I walked into Jack Steiner’s barbershop on West Street just in time to catch him raving about watching the late Minute Bol’s son play basketball in K.C. Anyone who meanders into Jack’s shop, meaning to get a haircut or not, is immersed in one story after another, usually to do with sports.
Perched on the spare chair was Lonnie Bratcher, an attentive sponge — as if he had a choice.
I slapped Lonnie on the shoulder, and a big grin spread over his face, a bit more furrowed than it was when we first met more than 40 years ago and…
Adventures aplenty with Lonnie
