As a child in Brooklyn, Joseph Bonavita dreaded Christmas. His father was dead; often he and his mother had nothing on their table but a candle and a plate of spaghetti. Joe swore he would conquer poverty. He became a professional boxer, and finally, fourteen years ago, bought a bar & grill on Brooklyn's bleak Third Avenue. This year black-haired, bash-nosed Joe Bonavita was 39, married, prosperous in a small way and eating well.
His automobile needed repairing, but when he closed up, early Christmas morning, he decided it would have to wait....
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