Miss Thomas and I continued to work together every week, and as time went on, I learned more about her. She was born and raised in Jamaica. Her mother was Jamaican and her father was American. He was an executive with the Ford Motor Company and they lived in the big house I went to the first time I came for my lessons. Miss Thomas lived in an apartment above the studio where we had our lessons.
One day after our lesson, Miss Thomas said, “Roland, we won’t be having a lesson next week. I’ll be traveling to Jamaica to do a concert with the symphony orchestra there. I’ll be doing this from time-to-time as I also belong to a chamber music group that performs in Jamaica. This time I’ll be gone about a week since there will be rehearsals before the concert.”
I thought about this for a moment or two and then asked, “Miss Thomas, why do you go to Jamaica to do concerts? Why don’t you do them here?”
Her eyes took on a hard look – one I hadn’t seen before. Her face seemed to stiffen and her lips grew taut. She swallowed, and then cleared her throat. When she spoke her teeth were clenched so hard her jaw muscles were jumping. “I go to Jamaica to do concerts because I can’t do them here. I’m not white, so I don’t get invited, nor am I able to find an agent or manager who can get me bookings here.”
“But, you’re not a Negro, are you? I don’t know many Negroes, but the ones I’ve seen, like Joe Louis, have skin that’s much darker brown than yours. And, you’re so pretty.”
“Thank you. What a nice thing to say, Roland. The problem is – I’m not white. It doesn’t matter about the fact my skin isn’t as dark as other people you’ve seen. There is still so much prejudice here. Most of the doors for non-white musicians are still closed, especially for classical musicians.”
Miss Thomas seemed to be relaxing from the tension I saw earlier. She stood up and reached over to touch my face. “One thing which does make me happy is I am able to bring my better students to the concert stage here. I recently helped one of my students get an invitation to perform with the Detroit Symphony.”
I nodded and wondered if I would ever be a good enough pianist to do that.
I was learning pieces by Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, and the composer who would become my favorite, Frederick Chopin. Chopin was becoming a favorite not only of mine, but also of many of the young people and adults during that year.
There was a hit movie which came out in 1945 called, “A Song to Remember”. Everyone was enjoying this movie. Cornell Wilde played the role of Chopin. It co-starred Paul Muni as Chopin’s teacher, and Merle Oberon as George Sand, with whom Chopin had a famous liaison. This lavish musical biography followed the life of Chopin from his humble beginnings as a child prodigy in Poland. Later, the Czarist rule in Poland led the 22-year-old Chopin and his music teacher to flee to Paris. However, Chopin fell in love with the writer George Sand and, instead of performing in Europe as originally planned, he went off with her to Majorca.
Even though Chopin was gravely ill by this point in his life, his political convictions became so important to him he decided to do a concert tour as a way to raise money for the liberation of Poland.
This movie had something for everyone, but especially the younger people. They loved it. It had romance, intrigue, joy, sorrow, and above all, the music of Chopin. Although the directors of the movie did a great job of making it look like Cornell Wilde was actually doing the playing, the famous pianist, José Iturbi, played all the piano performances. His recording of the signature piece from this film, Polonaise in A Flat, sold over a million copies.
In a surprising and indirect way, this movie also played a major role in my own level of importance among my peers. One of the pieces that Miss Thomas and I had been working on over the past several months was that same Polonaise in A Flat that was so prominent in the movie. Although I hadn’t perfected the piece, I did have it almost completely memorized.
One of the classes we had at my school was the Auditorium class. We did a variety of activities to help bring kids out of their shells and teach them to be less self-conscious.
Near the end of the school term, there was an assembly of all the students in the Auditorium. The students who were taking the Auditorium class were doing an activity for the enjoyment of the rest of the student body. When it was time for our class, each student would draw out of a box the teacher was holding, a slip of paper on which was written some activity which the child would go up on the stage and perform. She would then call the name of each student in alphabetical order and tell the audience what the student would do. There would be things like pretending to be a boxer like Joe Louis, or acting like a particular animal or sing a song familiar for the time. There were other activities such as playing a character in a movie or a book.
On my paper was written, “Pretend you are Chopin in the movie, ‘A Song to Remember’.”
I could hardly believe my eyes. No one in the school knew I played the piano except for a couple of the janitors. The students didn’t know. The teachers didn’t know. I had kept it a closely guarded secret so as not to destroy my street-gang image. However, at that moment any thought of protecting my image had vanished and was replaced by the excitement of being able to show off in front of my peers.
I could hardly wait until my turn – and I was one of the last students in the alphabet. There was a baby grand piano already on the stage. I had begun to run the piece through my mind; hearing the music in my head and feeling my fingers play the notes. I was focusing on the piece so much I didn’t hear or see any of the other students do their performances, even though there had been plenty of laughter from the audience. When we had done this sort of thing in previous Auditorium classes, the kids would all be silly and ham it up in order to make the kids in the audience laugh.
“Roland Van Buren!” the teacher called out. “Roland, you’re next.”
I took a deep swallow and walked up to the teacher and handed her my slip of paper.
“Roland will be pretending to be Frederick Chopin in the movie, ‘A Song to Remember’,” she announced to the students. As I made my way up onto the stage, there was loud, raucous applause and some of the guys yelled out, “Hooray, Frederick.” I heard one student yell out, “Play the Polonaise, Frederick!”
As I walked out to the center of the stage I could feel some nervousness creep into my body. I stood next to the piano, made a short bow to the audience, and then sat on the piano stool. The students in the audience were giggling and laughing, waiting to see what antic I would do next. I sat quietly at the piano for a couple of seconds and waited for the laughter to die down while I also tried to calm my nerves. My hands were sweating and felt like they were shaking. The auditorium got quieter than I had ever heard it.
I brought my hands to the keyboard, put my head down and played the first, dynamic and dramatic notes of the Polonaise. Although I was focused on the music, I heard a gasp in the audience. This wasn’t make-believe—they realized they were hearing the real thing and the realization had begun to take hold. I became completely focused on the piece. I felt an inner excitement which was new to me. I had played before an audience in church, but only hymns. This was the first time I had ever truly performed a serious piece of music in front of an audience.
I felt as though I was entering the music itself, hearing its clarity, feeling the energy. I seemed to be taken up by the tension in the music—the urgency of it. I was absorbed by the passion that Chopin put into this piece which marked his deep feelings for his homeland. Even the parts I was having trouble with in my practices went smoothly. Although I hadn’t memorized the entire piece, I miraculously knew every note of it by heart that day.
(Here’s a video of the great Vladimir Horowitz playing this wonderful Chopin Polonaise as only Vladimir Horowitz could! Please understand – I did not have the hands or the talent of Horowitz – not even close. Few people ever did! My hands were much smaller – my talent was good for my age – but not anything like what you’ll hear in this video. I could reach an octave easily because I did have hands which were a good size for a kid my age. Playing an octave was vital in this piece as you’ll see. My teacher also worked on some inventive fingering in order for me to play this piece reasonably well – but again, this is Horowitz you’ll see in this video – true greatness! But for the people in my first audience – and to me, what I played that day sounded good – and I was proud of this event in my life. This video of Horowitz was recorded in Musikverein, Vienna, Austria on May 31, 1987 which makes him 84 years old. Two years before his death on November 5th, 1989.)
