We moved from
Date Street to Third Street in Alhambra. We were living in a house
owned by Tony Stuppy, a friend of dad's. They both
worked at Narden's Manufacturing in Alhambra. 1955
Dad rented the house from Tony.
Narden's is on the corner of Date Avenue and Mission Boulevard. Tony
later married Margie and raised Gilbert as his own son, Gilbert does not
like my dad, Tony is his dad.
One day I came home from
school and my dad's clothes were on the porch, piled up like dirty laundry.
My dad was thrown out of our home. Margie had thrown him out. I did not
know at that time the reason. Some time later that day, my sister talked
to my dad on the phone. He instructed us to walk to the corner of
Third Street and East Woodward. He said there would be a man in a
car there, and he would stop and ask us to get into his car. We complied
and left Margie and Gilbert behind.
A Mr. Shattler picked us up
and took us to his home in Temple City. When we arrived, we were met by
a whole new family. There were three boys and a girl in that family. The
oldest boy was named David, and he was my age. The next was Diane, who
was Sandy's age. Next were Ron and Jerry, the two youngest boys who were
at least five or six years younger than David and I. The woman of the house
was Gladys Shattler. I did not know it at the time, but I think my dad
was having an affair with her. She also worked at Narden's. Mr. Shattler
rarely came back. He returned only to visit the kids or to take us
all horseback riding, a pleasure that we all loved very much.
My dad moved in with the Shattlers
(or, he had already moved in). I do not know. Being there with
another family felt different. It felt better, more relaxed, and
not so strict. I had plenty of people to play with and I was becoming a
teen. I soon fell in love with my step-sister Diane. It was
obvious. This led to more conflict in my mind. Was this right
or was this wrong? In my mind there was nothing wrong in my feelings, but
the Catholic Doctrine was saying in my mind that I was committing a Mortal
sin. It was wrong, but I was hopelessly lost. I had no idea who I
was and I was hopelessly in love with my sister. God, what a mess.
This created problems, problems, and more problems. Words cannot
explain the mush in my brain.
My father had created for himself,
by moving in with this new family, a larger family. He had to work two
jobs to feed everyone, and Gladys was working also.
While living in Temple City on Emperor
we decided to take a bicycle trip to the foothills of Sierra Madre
nearby.
We decided to go to the mountains, all six of us decided
to peddle our bikes up to those foot hills which were about four miles
away.
David and I, Diane and Sandy, Ron and Jerry, we always
paired ourselves off in groups of age. We rode our bikes as far as we could
peddle up Rosemead Blvd. and headed strait to the mountains. After crossing
Colorado Blvd. We had to walk alongside our bikes the last mile. When we
finally arrived at the foothills, the road ended, all that we saw was some
private property. We looked for a neat place to go, there was none. With
no park or camp ground nearby, we were disappointed, we talked and discussed
our next move. No where to go, it was decided to go back home. It had taken
an hour or two to reach the foothills. Coming back home was going to be
a breeze, it was downhill all the way. We started back, our bikes picking
up speed on our downhill journey, I finally had to take my feet off the
peddles and put them on steel brace, my peddles were moving to fast to
brake or peddle. I flew through red lights, green lights, amber lights,
I could not stop for any traffic. Our hair was flying in the California
breeze. I never stopped or thought that our lives were in danger.
I guess I was the fool I left everyone else behind, I guess that they did
stop at the lights. I finally coasted to a stop, I waited and let
everyone else catch up. We were all thrilled about our journey. Our parents
never did say anything to us about our trip.
We met Pat and Dennis Finch here in
Temple City, their dad worked at some prison up north. There dad said that
Little Richard's music would never last and that he should go back to where
he came from. At that time I thought that Little
Richard
was the pure soul of our generation. I was surprised at what
he said! Their dad had always been very nice to us all and he was nice
all the time that we knew him.
Pat and Dennis had model "A's".
Pat had a Blue "A" Pickup, Dennis had a Black Three window
"A" Cabriolet coupe. They also had a Cushman motor scooter. There was a
vacant lot out back behind their house, with an obstacle course, that they
had built. Though I wasn't trusted to ride on my own, we took turns riding
the Cushman around and around.
These were better times
for me, even though I was confused and not to be trusted.
1956
Duarte Road, Acadia
Hound Dog - Elvis Presley
Long Tall Sally - Little Richard
Blue Suede Shoes - Carl Perkins
Don't Be Cruel - Elvis Presley
Be-Bop-A-Lula - Gene Vincent & the Bluecaps
Fever - Little Willie John
In The Still Of The Nite - Five Satins
Blueberry Hill - Fats Domino
Please, Please, Please - James Brown & the Famous
Flames
My brain waves were in those songs and my love was Diane.
