The Gangs of New York, Part Two
From Sandy Armistead: A Black Man’s Journey in a White Man’s World, Dwight Norris, High Desert Branch
Dwight Norris struck up a conversation on a tediously long line in a coffee shop. His encounter with a fascinating 97-year-old black man who looked a lot younger, led to a series of interviews that in turn led to the book Sandy Armistead: A Black Man’s Journey in a White Man’s World. This excerpt comes from Chapter 3, “The Gangs of New York.” Part One ran in Showcase last month.
Lord, have mercy! Mama was yelling and trying to get at me. She was the spicy one. Daddy was just standing back there, looking all serious, like he was sad and disappointed. After some papers were signed, this one cop said he would drive us home. I sat in the back seat with Mama, and Daddy sat in the front with the cop. Mama was screaming all the way home. I felt safer in the jail cell.
After the cop dropped us off, Daddy took me into their bedroom and sat me down. “Did you do what the police say you did?” Daddy asked. “Did you help steal that car?”
“Yes, I did that.”
“Do you know why you did that?”
“They were gonna beat me up if I didn’t go with them,” I said. “And I guess I felt cool to be with them. They thought I was cool.”
“Did you feel cool all the way to the jail?” Daddy asked. “Did you feel cool when you looked into your mama’s eyes?”
I remember just hanging my head and tears started pouring down my cheeks.
My daddy put his hand on my arm and pulled me toward him. “Because you were honest, I’m not gonna spank you, but if this happens again …”
Just then Mama walked in. “The police officer came back and wants to talk to Sandy.”
We all sat at the kitchen table: Officer O’Reilly, Mama, Daddy, and me. My brothers and sisters were told to go to their bedrooms.
“Sandy, this is the first time the police department has heard about you,” the officer said. “You ever try to steal a car before?”
“No, sir.”
“And you never spent any time in the jail before?”
“No, sir.”
“Your parents tell me you’re a good boy. You got a paper route, you shine shoes, you go to school.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you respect your parents?”
“Yes, sir. I love my parents.”
I noticed right then that tears were rolling down Daddy’s cheek and Mama’s face was all sunk into itself, like she couldn’t bring herself to say what she was really feeling.
“From everything I can see,” Officer O’Reilly continued, “you got a good family and you’ve been doing the right things, going to school, and making your own money in an honest way. What made you go with these guys to steal that car?”
“Well, they stole my bike and said I’d get it back if I went with them. And they said they’d beat me up if I didn’t go.”
“Let me tell you something,” the officer said. “You hang around with them, they will beat you up to keep you in line. If you got nothing to do with them, they forget about you and move on to other guys and threaten them. You’re better off without them.
“If you steal cars, you will get caught. There’s no way for you not to get caught. And you will go to jail. And if you keep doing it, you start stealing from stores and you’re carrying a gun, and you break into people’s houses and steal from them, and then you go to jail for longer and longer times, and you’ll be kept away from your friends and your family.
“And you’ll be around scumbags who live like gutter rats, who will not be nice to you but will find a way to get something out of you, and they will hurt you. They don’t give a shit about you, no matter what they tell you at the beginning.
“Looks like you got a nice family and a nice life going on without these punks. I hope you decide not to go down their path in life.”
I listened to what Officer O’Reilly had to say, and as time went on, I realized he was right. I noticed some kids in the neighborhood hanging around with the gangsters, and they would disappear for a while, and I wondered what happened to them, if they were in jail or something.
My grandfather was a slave, and he had to do what his master told him. I figured if I became a gang member, all them other guys would be my masters and I would be their slave. I would have to do what they told me. I was full of piss and vinegar, but I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t want to be a slave like my grandfather, only in a different way. That would be a bad thing.
If you missed Part One, go back to
last month’s Showcase.