I finished the piece, dropped my hands into my lap and lowered my head. The students were completely quiet. There wasn’t a sound in the auditorium. I noticed I was sweating. Wondering why it was so quiet, I looked out at the audience and suddenly a roar of applause and cheering broke out. The students were all on their feet. I noticed the Auditorium teacher off to the side and she was crying and clapping her hands. I stood next to the piano and went to put my left hand on the piano to take a bow and saw both my hands were trembling uncontrollably. I held onto the edge of the piano as though my life depended on it and pressed my right hand against my leg so it wouldn’t shake. I thought if I let go of the piano, I would fall flat on my face. As I took my bows, comments floated up to me—“Did you hear that?” “Did you know he could play like that?” “It sounded just like the movie.”
I finally felt my body settle down enough so I could let go of the piano and walk to the steps leading off the stage. I wanted to break out into an enormous smile, but I was so used to being the tough guy around school that my poker-face took over. The teacher met me as I came down the steps and put her arms around me. I felt awkward because this wasn’t done at school—teachers didn’t go around hugging students. My arms hung limply by my sides as she held me. She whispered in my ear, “Thank you, Roland, that was certainly a surprise. I had no idea you could play so beautifully. That was just remarkable—I’m at a loss for words.” She was still crying.
I thanked her and moved away. Some of the students came up, shook my hand and offered shy comments. I was getting claps on my back and a couple of the girls giggled as they asked for my autograph. I was completely enthralled. It took every ounce of effort I had not to show how excited I was with all the attention. Although I felt awkward doing it, I did sign the autograph books for the girls. I kept my straight face as I made my way back to my seat. I was a State Fair Duke and I didn’t want anyone to forget it.
For weeks after the auditorium event, I would find students looking at me in the halls with smiles on their faces. A few of the girls started to pay special attention to me. They would stop me in the hall and ask questions about the piano—“Who was my teacher?”—“How long had I been playing?”—“How long did I practice every day?”—“When did I start?” I noticed when I passed other girls in the hall they would lower their eyes and giggle as they went by.
Not all of the reactions were positive, however. There was one guy who was walking down the hall in the opposite direction from me when he suddenly lurched into me, knocked me off balance as he passed and sneered, “Hey, piano-pussy, play me a pretty tune!”
This guy wasn’t any taller than I was, but he was fat. I turned, brought my knee hard up into his crotch, rammed my right fist into his belly, grabbed his throat with my left hand and slammed him up against the lockers. “I’ll play you a tune on your fucking head! If you pull that shit again fatso, you’ll be answering to me and my boys.” Wide-eyed and gasping for breath, he took off down the hall without a backward glance.
One of the most interesting things that grew out of the auditorium performance incident was the fact that a few students, mostly girls, had begun hanging around my front porch at home whenever I was practicing. That lasted for several weeks as long as the weather wasn’t too cold. I definitely liked all the positive attention—especially from the girls.
A new world was beginning to open up.
Joanne Gross and I continued to have our “liaisons” whenever we could. It had been over two years since we started playing games and other things together in her basement. Her parents and brother were rarely home in the afternoons after school, plus during the summer months, I could go over there during the day. Whenever I would go over and call her, she would come to the door and we would go down in her basement and either play ping pong or jacks for awhile and then one of us would ask to see the other one’s thing.
Our looking would eventually lead to some touching which gradually grew bolder each time we met. As the months went by, the jacks and ping pong stopped completely as our experimentations grew in intensity. We had added some kissing to our repertoire, as well as more inquisitiveness in our investigations of each other. We were thoroughly enjoying our new games – until one day when it all suddenly ended.
Since Joanne was a couple of years older than I was, she had begun to develop more of a young teenager’s body. On this particular day, she had taken off her dress to show off the pronounced and interesting new developments on the upper portion of her body. She was completely naked and my overalls and underwear were down around my ankles. We were busily kissing and feeling each other when suddenly the side door to her house burst open and her brother called out, “Joanne, are you here?”
My stomach clenched and it felt like my bowels were going to let go. I immediately started to run over to the ping pong table but forgot where my pants were located and went sprawling on the basement floor with a loud “Oof!” I clumsily scrambled to my feet, pulled up my underwear and realized that since I was wearing bib overalls, pulling them up and getting them buckled didn’t go as quickly as I wanted. As I fumbled around trying to get my feet under me, my overalls up on my body, the straps over my shoulders and the buckles buckled, I looked over at Joanne. Her dress was already back on and she was stuffing her panties into a waste paper can behind the bar.
“I’m down here playing ping pong with Rollie.”
Her face was a little flushed, but other than that, she looked as calm as a cucumber. She walked over to the ping pong table, picked up a paddle and grinned as she watched me struggling to get my clothes back in order. Just as I had everything back in place and a paddle in my hand, she served a shot over the net I didn’t even see, let alone try to hit back.
“That’s it. I won another game,” she exclaimed breathlessly just as her brother was coming down the basement stairs.
Her brother didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Our faces being all flushed, and both of us breathing faster than usual, fit right in with a good, hard game of ping pong.
Her brother went over to the other side of the basement and picked up some books. “I just needed to get these ledgers for the store. See you later.”
He went up the stairs and out the door. As the door slammed shut, Joanne and I began to giggle hysterically.
That was the last time Joanne and I ever played games—of any kind.
When I became of member of the Dukes it didn’t take long for me to learn more about gang life. After I had my two fights with Crazy Jimmy and Bobby, Billy informed me they were two of the best street fighters in the gang. I also discovered whenever Bob Morton wasn’t around, Billy was the leader of the gang. That meant the only person in the gang who Billy couldn’t beat in a fight, was Bob Morton. The fact I was able to beat Crazy Jimmy and Bobby, plus the fact that Billy and I were friends before I became a gang member, gave me special status among the other members, despite my age. What really surprised me was how Bob Morton seemed to take a special interest in me as well.
When I first got into the gang and started hanging around the Sugar Bowl, Morton would often pretend to box with me. I’d walk in and he would act as if he was sparring with me. I’d put up my dukes too and we would pretend we were fighting. It was fun, but it also gave me an idea of how quick he was. His hands would be a complete blur as he threw jabs at my face. I would jab back but he was so much bigger that my hands would be a mile away from his face. I watched him carefully, though. In his own way, he was teaching me more about how to fight. “C’mon, Van Buren,” he’d say, “Lemme see what you can do, man.”
