Our Lady Of The Blues
Modern historians concentrate on the South as though that was the only place Black people were. This serves the needs of White collectivists in two ways. First, it gets them off the hook as they pretend such things couldn’t and didn’t happen in their bailiwicks up North. Secondly it allows them to demonize Southern Whites with a feeling of absolute superiority. To a large extent this continues attitudes from post-Civil War Reconstruction when the Puritans of New England tried to place the Negroes above Southern Whites. The Klan defeated that action reasserting White superiority. Northern Whites never forgot, forgave or relented. Denied the ability to look down on Negores as inferiors they satisfy their need for ‘niggers’ by despising other Whites.
The South is only part of the story for both Blacks and Whites. In 1960 only half the Negroes in the country lived in the South; the rest lived in teh North and West.
The North is is true had never segregated schools but it had segregated Negroes. In every Northern city there was a Black area. In part this was because Blacks wanted to congregate together for cultural and safety reasons and partly because Whites didn’t want to mix. The constantly growing Northern Black populations then tended to radiate from a center absorbing Blacks or districts as they grew; often very quickly as the imigration continued.
In Dewey’s hometown, the Valley, the Blacks were confined to one or two wards on the East Side. Of the two high schools, Herman Melville and Valley High, the Blacks all went to to Valley High. Dewey was unfortunate enough to attend the all white Herman Melville.
One of the reasons attributed to Blacks being behind Whites academically is that more money is spent on White schools than Black. To use a term of less literate Whites in the Valley this is bushwa. Henry Ford, Thomas Alva Edison and countless others attended one room country schoolhouses on which virtually nothing was spent yet came away with good enough educations to change the world.
Learning to read, write and figure has nothing to do with vast sums of money per student. Expensive computers are no help either.
In terms of money an equal amount was spent on either school in the Valley, perhaps even more on Valley High, yet Melville by far scored scholastically higher. The answer is not to be found in money but in the intellect.
On the one hand Black self-esteem is very low, they tend to believe the worst of what the world has said about them. They think themselves perceived as stupid oafs and so they accept the role. In their minds they see themselves as worthless and they impose this inner reality on their outer reality.
Black neighborhoods are run down and shabby because Black Folk feel run down and shabby so they make their environment conform to their self image.
Thus, while a new Valley High had been built at the time Dewey entered high school in 1953 by the time he graduated in 1956 Melville looked pristine compared to the shambles of Valley High. In making Valley High conform to the Black self-image it should be noted that they destroyed the White self-image. Life in not a one way street. The charge of bigotry does not change realities.
Academic performance also relates to identification with the subject matter. A mind has to be prepared to receive the information. Blacks were taken from an academic environment where little was expected of them and thrown into a situation where they had received little or no preparation for understanding what was to be taught while the Whites had.
As people ‘with no history’ Black students were confronted with White history, White literature, White politics and White scenery. Where did Black Folk fit into American history? Only in the universal Black lament: ‘We wuz slaves.’ Yes, they were objects fought over by White people in the Civil War. So and so was a good man because he intended to manumit his slaves when he died. No effort was made to adjust the subject matter to Black sensibilities without destroying White self-respect.
Is it any wonder they were academic under achievers?
They already had a poor self-image but now possibly through an inability to understand White culture in White terms they had this feeling of inferiority confirmed every day in the classroom.
Already fearful of injury from Whites they became aggressivley mean and violent both within their own community and toward Whites. White people under pain of severe punishment were forbidden to defend themselves. If any riot occurred they would be blamed and not the Blacks. Hence Black boys patrolled the hallways between classes harrying any White stragglers to class. White students scurried past the Black boys standing in the middle of the halls indisputably theirs.
After school Whites hurried from the halls into the light of day fearful of being lone White prey in the hallways. Any tardy White girls might be sure of being raped while White boys would take several cuffs as they ran the gauntlet.
Education had to suffer in such an environment. The Andy Hardy days were over. Niceness gave way to meanness. Those self-righteous Whites who enforced this madness would listen to no argument against proceeding in this manner. They were in charge; to disagree with them was to confess to bigotry.
The new men responding to this environment were unruly and disrectful of everyone and everything. They had seen their elders let, or even encourage, Black kids to disregard all the rules that had been imposed on themselves. They had seem Blacks go unpunished for rape and fighting. They had been denied the right to retaliate. They too were angry and resentful, they too had little respect for the ‘system.’
It was a system that little respect for them or their rights. This was a period when America began to eat its young. On the one hand they were taught that they were representatives of the City On The Hill, the New Jerusalem. They were to be unflinchingly moral in the pursuit of ‘justice’ for all the lesser races and peoples of the earth. They were to think of themselves as the highest example of mankind. They were Americans with all capital letters.
On the other hand they were the vilest people on the planet; the sole perptetrators of all the evil in the world. They were inherently anti-Semites who were responsible for Adolf Hitler’s acts from whom the Jews of America expected penitence and submission; they were vicious racists responsible for all the ills of the Black people; they had viciously and with no reason dropped the Atom Bomb on defenseless little yellow Asians in a racist frenzy; soon to be added to these crimes was the unethical appropriation of the radios and refrigerators of the Japanese residents of the Western Defense Command when they had been sent to the detention camps.
Reconciling the two views was an absolute impossibility. They couldn’t possibly be both but the image of the ‘Ugly American’ remained uppermost in their minds. It was a difficult juxtaposition of images: Ugly and American, but it somehow reconciled the two expectations placed on them by the Greatest Generation. A perverted City On The Hill. A criminal New Jerusalem. They raged internally.
Their reaction to shipboard life was, if possible, worse than the men who came aboard with Dewey. They added the seal to the already deteriorated state of discipline aboard the Teufelsdreck.
The nasty little Angeleno, Reed Creap, was aboard only a few weeks. His anger was aggressive and open. Like many of the new men he refused to perform any duties. Given a task he would merely lie down on the deck and go to sleep. If roused he would lean against the bulkhead with a cigarette drooping from his lips.
On watch, with a resulute lack of sense of duty, he refused to budge from the quarterdeck. The more onerous duty of patrol fell on the older men who were aware of what had to be done. His malaise was such that he had to interfere with more responsible people. He had to disrupt as his life had been disrupted. Who could blame him? Why should he suffer for the sins of others? On the other hand, why should anyone suffer his sins?
On the port side on an occasion he had access to the potato sacks outside the mess hall. Slicing a bag open, spilling to potatoes out on the deck, he grabbed an armful. Then as Trueman, on patrol, came around the fantail he began winging them at him. Potatoes splattered against the depth charges and became impaled on the supports.
Trueman going around the other way, Creap plastered the wing hatch with potatoes as Trueman ducked inside. Coming through the passageway and out the center hatch Trueman confronted Creap and Crane Crandall, the Third Class Petty Officer of the Watch. Creap in an unprecedented incomprehensible breach of discipline threw down on Trueman. Dewey was unable to comprehend fighting on watch. His appeal to authority, the POW, went unheeded as Crandall turned away. Thus the results of the Negro Revolution found their way aboard ship. The lack of discipline was contagious. Law and Order had obviously failed, shipboard society had broken down.
As Trueman would have had to throw the first punch and therefore be the aggressor he wisely declined to engage.
Creap was a classic malingerer claiming inllness to seek the comfort of his bunk. Then he came up with the brilliant idea of seeking a discharge because of a bad back. Here he unwisely entered an area where the Navy had vast experience. He was sent over to hospital where he was placed on his back and not allowed to get up for the duration of his enlistment.
Everyone aboard ship got a laugh but whether it irritated Reed Creap is unlikely.
