My first job was as a cashier at the notorious Tivoli Theatre in New York City. I was a wholesome-looking 15-year-old, selling tickets for the Sunday showings of the latest Greek tearjerker or comedy. I knew the Tivoli showed porn on weekdays, but the owner and my mother's friend, Chelly Wilson, kept the Greek movie screenings for sentimental reasons, even at a financial loss. Protected in a cubicle that stood just outside the theatre, practically on the sidewalk, I was perfectly positioned to observe the world go by on 8th Avenue in Manhattan, which might sound swanky now but was...