ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Tuesday, March 19, 1996 TAG: 9603190046
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: Beth Macy
SOURCE: BETH MACY
Pool ranks No. 4 on Lew Thurman's list of life's necessities - behind ``a good strong sexual relationship, trout fishing and hunting for grouse.'' But at 79, he can no longer play.
``Last time I played pool I fell flat on the floor right over there during a game of one-pocket,'' he says, pointing to a nearby table. ``And I'd been leading him six to nothing.''
It was his blood pressure medicine, which can make him lose his balance. But that doesn't keep Thurman from showing up every day after lunch at Guys & Dolls Billiards on Williamson Road, where his razor-sharp tongue waxes philosophic, poetic and highly critical from the nearest tableside chair.
``That's Nicky Vurnakes right here,'' he says. ``He used to be the best player in this room, but he doesn't play as good as he used to.''
``This here is Mike Hairfield,'' Thurman offers. ``He's a little erratic, but mostly pretty good.''
``And right here is one of your better players,'' he says, pointing to Tommy Lugar. ``He's got a helluva good eye.
``He shoots too fast, though.''
Meet the armchair quarterback of pool. Listen to him pound the linoleum floor with the bamboo cane he made himself, using part of a pool cue for a handle.
Watch him flash his case full of those long brown More cigarettes, light one and then launch into a newspaper interview - no questions necessary - as if he's been waiting all his life to hold forth.
``You can learn something watching any game,'' he says. ``But you always watch the good people. Watch the knuckleheads and you learn what not to do.''
Pool is like life, he says. The object is control.
``In pool, you control the white ball. In life, you control your mind. Course, that's a lot harder to do with so many distractions and interruptions.''
Thurman knows. He's had his share of both.
Dropped out of high school to help support his widowed mother. Worked his way up at Colonial National Bank (now Crestar) from cashier to vice president in charge of loans. Raised a family with one wife and, 10 years after she died, married another - at the age of 72. And all the while, took time out to play pool.
Thurman was 16 the first time he snuck into a pool hall called the Jefferson Recreation Club. It was sandwiched between a third-floor bowling alley and a street-level restaurant called The Sportsman at the corner of Church and Jefferson Streets.
``It was clean as a pin. No rough-housing,'' he recalls. ``And you didn't have to rack the balls yourself; they had rack boys.''
Back then, it cost a nickel a rack per person to play pool (now it's $2.40 an hour). Back then, this vice president in charge of loans spent every lunch hour at the Jefferson, racking up memories.
``In 60-odd years, I've seen everything change but one thing,'' he says. ``The sticks have changed; everybody now has a two-piece stick. And the balls aren't clay anymore, they're plastic.''
``There's only one thing that hasn't changed, and that's the conversation.''
In a place called Guys & Dolls - where the guys outnumbered the dolls 40 to 1 on a recent afternoon - Thurman refused to elaborate on the contents of the conversation. Except to say, ``Honey, it's rough.''
Another thing that's changed: the ante. ``All the kids who come here now have pocketfuls of money. . . . I wish I could've played them 35 years ago. I could've retired two years early.''
As it was, Thurman did retire from pool - the first time, anyway - a bit earlier than he had planned. When a new boss took over the bank in 1975, he strongly suggested that it didn't look very ``corporate'' for a vice president to spend his lunch hour engaging in such a low-brow - but high-finance - activity.
``I didn't play for 12 years. Then in my 70th year I came out here and found some old heads,'' he says, referring to the same guys who frequented the Jefferson before it closed in 1976. ``But a lot of them have died in the past six or eight years.''
Amid the din of clacking pool balls - and even with his hearing aid turned to full-throttle - Thurman barely hears well enough to carry on a conversation. For the past two years, his hands have shaken too much to play; he can't steady his cue. His heart doesn't pump right either, and there's the blood pressure problem.
``But I've still got my eyes,'' he said.
So, for an hour or more every afternoon, his baby blues sponge up every player's moves. And the advice flows like cigarette smoke - unrestricted and, at times, overpowering.
On hobbies: ``Every man should have a hobby where he crafts something with his hands. There's a lot of soul satisfaction in that. There's no more pleasure in life than to catch a trout with a rod I built and a fly I tied.''
On why he's never been in a pool hall on Sundays: ``I think gambling - listen, anything - done to excess can be sinful. Cigarettes, whiskey, sex, pool. Moderation, that's the proper word.''
On wisdom: ``Honey, there have been three sources - only three - of all human intelligence. The written word, the spoken word and experience. So I preach: Take time to read anything by someone whose intelligence you respect...The New Testament isn't a bad place to start.
``And when someone whose intelligence you respect talks, listen. You never learn one damn thing by talking.
``Pick the path to happiness, not the pocketbook. Do new things - have at 'em, do 'em, get the experience. It's the greatest teacher of all.''
Lew smokes his More down to the filter, taps his cane on the floor and points to a player at a nearby table, offering his next critique. ``See that tall boy there? He has absolutely the best technique, but he's an extrovert. Too chancy.
``I got on his case once and he told me, `If you don't shoot at 'em, you can't make 'em.'''
Lew's response: ``I think he's a show-off.''
No one here disputes Lew's reviews. Eyes rarely roll at his unsolicited advice - same story, different day.
``This is a gathering place more than anything,'' Mike Hairfield says. ``People are mainly here to see old friends.''
Hairfield remembers watching Lew stride into The Sportsman in the old days wearing his banker's coat and tie. ``He played a lot of good games,'' he recalls.
In a place where everything's changed but the conversation, this old-timer remains part of the landscape - like the clacking of pool balls and the racking up of tall tales.
It puts Lew to mind of another of his favorite maxims: ``Friends are to be saved. Money is to be spent.''
LENGTH: Long : 133 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: CINDY PINKSTON/Staff. 1. Pool is like life, Lew Thurmanby CNBsays. The object is control. ``In pool, you control the white ball.
In life, you control your mind. Course, that's a lot harder to do
with so many distractions and interruptions.'' 2. Lew Thurman
watches the young guys play pool at Guys & Dolls Billiards on
Williamson Road in Roanoke. The retired bank vice president and pool
sage watches games every afternoon except Sundays. color.