Charlie pursed his lips and nodded absentmindedly.
“Who gets to live in them?” he asked.
“The older guys move in first, and as they finish the rest, us younger guys will start coming over.”
Jake led the way around construction trailers and between material stacks. He pointed out future building and home sites with a contagious pride that captured Charlie’s attention. They dodged a water truck that passed by, soaking the dry dust and forcing it to stay on the still unpaved road.
“Look at this, Charlie. You can still see the old corn rows between the houses. This whole area was a cornfield less than a year ago. Next thing you know, they’ll have sidewalks here.”
“You realize you’re starting to sound like a salesman? But to tell you the truth, I kinda like it.”
“Come on. We’ll take the shortcut to the finished cottages,” Jake said.
On the back path between the vocational building and the new cottages, Charlie and Jake talked about life at Boys Town, girls, and what activities Charlie might pursue. The mood was relaxed and carefree. Charlie was caught off guard when Jake suddenly stopped.
“Uh oh. Trouble ahead. We need to circle around the other way.” Jake turned to step off the path.
“Why? What’s up?” Charlie asked.
“That’s Link Collins ahead. He’s bad news. Let’s get outta here.”
Charlie appraised the situation. A large hulk of a boy had a younger one backed against a construction trailer. From the mannerisms, Charlie could tell the larger boy was giving the smaller one a ration of trouble. Charlie gave Jake a sidelong glance and pressed on.
Jake followed with cautious steps.
“I’m not circling around any other way. We’re on a tour.”
“Forget it, Charlie. No one takes on Link, especially me. He’ll pound us.”
Charlie ignored the warning. “I can handle this.”
Closing within earshot distance, they could hear Link showering his unwilling victim with degrading obscenities.
As Charlie marched on, Jake began to plead. “Oh God. Please, Charlie, don’t do his. That’s Link. We need to go the other way.”
“I don’t think so,” said Charlie. “I’ve got to do this. Don’t worry. I can tell just by looking that he probably has only half a brain. We’ll see if he can be trained.”
Charlie looked straight ahead, still assessing. Link’s imposing stature didn’t affect Charlie in the least.
“What kind of name is Link?” he asked, eyes locked on Link.
“We call him ‘Link’ because he’s the closest thing anyone has ever seen to the missing link.”
Charlie laughed and never missed a step.
The could hear the brute clearly now.
“You’d better pay up, you little queer. I’m giving you two more days. The next time I bash your nose, it will be broken, not just bleeding. I’ll do it with a two by four in shop class in plain view of every one. ‘Ooops, the little pervert just stepped in front the board I was carrying,’ I’ll tell the instructor. ‘Better call an ambulance for this pussy.’ Do you really want to test me, you little dumb shit?”
The smaller boy was visibly shaking.
Charlie arrived within feet of the confrontation. “Is there a problem here?” he asked.
Jake looked into Charlie’s eyes and saw compassion and understanding for the cornered boy.
Link turned on Charlie.
“Who the hell are you, punk?” Link growled.
Charlie began a slow burn, not detectable by Jake or anyone else, but it was there, smoldering, burning away at his restraint, waiting for the time when it would burst into raging flame.
“Me?” Charlie answered. “I’m just a kid trying to help out if there’s a problem.”
The compassion in Charlie’s eyes was gone, now replaced by ferocity. And for the first time, Link felt an unnerving flicker of concern brought by Charlie’s unwavering glare.
Charlie stood, showing no fear.
Link suppressed his moment of uncertainty with bravado.
“I already asked you; who the hell are you?”
Charlie stood silently. A cloud of hostility engulfed the scene.
Link waited until Charlie’s unflinching and smiling lips moved. And what did Charlie say?
“My name is Charles Manson. Do yourself a favor and remember it,” he said dangerously.
Link remained coiled. “We heard you’re some kind of professional burglar, owned your own house, killed someone.”
“Nah, never killed anyone yet, never had to, so far as you know. I’m just a fun-loving guy. And I never took anything that the Lord didn’t provide.”