The steel needle wore those records out.
I played music over and over on our portable record player.
All the children in this family loved to read.
I learned to read fiction from Diane and science fiction from David there.
My best memories are there,
clouded as they were. They may differ from what actually happened.
I would not be surprised. We went to the beach or to the mountains
together about every weekend. We were campers
It was a comfortable family everyone loved the outdoors. Our home
was not big enough for us all so we moved into a very large, all redwood
home on about two acres of land in Arcadia on Duarte road across town from
Temple City. This place had a one room combination formal dining
and living room. This room took up the entire front end of the house.
Huge 18" x 10" redwood beams ran the width of the house from porch to porch.
They held up the upper half of the entire two-story house. Three
bedrooms and a small bath upstairs. This place was quite a marvel.
They were no painted surfaces, everything was redwood and ruff.
We met Emory Mulchan here in Arcadia,
we were still going to Temple City School. I had no clue as to what being
Jewish was like until I met Emory. I had read about the second world war
so I knew about how Germany treated the Jews. Emory was a loner. A Jewish
boy in Temple City, he was the first Jewish boy I had ever met. Dave, Emory
and I hung out together. (I have tried to find Emory but David thinks he
is somewhere in hiding.) Emery was a Hawk, his own man, completely independent,
he did what he wanted to do within some limit, I think the limit was school
but mentally he did anything he wanted to do. Completely different than
me, I was lost in my internal struggle for understanding and hiding my
being from everyone that gazed upon my snagggle tooth grin. Emery
had a Hawk on a leash with a hood in his home and a Owl in his screened
front porch, which turned it's head around to see right through us. It
is true Owls can see through you. He taught David and I how to use a bull
whip. We spent hours using the whip and throwing daggers. He spent hours
at our home learning to play football with us. I played a rough style of
football learned from my cousins Gene and Ron. He was in excellent shape
and very fast, he spent his full hour of PE doing laps in the pool at Temple
City HS. He would do laps until the class was over. He said his parents
didn't believe in sports. He out ran everyone on the track and football
teams, just to prove a point. They asked him to join, he said no he was
not allowed!
I used to practice for hours place kicking the football
over our giant redwood home. I kicked the football only once completely
over the house.
(When our children Eli and Allison were young I took
them over to the high school football field to teach them how to kick the
ball. I place the ball on the thirty yard line and showed them how to kick
a field goal and after a few tries I did manage to kick the ball several
times through the posts at the thirty yard line.)
We met Bobby and Eddie Carlson here also, They lived across the parking lot behind a First Church of Christ, Scientist, Arcadia. Bobby was heavy set until his father sent him to his grandfathers farm back east, when he returned he was trim and stout. Bobby was a Magician with a Top Hat (he performed at parties). Eddie was white haired and wiry. They had a 49 Light Blue Caddy (primered in spots) and a 34 Chevy three window coupe( complexly primered and without bumpers). The Caddy would run, but the shocks were gone, when David and I rode with Bobby and Eddie we bounced along the highway on three wheels, one tire was always flat. If you were ever in California during this time you probably saw us. Four boys pushing a pinto caddie and Eddie hopping into the drivers seat driving. We always got our gas at Midnight Auto Supply.
I Dipped My Brush
My dad always had things for us all
to do during the summer. One job he gave Dave and I was to White Wash the
fence that divided the back yard from the way back yard. We had helped
build the fence made from pallets from Nardens. The paint wash was a cheap
oil based white wash paint made for fences. We started painting the fence,
being teens we were not the best painters, but what harm could we do? It
started out simple, a dip and paint. Somehow a drop of paint came off of
Dave's brush. You have to pause and think a little. This is going where
you think it is going. Somehow a drop of paint came off of my brush and
landed on Dave's arm. Two drops came off Dave's brush and landed on my
forehead. Two drop's came off my brush. I saw him dip his brush. I dipped
my brush. We looked at each other, we had seen enough of Laurel and Hardy
on T.V. to understand what was going to happen next. It evolved slowly,
you can paint the picture in your mind. In about an half hour we were both
covered from head to foot with paint. It took us a better
part of two hours to clean ourselves up. Laughing the whole time. We did
finish the fence and a little of the yard.
and Haircuts
My dad had a pair of sheers for cutting
hair. Sandy and
Diane were out back with David, Bobby, Eddie and I. This is the beginning
of summer and we are looking for something to do. Some way we thought it
would be neat that some day we could get a mohawk haircut, like some of
the other kids last summer. Sandy said well she could do that. We all looked
at each other, Diane left. Sandy went and got the sheers and I got the
stool, David got a sheet. Dad and Gladsy were at work. Bobby said he would
go first. Sandy cut his hair in a great double mohawk, for a young girl
of twelve she knew how to cut hair.
