There is some discrepancy about the facts regarding the sixth grade skirmish between me and Norman Maxfield. I remember it as though it was yesterday. These are the actual facts and this is the time to set the record straight.
I was walking alone down an alley between two tenement buildings on the upper east side of Salt Lake City. It must have been after midnight because few windows provided light to lead the way. It was a walk I was familiar with. One I made each day going to and from school. The right side of the alley was often lined with Desotos, Thunderbirds, Skylarks, Bel-Airs, Studebakers, Nash Ramblers, and maybe, just maybe, a Hudson or two.
That night there were just a couple cars with Marvin Curtis between them playing the accordion. I put a nickel in his cup. Suddenly, Norman Maxfield and a bunch of his thugs surrounded me. Thinking back, Marvin was probably the lookout. I mean who plays the accordion in a dark alley after midnight?
The thugs were all well known troublemakers in the upper east side projects: Johnny Van Wagnor, Davey Thomas, Vern Della-Piana, Bobby Palmer, Jeffry Redford, Evan Maw, Jimmy McCormick, Davey Hardy, Bobby Peel, Johnny Strasser, and Delbert Draper.
As usual, they were up to no good and I knew I was going to be their mark that night. I challenged one of them, hoping the thugs would honor the challenge and it would be a fair fight, one on one. Of course I picked on the smallest, Norman Maxfield. I swear he couldn’t have been more than two feet tall at the time.
Before I could get in my first punch, two of Norman’s thugs grabbed me from behind and held my arms around my back. I couldn’t see who they were but Redford’s death lock was involved. It’s the hold he developed in cooperation with Krusher Kowalski, and nobody beats the Crusher!
Norman found a milk crate nearby and set it in front of me. He climbed up on that box and held his clinched fist to my face. He was threatening me with something made of silver, but it was too dark to make out what it was.
Just then a tenant awoke and came to their fourth story window to see what the ruckus was about. As they flipped on their light, I got a glimpse of what little Norman had in store for me. The reflection off the silver nearly blinded me. I could barely make it out, but it appeared to be a huge set of silver plated brass knuckles.
He hit me in the face with those blinding knuckles a time or two and once below the belt. Ooo that hurt! I started to lose consciousness. Blood was flying everywhere. Norman hit me again and again. Through the haze of what was left of my mind I realized the blood was ruining the brand new green and white checkered shirt Sherrie Sorbonne had bought me for Easter. I concentrated deeply and focused all my strength. I was able to break away from his thugs. I beat the little guy so bad that he crawled under a nearby sky blue Edsel. I felt my work was done there, so I let him be.
Evan looked like he was going for seconds, but when I showed him my fists he bowed down on one knee. Then Van Wagnor. Then Della-Piana. Soon everyone was down on one knee. What was going on? I looked around. No flags. Had I finally earned the respect I deserved? I shrugged my shoulders and walked away.
Story has it that Norman didn’t come out from under the Edsel until the next morning. He was to embarrassed to show his face around me or the thugs again. Norm dropped out school in the sixth grade. Sad.
And that’s the way it was, April 16, 1963.
Hugs and welcomes to everyone! It is going to be a really memorable weekend for all that are coming. I wish we had more, but we'll take whoever can come. Loved seeing youthful faces tonight with a little more wisdom in them. What a great turnout for a days short notice.
