Before He Became a Monster: A Story Charles Manson's Time at Father Flannigan's Boystown

by Lawson McDowell

  “I don’t cause trouble,” Charlie said. “I deal with it. Instead of biting our fingernails about your boogie man, we need to do something about him. I’m not a scared rabbit that runs. I’m an eagle that attacks. I don’t care how scary he looks.”

  “Slow down, Charlie. We have other options. We don’t have to face off against a man with a gun. That’s just stupid.”

  Charlie turned to Hiram and answered intently.

  “We have options? What a relief! Let’s hear ‘em.”

  “We can just leave,” Hiram said emphatically. “Evaporate into the corn.”

  “So, that means you’ll walk to Chicago. Is that your plan?”

  “No,” Hiram said, acknowledging a weakness in his thinking.

  “Maybe you want to steal one of those bright red Boys Town trucks with the big signs on the side. It that it? I guarantee a missing truck would be reported to the cops by breakfast. And guess who the primary suspects would be. You and me.”

  “Okay,” Hiram said. “Maybe I don’t have everything worked out, but what’s wrong with hiking out and regrouping once we’re safe?” Hiram was grasping for straws, trying to avoid facing the inevitable path to Hell.

  “I’ll tell you what’s wrong with that chicken shit plan,” Charlie said. “We walk away, Spider finds out you’re gone, probably before lunch. He’ll take revenge because he’s not a nice guy. He’ll punish the innocent, and disappear to Chicago. You wanna give him a reason to shoot Father Gallagher or Sister Klara?”

  Jake and Hiram fell silent. Hiram looked at the floor and rubbed his forehead in despair. They couldn’t simply walk away from Spider.

  Now they understood what Charlie had known all along. Giving Hiram a choice was not a choice at all. There were no options without nightmarish consequences. The Chicago thug had to be eliminated. That was the only real choice.

  They sat quietly for a period, coming to grips with their predicament. The only sound was Diablo’s contented purring.

  “Whatever you decide, you can count on me,” Jake said.

  “How…,” Hiram began dejectedly, then cleared his throat and spoke more firmly. “How are we going to do it?”

  Charlie’s hardness melted away. They saw a familiar light of compassion return to his eyes.

  “I understand how you feel,” Charlie said. “I know how hard this is. You guys are part of the plan, but I’ll do the dirty work myself. Here’s what I want to do.”

  They sat forward, ready for Charlie to lead them to salvation.

  “We’re supposed to meet at midnight in the cottonwood grove at the foot of the hill. You know the place I’m talking about?”

  “Yeah,” said Hiram. “Just off the highway.”

  “When it’s time, we’ll go down to the grove separately. I’ll leave fifteen minutes ahead to check things out and get in position. Got it so far? Fifteen minutes.”

  They nodded.

  “Then, Hiram, you’ll walk slowly down the hill. Come alone. I’ll be waiting for you. He won’t hurt you unless you put up a fight. There’s nothing for him to gain from it. He wants you alive.”

  “Where will you be?” Hiram asked. “I don’t want to face Spider alone in the dark.”

  “I’ll be right there, out of sight in the underbrush ready to save your ass. When you get there, try to talk to him for a couple of minutes. Divert his attention. Give him a line of your famous bullshit. Maybe you can slick-talk your way out of the whole thing.”

  Charlie grinned wickedly, but Hiram saw no humor.

  “How’s this supposed to work?” Hiram’s voice cracked with uncertainty. “You want me to believe you can you can take Spider by yourself? You’ve got us spread out so that Spider can kill us one at a time.”

  “Believe in me. Trust in Man’s Son, and you will be delivered. I have this under control. Have faith.”

  “But I…”

  Charlie stopped the doubts by cuffing the larger boy on the ear.

  “Just do as I say,” Charlie commanded, his eyes flashing an anger Hiram had never seen. “I am the way out of this.”

  Then Charlie, eyes still ablaze, instructed Jake.

  “I want you to wait another five minutes after Hiram leaves, then meet us in the cottonwoods. There’ll be things to do.”

  “Count on me,” said Jake.

  With plans thus made, there was little for the boys to do except wait, quietly brooding, hoping Spider wouldn’t show up.

  As the alarm clock on the dresser reached midnight, the boys looked at each other.

  Charlie stood. “The hour is at hand. You guys know what to do. Come to me in fifteen minutes, Hiram. I’ll be waiting.”

