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Smoky Trocadero


“In the mid sixties when I first started going into the Trocadero, I remember one Sunday night in November vividly. came in dressed spectacularly in a pure white raincoat, he said his ‘hellos’, everyone called him ‘La Williams’. He could have only been in there ten minutes when I noticed the nicotine dripping of the roof onto his beautiful white coat, Brown globules of stale nicotine. It was also true to say that most long bars, like the , had a blue haze and you could not see the far end of the bar clearly.”

Contributed by: John McGarry, 70

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