POOL COOL : With Nudge From Newman and Cruise, Pocket Billiards Undergoes Revival; There Is No Shortage of Places to Listen, Learn, Practice or Just Hang Out

By SCOTT MILLER

June 22, 1989 12 AM PT

SAN DIEGO — First came Paul Newman and “The Hustler.” Later it was Tom Cruise and “The Color of Money.” That might be Hollywood, but you can’t walk into a pool hall in San Diego without the images of Cruise and Newman lingering over a corner pocket.

Oh, you can try. You can sit in a pool hall, watching a waitress knife her way through a smoky haze while listening to the strains of Percy Sledge above the pops of pool ball on pool ball.

But then, Bob Johannis, the day manager at the College Billiards Center--San Diego’s biggest and oldest pool hall--brings up Cruise.

“ ‘The Color of Money’ gave pool a shot in the arm,” Johannis says, expelling a puff of smoke. “It was flashy and showed a guy in different situations, going around meeting different types of people. It helped sell the game again.

“But that doesn’t mean guys dance around the table the way Cruise did, twirling their cue sticks like a baton and whipping them around. Especially when a guy has paid $500 or $1,000 for a cue stick.”

Jay Swanson, known professionally as Swanee, sits across the room. He’s ranked 12th in the country by the Men’s Professional Billiards Assn. He returned from Germany two weeks ago, and he’s leaving tonight for a championship tournament in Las Vegas.

The color of money? First prize in the Las Vegas tournament is $15,000.

“Every pool room in the country has a waiting list at night since ‘The Color of Money’ came out,” Swanee says. “I didn’t really like the story. The kid got smart, but too smart. He started dumping games off and betting the other way just for the money. That’s why Newman said, ‘I’m on my way back.’ ”

Maybe a dozen tables are in use on this hot, lazy afternoon at the College Billiards Center. Voices are low, cigarette smoke is thick, and life is easy.

“Be right with you, Earl,” Johannis calls out to a regular.

Any place which attracts a teacher from one high school and a couple of students from another, maybe two hours after the final bell, can’t be all bad. Jerry Schimke, a 45-year-old literature and journalism teacher at Poway High School, sits on one side of the room. Chris Asad and Eric Gainey, who will graduate Saturday from Crawford High School, are at a table on the other side of the room. All three had finished their school year earlier in the day.

On Father’s Day, Schimke had taken his 20-year-old daughter, Amy, to the Billiards Center for a few games. Later in the week, he plans to take her on a trip through Ireland, Scotland and Wales.

“Basically, what you find here are lots of exceptional people who seem to be easily bored,” said Schimke, who just completed his 18th year teaching at Poway. “People who like to see life on the fringe. You can meet some incredibly interesting people.

“Everyone’s a character. Everyone will tell you off. One of the apostles could come in here and people would say, ‘Hey pal, you can’t come in this hall with sandals.’ Or if St. Paul were sitting on the table, someone would toss him out for that. And there’s too much smoke. Everyone smokes.

“There’s some dirt going on, but there are also doctors, lawyers, teachers and college professors. It’s the only place I know where you can sit at the bar with a beer and talk about the human condition. I had a two-hour talk yesterday about existentialism. You won’t get that in a bowling alley, at home . . . you won’t even get that at school.”

The College Billiards Center has 17 pocket billiards tables, one cushion billiards table, one snooker table and two coin-operated pool tables. You’ll find regulars and newcomers. “The Color of Money,” says Johannis, seems to have brought in a new crowd.

Now that they’re 18, Gainey and Asad can play late. You have to be at least 16 to enter the College Billiards Center, and you can’t stay past 10 p.m. unless you’re at least 18 and have valid identification. Gainey and Asad play here a couple of times a week.

“This place doesn’t close until 2,” Asad said. “That’s another cool thing.”

Right now, the College Billiards Center, which opened in April, 1963, is the biggest pool hall in town. The Billiard Tavern, on Broadway downtown--which had about 50 tables--is changing management and will re-open sometime next month.

If you’re a beginner, there are a few regulars at the College Billiards Center who offer lessons.

