On a hot sunny day in August, probably sometime around the early 80’s, Glenn Thomas and I were walking on the boardwalk down at Coney Island. We had just played basketball at Manhattan Beach. As we held onto our Mongoose mountain bikes pushing them along, we were checking out the sights; on our way to Nathans for a hot dog.
We were walking closer to Surf avenue part of the boardwalk than the actual beach; there were hundreds of people going in both directions. Without giving it any thought, we noticed a few New York City police officers about 50 yards away by the sand tending to a matter on a bench. Then we heard a voice.
“FINAMORE, THEY TOOK ALL MY CLOTHES!”
As I looked a bit closer at the scene, it was Gerard Grayson.
Wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, I wondered to myself, how did he pick me out of the hundreds of people?
Despite Grayson’s embarrassing moment (and mine), Glenn and I kept walking; we figured New York’s finest had everything under control.
To this day Glenn and I wondered how Grayson lost his clothes and how he picked me out of the crowd?
Whatever happened to Gerard Grayson?