Phil Monk, another of the new men, also refused to contribute to maintenance. His response was more traditional; he simply refused to do acceptable work; everything had to be done over.
Monk under other circumstances would have been a decent enough guy. Unlike most of Deck he was intelligent although he tried to pass himself off as dumb. He looked like the Pillsbury doughboy being big- 6’2″ and fat- 260 pounds. He had a dull face with a naturally dopey expression that made it easy to pass himself off as dumb.
He was from Idaho Fall, Idaho where in that small environment his family was affluent and intellectual in the small town sense. He had been someboy in his high school class. He considered the Deck Force an insult to his dignity.
His refusal to work reduced the Deck Force by one.
Another of the new men was to affect Trueman more deeply. Dennis Whatley came from the farm State of Nebraska. He represented everything that Trueman detested. But Roque Da Costa took a shine to him. Dennis became even a favorite perhaps in reaction to Trueman’s unconscious treatment of Roque as an inferior. Trueman did feel superior to Roque in culture and attainment which without his meaning to was reflected in his attitude. Roque naturally assumed the reason was because as an Anglo Trueman felt superior to Portogees.
In Dennis Whatley Roque found an Anglo that he could feel superior to. In Dewey’s eyes there was no contest. Over his protest Roque brought Dennis into their circle. This separated Trueman from the group. Rather than being able to exclude Dennis Trueman found himself marginalized.
It became revolting for Trueman to stand amongst this degenerate bunch for muster. The Deck Force was an insult to his dignity too.
Dieter, whose rages ran in streaks was further exasperated against Trueman who he blamed for the growing incompetence of Deck. He made another attempt on the life of both Dewey and Frenchey.
Never having forgotten Frenchey’s appeal to the Captain over the head incident his anger was now aroused again by the Captain’s quiet discussion with him about the recent Depth Charge incident, like a stone thrown into a pond, ripple after ripple. Ratches had as little idea how to deal with Deiter’s irresponsibility as Trueman had had with that of Creap. There was almost no way to discipline his twenty year hero of Saipan- Mad Chief Dieter. Ratches quietly dismissed the Mad Chief but Dieter knew he no longer had the confidence of his Captain. Deck was now in disarray from the Chief on down.
Dieter’s new murder attempt still had to appear accidental. This time instead of trying to inter his enemies in the bowels of the ship Dieter sent them to the top of the stack.
There were times when the ship was docked when the big Diesels were idle emitting no gases. Dieter bypassed those days summoning Trueman and Frenchey on a day when the Deisels emittted a steady and poisonous plume of gases.
‘Alright Trueman, Frenchey, I want you boys to get chairs and go up there right to the top and scale the stacks absolutely down to bare metal and paint it.’
‘Uh, Chief, you those gases are fatal. Don’t you think it would be better to waid for a day when the Diesels aren’t running? I mean, if we didn’t die in our chairs we could get dizzy and fall off and break our necks. Let’s thing about this thing, hey?’
A grim smile played on Dieter’s lips; he thought he had his man.
‘You aren’t refusing to obey an order are you Seaman Sea Lawyer?’
Trueman studied the top of the stack for a moment, the condition of which gave him an idea.
‘No, Chief. You know better than that; I yam a very dutiful sailor, I yam, and Frenchey and I will follow your instructions to the letter. OK, Chief?’
The liver rose to Dieter’s face as he nodded his head and moved off.
‘Zay are trying to keel us, Messhur Dewey.’ Frenchey said sullenly as they grabbed a couple chairs and scalers.
‘Yeah, I know it, Frenchey, but here’s the catch. We’re a little bit smarter than they are. Dieter’s so dumb he’d eat his own feces and think it steak. Watch this.’
The chairs were a plank for a seat strung on a rope that formed a triangle breast high. A hook and pulley apparatus went over the lip of the stack allowing the man to hoist himself up hand over hand securing his elevation with a half hitch.
The so called scaler was a metal bar two feet long, an inch and half broad. One end is sharpened into a straight blade while the other sharpened end is hooked something like a crow bar only closer to a right angle.
It was a fairly well known fact that the gases corroded the metal of the stack so that there was no real substance to it. Looking up at the top Dewey had spotted small holes corroded completely through the metal. He guessed that there was no bare metal beneath the paint.
As an experiment standing on the deck he rammed the scaler into the stack as hard as he could leaning into it simultaneously. As he hoped he was able to drive the scaler through.
‘OK, Frenchey. Now watch this. Let’s go.’
The two men hauled themselves up hand over hand with the scalers dangling from the back of their belts.
The gases roiling from the stack were suffocating.
‘What deed I say to you, Meeshur Dewey, are we die from smelling these gases?’
‘We aren’t going to be here long enough, Frenchey.’
So saying Dewey ripped out about three square feet of stacke.
Norm Castrato, who remembered the paint can Dewey had lured him into stepping in mess hall, now came by to watch his enemy die.
‘Hey, Castrato, you sure you want us to do this? Look at this, Castrato.’ Dewey said as he sought a spot just below his seat swinging the hooked end of the scaler into the stack at the same time pulling up hard. Another inch long hole appeared in the stack. ‘We’re good sailors, Castrato. So good we’ll tear this whole stack down to deck level in search of bare metal like we’ve been instructed to do. See this big hole here?’ Dewey said knocking out another square foot. ‘That was about thirty seconds work. We’ll be standing on deck by lunch. Why don’t you the Big Chief if that’s what he really wants?’
Castrato went off to get Dieter who appeared presently.
Dewey gave Dieter the same demonstration and speech.
Dieter glared at him malevolently but knew he was beaten. Looking up through tightly compressed lips he said: ‘Alright. Just paint it over and come down.’
‘You got it, Chief.’
‘Now we weel have to get paint and brushes and cover thees.’
‘Screw it Frenchey. We ain’t going to paint anything. Let’s get out of here and forget it.’
‘But we cannot leave eet looking like thees.’
‘For Christ’s sake Frenchey, first you complain that they sent us up here to die and now you want to hang around and make sure you do. What the hell’s wrong with you?’
‘There’s nothing but air there, Frenchey. If you want to come back and paint go ahead but I’m out of here.’ Dewey said lowering himself swiftly to the deck.
Dieter didn’t give them another asignment and Trueman didn’t ask for one. As he loitered around the ship he noticed that a deterioration in maintenance was beginning to be noticeable. Dieter was apparently no longer interested in keeping the Bucket T. in shape.
Politics Of The Revolution
Teal Kanary had been compelled to do some soul searching on the return from the West Pacific. Apart from his internal problems there were consequences to the initiation ordeal perpetrated by the homos. Just as Ratches had pursued Duber for the anguish he had caused the Captain so the men who bunked with Kanary in Operations carried a seething resentment against the Yeoman.
In the bitter aftermath of the initiation it became very clear that none, few, if any, of the so-called Shellbacks were entitled to that status. Now at leisure to examine things more closely it became apparent that Teal Kanary had been a leader in that fraud in which so many innocents had suffered deep humiliation, scarring humiliation as it were. There was deep resentment that Kanary was getting off scot free.
At their leisure his bunkmates now considered the particular savagery of Kanary standing alone on the fo’c’sle with his hose and two nozzles. There was that sneaky homosexual need to catch the men unawares as they came around the fo’c’sle. the heavy thudding of the water from the flood nozzle had knocked many men either off their feet or blasted them against the bulkhead in an unfairly painful manner.
The fact that Kanary in his insane homosexuality had wanted to use the suicide nozzle on them caused them to distrust the ratty Yeoman. He became a persona non gratis in Operations. This hurt Kanary who thought of himself as pure and worthy, much deserving to be popular and well liked.
