Philadelphia, mid 1970s – a few years since the end of the Vietnam War and the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. Logan, a neighborhood in North Philly, was a melting pot in a city of neighborhoods. Dunn’s was once a magnificent ice-cream shop and had now become a pinball playing corner hangout for twenty-something Vietnam vets, criminals, and neighborhood outcasts. My grandmother, Mrs. Dunn, was the owner and the undisputed boss of Dunn’s. I witnessed the craziness that happened there on a daily basis from racial discord to crime and violence and even love. It all happened during my time at Dunn’s.