Chapter 16: The Whosis Kid

The Whosis Kid I It started in Boston, back in 1917. I ran into Lew Maher on the Tremont Street sidewalk of the Touraine Hotel one afternoon, and we stopped to swap a few minutes’ gossip in the snow. I was telling him something or other when he cut in with: “Sneak a look at this kid coming up the street. The one with the dark cap.” Looking, I saw a gangling youth of eighteen or so; pasty and pimply face, sullen mouth, dull hazel eyes, thick, shapeless nose. He passed the city…