I said I would be next, I told Sandy I wanted my hair
cut like a clown, bald on top and long on the sides. So that is what she
did. I looked like "Clarabelle the Clown". ( This afternoon ( 5-17-99 )
I came in after working in the garden, I had a baseball cap on, I went
into the rest room to wash the salt and sweat from my face. I looked in
the mirror and their was Clarabelle standing before me in the mirror. No
matter what the situation, my hair bonkers when I get hot.) Eddie said
he was next, he wanted just the opposite of me, so she cut his hair around
his ears just like they do nowadays. Sandy looked at David, David looked
at us, David said no way. I'll have to ask Diane what she saw? We got the
hoses and cleaned up. We lived close to a mall, just across from the parking
lot. We decided to go to the music store in the mall and show off our new
haircuts. All devilish smiles. Bobby went and got his Black Top Hat. Eddie
got his Dad's leather driving cap, with it's snap in front. I had a plaid
English driving cap with buckle in the back. All four us donned our hats
and walked through the mall type stores on South Baldwin Avenue, South
of Duarte Road, dipping our hats to the ladies. "Good afternoon to you
mam". Just like the Musketeers of old. "Good afternoon to you mam"
and a bow and a dip. We would sweep our hats from our heads, bend and dip
greetings to the ladies. Everyone had a great time. Very nice and a lot
of fun.
Gladsy has the photos of that home and yard, I saw some
a few years back, a nice home.
That night everyone was getting ready
for dinner, the table was set, my dad had come home from work, Glady's
was already home. Everyone was moving around the table, busy. Finally everyone
sat down to eat. The food was on the table. Gladsy said," Dennis will you
please remove your hat." Everyone was waiting for this, I thought I might
slide on by. Gladsy repeated, "Dennis will you please remove your hat at
the table". I removed my hat, smiles flashed all around the table. My dad
looked at me, pointed at me and curled his finger in a come here gesture.
He walked outside and told me to sit on the stool, he went and got the
sheers, he finished the job. I was bald. Bobby got to keep his double mohawk,
Eddie ended up bald like me.
+
Combination of the Two, 1957
At Temple City High School, there was a 32' Ford Sedan,
a Chocolate brown in color,
baby moons on reversed rims with a picture of "
Alfred E. Neuman " on the rear trunk,
under which it read, ""What - Me Worry?". It roamed the
area after school.
+
We were asked to leave the big redwood home that we rented,
it was tore down to expand the church.
Bobby and Eddies parents sold their property adjacent
to the church for about 80,000 thousand dollars (1957)
Quote " They paved paradise and
put up a parking lot."
***
Young minds need to be the given time to understand life.
In my case, no time was understood to be given. I was a space eating us
out of house and home. I was a rebel with no directions, leathers, belts
or black bike. I was without control, mentally, saying what I pleased without
regard to anyone. A foul mouthed, smart assed, "I don't give a damn" ,"don't
sweat it!" young man under the umbrella of Atomic bombs. I looked rather
neat and normal with a good work ethic. Inside my mind was crying for love
and help. Confusing inputs into my brain spelled doom for understanding.
It was not until my late twenties when help did arrive. The free flower
children of the sixties were more than eager to help me.
Parents need to watch and nourish the child at your feet,
don't let ms-dos teach your child values.
I am using the computer to let you know, a paradox.
***
Where does the rebel begin? At Temple City High School
I refused to do my home work. I failed everything. What created a creature
that refused to do his home work. Was it a fear of being not as bright
as the next fellow? No one was answering the questions I wanted answered.
I didn't ask, I should of
asked. Who? I was lost in a world of turmoil, internal
turmoil. I was creating my own rules deep in my mind, rules that did not
apply. No one was answering questions that were not asked.
I was lost in the shuffle, a child pushed along with
the crowd, passing the doorways and grabbing at straws.
At an early age I found comfort in the rhythms of Bo
Diddley.
While others are hawking and selling
their software, we are cutting and pasting our dreams.
***
We moved to La Puente where my
dad bought a tan stucco 4 bedroom home on Fieldgate.
