It’s odd to me now to think that I just accepted leaving Rochester so quickly, getting into a car not knowing where I was going until I was so far from home.
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After orientation George and his minions made damn sure all us new recruits got even farther away from home, and quickly. I didn’t know it at the time but the next big town on our list was Norfolk, Nebraska. The orientation wasn’t much and didn’t take long. It basically consisted of showing us all how to fill out the fake paperwork and get us our fake ID cards identifying us as a “Management Trainee” and participants in the big “Win a Trip to Hawaii Contest!”. These were our two choices for canvasing lies to dupe the folks with at their front door. We got our photos taken and IDs laminated, a quick assessment of how well we could recite the pitch and which one we’d choose to focus on, and then it was party time for one evening before splitting up into our respective crews and heading out on the road. It was a lot to absorb I guess and it was done in such a way that seemed to put me into a kind of blurry haze that would follow me throughout those early days and for quite a while after.
Actually, it wouldn’t leave me until I was shaken out of it.
I was on Guy’s crew but did not ride in his car at first. Only those more promising to produce had that privilege. I was in Fred’s car. Fred pretended to be vying for his own crew but had plans no one would know of till he made his play, and that didn’t happen till a few weeks later. In the meantime, we hit the small towns and countryside between Rochester and Norfolk. We’d usually stay in a motel just outside of town where everyone had to share rooms (and even beds) except for Fred and Guy and the other drivers. First thing in the morning these top dogs would gather at breakfast to map out their strategy.
I suppose I should mention here that this whole time none of us new recruits had yet to see anything even resembling a paycheck and no such thing was ever spoken of. We ate at Denny’s and small diners near our motel and spent all our time together learning the trade. I eventually asked Guy about this and he quickly said “Oh your money is on books.” as if that explained it all. “What, do you need some cash? You wanna go out and have a beer or something? Here, (and he’d give me a $20 bill) go have a good time”. And then he gave me that now-leave-me-alone-rookie look and walked away. Guy obviously had better things to do than explain details to underlings such as myself so I never brought it up to him again. Guy was the king of his crew and ordered his boys around like a General. After the morning’s planning session we’d all pile into our cars, fan out and steadily sweep through the town. Our well-disciplined crew could hit nearly every house, scooping up as much cash as possible from the town’s unsuspecting and easily duped citizenry.
Then we’d be gone by early afternoon, like a chilly morning breeze.
But that breeze wasn’t enough to blow me out of that blurry haze I’d been wandering about in. After our “training” and the party (was there even a party?… any girls at all? Of course there were), then it was into the back seat of Fred’s car (I think he had an Oldsmobile) listening to Fred go on and on about all the cool stuff he had done in his life. I think in my haze I heard him mention something about a rock band? This was a time of cheap motels, back into Fred’s car, cheap country diners, back into Fred’s car, small town streets, houses, front doors, people… occasionally selling a book or two, back into Fred’s car. Fred and others schooled me on how to talk to people and improve my sales. Funny, I can’t really remember any of those interactions at all. I remember many from the times after I’d decided to escape, but in those early days? Nope… not a one.
And then we got to Norfolk. Norfolk, Nebraska, a nice, medium-sized town with nice middle class folks. A small suburb without a city. Norfolk was the perfect size and type of town for George and his small army of predators and scammers to do what they did best, get in, get everything they could as fast as they could, and then get the hell outta Dodge.
It’s what Guy’s crew and all the other road crews had been doing on a much smaller scale all the way there. We’d all gather at the Super 8 or Motel 6 (or some such place like those) and cool our heels while George met with his captains, collected his (no doubt very large) portion of the booty so far, and dealt with any pressing issues and problems that inevitably come up when managing such a large group of misfits, miscreants and ne’er-do-wells. Thus, I was a big Midwest American version of “Oliver Twist”, Guy was George’s “Artful Dodger” and George was a combination of “Fagin” and “Bill Sikes” rolled into one.
And just as in Charles Dickens’s story, it was inevitable that George and his gang would run into trouble with the law one day. Yup, Guy got arrested in Norfolk and then George went to get him out and also got himself arrested in the process.
While all this was going on, I was in Fred’s car as usual so I didn’t hear about it until we got back to base.
That’s when Fred started talking to me about us going off on our own. I don’t know if he spoke to anyone else about it. I would only find out much later what kind of liar Fred was so I never knew his full play. I only knew the part that had me in it. I only knew the part where he said he wanted me to come with him. He said he would be getting the band back together and that they would go on tour soon. He said he knew I was a good singer and that I could be a roadie and perhaps eventually be a backup singer. I thought that would be so cool! I thought Fred was cool. And of course there really would be girls this time. Everyone knows that rock bands have girls all over the place. Fred had been talking about the band all the time I was riding in his car in my blurry haze. And in that haze I hadn’t really heard him but these new developments were beginning to shake me out of it.
And what happened when George and Guy got back from jail grabbed me by the collar and shook me into the harsh light of what I’d gotten myself into like an angry schoolmarm catching me asleep in class.
“Wake Up!!”
Fully awake now, I saw all the top brass follow the big man into George’s room leaving the rest of us in the motel lounge. Whatever Fred had said to George in that room I never found out but Fred must have thought he really had something on George because as soon as they came back into the lounge George suddenly threw Fred onto the couch next to me and grabbed him by the throat.
“Mother Fucker!!” “After all I’ve done for you, you…”
I can’t remember George’s exact words but there were more… many more expletives. What I remember most clearly though was how he had Fred pinned to the wall behind the couch next to me with one hand. Fred was not a big man. He was struggling with both his hands and the veins of his neck were bulging as his face turned red. I had never seen a black guy’s face turn red before and spit from George’s mouth sprayed all over it as he shouted all manner of curses. George was a very big white man from Georgia who right before my eyes looked very much like he was going to kill this black man who I thought was so cool.
I was petrified…
I did nothing…
To be continued…
