“As usual, there was an empty stool on either side of Aiden. Everyone in the neighborhood knew him as an anger-packed, argumentative, combative collection of complexes in “great need of avoidance,” as old Donal Corcoran, a Haller’s regular, put it. Corcoran also said of Aiden that “He’s like a nightmare combination of the Al Capone-Dion O’Banion criminal lines, just as lethal and eager as each.” Haller’s Pub was one of Chicago’s oldest saloons. Located a half block south of Democratic ward headquarters, for decades it had been a popular hangout for politicians, cops, firemen, city workers, tradesmen, and senior retirees. It smelled of cigarette and cigar smoke, beer, and grilled onions. It was known in the neighborhood as a “goddamn gold mine.” The loudest sound on south Parnell early every morning was the cascade of beer kegs down delivery truck ramps at Haller’s service door. At age twenty-six, Denny and Aiden were Haller’s Men, having played Little League baseball on Haller’s sp...onsored teams, years later sixteen-inch softball, in between making their rite of passage from soda pop swillers to dedicated adult drinkers.MoreLessShow More Show Less
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