Dreams from bunker hill - John Fante

My first collision with fame was hardly memorable.

I was a busboy at Marx's Deli.

The year was 1934.

The place was Third and Hill, Los Angeles.

I was twenty-one years old, living in a world bounded on the west by Bunker Hill, on the east by Los Angeles Street, on the south by Pershing Square, and on the north by Civic Center.

I was a busboy nonpareil, with great verve and style for the profession, and though I was dreadfully underpaid (one dollar a day plus meals) I attracted considerable attention as I whirled from table to table, balancing a tray on one hand, and eliciting smiles from my customers.

I had something else beside a waiter's skill to offer my patrons, for I was also a writer.