Monday, May 08, 2006
The Straight and the Narrow!
Remember Mickey Spillane? “Trouble walked through the door.” For Mike Hammer “trouble” was almost certainly a woman. For others it was different. Johnny Cash went to prison in 1968. Not to do time, but to do a concert for the inmates. He became an overnight sensation.
For teenage boys, a little brush with the law is often a coming-of-age experience. I have a friend who grew up in a small New Mexico town during the late 30’s. To protect the innocent I shall refer to him only as Larry. Larry and a couple of buddies got their hands on an old junker. Immediately they started thinking of something exciting to do. The town was small but nonetheless sported a stoplight on every block—six or seven in all. It was a small town. One night they noticed that no one was on the streets after 11 p.m., but the stoplights kept right on doing their thing. So they decided to go to the west end of the town and run every stoplight. They started out rather slow since they had to catch a stoplight and adjust their speed to make sure the next light turned red before they got there. They sped through the first light and started whooping and a hollering. The sheriff who was patrolling the next street over saw what was happening and headed east at fast as he could do. As the boys sped through the last light on 2nd Street, the whooping and hollering came to an abrupt halt. There in the middle of the street was the sheriff with his hands on his hips. “Larry, get out of that car right now!” It was a small town where everyone knew each other by name. He then ordered the other two out as well. He unbuckled his gun belt and let it slide to the ground. He then took off a large belt and gave each boy a thrashing they would never forget.
A few days later the boys had another idea. They had already forgotten their recent thrashing. Teenage boys after all do have rather short memories. They got a bottle of ketchup and poured it on the arm of one of the boys. They tore the sleeve off his shirt and put him in the rumble seat. They started driving slowly downtown. This time whooping, hollering and groaning. Many in the ranks of the pedestrians who witnessed the scene were damsels who were not accustomed to seeing so much blood on their city streets. They started screaming. The whooping, hollering, groaning and screaming caught the attention of the sheriff. The boys looked up and saw the sheriff standing in the streets with his hands on his hips again. The prank was over. This time they went to jail for disturbing the peace.
I have another friend whose name really was Larry. Larry grew up in a small Arkansas community. It was small, but not that small because it did have a drive-in movie theatre. One Saturday night Larry and a male friend went to the drive-in. They quickly lost interest in the movie, which was a low grade B movie at best. They began to run through the drive-in whooping and a hollering (which seems to be what teenage boys do best). There was one man there who was actually watching the movie. He told the boys to quiet down and get back in their car and watch the movie or else. They paid him no mind. They were after all teenage boys, and teenage boys are often hard of hearing. They continued to run to and fro and kept right on whooping and a hollering. They were convinced that this was the way to pick up girls. The man had had enough. He got out of his car and confronted the boys. They then noticed the badge on his shirt. He was the sheriff. The boys did not get back into their car, but they did sit next to the bumper and watch the rest of the movie. They had no choice. They were handcuffed to the bumper. No girls could be seen within fifty feet.
Remember Mickey Spillane? “Trouble walked through the door.” For Mike Hammer “trouble” was almost certainly a woman. For others it was different. Johnny Cash went to prison in 1968. Not to do time, but to do a concert for the inmates. He became an overnight sensation.
For teenage boys, a little brush with the law is often a coming-of-age experience. I have a friend who grew up in a small New Mexico town during the late 30’s. To protect the innocent I shall refer to him only as Larry. Larry and a couple of buddies got their hands on an old junker. Immediately they started thinking of something exciting to do. The town was small but nonetheless sported a stoplight on every block—six or seven in all. It was a small town. One night they noticed that no one was on the streets after 11 p.m., but the stoplights kept right on doing their thing. So they decided to go to the west end of the town and run every stoplight. They started out rather slow since they had to catch a stoplight and adjust their speed to make sure the next light turned red before they got there. They sped through the first light and started whooping and a hollering. The sheriff who was patrolling the next street over saw what was happening and headed east at fast as he could do. As the boys sped through the last light on 2nd Street, the whooping and hollering came to an abrupt halt. There in the middle of the street was the sheriff with his hands on his hips. “Larry, get out of that car right now!” It was a small town where everyone knew each other by name. He then ordered the other two out as well. He unbuckled his gun belt and let it slide to the ground. He then took off a large belt and gave each boy a thrashing they would never forget.
A few days later the boys had another idea. They had already forgotten their recent thrashing. Teenage boys after all do have rather short memories. They got a bottle of ketchup and poured it on the arm of one of the boys. They tore the sleeve off his shirt and put him in the rumble seat. They started driving slowly downtown. This time whooping, hollering and groaning. Many in the ranks of the pedestrians who witnessed the scene were damsels who were not accustomed to seeing so much blood on their city streets. They started screaming. The whooping, hollering, groaning and screaming caught the attention of the sheriff. The boys looked up and saw the sheriff standing in the streets with his hands on his hips again. The prank was over. This time they went to jail for disturbing the peace.
I have another friend whose name really was Larry. Larry grew up in a small Arkansas community. It was small, but not that small because it did have a drive-in movie theatre. One Saturday night Larry and a male friend went to the drive-in. They quickly lost interest in the movie, which was a low grade B movie at best. They began to run through the drive-in whooping and a hollering (which seems to be what teenage boys do best). There was one man there who was actually watching the movie. He told the boys to quiet down and get back in their car and watch the movie or else. They paid him no mind. They were after all teenage boys, and teenage boys are often hard of hearing. They continued to run to and fro and kept right on whooping and a hollering. They were convinced that this was the way to pick up girls. The man had had enough. He got out of his car and confronted the boys. They then noticed the badge on his shirt. He was the sheriff. The boys did not get back into their car, but they did sit next to the bumper and watch the rest of the movie. They had no choice. They were handcuffed to the bumper. No girls could be seen within fifty feet.