“A lot of times we’ll help people out,” Johannis said. “If somebody is doing something bad, I’ll tell them. You pay back what you’ve learned.”

Schimke recommends lessons for beginners.

“This is the only sport, except maybe golf, where people enter tournaments before they know the rules,” he said. “People come in here and do the metaphorical equivalent of driving a golf cart on the greens. You don’t walk in here, rent a table and then put a pitcher of beer on the table or sit on the table.”

If you’re already a terror on the pocket billiards table in your basement, there are plenty of tournaments around town. You can find one almost any night of the year.

Billiards By-Line, in its fifth year, is published in San Diego, available for free at most pool halls, and includes listings entitled “Upcoming Events” and “Where to Go.” Or you can join the U.S. Pool Players’ Assn., be apprised of various tournaments and get your own handicap. A USPPA tournament--with handicaps--is held at the College Billiards Center every Monday.

“Most of these tournaments are for the average Joe in a bar to put in $5 for a few laughs and good times,” said Jerome Garnsey, 35, who helps editor Kathleen Klein put out Billiards By-Line. “It’s like anything else. If you want to become a professional race car driver or pool player, you do it every day. San Diego is starting to boom in terms of getting more publicity.”

Garnsey doesn’t compete much anymore.

“Once upon a time, I gave them a good run,” he said. “But it’s something you have to play every day if you want to get serious about it.”

Johannis said he has been playing pool for 41 of his 54 years.

“I started playing at the YMCA on 8th and C in San Diego,” Johannis said. “That was like playing in a cow pasture. There were big holes in the cloths, the chalk had holes in it, the cue sticks were in need of constant repair.”

There are several rules posted at the College Billiards Center to help avoid these problems. No sitting on tables. No masse or jump shots (difficult shots which, when attempted by beginners, usually produce ripped cloths and stationary balls.) No loud or abusive language. No fighting.

“This isn’t only for serious pool players, this is also for guys who want to bring their wives and kids in here,” Johannis said.

The first rule on the list, though, is “No Gambling.” That’s a state ordinance. There are, to be sure, times when this rule is broken.

“If you behave yourself, you won’t get hustled,” Schimke says. “You won’t get hustled unless you ask for it. If you walk in drunk and lay $100 down on the table, then it’s plastic teeth time.”

Still, the boozy, pool hall fight over a high-stakes game is strictly Hollywood, say a handful of people this afternoon.

“I haven’t seen a fight in a long time,” Swanson said. “If there’s any trouble, we all get in on it and stop it.”

Said Garnsey: “It’s never out of hand. I’ve never been in a place in San Diego where there was a fight over a game. Probably the most you ever run into is a fight over whose quarter is up next. I’ve broken up many of those.”

Asad and Gainey shoot pool for fun, not for money.

“Having to put up with the person who wins for the rest of the day is worse than paying money,” Asad said.

But pocket billiards is like any other sport. Sure, you can watch movies about pool sharks. Yes, you can play for money. But the bottom line is, most of the players play because they enjoy it.

Said Schimke: “Don’t believe ‘The Hustler’ or ‘The Color of Money.’ That’s not the way it is. This is a game of psychology played with pool balls. You’re expected to figure out what to do, how to do it and you can’t get nervous doing it.”

And then there are the professionals, such as Swanson. He went to Germany last month to gamble and said he “did all right.” He makes his living by playing pool and said he makes about $40,000 in an average year by playing in as many as 12 to 15 major tournaments.

His income could be supplemented in the near future if he accomplishes a current goal, which is to open his own pool hall.

“San Diego needs more pool halls,” he said. “There used to be 20 or 30 around. Now there are only four or five.”

Why?

“There was a phase when pool wasn’t doing anything, and this is an outdoor town,” Swanson said. “A bar used to be four pool tables and a spittoon. Now, you can get cocktails, watch Monday Night Football on a big screen television . . . anything you want.”

So that leaves a void Swanson would like to fill.

“So many people come in here every day,” he said. “Since ‘The Color of Money,’ pool has boomed.”

It’s getting back to where it was after “The Hustler” came out.