Like all psychotics he couldn’t attribute the dislike of his mates to his own attitudes. As he searched for a cause he fixed on the nozzles as the cause. He tried the nozzles in the court of his mind and found them guilty somewhat like the Greeks who sacrificed the bull and then tried the knife and found it guilty of murder.
Nothing happens in isolation. As these notions were struggling for resolution in Kanary’s mind the Great Leap Forward had been launched by Mao the Dong in China. As mentioned before, Mao was the world wide head of Communism. Its Fuhrer of Duce. The Reds of the world looked to him for direction. Thus the Great Leap Forward was not just a Chinese phenomenon but a world wide one; just as the Cultural Revolution would be in the years after 1966.
The Reds in the fleet were vibrant with expectations of the over turning of Capitalism as they called it. There was much fairly open discussion of a revolt in the San Diego fleet analogous to the revolt of the Kronstadt sailors of Russia in 1917. As they vibrated with expectation Dewey could only look at this as though they were half-crazy. Even if such an unlikely revolt occurred it seemed to him that it would have no consequences in Washington D.C. Where would the payroll come from? From whence the supplies? Dewey didn’t even consider it madness he could only laugh at their cedulity. But the word was out to rouse the fleet to rebellion.
Kanary was resolved to do his part. He sought to create disorder aboard ship. Breaking down discipline is a pre-condition for any revolution; disorder is necessary to cover one’s activities. Kanary combined his Party activity with his new hatred of the guilty nozzles and his hatred of Trueman.
The nozzles were brass. Morford had been intent on convicting Trueman for throwing brass casings overboard. Everything coalesced in Kanary’s mind. He began to lecture various groups on the perfidy of the capitalist plot against them in making them inferior to the officers. Under Communism he asserted all would be equal.
As an expression of rebellion he encouraged the sabotage of the ship. He demanded that the sailors refuse to do their jobs well; that they, if not outrightly disobey their Petty Officers, they should goldbrick, working only when directly supervised and that slowly and sloppily.
Dieter’s willingness to sink the ship in an attempt to kill Trueman had made a deep impression on First so they were more open to Kanary’s solicitation than they might ordinarily have been.
As an example of weays to sabotage the ship Kanary seized several nozzles and tossed them over the side. ‘See, anything that isn’t welded down just throw it over the side. It’s like in Guam; if everyone does it there’s nothing they can do about it. They can’t put us all in the brig.’
Within a matter of days nearly everything that wasn’t welded down had disappeared over the side. Kanary wreaked vengeance on the guilty nozzles by personally tossing every one into the sea. Then he told Morford that Trueman had thrown the brass overboard. The silly Bifrons Morford believed it for no other reason than it fit his prejudices. This was the quality of man leading the peace-time Navy.
The attitudes fit well with Yehouda Yisraeli’s raging hatred against life. By now he had organized the homosexuals of the fleet into one unit. In his own way he was more powerful than the Reds. In the manner of the ADL of which he was a stellar member he identified Trueman as a leading homophobe who was to be interfered with at every level and opportunity. That’s the way the ADL works against the more than two million plus ‘known’ anti-Semites its Men In Black have identified in America.
The two rating most heavily infiltrated with homos and Reds were Yeoman and Supply. At about this time it became necessary for Trueman to buy from small stores. He needed a couple pairs of dungarees and shirts.
Had he been wise he would have gone and got his own leaving well enough alone but knowing he was on the outs with nearly everyone he attempted to ingratiate himself by volunteering to pick up items for others.
He was too naive to realize that someone on the outs cannot make friends by doing favors for those who despise him; all such efforts only reduce the volunteer to the role of servant or gopher. Dewey’s redeeming quality was that he was a quick learner; he didn’t do it again.
His deckmates responded true to type. they realized he was acting from weakness. They were quick to take advantage of him, so quick that Dewey quickly realized his error. He began to backpeddle seliminating all those who wouldn’t give him quick decisive requests. He was quick enough or he detested him enough to deflect Laddybuck Ifrit’s request that he buy the small stores out of his pocket while Laddybuck would repay him on delivery.
With a snorting sense of shame Dewey set off with a list of various items. He had plenty of time dwell on his error on the way.
Our Lady had informed all the homos of Dewey’s identity. He had either been pointed out or his picture shown to a number of key lookouts. Thus when he walked into Small Stores which was a homo stronghold he was picked out by two of the fifteen men working there who quickly whispered to the others that a ‘homophobe’ had arrived.
That warning coupled with the fact that he was acting as an errand boy for others marked him as one of the outs. The latter alone would have been sufficient to earn him ill treatment.
The clerks pretended not to understand him so he had to repeat everything two or three times. It was necessary for him to check everything for correct sizes because everything was given to him incorrectly once, twice or even three times.
Our Lady and the Fruit Bearers managed to score a major coup on Dewey which he wouldn’t realize for months. As mentioned he was then as a lath. The smallest size, a twenty-eight billowed around his hips while the waist was bunched in pleats all around his middle. He didn’t know that twenty-eight was the smallest Navy size. he asked if there wasn’t possibly a twenty-six.
The homo pulling goods for him began to wag his head no when the proverbial light went off in his head. He promptly brought Dewey three pair of pants sized twenty-six. Dewey was delighted.
The disrespectful treatment he was receiving had drawn the attention of the other sailors buying goods. In the manner of society they assumed something must be wrong with him for him to be treated so. As homosexuals form a secret society the other sailors did not know that the clerks were homosexuals and they were persecuting a sailor who wasn’t. They too then noticed that he was doing favors for others. By the time Dewey walked out with his pile of goods he was happy to go.
His trip had been very successful for Our Lady. Dewey’s person had become known to a signficant number of the homosexual community and more importantly Dewey had been defamed to himself. He couldn’t account for the rough treatment he was accorded so he he had to examine himself for the cause. Thus in the future if nothing else he would over compensate to ingratiate himself thus making him even more suspect, possibly in other’s eyes even a fag.
Back aboard ship the hilarity at his expense was continued by his shipmates but now Dewey was too aware to tolerate any of it.
He was haled to bring this and that to here and there. Instead Dewey dumped the lot on the table next to Laddybuck’s implanted ass telling them all to come and get their own.
Then he tried on his new dungarees. They were a different cut than anyone had seen before. Regular pants had a straight cut from waist through hips while Dewey’s new pants had a crimped in waist expanding at the hips. Regular pants had patch p0ckets sewn on the front of theleg while these had the more normal civilian slash pocket. Unlike the other dungarees he’d bought these fit perfectly although the legs were so short they looked like pedal pushers.
Everyone marveled at them but as they fit Dewey was satisfied.
Here Comes The Bride
While the activity for the small stores was going forward Brant Crowther returned from leave. He had gone back to Memphis where he had married his childhood sweetheart or at least someone he had known in high school.
He had brought her out to San Diego with him.
Dewey had never liked Brant; now he was given an ample demonstration of why he hadn’t.
Brant had his bride in a motel room temporarily. He invited five of his closest friends out to the motel room to meet her that night. The Navy being an all male organization tends to bring men closer together than ordinary. It becomes necessary to magnify one’s own importance in the eyes of other men. Every action is intended to impress other men of one’s prowess or merit.
Success with women is naturally a very significant criterion. There is seldom any way to corroborate any man’s stories but the tales are diverting. Brant Crowther was willing to demonstrate his prowess.
His wife was actually a virgin. He had waited for his return to San Diego to consummate the marriage and deflower her. He chose to do it in front of his friends. Disregarding his wife’s sense of shame and protestations he penetrated her for the first time in a cheap hotel room in front of his five friends.
