...
His name was Harry Pomerenke. He was semi-retired, worked only special shifts at the Bohemian Club when I knew him. We were great friends back when I owned Sausalito. Harry used to pull out from his wallet the little bindle someone had paid him fifty bucks to empty into one of Sinatra's drinks at the Stork Club. He didn't do it, but he took the money... and carried the still full bindle around with him for something like thirty years. He could've slipped a mickey to any number of potentates in all that time, but I bet they buried him with it still in his pocket.