He’d circle first in one direction, and then the other, moving so fast that I would get dizzy. “Look at my eyes, kid. The clues about what’s coming next are in the eyes.” Then one hand would flick out at my face while the other hand would fly straight towards my stomach. My hands would shoot up to protect my face, while I jumped backwards to avoid his shot to the stomach. I couldn’t believe how fast he was.
More evidence about how Bob Morton might be giving me special treatment happened about two months after I started going to the Sugar Bowl and hanging out with the gang.
One of the Duchesses who hung out with the gang, Sally, came into the store late one afternoon and told the guys about how she and her cousin ran into some trouble over at Palmer Park earlier that day.
Palmer Park was located along Woodward Avenue just south of Seven Mile Road. The park had a large pond in the middle of it and lots of walking paths through the wooded areas. There were swings, teeter-totters, park benches and picnic tables scattered around. The pond was great during the winter months for ice-skating. I had just begun to learn how to speed skate, and there was a large oval island in the middle of the pond where the speed skaters would whirl around. It was a challenge to join them and try to keep up with some of the faster skaters. Around the perimeter of the park, there were some tall apartment buildings with parking areas around them. I didn’t know if it was true or not, but the guys I skated with told me they were occupied by really rich people.
Sally was a nice looking girl, not very tall with long, straight brown hair. She had large breasts for her age – something which brought her a great deal of teasing by the guys in the gang. There was something wrong with one of Sally’s hips and she walked with a pronounced limp. Sally stood apart from the other girls in that she was one of only two girls in the gang who wasn’t a girlfriend of one of the gang members. She had a temper which would flash at the slightest provocation. She could curse and swear better than most of the guys. She would often get into intense, heated arguments with the guys, usually over things which didn’t matter and she had a reputation of being in some serious fights with girls outside the Duke’s gang. When she wasn’t arguing or yelling at something or someone, she was morosely quiet, stayed to herself and didn’t say much to anyone.
Sally came into the Sugar Bowl spouting and sputtering in anger, “These goddamned, smart-ass guys jumped me and my cousin over at Palmer Park a little while ago. There were three of the motherfuckers.”
Her blouse was dirty across the front, one of her buttons had been torn off and her face was so flushed she looked like she’d been holding her breath. “They started by just following us while we were walking and talking. They were making kissing noises and then they started asking us if we wanted to fuck them. One of the guys said if we didn’t want to fuck, he’d settle for a good blowjob.”
Sally stopped to catch her breath. She looked so angry it was hard to tell whether she was about to cry or get sick to her stomach. She continued through her clenched teeth, “We just kept ignoring them and walking faster. Then, when one of them started making cracks about the way I walk and calling me a gimp. I turned around and told him to go fuck himself.”
Bob Morton got up from one of the booths and came over to Sally. “Who were they? Did you know them?” he demanded in a tight, angry voice.
Sally was so angry it took all of her strength not to let the tears come. Her jaw was clenched so tight you could see it jumping on her cheeks. “No, but one of them had one of those red jackets with “Livernois” across the back like the Livernois gang wears.”
Livernois was the name of a street in Detroit that ran several blocks to the west of Palmer Park.
Sally went on. She was breathing so hard she was almost hyperventilating. “We had just reached the place where that parking area is behind one of the apartments. You know where I mean?” she asked.
Morton nodded.
“Right after I told them to fuck off, the guy with the red jacket grabbed me from behind, pushed me up against one of the parked cars, and started grabbing at my tits and crotch. The other two bastards grabbed my cousin and started to feel her up.”
Morton took Sally’s arm and led her over to one of the booths. She sat down and Morton slid in next to her. “Go on, Sally, then what happened?” Morton asked.
“I couldn’t turn around to knee the bastard in the nuts, so I got him a good hard jab in the mouth with my elbow. He let go of me, started to wipe blood from his lip with his fingers, looked at me like he was going to kill me, and backed away. At the same time, my cousin bit one of the guys in the lip when he was trying to kiss her.”
Sally got a smug smile on her face and was nodding her head up and down.
“That guy started screaming, ‘You rotten little bitch!’ Then both guys jumped back and put their fists up like they were going to start punching her out. So my cousin and me ran like hell towards some grown-ups walking in the park and the guys took off the other way. My cousin had her car there, and we came right here. She was scared and went home after she dropped me off. We gotta get those sons-a-bitches!”
“What did they look like?’ Morton asked.
“The one who grabbed me, the one with the red jacket, he had blond hair cut in a flat-top with a D.A. in back. He was skinny and a little taller than me. I didn’t get a good look at the other two. I know they both had long, dark hair, either brown or black with D.A.’s, and had on peg pants. The guy who grabbed me had on peg pants too and he had a long pocket chain. The other guys were both taller than my cousin.”
Morton probed for more information. “How old do you think they were?”
Sally closed her eyes and thought for a minute. “I don’t know—maybe fourteen or fifteen. I hope those motherfuckers have a short life!”
Morton looked over at Billy sitting in one of the booths by the window and motioned with his head for him to get up. I was sitting across from Billy drinking a chocolate coke.
“We need to go have a powwow,” Morton said. “Bring Van Buren and let’s go.”
Morton put his arm around Sally’s shoulders. “Sally, you stay here until we get back.”
Morton got up and looked around at the other guys, “The rest of you guys hang around and keep your eyes open in case any Livernois boys come around. Don’t leave Sally alone here.”
Sally went over and sat in one of the booths along the wall with a couple of the other Duchesses. Billy motioned with his head to follow him and nodded towards Morton. We got up and followed him out the door.
Even though Bob Morton wasn’t old enough to have his own car and a driver’s license, he usually had the use of a car belonging to one of his family members. There seemed to be an unlimited number of brothers, uncles, and cousins to keep him supplied with a set of wheels most of the time. The car he was driving that day was a big, black 1939 Packard four-door sedan with white sidewalls. Morton and Billy got in the front seat and I climbed in back. The seats were all brown leather and were so soft and comfortable I wished I could find cars like these in some of the garages where I slept. The dashboard was also covered in leather and looked like it was padded. I don’t know what the Morton family did for a living, but Bob Morton always seemed to be showing up with top-of-the-line automobiles.
I had no idea what a powwow was, nor did I have a clue why Morton had asked me to come along. I was in the process of working up the courage to ask, when Morton began to talk to Billy and me.
“Okay,” he said. “Billy, you’ve done this before so this is for you, Van Buren. What we’re gonna do is drive over to the place where the Livernois boys hang out and see if their leader, Arthur Bukowski, is around. If he’s there, we’re gonna sit down and talk about what happened with Sally and her cousin.”
“You mean we can just drive up, walk in and not get killed?” I asked.
Despite the fact I was feeling like a big wheel riding around in such a big luxurious car and being asked to come along with the leader of the Dukes, I was also starting to get butterflies in my stomach when I thought about walking into another gang’s hangout.