The results had been very gratifying, for his young virgin bride bled copiously. He leapt to his feet waving the bloody towel he had placed beneath her at his friends. The only important thing in Brant’s mind was that she had indeed been a virgin and he had witnesses to prove it.
Back aboard ship the next day Brant Crowther strutted around boasting of his wife’s virginity. The men listened respectfully congratulating him. But then he began calling his witnesses and the truth of the matter forced itself on the incredulous minds of First.
Most men concealed their repugnance. As usual Dewey had to speak his mind. It was thus that Brant learned his error. He accordingly held Trueman responsible for what he now realized was misconduct.
A Bunch Of The Men In Black Was Whooping It Up.
So as to absolve itself of any responsibility Society requires every individual to take responsibility for whatever happens to him upon himself. Thus an individual is required to heap ashes on his head as he proclaims: ‘I have no one to blame but myself.’ And then his persecutors say resignedly: ‘It’s not us doing this to you buddy, it’s just the system.’ The system apparently is an autonomous organization related to nothing so Society is off the hook and the individual is responsible.
This is a pretty fable but it is not true. Virtue may be its own reward but it is not guarantee of security. As life was going on in this ordinary manner aboard the Teufelsdreck an event a hundred miles away would have its effect on Dewey Trueman. Dewey would never know of it or was he responsible for the events leading to it or devolving from it.
The occasion was a meeting of the Men In Black of the Anti-Defamation League of B’nai B’rith. The Sons of the Ceremony were gathered in LA in a combination social and planning session to combat the anti-Semitic influences loose in the land which they were singularly equipped to detect.
Even though the ADL carries dossiers on two or three million ‘known’ anti-Semites in America this huge cadre of people, very few if any who know of each other, is singularly ineffective. There is virtually no anti-Semitic activity in the United States. So either the ADL is singularly effective or pathologically paranoid. Although the auther has the distinction of being one of the three million he has no notion of how he made the list nor has he ever met one of his three million confederates conspiring against the interests of the nation of Israel. The author has also never committed or witnessed an anti-Semitic act.
This meeting was a fairly large gathering including guests from around the country and even the world. One of these guests was an ADLer from the Valley of Michigan by the name of Isaac Sheyer. He was also known as Ike, Ikey or Sheeny depending on the degree of acquaintanceship. Here in LA he was Isaac; to his wife, Joo, he was Ikey; to this fellow Valleyites he was Ike and, as a moniker he was known to some as Sheeny. It was not polite to refer to him as Sheeny. That name was a trap to discombobulate the unwary.
For instance as a child Dewey had only heard him referred to as Sheeny Sheyer. Naturally the lad thought that Sheeny was his first name not knowing that Sheeny if for Jews as Shine is for Negroes, a belittling term. Thus the first time Dewey referred to Sheeny Sheyer he was slapped down for being prejudiced and put on the defensive even though he was only doing what he had heard everyone else do. It’s a good trick and works every time.
Isaac Sheyer and his wife occupied a niche in the hierarchy of Jewish intellectual stlyes that was interesting.
He and his wife, Joo, were what was known as long suffering or inoffensive Jews. They cultivated a persona that bore no relation to reality.
The Sheyers owned and operated an economy clothing store in the Valley. The place was where the goys went with they wanted something cheap and wanted to do something for ‘a poor Jew’ while showing the inlcusiveness of their social outlook.
The little playlets staged there were satisfying to both parties.
Dewey had been a party to one when he needed an overcoat for his senior year. Sheyer’s merchandise was not of a poor quality but the cut of clothes was indistinguished and not necessarily out of style but never having been within a mile of where style ever was. It was like someone actually believed in the cut but society would never accept it so the manufacturer was compelled to close the stuff out at cheap prices even though he went on making it. The clothing had the indelible mark of the klutz. This last term also personfied the Sheyers.
It was for that reason that Mrs. Tuistad, Dewey’s mother’s remarried name, took her son to Sheyer’s to buy a coat.
The location of Sheyer’s store was just exactly where you would expect to find it. In an out of the way place in an out of the way shopping area. The kind of place that only a klutz would rent.
In Dewey’s youth there were two shopping areas in town. There was Downtown just across the Main St. Bridge on the East Side and the Courthous area which was just across the Court St. Bridge on the West Side.
The Courthouse area was definitely subsidiary to Downtown. In later years it was the place they staged such events as the Bed Race. The Bed Race enjoyed a vogue in the seventies. In some cases actual beds were used but those who wanted to win built fast buggies with a short couch. A group of men pushed what passed for a bed down a block long course with a young lovely reclining on it. A certain menality really appreciated the race.
The stores in the area got little business compared to Downtown hence they were run down or second hand stores dealing in oddities like Sheyer’s. The drop from Melmoth, the main street, to the river level two blocks away was about thirty feet, thus as the high arch of the Court Street Bridge began its rise from Melmoth the street adjacent to the bridge descended. The shop of the Sheyers was where the rise and descent passed each other at tht top of the store windows. The Sheyer’s Clothing sign was visible at eye level coming down the bridge or going up it. The location was almost picturesque and missed being distinguished. Like Sheyer’s Clothing the location was klutzy. I suppose given their predilection for klutziness the Sheyer’s were klutzy too.
Dewey’s mother brought him to this place of a Saturday afternoon to buy his overcoat. Now Sheeny Sheyer’s was always discussed as a place of last resort so Dewey was none too happy at getting this major clothing item at a klutzy place.
Dewey didn’t yet know of the depth of his mother’s hatred for him. Dewey had been a largish baby for a breach delivery weighing in at eleven pounds three ounces. He had spent a lot of time on his back with his head half out of the gates of life; the Jaquin and Boaz of entry into this world. You had to look fairly closely but you could see the mark of the forceps on his forehead where the female doctor had tugged heartily to get him out.
The at the time Mrs. Gresham had a very painful time being touch and go with her own life. If the last tug had failed this would have gone to a Caesarian. The little accidents of life like this have so much bearing on the future.
The pain of childbirth is supposed to endear the child to the mother but in the case the excess of pain caused her to resent the child. In additon she had wanted a girl. Because Dewey had caused her such birth pains and destroyed her hopes of a girl she was bent on hurting and humiliating him. She wouldn’t have admitted it and, of course, she didn’t know, she would have been offended if you accused her but subconsciously, deeplyfixated, she hated the boy.
She delighted in making him klutzy. She compelled him to wear brown, to wear a bow time, have stupid jackets, outre shoes and not this klutzy top coat.
They were the Sheyers’ only customer. Ike stayed behind the counter while Joo, know as Trixie to the outside world for obvious reasons, worked the floor. Trixie played the Old World Jew a la Mrs. Goldberg as though by humbling herself before the goys they wouldn’t molest her. You remember Kristalnacht, of course, we all do. In Jewish eyes we all celebrated the event fifty years later which happened in far off Germany as though we had committed it ourselves. I am not aware that they celebrated it in China or Tibet also but they might have.
Preventing molestation was uppermost in Joo’s mind. There was no aggressive anti-Semitism in the Valley. Where there is none incidents have to be created to justify the fear. Over the centuries Jews have become proficient in this. In the millennial year of 1840 there was the Father Thomas affair in Damascus which created a great deal of sympathy for the Jews of Europe.
During the millennial years of 1913-26 there was the Beilis Affair in Russia as well as the celebrated Leo Frank Affair in Georgia, USA.
