Once in a while on Vernon Street, that blind alley of tired sin and lost hopes, someone reaches for the moon. Like Kerrigan, the stevedore, the old-young man with the strength of three and the secret dreams of a life away from the hell of Vernon Street. He met Loretta Channing, the slummer, the girl who drove an MG down Kerrigan's street. They fell in love and they would have been all right, except for Vernon Street. It stood between them, this crooked length of scarred, cracked asphalt — an abyss that held them worlds apart