1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1959) 121: They lit the real thing and, free in the country, blew up a storm, laughing, talking, talking silly, feeling great.at blow up a storm, v.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 252: The place was out-and-out gay. The ‘truck-drivers’ were here [...] And the soft-spoken, sweet voiced young men with roving eyes.at out-and-out, adj.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph 204: Louie big-shot for the beer, smacking a half-dollar down.at big shot, v.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 390: He said to his friend at the bar, ‘Have respect for all the gay bitches!’ They laughed.at bitch, n.1
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 304: He was quite a big guy, tall, a dishwater blond, but Italian. Blondie or Whitey you’d call him if you didn’t know his name.at blondie, n.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1959) 119: If he wanted a jolt he’d sure step into a side street [...] and blow a good stick.at blow, v.1
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 303: He was going with his broad, Maria [...] She’s good-looking for a change, not a tramp.at broad, n.2
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 197: They hung around listening to the speakers in Bughouse Square.at bughouse square, n.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1959) 131: Only he and Extra Black Johnson could cabaret — have their morning and evening fix and then take some whenever they felt like taking off and really getting charged up. [Ibid.] 133: Mee, man, I has money and I had that old Horse every day. Man, we used to cabaret in there!at cabaret, v.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 134: If you’re a good capper and cap it yourself and sell part of it [...] You can keep your habit up.at cap, v.6
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1959) 119: An ounce makes close to five hundred [...] When I fill these caps I can make a lot.at cap, n.4
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1959) 110: They were talking very chummy-chummy.at chummy, adv.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 211: They wised me up. They cued me in, you know.at clue (someone) in (v.) under clue, v.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 169: They grab their cookers. The cookers are metal caps off wine bottles, with the cork lining taken out.at cooker, n.2
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 132: Look who done flown the coop! Look who done broke out of jail, you-all!at fly the coop (v.) under coop, n.1
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph 335: Who the crap asked you to come over here?at crap, the, phr.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 207: They were Pachucos. It used to be an assorted crew — Americans, Puerto Ricans, Mexicans [...] we all gathered together in one band.at crew, n.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 266: ‘Good dago red!’ she announced.at dago red (n.) under dago, adj.1
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 304: He was quite a big guy, tall, a dishwater blond.at dishwater blond(e) (n.) under dish, n.1
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1959) 118: The good stuff, in its round cylinders of cigarettes, he stacked in one pile: dynamites.at dynamite, n.2
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 300: ‘Hello, eight ball,’ Louie said to Dusty. ‘Hi, ugly!’ Dusty said. They called each other nigger and dago and spick; but that was just among themselves.at eightball, n.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph 128: Them emeffing guards is bringing it in in fountain pens.at emeff, adj.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 161: Fear is what rules them [...] Of an overdose. You fluke out. You die.at fluke out (v.) under fluke, v.1
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 168: ‘Man,’ Extra Black Johnson said to everybody, ‘let’s make tracks for mah shootin’ gallery.’ ‘No, your crib’s too far,’ Elijah said.at shooting gallery, n.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 163: If some hypo finds out that another hypo is a stool pigeon they give him [...] a hot shot. If you take it you’re gone.at gone, adj.1
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 129: One of them guards [...] was a tier-to-tier pedlar. Sure ’nough. That were when I hooked up with him. I’m the contact man on the outside now.at hook up (with), v.
1958 W. Motley Let No Man Write My Epitaph (1960) 163: They’re an awfully tight group, the hypos. If some hypo finds out that another hypo is a stool pigeon they give him [...] a hot shot. If you take it you’re gone.at hypo, n.2