In an attempt to create sympathy for the Jews of the Valley several windows of the synagogue were broken in 1953 as well as the sanctuary being desecrated. Few people looked at the photo in the News carefully. The center of attention was Joo Sheyer standing on a stool dressed in a strange version of Scottish gear with a plaid tam and skirt. Her face bor a pathetic, when will it ever stop, expression with her hands outspread over the ‘carnage.’ The torah had been taken out of the ark and leaned against a chest while a couple books lay neatly on the floor. Beneath Joo there were the charred remains of an American and an Israeli flag. If you looked closely you would have seen that the vandals had carefully placed the flags in a metal tray so as not to set the place on fire.
All was blamed on those atrocious ‘anti-Semites’ but no self-respecting anti-Semite would have burned an American flag along with the Israeli flag while if they really hated the Jews they would have done a much better job of desecrating the place. You know, burned it down. But it worked. There were a couple editorials about tolerance in the Land of the Free.
The Sheyers’ persona had no bearing on life in the Valley. There was no threat to the Sheyers nor any other Jew at the time. No Jew had ever been injured in the Valley. they could have walked down the street at any time no one would have thought to question whether they were Jewish. No one would have known but themselves. But because Kristalnacht had happened in far off Germany twenty years previously the Sheyers believed they were in daily and imminent danger.
Thus Trixie said this to Mrs. Tuistad: ‘I know I’m only a Jew but I hope you won’t hold it against me and will spend some money here.’
Oddly enough Mrs. Tuistad who never talked about Jews at all said this: ‘We know you’re Jews, poor people, but that means nothing to us and we’re going to give our money to you anyway.’ Dewey looked from each to each as Ike hummed the Kol Nidre behing counter wondering who wrote this play.
As Dewey looked about he noticed that all the clothes were klutzy. You really had to feel sorry for yourself to wear any of this junk. It was like the Klutz salesman of klutzy clothes camt to town and asked: ‘I know there’s a klutzy store in this town as in every town: Where is it?’
‘Oh, you mean Sheeny Sheyer’s .’ He was politely told and directions given. The terrifying thing was that there was one of these stores in every town; if you were self-pitying you could dress this way anywhere in America.
Dewey was not overly sophisticated but he wasn’t unhep either. He didn’t want any of this junk and he wasn’t backward about saying so.
‘Dewey, don’t be rude.’ Mrs. Tuistad said.
‘Ha. Ha. Some of them are so outspoken.’ Trixie Sheyer laughed as though Dewey were her favorite darling.
Dewey walked indignantly out of the store as his mother paid for a brown nubby overcoat that no self-respecting man would have worn to his mother’s funeral.
‘That little bastard is going to grow up to be an anti-Semite.’ Ike mused as the door hit Mrs. Tuistad on her broad behind on the way out.
Ike was already a skilled Man In Black who could see an anti-Semite where everyone else saw only a boy.
Now, speaking to his fellows in LA he was saying: ‘Some of them are anti-Semites and aren’t that aware of it so you have to develop it in them. Some don’t even know they’re anti-Semites so you have to show it to them and bring it out of them or else they will slip through and go undetected.
I’ve discovered several like that who no one knew until I showed them what they really were.’
‘Yes, I quite know what you mean. We had a fellow here, worked in a machine shop. He just had that look. If you know the type you could just see the anti-Semite lurking behind that self-effacing genial mask.
It took two or three attempts to get him interested in the notion of the International Jewish Conspiracy but once he got started, oy veh, did he pick it up and run with it. He had to be fired from his job of course. He’s been having a hard time finding another by the will of God, I tell you. If you can believe he blamed we Jews for the loss of his job. It’s always the Jews isn’t it? Whenever something goes wrong, whether in the world, country or one’s own life they always blame the Jews.
Every generation gives birth to its cadre of anti-Semites. It’s unavoidable. It’s some sor of mental disease; it may be genetic. It is our duty to seek them out and identify them to themselves if they don’t know that they are anti-Semites. Latent anti-Semites are the worst kind. Get rid of them by pre-emptive strikes before they develop. why, if Hitler had been recognized and assassianted while he was still a little Corporal on the Western Front millions of Jews would be alive today. One simply has to build a fence around Torah.’
Yes. if Hitler had been assassinated. Assassination and character assassination are the stock in trade of the Men In Black. In 70 AD at the fall of Jerusalem they had been known as the Sicarii form Sicarius or dagger. the Men In Black roved the streets of Jerusalem and pulling the sicarius from beneath their cloaks dispatched more moderate men who realized the futility of the fight and wanted to end, right in the street. Thousand fell beneath their daggers.
The effect of Hitler on the Jewish mind was profound. Trained in the synagogue to class Hitler with Haman, Jews went into a rage at the very mention of the name. The notion arose that if Hitler had been assassiated in 1920 or indeed if his mother had been killed before he was born in a great pre-emptive strike then millions of Jews would be alive today.
This notion grew with the decades. Even in 1958 the Men In Black were searching for any potential Hitlers so they could be destroyed before that had a chance to express themselves.
The fear showed up in a series of movies beginning with Hitler’s Brain in which Hitler’s brain was rescued alive and taken to Argentina wahere electrodes were attached to it by which Hitler gave direction for the conquest. Apparently a splinter was taken from the brain to make another movie called the Boys From Brazil. As we all know Dr. Mengele, the famous Nazi doctor, was in Brazil where he cloned several boys from the splinter of Hitler’s brain. The Boys were then distributed throughout the world requiring a colossal man, or boyhunt, to locate and destroy them. The Boys were all assassinated before they could grow up to realize their potential.
Perhaps more significant was the movie The Exterminator in which the problem of Hitler’s mother was addressed in another way.
In that movie the People of some distant century were in constant rebellion against the Dominant Culture which was represented as Moloch. John the leader of the rebellion was one tough customer who couldn’t be killed by the DC. In a reversal of roles the DC sent the Terminatior back to the time before John’s mother had conceived him to assassinate her thereby removing the problem of John.
The movie was actually very good but the denouement has a very weird, even perverted, Freudian ending. Talk about the Oedipus Complex. John who follows the Terminator back to before his birth succeeds in not only saving his mother and destroying the Terminator but he also succeeds in impregnating his mother, one to to presume with himself, so that he becomes his own father shortcircuiting 150K of evolution. This is actually a replica of God, the Father impregnating the Virgin with his only begotten son who is of the same substance. The psychological implications for current Jewry on that one is hard to fathom.
The movie Men In Black then followed the Terminator.
Yes, indeed! If anti-Semites didn’t exist it would be necessary to invent them. Judaism cannot exist without anti-Semites. There has always been an extensive literature on Judaism but in the post-wqr years the amount of literature has multiplied exponentially. Jewish educational centers such as Brandeis University churn out huge quantities. For every book written about Jewish history another is written on the history of anti-Semitism. Endless volumes of social commentary repeat the details of who the enemies are and why they have unrelentingly pursued Israel.
Today the noted Jewish lawyer and savant Allen Dershowitz sets aside a room in his house as a shrine to anti-Semitism. In the twenties Henry Ford was blown away after he had been persuaded to give up his Dearborn Independent articles when he asked the ADLer what he was supposed to do with this mountain of research material he had accumulated and was told to donate it to the Hebrew Theological Seminary in Cincinatti. Quite rightly he couldn’t understand why, if they found the material repellent, they would want it. The whereabouts of the material is unknown.
