Peace Takes Some Hits

[Reminder: Some of my posts, including this one, are memoirs of my abusive childhood. In this post I'm relating events that happened in the spring of 1956, when I was 6 "going on 7". The links to the right can be used to follow backward through the memoirs, or to restrict viewing to other kinds of posts.]

I was elected both the leader and the spokesman of the Anglos, while the spokesman for the "Puerto Ricans" was different from their leader. Their leader was a boy that I guessed was 11 or 12, who had a two-inch scar on one side of his face. I was told he got cut by a knife in a fight. It reminded me of the scar on my forehead. It added to the feeling I had that there was no reason for hostility between us.

Scarface didn't talk to me. He had his own right-hand man do it. My guy Jim stood at my side and whispered ideas to me.

The negotiations for peace were a total disaster. I tried to sell the idea that we weren't that different, and peace would be to our mutual advantage. We could move safely in their neighborhood, they could move safely in ours. The notion that we were more alike than different was met with ridicule. As for a promise of safe passage through our neighborhood, the spokesman's answer was simply, "Why would we want to walk among you people? You stink."

Hearing that filled my followers with anger. Some fool said something on the order of "Oh yeah, well so's your mother!" and within seconds a shouting match broke out around me. While I tried to get things back under control, someone else said, "Let's settle things once and for all." The Hispanic spokesman said, "Fine. Not here. Behind the sports arena." They wanted a place out of sight from passing traffic.

So the next thing I know I'm following behind as 130 kids migrate to the back of the sports arena. A circle is formed and Jim squares off with Scarface's spokesman and they have a one-on-one fist fight.

That was the start of what ended up being somewhere around 2 hours of one-on-one fighting. At all times there was one Hispanic and one Anglo inside the circle punching each other. When either one couldn't take it anymore, he was replaced by another from his side. It was like a giant tag-team boxing match.

Gradually kids who got worn out left on both sides. For every Anglo that left, a "Puerto Rican" left, and vice versa, until there were 25 "Puerto Ricans" to 5 Anglos. At that point the "Puerto Ricans" started to act like they'd won, so 3 or 4 began to leave for each one of ours.

All this time I tried to stop the thing, telling everyone they were being crazy. Nobody listened. (A lot like when I write my columns now. How many times have I said the Iraq war was a mistake? I've lost count.)

Jim was the first Anglo to fight and the last to quit, before me. When he finally gave up I was left facing Scarface and 4 of his buddies.

I tried again to negotiate. They called me a coward, and while Scarface stepped back one of the other 4 charged me. I surprised him by throwing him to the ground rather than boxing him. I wanted to use self-defense only. I didn't want to punch anyone.

I just wore the kid out, giving him nothing to do. Then I wore out another one. It looked like I would wear them all out one by one, when Scarface stepped in and shouted some orders to the others. he told them to hold me.

At first two of them held my arms while Scarface tried to hit me, but he couldn't get close enough because I kept kicking at him. So He ordered the other two to hang on to my legs.

With four guys holding my extremities, it was safe for Scarface to get close enough to beat me up.

Fighting For Peace

[Reminder: Some of my posts, including this one, are memoirs of my abusive childhood. In this post I'm relating events that happened in the spring of 1956, when I was 6 "going on 7". The links to the right can be used to follow backward through the memoirs, or to restrict viewing to other kinds of posts.]

I didn't want to lead the peace party to the Puerto Rican neighborhood. I wanted someone else to do it. I found out very fast, like within half an hour, that wouldn't work. As I went about trying to persuade different groups of kids that they should join in the cause I was told that they wouldn't do it unless I was the leader, and then they wouldn't do it unless I beat their little group's leader in a fair fight.

I should explain that a little better. All over the Anglo neighborhoods of Fort Devens the kids formed small groups. You couldn't really call them gangs. Packs might be a better description. Each pack had 5 to 10 kids and they all had a clear leader. And as I tried to draw each such pack into the truce plan, I was told by each they would join if and only if I fought their leader and won.

This was the most insane, crazy, stupid, idiotic crap I'd ever heard from anyone outside of my own insane parents. I wanted to lead a peace army. To get followers I had to fight people? Stupid.

I pointed out to these morons that I was not yet 7 and a lot of these leaders were between 9 and 11. They said if I didn't beat them in a fair fight they wouldn't join. I said how could it be fair, if I'm up against someone 4 years older and almost twice as big? They said, well..., we'll let you pick the rules of the fight.

So I said, OK, clean wrestling, no punching. And that's what I did. I went from one pack to another, drawing each into my cause, by defeating leader after leader in wrestling matches. Altogether I fought enough leaders successfully that I gathered up about 55 followers. That means I probably had to win about 7 or 8 of these wrestling matches. I remember one in particular was won against a big 11 year-old. I'll call him Jim. Jim became my second in command.

Jim tried to analyze my ability to win all those wrestling matches. He noticed that I would start each match as if I was right-handed, and then surprise my opponent with ambidexterity.

In fact, I was ambidextrous. Ordinarily I divided tasks up by hand. I used my right to draw and to use scissors; I used my left hand to write and keep time with songs. But in the excitement of the fights and with both Alex (who preferred the left) and Kona (who preferred the right) active and alert, the two could be integrated and at the same time independent. My opponents probably felt like they were wrestling two of me.

But I thought I had another good explanation. I told Jim that because the cause was peace, God was on my side. Jim repeated the view, already stated many times, that I was crazy.

I was crazy, but after two hours and 7 or 8 wrestling matches I had a peace army of 55 kids aged 6 to 11, and all but one was marching with me to the Puerto Rican neighborhood to offer terms of truce. The other one was already hurrying on ahead to take the news of our march to the Puerto Ricans in advance. He'd been sent half an hour earlier, so they they could know we were coming and could meet us on the boundary of their territory with an equivalent group of their own.

There was no point, I thought, in negotiating with just the first stray Puerto Rican we might encounter. We needed to talk to as many as possible. The idea was to negotiate a truce with all of them.

In hindsight that may have been a poor decision on my part.

The march took about 40 minutes. It ended near the Devens sports arena, not far from the housing area where most of the Puerto Ricans lived. Their "equivalent group" had 75 members. We were outnumbered by 20.