  Charlie pulled on his jacket and slipped out the window grim and purposeful.

  From the dormitory shrubs he saw the sky to the south was alive with lightening. The first clouds of the storm would be upon the village in minutes.

  As he pulled the jacket tight and buttoned it, he heard geese honking overhead. Charlie stopped and looked skyward. He held out his hands with a imploring gesture in the direction of the birds.

  Are you warning me away, or cheering me on?

  The geese flew on. Charlie moved on toward the chapel.

  Spider had not left town but spent the afternoon impatiently in the trees along Highway 6. He was exactly where Charlie knew he would be.

  The same honking that Charlie heard reached Spider’s ears. Spider curled his upper lip into a sneer and sniffed with indifference.

  Charlie entered the church from the shadows so that he was invisible to Spider. He walked furtively behind the pews to the side aisle.

  As he passed the old baptistery, he remembered Father Flanagan’s crypt and nodded to the revered priest’s casket.

  Wish me well, Father. This is probably my last time to come your way. Thanks for having me here. Nothing personal, but I hope I don’t get to meet you tonight.

  From the side aisle, he walked to the front of the church and crossed in front of the altar and crucifix that still bore Jesus staring down on him. Charlie gave Jesus a wink and disappeared to the sacristy door.

  He opened the closet and located Gallagher’s white stole, no longer wrapped around the broken statue, but across a clothes hanger, still stained with Friday’s wine and waiting for the laundry truck. He lifted the wrinkled vestment from its resting place and rolled it tight. He departed with the rolled stole in his jacket.

  Outside, Charlie moved by instinct hugging the buildings and staying in the shadows. He passed unnoticed by the cottages. At the main the entrance pylon, he paused to calm his heartbeat and breathing. Then, to the trees along Highway 6.

  Charlie’s footsteps advanced softly on a walk to destiny, steps that would end in death, steps that were ticks on a clock counting down to murder.

  Spider had hidden his car behind a row of hedges off of Highway 6. He stood at the edge of the cottonwood trees where he could be seen. He stared up the hill at Boys Town. He recalled his meeting with Boog. He must not fail.

  The storm clouds advanced. The campus that had been wrapped by warm moonlight turned dark, lit only by the pale glow of distant porch lights.

  Thunder called his gaze to the sky.

  Maybe it’ll pass over. Even if it rains, I can get the car out. It’s on good ground.

  He returned to his vigil watching the campus across the lawn, waiting for Hiram and Charlie to appear. He plotted.

  If they don’t show up, I’ll shoot ‘em both on sight tomorrow. Nobody’ll ever catch me. Just bam! Then get my ass back to Chicago. Tell Boog the boy was gone. Ain’t no punks gonna screw me and get away with it.

  Leaves rustled somewhere toward Dodge Street, interrupting the fantasy.

  Spider spun around and saw nothing in the darkness. Lightening flashed, illuminating the brush. Nothing there. He scanned the undergrowth warily for a full thirty seconds, hoping the noise was a possum rather than a coyote. He never considered that a more dangerous predator was closing in.
/>   Fuckin possums grubbing around. Hate them greasy fuckers.

  Spider had made a fatal mistake in underestimating Charles Manson. Charlie, the little punk that Spider intended to double-cross. Charlie, the skinny runt who had taken a hundred dollars from him. Charlie was getting closer.

  Spider snorted dismissively at the possum and resumed watching the campus. He strained to see up the hill. Except for the expectant sound of his own heartbeat, the night was eerily silent between thunder crashes. Redemption with Boog was within his grasp.

  Charlie stalked ever closer until he was within feet of the gangster. So close that when Spider lit a cigarette the flame illuminated Charlie’s chilling face. Close enough to breathe in the cigarette smoke through flared nostrils as he unclenched a fist and let the priest’s stole unroll to the ground.

  Hiram appeared at the top of the hill, first as a silhouette against the dining hall porch lights, then clearly in a lightening flash.

  Alone. I’ll have him tied up in the car and be outta here in no time. I guess that little smart ass, Charlie, decided to settle for a hundred. He’s smarter than he looks. If he’d shown up, they’d’ve found his body in the trees.

  Spider’s disfigured face showed anticipation, watching the lone boy walk down the hill. When Spider was absolutely sure it was Hiram, he grinned.

