Monday, February 06, 2006
None and Lil’ None!
The Riley family took great joy in living on a crime free street in Tucson—a location like that did not come along very often. Some attributed it to the fact that an alleged boss of a Mafia family lived just a few blocks down the street, but people in the know offered a far different interpretation. It was due, they whispered among themselves, to the two Riley girls. They comprised a gang of two known not quite unaffectionately as the Riley gang. The ten-year-old was the top dog and bore the handle None because she had no middle name. The redheaded eight-year-old was known as Lil’ None since she too had no middle name. They were a pair of firebrands to be reckoned with as any ten- or eleven-year-old boy who used to live nearby could clearly attest. When the two of them dressed up they donned buckskin dresses, put on war paint and a war bonnet and when they invited you to a dance, you knew in advance that it would be a war dance. They prowled the streets on a daily basis just looking for an unsuspecting victim. They spent a good deal of their time bemoaning the fact that Tucson’s reputation seemed to have gone to pot. Tombstone, they whined, had the reputation of being the nastiest town in the Arizona Territory. Forget the Earp brothers and the OK Corral! They would like to do something to put Tucson back at the top of the country’s top ten bad towns. Little did they know on that day back in the sixties that opportunity would come calling on that very day.
Steve and his mother had unexpectedly appeared on their doorsteps one morning—just a friendly little neighborhood visit they explained. Stevie, as the Riley girls quickly christened him, either volunteered or was volunteered perhaps by his mother to go outside and play with the two of them. They suggested a game of sheriff and outlaws. He unwittingly agreed. But the Riley gang thought he was a tad tall for them so they suggested that he get down on one knee and pretend to be peg-legged. He said that he did not think that that would work very well. They then agreed that perhaps he was right so he should have two peg legs, meaning that he would be reduced to scurrying around on his knees. He had not scurried very far when None and Lil’ None confronted him with their six-shooters blazing and told him that he was under arrest. “Ok,” he said. “I surrender. What now?” They explained that it was too far to the nearest jail and besides that he was too heavy to cart off anyway. He would have to be apprehended where he was. He soon found himself apprehended to a clothesline pole, still down on his knees and tied securely from head to feet with what seemed like a mile of rope. Unable to move or scarcely breathe for that matter, he pondered what was likely to happen next. Lil’ None who had disappeared just a few minutes earlier soon returned with some old dead branches and a metal rod and a match. She soon had a tiny little fire going with the metal rod parked in the middle of the flame. Then she explained that they would be compelled to use the branding iron to make Stevie talk. Of Course Stevie took umbrage to that idea and shouted out: “Listen you little stink! If you so much as come near me with that ‘branding iron’ of yours, I promise I will give you something to remember for the rest of your life.” Now Lil’ None who was wise beyond her years was pretty confident that he was not talking about that saber tooth necklace that she had been coveting for the last year. She took out her six-shooter and whacked him across his forehead, figuring that he would be more cooperative if he were unconscious. However, he was not unconscious and was now less cooperative than before. “Listen,” he shouted. “When I get free, I have a good mind to turn you over my knee and give you a spanking within an inch of your life. Do you understand me?” Now exactly what happened next has become clouded in history. But this is the version as told to me. None, who was becoming a little concerned about all the ruckus he was raising, decided to muffle his protests with a handkerchief. He said “Don’t come near me with that fifty little rag of yours!” None would later explain that it was quite clean. But since she was a ten-year old, you can judge for yourselves. With Stevie now trying to spit the handkerchief out of his mouth, he said something to the effect of “My God! You little beast…!” None later swore that he said “Thank you Lord for the feast we are about to receive.” Since he was still struggling and was showing no signs of cooperation, Lil’ None whacked him across the forehead once again. Then the Riley gang grew tired of Stevie and sauntered off into a nearby arroyo to see if they could uncover any tracks of desperadoes trying to escape. After several hours of friendly visiting, Steve’s mother allowed as how that although she was sure that Steve was having a wonderful time, they really must be going. She finally found him still apprehended to the clothespole. That night None and Lil’ None slept soundly. Stevie did not!
