 |
"The gin mill was dark to afford privacy to everyone in its confines. Unlike most such establishments, this one didn’t try to dress up what it was by displaying ethnic memorabilia and pithy sayings. Instead its décor disappeared into dark wood and dim lighting as a reminder to us that some day we too would vanish. Its sole concessions to the war were a vase of miniature American flags set in the storefront window and a photograph of FDR hanging above the bar. The air was heavy with smoke and body odor and the putrid combination of oil and gasoline that usually lined the nails of military mechanics. A phonograph whose speed needed to be adjusted played “In the Mood” much too slowly, stripping it of its merriment and turning it into a funeral dirge."
|