But to return to the party. Although the attendees were all dressed in orthodox black the woolen fabrics were of the most luxurious. The finest woolens that not only money can buy the can be made. Sheyer’s sartorial eye, which you may be sure was quite refined, was drinking in all this splendor when his eye was caught by a suit that was unmistakably second hand an of a finish no Jew would prefer. The cut too was not of Jewish preference buy had the unmistakable look of an affluent Anglo-Saxon. The shoes. Isaac’s mind spun, did not quite match the taste of the suit besides they had quite obviously been worn by someone else. There were two sets of creases.
Isaac’s eye traveled up the frame to the bushy, almost Groucho Marx mustache, the dark glasses and the hat that had obviously been cared for by someone other than the previous owner of the suit and shoes.
Ike was a good old clothes man. His father had been in the second hand clothes business before Ike had married and moved to Michigan to become Sheeny Sheyer.
As a matter of fact Ike had a good knowledge of the entire clothing business. Few were aware that the Jews had orginated the old clothes business in the middle ages. Oddly enough, fewer still were aware that the clothing business in the United States was entirely a Jewish affair. In fact Jews had if not originated they at least developed the concept of store bought clothes. In the nineteenth century women had sewn the clothes the family wore. The huge influx of immigrants, mostly men, made that impossible to a few enterprising tailors generalized body shapes and forms turning out very serviceable clothing that fit well enough and could be altered to fit well.
Thus by the time of the Great War the vast majority of clothing was store bought. It was all made by Jewish firms composed entirely of Jews in the completely Jewish environment of the Lower East Side.
The Jewish World Government required large sums to finance it; hence the the legendary Jewish charity. The need for money rose dramatically as the Great War wound down and the Peace Conference was about to begin. The Jewish contingent at the Peace conference acting as Jews qua Jews and not as citizens of other countries was huge, active and expensive.
The Jews sensing their opportunity rushed to rebuild the Jewish communities of Central Europe as autonomous or semi-autonomous peoples which also required vast sums of money.
According the price of clothing in the US skyrocketed. Prices triple or quadrupled to raise the money to finance the Jewish diplomatic mission in Paris. Prices rose so high that men could actually not afford to buy suits. Men went to fantastic lenghts to extend the life of their clothes. Some wore coveralls over their suits in the office to reduce wear.
Thus the US financed the Jewish mission in Paris.
Isaac had been too young to remember but Papa Sheyer had lovingly described to the young man how the Jews had so cleverly put it over on the goys.
Now as Sheyer looked at the strangely attired man he was fascinated. Than a glimmer of recognition flirted with his mind.
‘Do you know who that man is?’ He asked.
‘Sure. That’s Yehouda Yisraeli. Very important; very up and coming.
‘What’s his line?’ Isaac asked.
‘Pictures. And he’s now venturing into phonograph records.’
‘Do you know where he’s from?’
‘Minnesota, I think, or one of those Northern States.’
‘Could be. Yes, that might be right. Minnesota, Michingan, up North.’
Then Our Lady turned to walk to greet someone who had come down from San Francisco expressly to meet him. The movement brought recognition.
‘That’s David Hirsh.’ Ikey Sheyer said to himself.
Yehouda, Our Lady, David Hirsh had recognized Sheyer at once. He was satisfied that Ike Sheyer hadn’t recognized him.
A knock on his door a few weeks hence would convince him he was wrong.
For the moment he strolled over with extended hand to be introduced to Naftali ‘Nate’ Asher. Nate was a Mastermind from San Francisco. There he was a mysterious person that many had heard of by his moniker of Dr. Queergenes but few knew. He was in the process of organizing the homosexual scene in SF just as Our Lady had organized them in the Navy. The meeting was momentous.
The Wages Of Sin Revisited.
If the reward of virtue is celebrated the wages of sin are no less so.
The sweep of San Diego harbor was truly magnificent. The blue of the bay against the blue sky, yellow streaked by the darting arrows of Apollo truly made the heart leap.
The bustle of the ships of the fleet coming and going or sitting at anchor was an amazing sight for those who had eyes to see. Most took it so for granted that they noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing out of the ordinary! Lord, give us eyes to see those details that make the commonplace ordinary.
In its effort to give the ships every conceivable experience so that the extraordinary should become commonplace the Teufelsdreck had previously been assigned to nest at one of the buoy strung across the bay.
As already noted some of the ships were permanently stationed at the buoys. Among them was the Destroyer Tender, Matthew Lewis and the Submarine Tender A. Radcliffe. The Teufelsdreck was now assigned the outside post of a nest of five ships alongside the Lewis.
A destroyer of Sub Tender is a huge floating machine shop. During wartime they are stationed overseas to provide emergency parts for damaged Destroyers or Subs. To keep the fleet fine tuned it is necessary to assign Destroyers to tenders for minor repairs from time to time.
Tenders are big ships over five hundred feet long sitting high above the water with a very broad beam. To go on liberty one had to pass across the nested Escorts to pass through the machine deck of the Lewis to the Quarterdeck.
The Commodore, who was one of the pettiest men alive, put his Black Sheep on the outside so they would have the longes walk to liberty. Dewey was struck with amazement as he climbed the ladder from the Desade into the machine deck of the Lewis. The deck was fifty or sixty feet wide running the full length of the ship. Row after row of lathes spread from side to side marching from stem to stern. The ship must have had hundred of Machinists aboard.
The hull of the Lewis was full of bars, rods and sheets of various metals of every description. Enough metal to build two Teufelsdrecks. the wealth of the United States was truly incredible.
As Dewey trooped through eyes wide open, a cluster of Lewis men lounging amongst the lathes picked up. One said: ‘That’s him right there.’
Leaving their place they streamed out across the passageway engulfing Trueman. A couple elbows flew as they attempted to jostle Dewey into a fight. Dewey evaded the elbows stepping deftly through them avoiding contact.
‘Watch it you little prick.’ One said at his back in an attempt to inflame him.
‘What the hell’s wrong with them?’ Dewey asked to no one in particular receiving unconcerned shrugs in reply.
What was wrong with them was Our Lady. As mentioned before Yehouda Yisraeli had organized an intelligence gathering organization second to none. He knew ship movements before they left the mind of the admiralty. He knew of the Teufelsdreck’s assignment before Captain Ratches did.
Frustrated and angry because of the failure of Bert Torbrick to have Trueman committed to Atascadero his plan was to have him lured into an altercation aboard the Lewis. He wanted something that could be escalated into something else where Trueman would be sent to the brig. Once in the brig he knew he could find someone to murder Trueman. Thus his adversary would be dishonored by dying a criminal in jail. If that wasn’t low, what is?
Bitter, bitter was Our Lady’s heart and mind. He hated people who hate.
Trueman’s picture was circulated among the homos of the crew of the Lewis. Had that failed Kanary was there to identify him.
The first ruse had failed. Had Trueman allowed himself to be provoked he would have received a significant beating before he had been brought up on charges of fighting at his court martial. The wrench that would have been found in his hand would have been conclusive proof of his criminally insane murderous intent.
As things of this nature had been happening for a year now Trueman was properly ‘paranoid.’ He walked around as alert as a marked convict in Alcatraz.
He was shaking the encounter off when looking around he saw to his astonishment Ezio Ponzi who had been responsible for the thefts of hundreds of thousands of dollars and who was now a crew member of the Lewis. This was only five months since Ponzi had been escorted off the ship in Guam.
‘Check that out.’ He said, nudging Mike Deasy who was standing next to him as they waited for the landing craft.
‘Yeah, I know.’ Deasy said pretending not to notice Ponzi as Trueman should have done.
‘Jeez! He’s not only out of the brig, he’s a Third Class again. Look at that. They even let him come back as a Disbursing Clerk. The Navy must be slow learners.’
