19
Toronto 1961
A sagging front porch the length of Long Island wrapped itself around the ramshackle structure. On it sat at least 20 or more scuffed wooden bar chairs, liberated no doubt from the local saloon after it had been drunk dry.
Inside the compound, we began to walk toward the entrance. As we drew closer, the front door banged open and people began to dribble out. They formed a line in an organized way, spreading out along the porch. Once a lumpy body reached the end chair, they turned and the person next to them turned, facing front and so on. They filed out in two rows, one on either side of the doorway. It reminded me of college students in a phone booth, the never-ending parade. Most of the men had the same stocky build as the two jokers in front of us, one or two looked o
