved going out on the lake to spend some quite time with nature. And for other important things too.After dark was Tony B's favorite time to take his boat out for a spin. Crickets chirped softy andthe waves gently massaged the sides of the boat. When the moon shone on the lake, it was the perfecttime for Tony B to dump the dead body, weighed down with concrete blocks, of anyone who had not been too nice to Tony B. Even though Greenwood Lake had been used as a mob burial ground sincethe 1920's, not one a body deposited in its green waters had ever risen to the surface. It was as if thelake had just swallowed them up whole.Tony B's home was built in the Roaring Twenties and had a secret room behind a phony wall inthe basement, that he could access by pressing a hidden button behind a bookcase. This room had been

used as a speakeasy during Prohibition, but in the 60's it was Tony B's war room, where he countedskim money from his Greenwood Lake bars, and conducted meetings of his crew. The room was alsosometimes used to straighten out a delinquent payer, or maybe a bartender who was acting like a partner.Although Tony B owned five bars in Greenwood Lake, he was never actually on the premises,except to collect his weekly cut. Each bar had a bartender/manager, who ran the joint and reported back to Tony B if there where any problems that needed to be straightened out. Whenever Tony B bounced around town, he followed mob commandment 1, concerning ownership of places wherealcohol is served; which is -- never drink in your own bar. .As for the bartenders, they couldn't drink in the bar they worked in either. Both instances wereinvariably bad for business. Get drunk in your own bar and people considered you weak. Get drunk insomeone else's bar and they consider you a good sport.As for the bartenders, if you let them drink when they were off duty in a bar they worked in,their brother bartenders would serve them free drinks all night. One hand washes the other in the bartender business. That was OK on the face of it, but it was not OK, if all the hand washing was donewith Tony B's booze.Then there was mob commandment number 2; never hire a broad as a bartender.Invariably, the male customers ogled the female bartenders and sooner or latter guys got into beefs over the broad, which usually initiated the destruction of Tony B's furniture, which was not goodfor Tony B's bottom line.Another reason not to hire skirts is very simple. Due to the laws of Mother Nature, when theygot their monthly visit from “their friend”, they were useless for several days. When this happened,even if they did show up for work, they were mean and nasty and ready to chop off the head of anyonewho even looked at them cross-eyed.Female bartenders aside, anyway you cut it, bartenders are born thieves. One way or another,they all instigated assorted types of chicanery, intended to take money out of Tony B's pockets. Their tricks were too numerous to count, but the bottom line in the bar business is that a little robbing issometimes tolerated, but please don't make yourself a partner on the cash register. Then bad thingcould happen to you.Take the case of Teddy Muldoon, a refugee from Manhattan's Hell's Kitchen, who made hishome in Greenwood Lake. Teddy came with good references and Tony B put him to work behind thestick of his Greenwood Lake gold mine ---- The Pink Pussycat. Teddy was real good with thecustomers and didn't have a strong pouring hand, which suited Tony B just fine.Soon, Tony B made Teddy his manager, in charge of ordering, scheduling, and the hiring andfiring of the other thieving bartenders. During the summer months, Greenwood Lake was hoppingevery night of the week. During the other months, the weekends were the moneymakers and someclubs closed Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, just to save on electricity.In the summer of 1960, Tony B noticed his weekly cut from the Pink Pussycat had droppedmore than 30 percent from the summers of previous years.

He confronted Teddy with this fact, to which Teddy replied, “Yeah, things are slower than lastyear. All these new bars popping up are cutting into everyone's bottom lines.”The only problem with that line of reasoning was that Tony B's other four bars were doing justfine. Like they had done every other year.Terry Muldoon knew about Tony B's other bars and should have know his explanation wasweak. But an Irishman born in Hell's Kitchen didn't exactly possess the mental capabilities of AlfredEinstein, or whatever Mrs. Einstein's son's first name actually was.“I smell a rat,” Tony B told Skinny Benny, who also owned a couple of Greenwood Lake bars.“I don't like rats,” Skinny Benny said. “They sneak in at night and eat all the food. Especiallythe cheese.”Tony B was not as brain dead as his longtime friend, so he put a plan into place to find outexactly how Teddy Muldoon was robbing Tony B blind. Tony B hired Patrick Casey, a retired NewYork City cop, whose private detective business' specialty was clocking bars, for owners who werehaving inexplicable cash flow problems.Pat Casey visited the Pink Pussycat at different hours, on different days of the week, for morethan a month. But he could not detect any one of the several tricks bartenders employ to finger their bosses' cash.Finally, Pat Casey set up a meet with Tony B to report on his progress. They sat in the hiddenroom in Tony B's house and sipped from snifters of Remy Martin Louis XIII, that had fallen off the back of a fat liquor truck.“I've been to your joint more than a dozen times and for the love of me I can spot a thing,” PatCasey said.“That can't be,” Tony B said. “Someone is robbing my eyes out.”Pat Casey said, “I've clocked all the different bartenders, including Teddy Muldoon, and they'reall operating on the up and up. I even had two of my guys visiting at different times on different days,and they can't come up with anything either.”“Impossible,” Tony B said. “You're missing something.”“What could I be missing?” Pat Casey said. He took another sip from the snifter. “Your joint is packed every night and all the bartenders are playing square. Your three cash registers are clanging likecrazy and I can't spot a damn thing.”A bell went off in Tony B's head. He took a sip of Remy. “Say that again.”Pay Casey downed the Remy and poured himself another drink. “I said, all your three registersare clanging like crazy. You should be making a mint.”Bingo!