“We heard you’re a real bad-ass outlaw,” Link persisted. “You might’ve been a big stud in Indy, but here you’re just another two-bit punk kid. So, do you think you’re a tough guy?”
“Well yeah,” Charlie answered. “I’m tough to resist. I’m basically just a good guy. What’s your name?”
“Don’t worry ‘bout my name, punk. Ask around. You’ll find out soon enough who’s in charge here.” Link was sneering.
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll be in charge soon enough anyway, and I’m kinda’ disappointed to see you’re not too chummy.”
“What do ya’ mean, you’re going to be in charge soon? You ain’t even been here a day.” Link moved toward Charlie. “Say something. Do something,” Link taunted.
Charlie took the challenge. “You may be bigger and older and fatter, but you’re really just a big pussy. I’ve seen your type before. No brains.”
Link took another half-step forward but stopped short and struck a cocky, intimidating pose. “Maybe I should just kick the living shit out of you right here and get it over with.”
Charlie stood his ground opposite Link and readied to deliver a violent pre-emptive attack on Link’s balls.
Jake watched petrified and saw Charlie’s lips compress and thin with rage as if his fury was about to erupt, and then saw Charlie regain control and suppress the violent urges. The timing wasn’t right to attack.
Nor was the timing right for Link who knew he could easily punish this boy who was 150 fifty pounds lighter. Link, telling himself he didn’t want witnesses and repercussions at school, merely shrugged and walked away.
“I’m not through with you, punk,” Link growled over his shoulder as he headed for his cottage.
Jake exhaled a sigh of relief. “It looks like we’ll live to see tomorrow. How did you know he’d back down? He could have crushed you like a cigarette butt.”
“I believe that down deep Link is an alright guy. He wouldn’t’ve hurt me. I intend to have another talk with him later.” And to the boy against the trailer, “Come on, pal. Jake is about to show me the new cottages. Walk with us, buddy.”
Yeah? Well I’ll show you the cottages, but we’re staying clear of number four for sure,” Jake said.
Chapter 14
Stories In The Dorm - Boys Town, April 1949
By the time Charlie and Jake returned to the dormitory, they were tired. Charlie had grown irritated by Jake’s non-stop talk about the encounter with Link. Jake shuffled into the room.
Charlie tossed his jacket into a corner and flopped on his bed.
Jake spoke up. “If the dorm supervisor catches you throwing clothes on the floor, you’ll get in trouble. And if you have too many repeat violations, you’re outta here. They could kick you out of Boys Town.”
“What? You think I care if I get kicked out? Maybe God has other plans for me. I ain’t totally convinced this place is all that great. Maybe I’ll just cut out on my own.”
The conversation would almost certainly have disintegrated further, but at that exact moment, Hiram arrived from the garage carrying a bulging grocery bag.
“You guys are going to love this!” Hiram exclaimed. “I brought us a whole bag of snacks.”
He dumped an assortment of gum, cookies, and chips onto Jake’s bed and the boys began the pl
easant labor of dividing the loot. They stashed away the treats that escaped immediate consumption. Sated, the boys rested in their beds in the lull before dinner.
Hiram was in high spirits. He turned on his side toward Charlie’s bunk. “So, what’s your story, man? I want to hear straight from the horse’s mouth how you got to Boys Town.”
Charlie was relaxed. The mood was right. He opened his heart and poured out a story.
“There’s not a lot to tell about me,” Charlie began. “I was born in Toledo. My mom was a fifteen year-old runaway girl. She loved me as best she could, but when I was six years old, Mom went to prison for robbing a gas station.”
“Tough stuff,” Hiram commented. “No dad?”
“Naw,” Charlie said. He settled back on the bed and put his hands behind his head. “Mom’s not even sure who he is. Anyway, while Mom was in prison, I lived with my grandparents in Kentucky. Grandpa was a good man, but he was always busy on the C&O Railroad. Every day, Grammy shoved the Bible down my throat. I could quote scripture before I could ride a bike. Then, when Grammy got sick, I went to live with my aunt and uncle in West Virginia. Uncle Bill was a hard ass. Meant well, but tougher than a Marine sergeant.”