“Yeah, it’s a powwow. The gangs all know what it means. When another gang’s leader shows up with just one or two other guys, it means it’s just for a powwow. It’s gonna be one leader talking with another leader to see what we can do to get some justice for Sally. All the gangs know you don’t fuck around with the girls from another gang. If you do, there’s gonna be some sort of payback. They also know you don’t jump a leader on a powwow mission.”
“Yeah,” Billy added. “Those are like laws with the gangs.”
Morton had just turned left onto Woodward Avenue from State Fair and got over into the right hand lane. “We’re just gonna talk about how this score gets settled. Either they take care of it and let Sally, her cousin and some of our boys watch, or they tell us who the bastards are and we’ll handle it. If they don’t like those choices, then we’ll have to set up a rumble with both gangs.”
Morton turned right onto 7 Mile Road. Palmer Park was on our left as we drove along. When we got to Livernois, we turned left. The place we were looking for was at the corner of Curtis Street and Livernois.
Morton pointed to a small grocery and tobacco shop where a bunch of guys in red jackets were hanging around out in front and pulled up to the curb.
Billy looked over at Bob Morton and said, “Hey, Morton. Look at the guy sitting on the window ledge—the one in the middle. Blonde flat-top with a D.A., pegs and a long chain.”
Morton nodded.
Billy put his arm out of the window on his side and motioned for one of the guys standing against the building to come closer.
The guy pushed himself off the building and sauntered a couple steps closer to the car. He had a cigarette hanging from his lips and his hands were in the pockets of his peg pants. He had long black hair and a long pocket chain. He was the only guy not wearing one of the red “Livernois” jackets. He looked like he was about fourteen or fifteen years old. I wondered if he was one of the guys who had attacked Sally’s cousin. The guy just stood there looking at us as he took drags from his cigarette without taking it out of his mouth.
“Arthur around?” Morton said. He didn’t turn his head to his right to look at the guy, but kept his eyes focused out the front window of the car.
The guy was beginning to take drags off his cigarette so fast his head was wreathed in smoke. “Who wants to know?”
Morton was still looking straight ahead. “Bob Morton from State Fair. Need a powwow.”
The guy bent down so he could see Morton over on the driver’s side of the car. Then he straightened up, looked at Billy, then at me in the back seat. “I’ll go see if he’s here.”
He turned and went into the store without looking back. Morton was still sitting calmly staring out through the windshield. Billy was drumming his fingers on the door panel next to him and I was leaning over the back of the front seat looking anxiously from the side of Morton’s head, to the side of Billy’s head and to the guys hanging around the front of the building. There were eight or nine of them and they just stayed where they were, looking at the car and at us inside. They didn’t say anything to each other—they just smoked, looked and waited.
A few minutes later the door to the store opened and the same guy that went inside came out. Right behind him was a tall, heavy-set guy with the broadest shoulders I’d ever seen. He must have been over six-feet tall. His shoulders were so big it didn’t look like he had a neck. He had on one of the red jackets which he left wide open in the front because it would never have fit over his large belly. He had on peg pants and stompers. His hair was long, greasy, unwashed-looking, and fell across his face so it was hard to see his expression. I did notice how his eyes were moving constantly as if he was looking for something which wasn’t there. He was also smoking and held the cigarette between the fingers of his left hand. His other hand hung loosely at his side.
Another guy followed them out and the three of them stood next to each other a few feet away from the car with the big, tall guy in the middle. The big guy bent over to look at Morton behind the wheel and said, “Hey, Morton. What’s up?”
Bob Morton was still keeping his eyes focused out the windshield. “Arthur, we need to have a powwow. You got some time to take a short ride over to the park?”
“Nah. I ain’t getting in there and riding with you. I’ll meet you over at the statue in the park in about a half-hour.” He turned his back to us and sauntered back into the store. I noticed that he had an exaggerated swagger to his walk like many of the guys in the Dukes also had. It made him look tough.
I decided I would learn to walk that way soon.
The other two guys turned and followed him.
Morton started the car, checked over his shoulder, shifted into gear and pulled out into the left lane. He made a left turn at the next traffic light and drove alongside Palmer Park looking for a place to park. No one had said a word since we left the hangout for the Livernois gang.
We found a place to park and Morton backed the car into the spot. He leaned back and lit a cigarette. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Van Buren,” he said quietly. “In a few minutes we’ll get out of the car and walk into the park. The statue is in the center of the park, but we’re gonna take one of the paths that’s near enough to the statue so we can see who comes with Arthur. Keep your eyes open all the time to make sure we don’t get jumped. Arthur’s one mean bastard and he might decide to try something. I don’t think he will, but there’s only the three of us.”
Billy looked over at Morton as he lit up a cigarette. “I’ll keep a little bit back from you guys so I can make sure nothing’s going on behind us.”
Morton nodded. “Let’s go,” he said as he opened his car door and stepped out into the road.
Billy and I got out on our side and we all walked across the street and into the park. Morton and I started walking down a path to our right and Billy hung back and waited near the street. After we had walked for three or four minutes, I looked back and saw Billy was following us at a distance. We continued for several more minutes. Morton nudged me with his elbow and nodded his head towards the left. I looked over to where he was indicating and saw the statue. We stopped. I looked back and saw Billy had stopped as well. He was leaning against a tree and smoking. Morton and I moved over to a park bench and sat down.
There were some younger kids playing around the statue, but there wasn’t anyone else around. It was close to the time most people would be having their dinner. I kept looking over my shoulder and off to my right but I didn’t see anything that looked threatening.
Morton and I both lit cigarettes. Coming around from the other side of the statue was Arthur and the same two guys who were with him in front of the store. I didn’t see any sign there were any more guys around. I looked back down the path and saw Billy walking towards us. Morton looked at him and Billy gave a nod. Arthur motioned towards a picnic table sitting off to our right and he and his two guys began walking toward it. We got up and followed them.
Arthur and his boys sat on one side of the picnic table and Morton, Billy and I sat on the other side. Those who weren’t smoking lit up. Everyone seemed to be studying the top of the table, rather than looking at each other. It was silent for a few seconds and then Arthur lifted his face to look first at me, then Billy, then Morton. He took so long looking at each of us that I got the feeling he was trying to memorize our faces. When his gaze was focused on me, I thought I saw just a hint of a smile creep onto his lips.
“So, what’s going on, Morton? And what’s with the little kid, here?”
Arthur asked in a raspy, quiet voice as he nodded his head towards me.
“This little kid can take everybody in the Dukes except me and Billy here,” Morton replied, looking hard at Arthur with a challenge in his eyes which would have made me shiver if he was looking at me. “He’s one of my top boys.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep my face passive and not break out into an excited grin. At that moment, it became clear why I was being invited along to this powwow. The hierarchy of gangs was determined by the street-fighting ability of the gang members. If you were an undefeated fighter, you were the leader. From there, it moved down the line based on who could defeat whom in a fight. Billy had told me about how Crazy Jimmy and Bobby were the top two fighters in the Dukes. None of the other members had been able to take them in a fight. By winning the fight with them, I had risen to be the number three guy in the gang. Billy was number two.