‘OK. OK.’ Deasy said, rubbing his nose as an indication that Dewey should let it drop until they were out of hearing of Ponzi.
The now Third Class Disbursing Clerk, Ponzi, had seen his former shipmates, most of them his partners in crime. A little flood of resentment crossed his mind that he should have been punished while they went free. Perhaps that was the reason that all but Dewey had avoided his look.
In Dewey’s mind Ponzi and the others had been sent up for a good long time perhaps dishonorably discharged yet here was the ringleader, the mastermind embezzler who had gotten many times more than Willie Sutton ever could dream of and he was only a test away from former Second Class status. The wages of sin must be pretty good was the thought that passed through Dewey’s mind.
The landing craft showed up at the bottom of the ladeder as they all crowded aboard. Shakey Jake was at the helm. When you see one of these barges in a movie devivering Marines ashore on a Pacific Island if you look way to the back to the right you may see the hat of the sailor piloting the craft. He’s standing in a well with the wheel on top.
Piloting sailors to liberty is different than landing Marines in a battle zone. Expecially in San Diego harbor. The harbor style was not to crouch down in the well but to sit up on the edge of the craft manipulating levers and wheel from above. The idea was to present a casually heroic silhouette. A good looking fellow piloting the craft to the piers was a sight to behold.
Shakey Jake had the stance down. The guy wore his clothes neatly and shipshape. He had a way of gazing off toward the distant landing place that displayed studied ease and competence. With a little touching up he might easily have been a model for one of those 1930s heroic German postage stamps. Donny Brook was in fact an admirable sailor but he was short, dwarfish and unhandsome if not ugly. His personality traits shaped as a suppliant foster child endeared him to no one. Still a seaman after twelve years of rejection in the Navy, Shakey had never given up trying to make a place for himself. He saw in Trueman a replica of himself. He anted Trueman to be a model sailor, thus as he steered the craft ashore he thought it would be a fine time for Trueman to learn to pilot the craft.
Running one of these things was the simplest task in the world even though, in the manner of working men, the operators thought they were rocket scientists. All you did was adjust the power lever for speed, then point it for where you want to go. It is true that it took a little practice to follow a straight line ashore rather than having to adjust your course in a zig zag fashion but the pilots were convince they had mastered a feat few could accomplish.
‘Come on, hop up here Trueman and learn how to pilot one of these things.’
‘I already know how, Brook. I’m in dress blues and I’m not going to do it.’
‘When did you learn?’
‘What do you mean when did I learn. There’s nothing to it. You push the starter button, adjust the speed and steer for shore. I don’t need lessons.’
‘It’s not that easy.’
‘Has to be. You and Brant do it.’
‘Hop up here.’
‘Aw, stick it, Brook.’
And so silhouetted against the brilliant blues, sand and gray of the ships Shakey Jake Brook delivered them to the Broadway Pier in a straight line.
As they disbarged, a craft from the Subtender Radcliffe was landing sailors in front of them. There had been a time when Dewey had thought of volunteering for sub duty. There was a certain romance to it. He had been dissuaded when he was told that as part of the training a prospect was let out of an air lock into a one hundred fifty foot tube of water with nothing but a lung full of air and expected to rise slowly so as not to get the bends.
Dewey had no idea how slow slowly was but the thought of attempting the test and failing had seemed to him too stiff a price to pay for the honor of being a submariner. Intrigued by being among a host of these fabled creature he tried to strike up a conversation with one of them, Pace Sloughly.
The submariners were all pasty faced from lack of sunshine and air while seeming to even wear a coat of grease. Apparently one of the requirements for being one was the ability to keep your mouth shut on the the principle least said soonest mended. Dewey learned that with his mouth he’d never had made it.
First he tried to find out from Pace whether the story of the tube was correct. He received only baffled stare as the submariner tried to move off. Dewey wanted to talk.
‘Hey, you remember in boot camp when they told us what to do in the event they tried to drop an Atomic bomb on us. I guess you guys under water don’t have to worry about that much. I don’t either because I can’t imagine the Russkies wasting an A-Bomb on a Destroyer Escort.
They had two ways of delivering the bombs. One of them was that the jet came in low over the water arching up while releasing the bomb in a mile long arc that exploded directly over the ship. The planes have to do that because they have to get as far awary from the blast as soon as possible.
That one was really stupid but my favorite was one in which the jet came right up alongside the ship at right angles then turning straight up at a right angle it released the bomb which was thrown up a mile or two before falling back down to explode right over the ship while the plane flew safely a couple miles away. That one was so impossible I couldn’t believe it at all.’ Dewey said laughing. ‘Remember those.’
Pace Sloughly gave Dewey an uncomprehending look, even hostile. He couldn’t figure out how Trueman could use so many words and words you had to really think about to understand what he was saying. Aboard a sub no one said anything.
Pace almost physically shoved off from Trueman nearly running from him as he looked back over his shoulder unable to understand the talkative Seaman.
‘I guess they don’t talk much down there. Glad I didn’t apply.’ Trueman said to himself walking off in the opposite direction.
The homos had failed to get Dewey on their first try. They took a different tack. Dewey stood duty the next two days but on Thursday he went ashore again.
This time he searched the machine deck for potential trouble but all was clear. They were waiting for him on the Quarterdeck.
As the Teufelsdreck sailors clustered at the head of the the ladder the big queer seaman standing duty singled Dewey out.
‘Hey there, you. You can’t go on liberty.’
‘Oh yeah I can. I’m on my way, watch me.’ Was Dewey’s flip response.
The Lewis watch had neither the right nor reason to interfere with any of the sailors in the nest but as the sailors were gathered on the Lewis the watch had some jurisdiction over them. The Seaman had to be obeyed if he denied any sailor the right to leave the ship.
‘You’re not going ashore.’ The Seaman replied.
Dewey looked over at the POW who had authority. The POW looked out over the bay pretending not to see him nor responding to his question.
The queer Seaman bumped into Trueman provocatively.
‘You hear me. Go back to your ship.’
Had Dewey risen to the provocation and shoved back he would have been done for. That would have been assaulting the watch. The provoked self dense would have been overlooked; it would only go on the report that Dewey had assaulted the watch. Once he had gone on report all the animosities aboard the Teufelsdreck, all the rumors about him and all the ill will toward him, especially as Kanary was Yeoman and Morford Operations Officer, would have weighed against him.
The incident in the machine shop of Monday flashed through his mind. He had no idea what was going on but he knew he was being targeted. As he stood wondering Parsons grasped the situation? ‘Oh my god, they’re going to get Dewey.’
‘Go back and get the Officer Of The Day, no, better yet get Sieggren. I’m sure he’s still on board.’
Parsons hurried off in a genuine terror for Dewey’s well being. Even though Dewey had snubbed him after his burglary charges Parsons had come to realize the error of his ways. Now that he was classed with the criminals aboard ship he had become privy to things he had never known before. By ‘they’ he meant the criminal element, being as yet unaware of the layering of the groups composing the element. Reds and homos were part of the criminal element. Parsons was unaware of the involvement of Our Lady.
‘Don’t do anything Trueman, don’t say anything until Sieggren gets here.’ Deasy cautioned.
At the threat of the Teufelsdreck officer the queer Seaman had sesisted although his six foot four inch bulk loomed over Trueman.
Jealousy for one’s shipmates is a cardinal rule in the Navy. One defends one’s own whether he is liked or not. Trueman and Brant may have disliked each other but they would have backed each other as shipmates regardless. Thus Sieggren got up immediately following the running Parsons at a quickstep. He didn’t run because officers never run, only enlisted men.