I muddled through schools, totally
lost, not knowing who I was or what in the world was going on.
Things came to a head when I quit going to school. By this time,
we were living in La Puente. I was becoming a terrible problem with
my smart ass attitude. I never was very good at learning in school.
I was always mentally somewhere else from first grade to eleventh grade.
In grammar school, they would pass me because I was getting older.
In the eighth grade, I had to go to summer school with counseling.
In the ninth grade, I failed everything but band and physical education.
In my sophomore year of high school, I had Freshman English, Sophomore
English, Freshman Social Studies, Sophomore Social Studies, ands other
courses.
I failed them all.
My Junior year at La Puente High School was no
better.
I was totally lost with no direction, in love with my
sister, which was a sin.
What a pisser! Someone had had enough!!
It sounded like everyone to me.
1959
My father was told to do something, so he had me enlisted
into the Navy as what you would call a "Kitty Cruz".
Dennis
& David
The Navy did not put up with any bull.
They gave me no time to think. They worked me hard, and I was able
to work hard. I never had a problem working hard. I had no
time to feel sorry for myself. I forgot my past. At that time, the
Navy didn't give a shit about my past. The wanted a body, a body
to behave and do what it was told. Period! I did not grow up
in the Navy. I grew older with no time to think. I met some
nice people and some assholes, although I liked the nice people better.
I rediscovered that if you hang out with nice people, it rubs off.
I met William Hermann , a German from Minnesota. He was a good man
who rarely made a mistake. He was good, pure, and simple with a brain.
He was clean and neat like Margie. He was smart like Diane and he
loved to read like David. I never loved this man. I just learned
from him. He was a sailor and so was I, so we worked together as
a team. He went home and our ship moved across he ocean to Hawaii. Hawaii
was my new duty station. Clear air, rain every day. Tropical sized insects
and plant life. A wonderful place to be. We stayed in Hawaii six
months and then the ship sailed to San Diego. In that port I was transferred
over to another ship and after a few days it sailed south toward the equator.
We crossed the equator in hundred mile circles as the government blowed
up small islands with its new Atomic Bombs. They say a picture is worth
a 1000 words. So seeing these explosions maybe can save a million lives.
Like an ant looking up at human, I looked up at that mushroom cloud and
was amazed at it's size. The television set can show you it exploding but
it can not show you how immense that mushroom cloud is. I am completely
unaware of the kind of damage such power can do.
"Ship ahoy, mate" went the Kingston
Trio. I was moving into rowdy songs and then into jazz as we sailed
in circles. We headed back to San Diego and it was time for me to leave
the service. After my discharge I went home to Los Angeles and stayed with
my parents in La Puente where the smog burned my eyes. I realized that
Los Angeles was not the place for me. I had just sailed the tropics and
the clarity of the skies and air was great for my being. The Los Angeles
air was filthy, brown and unhealthy for me.
1962
It was time to leave Los Angeles and I headed for San
Francisco. A Navy friend lived there, and he said to look him up
when I got out of the service. I did, but he was busy painting new
homes and I went about my business of finding work. I was there with a
new goal. Get a job and settle down. At the first job interview,
I was asked, "Do you have a high school diploma?" No?
Sorry. This continued day after day at each job site and I realized
that I must keep trying and make myself dependable and in the line of sight
of my interviewers. I kept trying and I finally got a job cleaning floors
with a space agency. They sent me near
a clean room to clean up. You need a college degree to clean up in
the clean room. I have hope. I have a good paying job with
a space agency. The future is here. I was wearing suits and looking good.
School was out of the question even though I knew I needed
a least a GED to move forward in this society. I went to the library and
checked out math books and studied some some Algebra. I remembered that
Algebra was used in my studies at Sonar School after boot camp. But it
soon became a big chore remembering those formulas, I was back to square
one. As I was I never even bothered to get any help knowing it was a waste
of time. Where do I place a young man like this, I know now where
he is but I knew nothing then. The world was wrong to categorize me and
I was wrong to go along with their thoughts. I know now that there is a
place for me but back then I was lost.
***
I lived in San Jose, worked at Lockheed
in Sunnyvale near Moffett Field and visited San Francisco on weekends.
One weekend I went to see Cal Tjader a jazz musician I had heard in La
Puente. (When we moved into the stucco on Fieldgate, two things were left
behind in the room that David and I were to share. One was a red 33 1/3
LP of Cal Tjader with a gold yellow cover of a bull fighting arena and
the other was a 20" aluminum eagle holding a swastika.) There was a section
of San Francisco that catered to jazz. This one club, "The
Blackhawk" on the corner ( 200 Hyde St. ) was black outside and inside.