Arthur looked at me again and studied my face with his piercing eyes as though he was trying to decide if I was as tough as Morton described. I’m sure he already knew the reputation of the State Fair Dukes as being one of the toughest gangs on the east side of Detroit, so I guessed he was trying to put the fact of this kid being so tough into perspective.
“So why the powwow, Morton?” Arthur asked after finally moving his eyes off me and over to Bob Morton.
“Seems like three of your boys jumped one of the Duchesses and her cousin this afternoon right here in the park. That’s not a good thing to do, Arthur, you know,” Morton said quietly as his eyes moved over to the guy with the long black hair sitting right across from me. “In fact, this guy here looks a lot like one of the guys that our girl told us about.” Morton’s eyes were boring into the black-haired guy’s eyes.
There was just a glimmer of fear that appeared on the guy’s face as he suddenly blurted out, “She was asking for it, Arthur. She and this other girl were wagging their asses right in our face.”
Morton kept his gaze on the guy and then slowly turned to Arthur and said, “Guess that clears up any doubts you might have about whether it was your guys who did this thing, right Arthur?”
I could see how the guy across from me suddenly realized what his outburst had cost him and the Livernois gang. There was no way Arthur could deny that his guys had done this. Arthur was looking at the guy like he wanted to kill him. He looked back at Morton.
Morton leaned his arms on the tabletop and bent over so his face was closer to Arthur’s. “So, Arthur, how do we want to deal with this?”
The two leaders stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, then Arthur leaned back and told his boys to get up and move away from the table. Morton motioned for Billy and me to do the same. We moved away but still stayed close enough to hear. Arthur’s boys did the same. Then Arthur turned around and motioned them to move further away. Morton did the same to us. When we were all out of earshot, the two leaders leaned closer to each other and began having a lengthy, whispered discussion.
Billy was leaning on one side of a tree and I was leaning on the other. We were both smoking and watching the two guys at the table as well as the two guys that were standing across the way. “Looks like all that street-fighting practice we did is paying off, Van Buren. Morton likes you. You’re number three now,” Billy said as he reached around and gave me a playful jab in my upper arm.
I looked over at Billy and saw one of those rare glimmers of a smile on his face. I nodded and concentrated on keeping myself from grinning like a kid in a candy store. We kept watching the conversation at the table as we smoked our cigarettes. My thoughts were ranging all over the place. I wondered what it meant to be “number three”. Did that mean I would constantly have to defend my place in the gang? Did that mean I would be one of the Dukes selected to fight new guys wanting to get in the gang? Did that mean other gang members would be challenging me for the number three spot? Did that mean I would always be asked to go to powwows? I didn’t know the answers to any of these questions and I didn’t want to ask anyone either, not even Billy. In the short while I had been around the gang, I had learned that figuring things out on my own was the best way to handle questions.
Morton and Arthur got up from the table and walked in their separate directions—Morton towards Billy and me —Arthur towards his two guys.
Morton motioned with his head as he approached us. We pushed off from the tree, fell in with Morton and headed back towards the car. I wanted to ask what had transpired at the table, but decided to take my lead from Billy. He didn’t ask any questions, so neither did I.
Once we were driving back towards State Fair and Woodward, Morton said, “Arthur says we’re gonna have to do a rumble. He don’t want us handling the three guys, and he’s not willing to do it, either. We set it up for next week Saturday at the school in Hazel Park.”
Billy looked over at Morton. “We better have Sally there so she can show us which other guys did this. We want to be sure they get it good.”
Morton nodded as we drove on.
It would be my first gang rumble.
It would be a few more weeks before school let out for the summer so I hadn’t been thinking about running away. In addition, since I was living at home, it was difficult for me to get out at night except for the nights when my parents had their choir practice. On those nights I would sneak out and go hang out around the Sugar Bowl with the other guys. As long as I managed to get home before ten o’clock I wouldn’t get caught. I was also in a play at school playing Scrooge in Dickens’ Christmas Carol so I would lie and tell my parents there was a play rehearsal if I wanted to get out on other nights. I wanted to be sure I would be involved with this rumble, so I had begun thinking of other ways I could get out of the house at night. I knew that a Saturday would be a challenge because of church the next day and Saturday being a bath night.
On the Thursday after the powwow, Morton sat down with Billy and me in one of the booths at the Sugar Bowl and said, “I need you guys to go over to that school in Hazel Park tonight and check out the setup over there.”
Billy looked over at me and said, “We need to know what the schoolyard is like for the rumble and also to see what escape routes there are in case the cops come in to break it up.”
Morton nodded and said, “Bring Sally with you when you go to check it out. She’s going to the rumble to point out her guy and needs to know how we’re going to handle this. She’s also going to bring her cousin to point out the two guys that messed with her, just to make sure we focus on the right guys.”
Since Thursday was choir night for my parents, I was able to be at the Sugar Bowl as soon as they left for practice.
Morton picked us up at the Sugar Bowl that evening just before dark. Billy had brought his girlfriend Dolores who was one of the Duchesses. They got into the front seat of Morton’s car with Dolores in the middle, and Sally and I got in back. The car that night was a 1936 Buick Roadmaster, another big, black four-door sedan.
As we drove towards the school in Hazel Park, Morton began to talk about the night of the rumble. “I was in another rumble at this place last year but I think it’s changed since then. It should be a good spot because there used to be some lights on the building so we can see. Sally and her cousin are going to let us know which guys jumped them. I’ll take the guy who jumped Sally. Billy, you and Van Buren take the other two guys. The rest of our boys will fight the others.”
Billy had his arm around Dolores. I was sitting on one side of the huge back seat behind Morton, and Sally was scrunched into the other corner. I found I was extremely interested in Billy and Dolores. I wondered what it would be like to have a girlfriend. Dolores was a good-looking girl. She and Billy were always kissing around the Sugar Bowl, and I had seen Billy feel her breasts a couple of times when they were necking in one of the booths. I was also conscious of Sally huddled over in her corner of the back seat. I wanted to look over at her. I wanted to say something to her, but I didn’t know what to say.
Billy asked, “What weapons are we bringing for this one?”
“Clubs, chains and knuckles—no knives,” Morton replied.
In my many previous practice fight sessions with Billy, I had learned the clubs were either sawed-off or broken-off baseball bats. The chains were either cut-off tire chains or bicycle chains that you wrapped around your hand and swung at your opponent, and the knuckles were brass knuckles that you wore on your fist in order to cause serious damage when you connected with the other fighter.
We had pulled up in front of the Hazel Park Grade School and Morton looked over at Billy. “I’m gonna drop you guys off here. I’ll be back in a little while. Billy, you and Van Buren scope the place out. Figure out where it’s best for us to set up so we can escape if the cops show up. We have to be able to protect Sally and her cousin, but they have to be able to see the other guys to point out which ones jumped them.”
