Caught At Gunpoint, I Had The Best Shabbes Of My Life
I was June 1, 1971, and I was 18 years old. I’d signed a lease with no guarantors for a four-room tenement apartment at 505 West 122nd Street, complete with mice and roaches, just off heroin-ridden Amsterdam Avenue on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Sam Weintraub from Great Neck, New York, couldn’t be too choosy for…