Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Frankie Nickel-and-Dime: The Candy Man
If Stanley couldn't find a dependable pimp to rent a room, he was sure to find a dependable
drug dealer, and Frank Meyer was one reliable drug dealer.
PAUL VOLMER
Frank's room was like a pharmaceutical shop. You could go there and he would
sell you whatever you wanted—heroin, cocaine, three kinds of pot. When some
hallucinogens came through, he had those—he had a little bit of everything. And
as long as they paid their rent, Stanley would let such people operate with impun-
ity.
Former residents Paul and Anna Lee Romero were customers of Mr. Meyer, whom they
nicknamed “Frankie Nickel-and-Dime.” Once, though, Stanley Bard intervened. He had no-
ticed Anna going up to Frank's apartment, so he took her aside and warned her to stay away
from him because Frank was bad news. Bard told her he had seen how Meyers had gotten
other women addicted to heroin and the results were not pretty. Anna Lee was touched by
Stanley Bard's concern, but ignored his advice. The results were predictable.
What's especially interesting here is how Mr. Bard remained fully aware of Frank Mey-
er's dirty dealings, even warning people about the menace surrounding him, but did nothing
to stop it. After all, Frank always paid his rent on time.
PAUL VOLMER
Frank sat in this chair in his room that was raised up on a platform in his room
with a desk in front of him. People would come in to cop and they would have to
sitdowninachairthatwaslowerthanhis—hewaslikeacorporate executive that
way. He was also a carpenter, a really good carpenter. That's how he was able to
make this platform. I helped him build that platform.
JAMES RASIN
His desk on its platform was completely surrounded by stereo equipment. Like
racks of stereo receivers and speakers lining the walls. And two models—as in
girls—tall blondes, screwed up on whatever drug, hanging around him, one on
either side of him. Frank would sit there like Bartleby the Scrivener at this raised
desk for days and days. He had lots of locks on his doors. He was sharing a room
with Rene Ricard, and one day I went down to visit with Rene, and I saw this
room. I thought, “What is it with this room? It has six dead bolts on the door!”
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