Old playa fondly recalls his pimping days

JS Online ^ | May 3, 2006 | Crocker Stephenson

[Last Dakotan]

Rotation Slim sold ice cream to the whores who, in the 1930s, worked Pepsi-Cola Alley in his hometown, Birmingham, Ala.

Slim was fond of whores; he had an affinity for them.

In the Army, training in Texas, he'd slip down to Mexico, where women, sometimes girls, would give him what he wanted for 50 cents - half what the women charged on Pepsi-Cola Alley. Stationed in London during WWII, Slim had a knack for finding women whose houses had been bombed, who had lost everything and had no place to go. He'd sneak them onto the base and sell their services to his fellow soldiers. He and the women would split the proceeds, 50-50.

When Slim got back to the States, he went to work as a pimp. He set up whorehouses in Niagara Falls, Detroit, Joliet, Akron, Rock Island and Michigan City. He drove pimped-out cars and wore pimped-out clothes and walked around with pimped-out women hanging on his pimp arm.

Slim isn't a huge fan of the word pimp. I aint ashamed of my life. I'd live it all over again and not change one (expletive) thing. He says that when average people think of pimps, they think of thugs, and Slim has never thought of himself as a thug.

His father, a pool hustler, gave him the nickname "Rotation Slim." Rotation was his dad's best game. Slim thought his nickname sounded sharp, and he made it legally his in the 1960s. He has a son, Rotation Slim Jr., and a grandson, Rotation Slim III.

He's 81 years old. Some of his children and their children visit often. He lives in an upper flat on the north side. His grandchildren lie on his bed and watch "Sesame Street."

There's a small room off the bedroom where Slim keeps his stuff. The room has a tiny bar. Slim says he doesn't drink much, but he likes having a bar. The walls are covered with pictures. Cars he's owned. Women who have worked for him. Pictures of himself in leather jackets and long fur coats.

The closet is crammed with suits. Slim says he owns 40 suits. Gray. Yellow. Blue. He's got racks of shoes. Piles of hats.

Slim takes out a yellow hat and puts it on. He puts on a long leather coat with a fur collar.

"Fox," he says. "Canadian fox."

The room is warm, but he leaves them on.

"That's Evelyn," he says, pointing to a photograph of a naked woman. "And that's Beverly, holding my baby boy. That's Beverly, too. That's Baby Doll. That's - I can't remember her name. I met her when she was 19. In Chicago. She got killed. I learned her how to dance and taught her how to make money. Then she went back to Chicago and got killed."

Perhaps in a tidier world, Rotation Slim would be an unhappy man. He's not. He feels perfectly healthy. He rides his bicycle to the lake. He sleeps soundly. He believes in God. He prays without qualm.

"I ain't ashamed of my life," he says. "I'd live it all over again and not change one (expletive) thing."

[humblegunner]

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