Sally piped up, “I can take care of myself. If I see that son-of-a-bitch I’ll beat his fuckin’ ass good!”
“No! You let me take care of him. I know you can probably take this guy yourself, but these guys will be using weapons that could mess you up good. You don’t wanna mess up that pretty face, do you?” Morton said with a rare smile on his face.
Sally folded her arms across her ample chest. “Yeah, okay,” she mumbled as she opened the car door and stepped out. I wasn’t convinced she meant it but Sally knew not to argue with Morton.
I got out on my side of the car and Billy and Dolores climbed out of the front seat. We slammed our doors shut and Morton pulled away.
The Hazel Park School was set about two hundred feet back from the road. There were walkways leading up to the front doors of the school as well as two other sidewalks which angled off to the outer edges of the building. We took the walkway that led off to the right side of the building and saw how it led to a classroom wing which went back at a right angle to the front. When we reached the end of the wing we could see the playground in the back of the school. There was an identical wing on the other side which created an enclosure on one side of the playground. The only road was the one in front of the school. There were wooded areas along either side of the school beyond the wings and we could see lights on in some houses on the other side of the woods on either side. The playground went on for many yards behind the school and beyond the two wings. There were two lights on the back of the building, as well as two lights on each of the wings. They weren’t bright, but did give off enough light to be able to see.
Billy told Dolores and Sally to wait at the back of the building. He nudged me to follow him as we began walking along the edge of the woods on one side. “Keep your voice down because it will carry over to those houses, especially if someone is outside. We’re looking for the best escape route out of here if the cops show up during the rumble. Those houses aren’t far away and somebody might hear us and call the cops once the rumble gets started.”
We edged along the side of the woods and eventually came to a path which led off to the right. We followed it and it came out of the woods into a large vacant area between some of the houses. We ran directly across the street to another vacant lot and continued until we were two streets over from the schoolyard. The houses on that street were closer together and no more vacant areas were visible.
Billy turned, looked around and nodded his head. “This looks good. If we hear any cop sirens, we can run out this way and be two streets over before they can block us off. We can put our cars on this street. What do you think, Van Buren?”
I looked around in all directions and nodded my head.
“Okay, let’s head back,” Billy said as he turned and started trotting back toward the school.
When we got back to the schoolyard, Dolores and Sally were sitting on the ground next to the building wing. Billy went up to Dolores, smiled, took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. He put his arm around her waist and walked with her to a dark, hidden alcove at the corner where the main building and the wing came together. Once they ducked into the alcove, they were no longer visible.
I slid down the wall and sat next to Sally. It was quiet except for some faint giggling coming from the alcove. I pulled out my pack of Lucky Strikes, shook it to pop up a few cigarettes and asked Sally if she wanted one. She nodded, smiled and took one. I pulled my matches out of my pocket, struck one and cupped the flame with my hands while I lit our cigarettes.
“Hey, how old are you, anyway?” I asked as I blew smoke into the air.
“Thirteen. How old are you?” she answered in a quiet voice.
“Twelve,” I lied. “Where do you live?”
“Over on Andover. How about you?”
“I live on Russell.”
She snickered, “That’s my last name—Russell.”
We were both sitting with our backs to the wall of the wing and had our knees up. I was sneaking glances over at Sally and saw she had her arms crossed over her knees with her head down on her arms.
Occasionally, she would lift her head to take another drag off her cigarette.
“Have you been to any other rumbles?” I asked.
“Yeah, I was at one a few months ago. I didn’t like it,” she replied looking over at me.
I glanced over at her and noticed she didn’t look so mean and tough with her head resting on her arms. She looked soft and calm.
“How come?” I asked.
“It got too scary. I saw some of the guys whip out switchblades. There wasn’t supposed to be any knives.”
“Did anyone get cut?”
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
“Were you fighting too?” I asked.
“Nah, they made me stay back. I don’t want to go to this one, either,” Sally said as she straightened her legs out in front of her, put her head back against the building and blew smoke into the air.
“Yeah, but you have to go so we know which guys did this to you and your cousin.”
“I know, but now I wish I had just kept my big mouth shut. I was just so fucking mad I didn’t think. I wanted to get the bastards, but I didn’t want a rumble to happen.”
I was confused. The Sally I saw around the Sugar Bowl had always been someone ready to fight or argue at the drop of a hat. She seemed constantly pissed off at the world and angry with everyone. The Sally who sat next to me against the wall that night was different. She seemed calmer. Her voice was quiet—almost sweet sounding. I had never seen her laugh or smile around the Sugar Bowl, yet she had done both in the short time we had sat there. I had always seen her face as hard—the face of someone who was tough, bitter and looking for a fight. Yet, on that night I saw a pretty girl.
Sally looked over at me and smiled again. “Everybody always calls you Van, Van Buren. What’s your first name?”
“It’s Roland,” I answered as I looked at her and smiled back.
“Okay, Roland, where’d you learn to fight? When I heard this kid had beat Jimmy and Bobby, I almost shit. Nobody’s been able to beat those guys, except maybe Billy and Morton.”
“Billy taught me. We work at the bowling alley together.”
“So, why’d he want to teach you?”
“My old man beats me up, and I wanted to run away. So, Billy said I’d need to be able to take care of myself on the streets so he taught me to fight.”
“How long’s he been teaching you?”
“Since I was eight.”
“Did you run away?” Sally asked as she turned toward me, pulled her skirt over her knees and sat facing me, cross-legged. She stubbed her cigarette out on the ground, and with her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand, looked at me. She looked interested in what I had to say.
“Yeah. I’ve been running away every summer since I was eight. But the cops keep catching me and making me go back home.”
Other than Joanne Gross, I had never sat and talked with a girl before. The girls in school that liked me because of the piano, never said more than “Hi, Roland” as they giggled their way past me in the halls. To make the talk with Sally even more unusual was the fact I had never talked about my running away to anyone other than Billy. Moreover, there I was, talking about it to a pretty girl I barely knew.
“Do you think you’ll ever run away for good?” She asked after a long silence.
“Yeah, I gotta. I’m smarter now about avoiding the cops, and I’m in the gang so I have protection on the streets.”
Sally looked at me, smiled again and nodded.
I took a last drag off my cigarette, snubbed it out in the ground and smiled back.
“Hey, where are you guys?” called Bob Morton as he came around the side of the school wing.
“We’re here,” I called out as Billy and Dolores came out of the alcove.
“Let’s go,” said Morton. “Did you guys work out an escape route?”
Billy and I told Morton our plan as we all walked around the building to his car. As we were riding back to the Sugar Bowl, I noticed that Billy had some new bruises on the side of his neck that he hadn’t had when he and Dolores went into the alcove. I had heard some of the guys talk about hickeys before, but that was the first time I ever saw one.
I wondered why people did that.