The Riley family took great joy in living on a crime free street in Tucson—a location like that did not come along very often. Some attributed it to the fact that an alleged boss of a Mafia family lived just a few blocks down the street, but people in the know offered a far different interpretation. It was due, they whispered among themselves, to the two Riley girls. They comprised a gang of two known not quite unaffectionately as the Riley gang. The ten-year-old was the top dog and bore the handle None because she had no middle name. The redheaded eight-year-old was known as Lil’ None since she too had no middle name. They were a pair of firebrands to be reckoned with as any ten- or eleven-year-old boy who used to live nearby could clearly attest. When the two of them dressed up they donned buckskin dresses, put on war paint and a war bonnet and when they invited you to a dance, you knew in advance that it would be a war dance. They prowled the streets on a daily basis just looking for an unsuspecting victim. They spent a good deal of their time bemoaning the fact that Tucson’s reputation seemed to have gone to pot. Tombstone, they whined, had the reputation of being the nastiest town in the Arizona Territory. Forget the Earp brothers and the OK Corral! They would like to do something to put Tucson back at the top of the country’s top ten bad towns. Little did they know on that day back in the sixties that opportunity would come calling on that very day.
Steve and his mother had unexpectedly appeared on their doorsteps one morning—just a friendly little neighborhood visit they explained. Stevie, as the Riley girls quickly christened him, either volunteered or was volunteered perhaps by his mother to go outside and play with the two of them. They suggested a game of sheriff and outlaws. He unwittingly agreed. But the Riley gang thought he was a tad tall for them so they suggested that he get down on one knee and pretend to be peg-legged. He said that he did not think that that would work very well. They then agreed that perhaps he was right so he should have two peg legs, meaning that he would be reduced to scurrying around on his knees. He had not scurried very far when None and Lil’ None confronted him with their six-shooters blazing and told him that he was under arrest. “Ok,” he said. “I surrender. What now?” They explained that it was too far to the nearest jail and besides that he was too heavy to cart off anyway. He would have to be apprehended where he was. He soon found himself apprehended to a clothesline pole, still down on his knees and tied securely from head to feet with what seemed like a mile of rope. Unable to move or scarcely breathe for that matter, he pondered what was likely to happen next. Lil’ None who had disappeared just a few minutes earlier soon returned with some old dead branches and a metal rod and a match. She soon had a tiny little fire going with the metal rod parked in the middle of the flame. Then she explained that they would be compelled to use the branding iron to make Stevie talk. Of Course Stevie took umbrage to that idea and shouted out: “Listen you little stink! If you so much as come near me with that ‘branding iron’ of yours, I promise I will give you something to remember for the rest of your life.” Now Lil’ None who was wise beyond her years was pretty confident that he was not talking about that saber tooth necklace that she had been coveting for the last year. She took out her six-shooter and whacked him across his forehead, figuring that he would be more cooperative if he were unconscious. However, he was not unconscious and was now less cooperative than before. “Listen,” he shouted. “When I get free, I have a good mind to turn you over my knee and give you a spanking within an inch of your life. Do you understand me?” Now exactly what happened next has become clouded in history. But this is the version as told to me. None, who was becoming a little concerned about all the ruckus he was raising, decided to muffle his protests with a handkerchief. He said “Don’t come near me with that fifty little rag of yours!” None would later explain that it was quite clean. But since she was a ten-year old, you can judge for yourselves. With Stevie now trying to spit the handkerchief out of his mouth, he said something to the effect of “My God! You little beast…!” None later swore that he said “Thank you Lord for the feast we are about to receive.” Since he was still struggling and was showing no signs of cooperation, Lil’ None whacked him across the forehead once again. Then the Riley gang grew tired of Stevie and sauntered off into a nearby arroyo to see if they could uncover any tracks of desperadoes trying to escape. After several hours of friendly visiting, Steve’s mother allowed as how that although she was sure that Steve was having a wonderful time, they really must be going. She finally found him still apprehended to the clothespole. That night None and Lil’ None slept soundly. Stevie did not!