I would see Cal one weekend and Dave Brubeck the next weekend. Every weekend
I would spend my time hanging out at these night clubs. Cannonball and
"the hungry i " were close by, but I loved the music Cal and Dave better.
I would sit lost in their sounds and rhythms, nursing my drink. Drinking
was not pleasureable for me so I nursed my rum and cokes during these times.
Somewhere in here. I do not know the time frame. I read
all of the John Steinbecks books that I could find, I went from book to
book eagerly soaking up the characters. Lamenting every time some poor
man was cheated, abused or taken advantage of.
I met my next door neighbor
at my apartment in San Jose. We talked, had fun, and drank.
Three months later he said to me, "Ya ever been to New Orleans?"
I said no. He said, "I'm going, ya want to come along?" I said
why not and went off to New Orleans with him. We had a good time
on the road. When we got there, we moved into a trailer. Then
his wife moved in and I moved out. I didn't know he was married.
She was already there in New Orleans. When I started
looking for work, a problem emerged. If you're white, you're a boss
in New Orleans. If you're black, you work for the boss. There
was nothing in between. After two weeks of looking for work, I was
down to a few dollars, and I realized it was time to leave. But where?
California was too far away. Hey, my sister lived in Kentucky, I
thought. I left New Orleans with three dollars in my pocket.
It took four days to get to Kentucky and my sister's place. The trip
was not pleasant. I ate fruit off trees along the way. Sometimes
a trucker would feed me a bowl of chili in a diner. I noticed that
when we went through Birmingham, Alabama, no one was on the streets after
six P.M. At that time, I did not know what was going on. A
young couple was singing "Mockingbird" on the radio.
+
Get this; I went over to Yahoo
maps and figured out how many miles per hour I traveled from Lake Pontchartrain
near New Orleans, La. to Cynthiana, Ky. in 1962 or 63. I had no job in
New Orleans; I did not know what dropping out was? I had three dollars
in my pocket with no future of any money coming in. I had to go somewhere
and Kentucky seemed like the easiest place to go.
My sister had just moved there
from California.
It is 789 miles from Lake Pontchartrain
to Cynthiana. It took me four days with three dollars, some kind help and
a lot of apples to get to Cynthiana. That is eight miles per hour with
barking dogs in the middle of the night moving you away from barns and
homes.
I caught rides when I could
but mostly I walked.
See
Walking
+
I arrived at Lexington, Kentucky
on a Sunday morning. I found the directions to Cynthiana, Kentucky,
where Sandy and her husband Jimmy lived and headed that way. My first
ride said he knew my sister's husband and he took me to my sister's mother-in-law's
house. When I arrived, everyone was having Sunday dinner. I arrived
starving and happy to be somewhere. We said our hellos, glad to meet
ya, sit down, have some dinner, tea? To say the least, Mrs. Hatcher,
Jimmy's mother, was one of the nicest women that I had ever met to that
point. (My Aunt Lucy was the same way. She would fuss over
you, smiling, and saying have another piece, I'll just have to throw it
away.) That is what happened when I arrived at Mrs. Hatcher's house
in Cynthiana and what happened every Sunday while I was living in Kentucky.
This was an example of true Southern hospitality. I would have dinner
there every Sunday and she was always the same. She was the women everyone
wanted as a parent, she is one of the reasons I came back to Kentucky.
Women like that stand tall, they give the fall colors meaning, they give
the spring flowers a wonderful fragrance.
This is the first time in my life that I get to see first
hand the changing of the seasons. The seasons on the calendar really mean
something here in Kentucky. I realize now that others states transform
in this way but back then is was something emotionally greater than color
that stepped through that door; it was the meaning of the word "seasons".
The beautiful fall colors, the wet leaves matted in layers, waiting to
be turned by the worms and creatures of the earth. the pumpkin and cushaw
pies, warm on the mantel of thanksgiving. The winters of white snow, green
firs covered with snow, a picture post card outside the window, the snowman
with a nose of corn, acorn eyes, straw hat and a jellybean smile. The new
spring growth, warm spring rains washing the new green leaves and minds.
The hot dry summer turning the country roads into four inches of dust,
caking your eyes, blinding your eyes and clogging your sinuses. The hot
humid summer, so wet and air so heavy that you have to lay on the ground
to breathe. Lemonade and coke so cold that when you drink it in huge quenching
gulps, you eyes and body water.