The following morning Bob Morton had told Billy to spread the word among the gang members about a meeting at the Sugar Bowl that afternoon to talk about the rumble. The word must have spread quickly, because by the time afternoon rolled around everyone was there, even guys who had after school jobs were there. Sally Russell and her cousin were there along with other Duchesses I had never seen before. Sally and I had nodded to each other, but neither of us broke a smile—we were back in gang-mode.
When Morton showed up about five o’clock, everyone walked across State Fair and went behind the school building, the same place where I had my two fights to get into the gang. Some gang members leaned against the walls of the school building or sprawled on the ground.
Other guys were in high spirits and played around by pretending to spar with each other. There were many jabs thrown at shoulders along with pushes and shoves. I got into a pretend sparring match with Billy and a few of the guys stopped horsing around to watch us. It felt great to be such a good fighter where others would want to watch my moves. I was growing more accustomed to being someone who was respected as well as feared. I liked it.
Morton sauntered to the middle of the gang. He put his right thumb and index finger between his lips and let out a piercing whistle.
“Okay, let’s settle down and listen,” he yelled.
Everyone stopped fooling around and got quiet.
“Okay,” Morton said, “We’ve got a rumble with the Livernois gang next Saturday night over in Hazel Park. It’s gonna be chains, clubs and knuckles—no knives. But watch for knives—don’t get cut.”
“Why’s this happening?” a guy named Sammy yelled out.
“This is happening because Sally and her cousin got messed with by three of their guys. They’ll be there to point out which guys. Me, Billy and Van Buren will take the three guys. The rest of you spread out and pick someone to fight.”
“What’s the colors?” yelled Sammy again.
“They’re gonna wear red bandannas, we’re gonna wear blue. Jimmy and Bobby will jump in and help any of you who get in trouble. We’ll probably have more guys than they will, so if you see one of the Dukes in trouble, don’t wait for Jimmy or Bobby, jump in and help. Same goes if you get in trouble—yell out so somebody sees you. You girls stay back unless you see some of their girls jumping in. Make sure you keep them off our backs. Listen for the cops. Billy and Van Buren will tell you about the escape route in a minute.”
Morton stopped talking and lit a cigarette. He slowly moved his eyes over the gang. “Anybody got questions?” he asked.
Freddy Shaw piped up and asked, “How bad you want them hurt?”
“Enough so they know they’ve been in a rumble with the State Fair Dukes,” Morton answered. “Get it done as fast as you can.”
Morton nodded at Billy and me. We told the gang about the escape route. Morton listened, looked around to see if there were any more questions, then turned and headed back to the Sugar Bowl. Some of the guys started a game of handball against the wall of the building. The others slowly drifted away, some to the Sugar Bowl, and some headed for home.
As I walked back to the Sugar Bowl, Sally stepped in beside me and we walked together without saying a word.
The Thursday night before the rumble, I told my mother I had to go to a play rehearsal at the school on Saturday. I figured telling her then would be to my advantage because they would be leaving for choir practice, and wouldn’t take the time to question me. Even though there were never any play rehearsals at night, I had used that excuse a few other times just so I could go hang out with the gang. My parents were always so focused on their church activities they rarely paid much attention to what I was doing on those nights, or any other night, for that matter. Picking their choir night to tell them about Saturday worked, because they didn’t question me at all.
During the week before the rumble, Billy and I met at his house after work each day to practice. Billy had told me the week before how fighting in a rumble was different from fighting just one guy alone. He said, “When you’re in a rumble, you need to make sure you keep the advantage. Don’t worry about getting the guy down. You want to make sure you hurt him before he hurts you. Get him on the defensive. Make him want to run away from you.”
“Yeah, because if I get him down and start stomping him, one of his guys is going to be jumping me, right?”
“Right! You gotta keep your eyes on what’s going on around you all the time. You don’t wanna get attacked. And some of our guys might be in trouble and need help.”
Billy and I discovered I wasn’t quite big enough to handle a chain properly. The chains were cut into manageable lengths, but when I tried to swing one of them, it threw me off balance. I was getting bigger all the time, but I still wasn’t heavy enough to compensate for the weight of the chain being swung. Being able to keep balanced was important, so we abandoned using a chain. Billy found me some brass knuckles and a piece of an old baseball bat he had cut off with a saw. He showed me how to use the knuckles. Instead of swinging in a normal roundhouse manner, it was more of a hard, thrusting jab into the person’s face. It was like a lunge. Instead of pulling back on the swing, you kept following through so you were jamming the brass knuckles into their face with your body weight behind them. “Aim for the nose,” he said, “and don’t worry about the blood when you hit him. These knuckles do a real job on a nose. He’ll be backing off in a hurry once you connect with these.”
The bat was carried in the hand without the knuckles. Billy showed me how the jab of the knuckles made the person jump back. The bat, being an extension of the arm, allowed you to still get in a good hit even though the person may have jumped back. So it was a sequence of jabbing with the knuckles, then swinging with the bat.
“Keep moving forward all the time,” Billy said. “Don’t forget, the other guy might be using a club, a chain, or knuckles too. If you keep moving into him, it’ll be harder for him to use his weapons on you.”
“What do I do if he’s using a chain?”
“Get your club working fast while you move yourself to the side of him and try to hit the arm holding the chain. Hit it with everything you have. You want to break his arm or wrist. Sometimes letting his chain get tangled with your club can make it so you can jerk your club hard and tear the chain right out of his hand.”
We also practiced using our knees into groins or kicks to the ankles to keep the other guy off balance. Billy showed me how the best way to get the quick advantage is not to wait to see what the guy is going to do, but to move in fast before he gets a chance to set up. Most everything that Billy taught me about fighting was based on the element of surprise.
During one of our practices, Billy suddenly pulled out his switchblade, popped the blade and began slicing at me. I found that I was immediately on the defensive, jumping back to avoid the blade.
“That could happen, Van. Most of the time the guys obey the rules, but if they’re getting beat, they might pull a knife,” Billy said.
“What do I do if that does happen?” I asked.
“The same thing you’d do with the chain. Get that bat swinging at his wrist or lower arm right away. Break the fucking wrist if you have to. Don’t try to aim for the knife; it’s too small a target. Go for the wrist. Swing hard. You need to get that knife on the ground. Don’t let the guy get in close to you. Keep the bat swinging as fast as you can.”
We continued with our practice each day after work. By Friday of that week, I felt good about being able to take care of myself in a rumble.
I had to work on Saturday at the bowling alley. Before I went home to eat, I stopped at the Sugar Bowl. There were more Dukes and Duchesses hanging around than usual. The mood in the store was vibrating with the excitement of the coming rumble. Everyone seemed to be smoking one cigarette after another. The chatter was mostly about how we were going to be giving the Livernois boys the worst night of their lives. Many of the conversations dealt with the imagined blow-by-blow descriptions of their successful individual battles.
I looked around to see if Sally was there, but I didn’t see her. I went to the counter, bought a chocolate coke, took it over and slid into a booth where Crazy Jimmy was sitting with Freddy Shaw.
