Explore "The Autobiography of Malcolm X" by Malcolm X on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Every day, I would gamble all of my tips-as high as fifteen and twenty dollars-on the numbers, and dream of what I would do when I hit.
I saw people on their long, wild spending sprees, after big hits. I don't mean just hustlers who always had some money. I mean ordinary working people, the kind that we otherwise almost never saw in a bar like Small's, who, with a good enough hit, had quit their jobs working somewhere downtown for the white man. Often they had bought a Cadillac, and sometimes for three and four days, they were setting up drinks and buying steaks for all their friends. I would have to pull two tables together into one, and they would be throwing me two-and three-dollar tips each time I came with my tray.