My favorite time in this ever changing world is the late
spring rains that wash the leaves and air of pollution, clean and crisp
in colors are these days, fresh air.
Jimmy ( my sisters husband)
got me a job working for a plumber, but when winter came around, he laid
me off.
I was at one of those plumbing jobs, digging in solid
rock, the day that President Kennedy was shot in Dallas (November 22, 1963).
My next job was working with Brother Herron, a Nazarene
minister, who also owned a hardware store, sanded floors, remodeled kitchens
and baths, installed some storm windows, and performed a few other odd
jobs around town. I learned to sand floors from him. He had
a three-man crew always working, Summer or Winter. In addition, he
had two employees selling in the store. Brother Herron was crippled
at a young age, so he walked kind of funny with his hands up to one side
of his body. He could look so pitiful that people would always buy
something from him. Needless to say, he was a wealthy man.
I lived with my sister most
of the time I was in Kentucky. There was a brief time that I lived
in one of the rooms in the old building behind the Nazarine church.
***
On our way toward Paducah, Ky. Laurel said, "What is
that man doing?". She pointed to a
field at the edge of the Cumberland River (bottom land).
It had just rained five inches of
rain and this man was walking in a muddy plowed field,
with his hands in his pockets. I
knew exactly what he was doing. When I first had arrived
in Kentucky in 1962-63, I had
lived with my sister in Cynthiana, Ky. with her husband
Jimmy. Jimmy was an avid
sportsman, good enough to try out or play for the Cincinnati
Reds. Jimmy had a collection
of arrowheads displayed in his living room. I had asked
Jimmy where he had gotten them,
he explained each arrowhead is called a point. He pulled
out a worn and tired book. The
book separated time into periods of time. Times that
Indians wandered and hunted with
spears, bows and arrows. He showed me mortars and pestles,
axes, spears, clubs, bird points, fish
hooks made out of bones. I said,” Jimmy where did you
get all this stuff?” He said,
“Dennis, after a hard rain, go to a new plowed field
and walk. The flint will shine and
sparkle in the sun. Most will be just broken flint, but
if you look carefully, you will find
tons of arrowheads.” Kentucky is surrounded by rivers,
The Cumberland River to the west
and south, The Licking and Kentucky Rivers to the east,
and the Ohio River to the north.
The Mississippi to the west. The land adjacent the rivers
were called bottoms, this land
moved/washed toward the Gulf of Mexico. That is why these
rivers are muddy and the
bottoms are quite fertile. Indians roamed Kentucky, it
is a glorious hunting ground with
these fences of water. Bison, bear and deer roamed these
areas, before that mastodons,
as eagles, owls, falcons, heron and ducks fly overhead.
James (Jimmy) Hatcher
***
I loved my stay in Kentucky.
People would say hello to you, something new to a city boy. Yeah,
they would say hello even if they didn't like you.
I heard the Beatles on the radio, "I want to hold your
hand" was playing.
1963
The colors in Kentucky are only
matched with the colors in Hawaii, it is that beautiful.
I left Kentucky in the Fall,
with wet rain coming down and cold, around 45 degrees. I left because
I again was too trusting. Some guys that I was running around with
wanted me to host a party in my room behind the church. Somebody
called Brother Herron and said that there were three cars behind the church
and it wasn't Sunday. Anyway, the shit hit the fan and I left for
California. It took all my money to get to Needles, California. I
had to hitch rides the rest of the way. When I got home to La Puente,
I stayed for a week or two, then found a job in Alhambra.
My cousin Ron said that if I put his name on the job application
that I would get a job at FTF (Fittings-That-Fit).
When I went to FTF to apply
for a job, I was interviewed by John who was the foreman there.
He looked at my form, made small talk, said that if and
when they had a job opening that I would be considered.
As he was looking at my job application for the third
time, he noticed Ron's name on the form.
He asked whether this was the same Ron that so and so?
I said yes. He said, "You can start on Monday."
This man knew that Ron was a fun guy.
A smile to be around.
If you're going to be with someone, it might as well
be Ron.
Ron could make you laugh, a pleasure to be around.
***
We did not know James Brown, but James, Ron and I would
glide across the floor....
"He ain't no drag.
Papa's got a brand new bag
He's doing the Jerk....
He's doing the Fly
Don't play him cheap 'cause you know he ain't shy
He's doing the Monkey, the Mashed Potatoes, Jump back
Jack, See you later
alligator."
Lyric by James Brown
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