Crazy Jimmy was kidding Freddy. “I’m gonna be roving backup, Freddy, but I can’t be spending all night saving your ass, you know.”
“Don’t worry,” Freddy responded with bravado, “I’ll probably have to stop what I’m doing just to pull some assholes off you.”
Freddy was one of the bigger guys in the gang — big, but not too bright. He consistently flunked courses in school. He wasn’t one of the better fighters in the gang either, but once he hit someone, they usually stayed down. He was as strong as an ox and just as lumbering. He was slow, but it didn’t matter because people couldn’t hurt him. I’d seen guys in the gang hit Freddy in the stomach as hard as they could, and he would just shrug it off. There were several stories about how Freddy was able to shake off more than one attacker and still not get hurt. I had often thought how lucky I was that Bob Morton hadn’t made Freddy one of the guys I had to fight.
“You ever been in a rumble, Van Buren?” Jimmy asked, squinting against the smoke that was getting into his eyes.
I shook my head. “I’ll be okay.”
Freddy piped in, “Yeah, I heard you and Billy have been practicing,”
“You gonna be using a chain or a club?” asked Jimmy.
“Club and knuckles,” I answered.
I finished my chocolate coke and went home for dinner.
At seven o’clock that night, I left the house on my bike and headed for the Sugar Bowl. My parents left the house just a minute or two before me. Even though Billy had made me more confident about fighting in a rumble, I felt a combination of nervousness and excitement.
When I arrived at the Sugar Bowl, I put my bike behind the store. Most of the gang members were hanging around outside. Their mood seemed to be similar to mine. The excitement and hyper activity of earlier that day was replaced by a grimness which bordered on a harsh fierceness. No one was talking. There wasn’t any horseplay. The cigarettes were still being consumed in great quantities. Even the Duchesses, who normally would be chattering away, were quiet.
At seven-thirty, Bob Morton pulled up alongside the Sugar Bowl in the same Buick he drove the week before. He got out of the car, came around to the passenger side and leaned back against the hood of the car with his arms folded in front of him. The gang members all drifted over to the side of the building facing him and waited quietly. Morton looked at the group and called out, “Sammy, where’s your bandanna?”
Sammy pulled one out of his back pocket and tied it around his head.
“Okay, who has cars?” Morton asked.
Three of the guys raised their hands.
“Billy, Van Buren, Sally and Sally’s cousin will ride with me. I can take one more. Jimmy, you ride with me too. The rest of you split up between the other cars and let’s go. When we get to Hazel Park, follow me—I’ll show you where to park. When we pull off onto the street, turn your lights off and keep quiet. We don’t want the cops showing up before we even get started.”
When we got to Hazel Park, we all pulled into the street two blocks over from the school, turned our cars around so they were facing back the way we came in, and quietly worked our way through the vacant lots and over to the school playground. We were alone. The other gang hadn’t arrived. Morton was having a conversation with Sally and her cousin, whose name we learned was Diane. He motioned for Billy and me to come over.
“Stay here with me. As soon as Sally and Diane point out the three guys, we’ll make our move.” Even if all three of them don’t show up, I’ll still take Sally’s guy and you two take the other one.”
It wasn’t long before we started to hear some car doors being slammed out in front of the school. I whispered to Billy, “Those guys are going to have a hell of a time escaping if the cops show up.”
We watched as a group of guys with red bandannas began to drift in along the other side of the enclosed playground area. Arthur came in first and as soon as the next guy came into view, Sally nudged Morton and whispered, “It’s the second guy. That’s the one who grabbed me.”
Morton looked at Billy and me with a question in his eyes and we both nodded letting him know we had heard her.
A few more guys walked in and stood next to the wall of the other wing. We could see them clearly, even in the poor light. We could also see some chains and clubs in their hands. Diane, who had stood between Billy and me leaned over and said, “My guys are standing right next to each other. They’re the last two guys over on the right.” Billy nudged Morton who nodded and looked over at us. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Ready?” I had so many butterflies in my stomach I thought I would throw up, but I also had this new feeling — I wanted to look good for Sally. I didn’t want her to see my fear. For some reason I didn’t understand at the time, I wanted to impress her, so I nodded along with Billy.
Morton, Billy and I stepped out away from the wall and started to walk slowly towards the middle of the area between the two building wings. The other guys pushed off from the walls on both sides and moved towards each other. Morton whispered, “Move with me and get your guys.” Then he broke into a run, made a beeline for the blonde guy and clipped him across the upper arm with his chain. Billy and I started running as well. I was to the right of Billy, so I drove my fist with the brass knuckles straight into the nose of the guy on the far right. Blood spurted out of his nose and his hands went to his face as he jumped back. I hit him across his right ear with the club and he went to his knees. I kicked him hard in the chest and he fell back and stayed there.
Just then, someone jumped onto my back and started pummeling me on the top of my head with a club. I swung around trying to get him off my back, but he hung on as if he was riding a bucking bronco. His blows were hurting and I was seeing stars as I felt myself weakening. His head was right next to mine, so I took my bat and stabbed as hard as I could into his face. I don’t know what I managed to hit, but he let go and I managed to get a quick jab at him with my brass knuckles before I saw Bobby rap him on the side of his head with his chain. He went down.
I looked around and saw Billy was swinging wildly at Arthur and another guy with his chain. Suddenly Arthur grabbed Billy’s chain and pulled hard. Billy was jerked into the range of the other guys’ chain. I didn’t see Morton. Bobby yelled in my ear, “Let’s get them from behind!” I got there first and clubbed the guy swinging his chain across the back of his head. He spun around and his chain whipped across my shoulder. I felt my right arm, the one with the knuckles go numb. I was raising my bat when we heard the sirens. The guy who had just hit me looked over toward the street, and I hit him with all my strength with the bat. He sunk to the ground. As he went down I saw Arthur fall right after Billy connected with his chain.
Suddenly Billy was grabbing me by the arm and yelling, “Get the fuck out of here. Head for the cars.”
The two gangs were scattering in opposite directions as a few cops came running around the building. Luckily for us, they came around the side opposite of where we would be escaping. As I ran, I looked around to see if any of the Dukes were on the ground, but I didn’t see any.
Billy yelled in my ear, “Keep going. Don’t slow down!” We were into the woods before the cops made it into the playground. As I looked back from the woods, I could see they were going after some guys who were still in the middle of the grounds. They had their billy clubs in their hands. I heard Billy to my left yelling, “Get to the cars!”
When we got to the car, Sally and Diane were already in the back seat. Jimmy was just opening the side door in front. I heard Morton behind me as he yelled, “Get into the car!” Morton, Billy and I all jumped in at about the same time, slammed our doors as the car roared up the side street and made a sharp turn onto the main street with wheels screeching.
The turn slammed me up against Sally in the back seat. She didn’t push me away, but rather looked into my eyes and gave me a quick, sweet smile.
Then her look changed to one of concern as she said, “You’re bleeding.”
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