“At least you had a place to live.”
“Huh,” Charlie snorted.
He was quiet a moment.
“I admit it was better than jail, and I really believe they tried the best they could. But listen to this: I was the only first grade boy ever to show up for school in a girl’s dress.”
“What?” Hiram exclaimed.
“I’m not kidding,” Charlie continued. “My uncle made me wear a flowered dress because he thought I was a sissy. Thought I took Grammy too seriously with her Bible talk and making me promise never to fight. Thought it would toughen me up. Can you picture me in a dress?”
“Uh, no,” Jake said, glancing at Charlie to see if he was serious.
“Yeah. But my uncle was right about one thing. I got tougher … and smarter too. I’m not sure whether to thank him or choke him. Before I had a chance to do either, Ma got out of prison and I moved back in with her.” The tone was oddly without emotion.
“Pretty dress, I’ll bet. Did you get a boyfriend?” Jake managed with a timid laugh.
Charlie answered with a grin. “Would you believe I turned that situation into something positive?”
Jake shook his head not sure what to expect next.
“Actually, before the day was over I had three kids ready to wear dresses the next day,” Charlie said. “Call it the gift of gab.”
Hiram spoke up again. “Did your mom get out of prison?”
“Yeah, and she took me back. We lived in hotel rooms. She did what she had to do for us to eat. But after a while, she just got tired. One of her boyfriends talked her into turning me over to the courts. I lived in a boys’ home for a long time after that.”
“Some fun, huh?” Jake said quietly. “Were you pretty ticked off at your mom?”
Charlie deflected the question. “I had a bad feeling that morning that something horrible was going to happen, something that would change my life forever. It did.”
“Why did they send you to Boys Town?”
“I broke out of jail in Indy and stole a car. I caught a red light at the wrong time and the cops nabbed me. One of my priest friends from the jail went to bat for me. Trust me, Boys Town is way better than where I was headed.”
Jake suddenly came to life.
“Hiram, you should have seen Charlie take on Link today. Link backed down like a crawfish.”
When Jake finished the story, Hiram too was impressed. “Better be careful with that palooka. He won’t give up easy. He’ll try to catch you alone somewhere and thrash you.”
Charlie remained unconcerned. “I’ll take care of Link. He doesn’t know it yet, but his days pushing people around are over. Trust me.”
Charlie closed his eyes. The room remained quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I’m done with my story. Hiram, your turn. Tell me about why you’re at Boys Town.”
Hiram took a deep breath and considered his response.
“Just like you’re the only guy to ask about my tooth, you’re one of the few guys who ever asked how I got here. Jake knows things about me but there’s more. I’ve got a past that eats at me real bad. I don’t normally say nothing ‘bout it ‘cause too many people, even here, got it in for blacks.”
“I ain’t got nothing against the blacks,” Charlie said. “They’re people just like everyone else. There are good ones. There are bad ones. Let me tell you: I remember the black woman who lived next to us in Toledo. We called her Aunt Sally. She was as good a woman as you’d ever find, nicer than most. She had a boy named Cletus. He was all right too. Fact is, Cletus he was my best friend while we were together. I learned a long time ago that blacks are a superior breed of human. They’re faster, stronger, and probably smarter than white folks. They’ll rule the world someday.”
Hiram’s eyes widened. “Blacks rule the world?” he laughed.
Charlie continued.
“Old Aunt Sally’s father was a farmer. I went with her and Cletus to see him one time. Black as coal and the smartest man I ever met. He had to do everything alone. I saw him figure out how to move a huge boulder while I was there. A white man would have needed eight helpers, machines, and dynamite, but not him. Did it all by himself. Figured it out using levers and ropes. By himself!”
Charlie paused and looked Hiram in the eye. “That’s enough of me talking. Your turn,” Charlie said.
“I’m here cause my old man was murdered back in Chicago over a year ago,” Hiram began. “I was fourteen.”
“Sorry, man,” Charlie said. “What about your mother?”