They raced across the machine shop. ‘Alright what’s going on here. What’s the problem with my sailor?’
The sight of the Lieutenant bristling manliness from his mustache down to his shoe shine made the queer Seaman forget everything but sex. His eyes glassed, his tongue projected between his lips and his pants bulged conspicuously and quickly. He drew a laugh from all around.
‘There isn’t any problem, Lieutenant.’ The POW said from the desk.
‘Make sure there isn’t. I don’t want one of my sailors interfered with.’
‘They won’t be, Lieutenant.’ The POW said.
A Second Foray To Tijuana
Dewey’s attempts to escape the oppressive Navy environment served more to increase his despondency than alleviate it. Running the LA gamut of homosexuals on Sunday evening cast a pall over much of the rest of the week. His Mondays were stormy and blue indeed.
Even though these tremedous experiences were the result of only sevral weeks they were magnified in his imagination to characterize his whole enlistment. If asked in later life Dewey would have said he hitchhiked every weekend over three years for a total of over a hundred thousand miles.
It was closer to twenty thousand but an eventful twenty. Each weekend was an incredible adventure. Also most of the hitchhiking occurred in the first few weeks. By late July he was unknowingly riding dope runs regularly with Kayo Kreskin. by September when the Kreskins bought Joe McLean a car for the dope runs Dewey rode with him.
During the second week that the Teufelsdreck was moored in the next beside the Lewis Dewey was surprised at being approached by Kayo Kreskin who asked him to down to Tijuana again.
Dewey had not spoken to Kayo since walking past he and his father at the Cadillac as they deposited the kilos of heroin in the trunk.
Dewey had not been favorably impressed with Tijuana the first time he went down there. He didn’t drink nor was he interested in the whores. Those two items and fighting was the whole of Tijuana. He’d really seen enough of prostitutes overseas. Being abroad had made visiting whore houses sort of legitimate but back home they reverted to being dens of iniquity.
‘I don’t like Tijuana Kreskin and besides I don’t have the money to waste.’
‘How much is it going to cost you? I’ll give you a free ride down and back.’
Unpleasant memories of the last trip recurred to Trueman. He hadn’t liked being the middle passenger in the back seat.
‘How may guys are going? I’m not going to sit in the middle again front or back. You can take that gig and shove it.’
‘There’ll only be the four of us. You, me, McLean and Parsons. They’re OK aren’t they?
‘Uh, you aren’t going to a tuck and roll job again are you? Trueman had no idea Kreskin had been transporting marijuana but the determined seach by the Mexican border guanrs flagged that something had been going on. Dewey vaguely sensed that he might have ended up in the Tijuana jail.
‘No, I’m not getting another tuck and roll. What do you mean?’
‘I don’t want trouble at the border. Maybe you guys think it’s fun but I don’t need it.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. there isn’t going to be any trouble at the border. C’mon along it’ll be fun.
‘I’m not spending any money.’
‘Spend what you want.’
The four men hopped out of the landing craft catching a bus out to thirty-second street to get Kreskin’s car from the lot. They wheeled across the border into the border town of Tijuana. The place seemed a bigger dumpt to Trueman than he remembered. They say that the border towns are not representative of the real Mexico but the difference is so miniscule as to be unnoticeable.
Kreskin spoke a few words in McLean’s ear then left the three men to their own devices.
Following Mcleans lead the first thing they did was head for the whore houses. These places were too tough to be pleasant for Dewey. The shame of the pimps made them act super tough. The type of man frequenting the houses are invariably out to impress the women with aggressive manliness.
If there is such a thing as bisexuality the habitues of bouses are the true bisexuals. On the one hand they fill their desperate need to prove their manliness by bedding the women and by either punching out other men or being punched out by them. Win or lose they find it an exhilarating pastime.
Midweek is slow south of the border so the first place they chose was empty except for a couple solitary drinkers. Without other men to show off for the men sat sullenly nursing their drinks uninterested in the women.
The relationship of women to the damaged Animus and Anima is worthy of study. Men both resent their dependence on women and love it.
Dewey had to spring for a Coke to the loud guffaws of those present.
‘Sorry boys, I don’t drink. Just look at it as yet more for you.’ Dewey laughed at what he hoped was an affable answer. It passed because everyone mumbled somehing returning to their drinks.
The whores were unoccupied so Dewey sat conversing with a couple of them while the pimps sat trying to be menacing nearby. As Dewey was talking a young nice looking chicken swept up behind him tapping the bone just behind Dewey’s ear.
His eyes rolled around in his head while an enervating wave swept his muscles while his brain went into the most pleasant of joys. The effect seemed to last for quite some time. When Dewey could focus his vision again the girl was seated in front of him smiling at his discombobulation.
Some effor was required for Dewey to dispel the haziness. He sat twisting his head in an attempt to clear his mind while the girl laughed delightedly at her success. She thought she was likely to turn the trick but Dewey had rather hold onto his money than release his seed.
He was saved from aguing about it by McLean who was jealous both because of the blow to the bone and this nicest looking girl in the place seeming to favor Dewey.
‘Let’s get out of here.’ He said gruffly, plans of vengeance already in his mind.
‘She’s too good for you.’ He said outside.
‘I don’t know whether she’s too good for me.’ Dewey laughed. ‘But any whore as lovely as that is sure to have VD. You should have screwed her McLean, you could use a dose.’
‘I know where there’s something better.’ Said McLean, stiffening and settling an evil glance on Trueman.
‘Don’t want anything better. I said I wasn’t going to spend any money.’
McLean , who was a regular libertine, was a familiar in many of the haunts of Tijuana. He was familiar with a number of the pimps cluttering the street. He hailed one he knew speaking a few words in his ear. the pimp nodded beckoning them to follow. He led them into an alley to a house.
‘Give him a buck and a half.’ McLean demanded. He was now determined to humiliate Trueman as the girl’s selection of Dewey had humiliated him.
‘Why would I give him a buck and a half, Joe?’
‘He’s going to take you upstairs and get you laid.’
‘I don’t want to get laid by these whores.’
‘You don’t go up there people are going to say you’re queer.’ McLean threatened.
Heaving a sigh Dewey handed the pimp a dollar and a half following him up the stairs. McLean and Parsons stood waiting before the doorway.
Like all pimps this tried to take a commanding role barking out directions like a drill sergeant. He indicated a room in which a tough old whore of twenty-eight lay fully clothed.
The pimp repeated to the whore in Spanish what McLean had told him. The woman was the antithesis of the spry young thing that had raised McLean’s ire.
‘Don’t take off your clothes just drop your pants and get up here.’
The pimp pushed open the door Trueman had closed.
‘God, this worse than Manila.’ Trueman thought as he climbed between her upright knees.
‘I’ll put it in.’ She said. But she didn’t. Holding Dewey up between her legs she gripped his penis with her hand. Looking down Dewey asked: ‘How come I can see daylight between us?’
‘I don’t know. Hurry up.’
‘C’mon, stop wastin’ time.’ The pimp shouted through the doors, displaying some awesome power. ‘Get it over with.’
Dewey wasn’t so slow that he didn’t realize the whore was using her hand but as he hadn’t wanted to be there in the first place he didn’t care so long as he got out quickly but the situation angered him anyway.
Finishing it off Dewey leaped up anxious to get out. The pimp said something through the door in response to which the whore began reviling him while the pimp weakly commanded: ‘C’mon, get your ass out of here.’
‘You’re nothing but a filty whore; say what you want it has no effect on me.’
The whore let out a screech bursting into tears which brought three men rushing from another room with murderous looks on their faces. Dewey wasted no time in bounding down the stairs four at a time.