“I never knew her. She died when I was born.”
“So, who killed your old man?” Charlie asked.
“Pa was a mechanic, a good one. Owned his own garage. That’s where I changed my first set of spark plugs. Somehow Pa got hooked up with the 43rd Street Gang. They can rob a man and shoot him dead and never think twice about it.”
“So what happened?”
“He repaired gang cars for three years. They never paid him a penny. When the bill got big enough, Pa refused to fix their cars until they paid up. ‘No more,’ he told ‘em.”
“Pissed ‘em off, right?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah. They sent a couple of guys over and beat up Pa real bad. I had to nurse him at home for a month.”
“Like you said, real bad guys.”
“When Pa got better, he reopened the garage, and started fixing cars again, including the gang cars. But he was mad, deep down never forget mad. He was waiting for his chance. I don’t know all the details, but he mugged one of their runners and got off with a money bag. Turns out the bag was full of C-notes and diamonds.”
“No shit?”
“It took them a while, but the gang finally figured Pa was the one who done it. They put the heat on him real heavy-like. Tortured him.” Hiram’s voice broke off as he fought for composure.
“They gave him two days to come up with the goods. That night I helped him wrap it watertight as a frog’s ass. Pa took me down the street to a neighbor’s outhouse. We weighted it down, and I watched as he dropped it into the hole. He told me, ‘This is for you in case something bad happens to me.’”
Hiram wiped an angry hand across his eyes, blinking at the tears. His voice shook remembering his father’s words. “Don’t ever tell anyone where it is. It’s for you, boy,’” he said.
“And they killed him?” Charlie asked.
“Two nights later, they shot him six times on the sidewalk while he was locking the garage. Then they came to the house and ransacked the place. They never found the loot. They never dreamed a kid knew where it was. I didn’t tell the cops about the money either.”
Charlie and Jake waited for Hiram to catch his breath and calm down.
Then Charlie asked, “How did you end up here, Hiram?”
“I was an orphan with no place to go. Actually, the cops figured the gangsters would eventually come back to torture the truth out of me. It was the cops and my parish priest who got me here, you know, to hide me.”
“They were right,” Charlie agreed. “You do know too much. This is a good place for you, if you can trust the cops not to squeal.”
“I’ve got to hand it to Father Flanagan,” Hiram said. “He was color blind. If he found a green Hindu boy from India, he’d bring him right in here with the rest of us. There’s nobody better than anyone else at Boys Town. Flanagan knew that people are people. Just that simple. He was a good ‘un, alright.”
“You ever hear any more out of Chicago?” Charlie asked.
Hiram flashed his gold tooth with a smile. “Not a peep. Someday, I’m going back to Chicago, get me some lime-proof rubber boots and jump right down that outhouse hole to dig out my Pa’s loot. And you know what? I’m the only person in the world who knows where it is. Ain’t worried even if they tear that outhouse down. I know right where it is.”
Charlie laughed. “That’ll be one shitty job.”
Laughter rocked the dorm room.
When the laughter passed, Charlie looked across the small room at Jake.
“Alright, Jake, your turn, pal. Tell me your story.”
A pained expression came across Jake’s face.
“I don’t like to think about my past. Dad was a Marine in the war. He loved me. The Japs killed him at Guadalcanal. The same year, Mom died of cancer. I was barely eight years old. My uncle’s wife in St. Louis wouldn’t take me in. They already had too many kids of their own, she said, so they sent me here. I never hear from them.”
Charlie could see the talk caused Jake pain. Jake raised his hand to wipe a tear.
“Jake, I know it hurts. It’s about the same with me and Hiram. But guess what, we may not have real families, but we can be our own family. Brothers. Right here, man. We’re brothers.”
Charlie’s sincerity was convincing, and although neither Hiram nor Jake responded, Charlie knew their reticence was as good as enlistment. He brought them back quickly from the morass of self-pity.
“Hey! I got a great priest joke for you,” Charlie announced.
Before He Became a Monster: A Story Charles Manson's Time at Father Flannigan's Boystown Page 8