  The rain started, slanting in hard with a brilliant lightening flash and thunder boom.

  Hiram approached Spider looking anxiously for Charlie. He stopped a dozen feet from the gangster.

  Where the hell is Charlie? God, don’t let me be here alone.

  Spider nodded a menacing greeting and flicked his cigarette into the rain where it landed at Charlie’s feet.

  Lightening flashed again, giving Hiram a clear look into the face of evil.

  What if Charlie is already dead?

  “They told me to come talk to you,” Hiram said. His voice shook with uncertainty. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “You fucked up my face with that wrench,” Spider answered. “This gash is going to leave a scar.”

  “I don’t know why you’re here, but you need to leave.”

  Spider exuded arrogance, intoxicated with the fear he was inflicting. He sized up Hiram and judged he would fit easily in the trunk.

  “I remember you from the pool hall. You disappeared after your old man was killed.”

  Hiram said nothing.

  “Where’s your little white friend, whatshisname? Charlie?”

  “I don’t know where Charlie is. You know about my Pa? You know who shot him?”

  Hiram had taken Spider’s bait. This was a subject Spider relished.

  “Yeah, I know all about your old man,” Spider cocked his head with pride. “I shot him. Bap! Did it myself. He hit the sidewalk like a sack of potatoes. But that ain’t important now. You’re going back to Chicago with me. We got an appointment with Mr. Boog. You the man of the hour. The special guest.”

  Spider savored the sight of shock overshadowing Hiram’s fear. He underscored the moment with a smug nod.

  He killed my Pa, and he’ll kill me too. If he looks away again I’m running.

  “I can’t go anywhere with you,” Hiram said.

  “You got no choice about it, punk. You….”

  At that moment Charlie sprang from the trees like a fiend. The priest’s stole flew over Spider’s head and down against his throat. It bit into the soft tissue, choking off all air and blood to the brain.

  Spider was caught completely off guard and staggered backward. Charlie was welded to him, straining with every muscle, knowing that unconsciousness would come quickly, if he could just hang tight. Spider flailed wildly, staggering randomly like a headless chicken. He couldn’t get at Charlie.

  Hiram froze in horror, unable to tear his eyes away from the attack.

  In his frenzy, Spider fumbled on pure instinct for the gun under his belt. He was pulling it out when Charlie jerked the stole even tighter. The gun fell to the ground. The lack of air consumed all thought. The gun was forgotten as both hands clawed helplessly at the holy cloth around his throat.

  Lightening flashed. Hiram saw the mulatto’s gaunt face turn an ashen gray as Charlie intensified his hold, teeth bared, jerking the stole still tighter.

  Jake arrived, rounding an underbrush thicket at a dead run. He skidded to a stop. In the lightening he saw Charlie, face hideously contorted, riding Spider’s back in a macabre dance.

  Jake and Hiram stood paralyzed watching the gruesome scene unfold. They were ready to help and would have, but Charlie needed no help. Jake and Hiram looked at each other helplessly as Charlie proved with ruthless efficiency that he was just as bad as his word.

  Anger, fear and terror flooded Spider. His worthless life began to pass before him. Spider grasped hopelessly at the stole, his protruding eyes beginning to drip blood. His bowels released.

  The tough guy from Chicago never thought about hiding the fear. Charlie was unrelenting and merciless to the desperate, choking mass that once was the feared Spider Webb.

  What seemed like minutes was better measured in seconds. Pain and panic quickly impelled Spider into submission. But Charlie wasn’t finished. He remained firmly attached to his prey. Spider dropped to his knees, awareness fading. Charlie maintained his potent grip. Spider’s arms waved weakly in front of him, as if telling the world goodbye. Death neared. The arms went limp, slowly dropping to his side. His head rolled in convulsive jerks then dropped, chin to chest.

  Unconscious, Spider toppled face first to the dirt. Charlie rode the body to the ground, still straining to keep the stole tight.

  Seconds more, and the gangster lay lifeless in the mud at the hands of a fourteen year old boy.

  Chapter 47

  Douglas County Health Center – August, 2012

  The teenage lobby volunteers reacted identically by turning away. Neither wanted to be caught staring, yet they both managed to watch from the corners of their eyes. The subject of their focus was Maggie Bryant, who walked past, eyes glazed in thought. She disappeared in a beeline for the elevator.

  When she was gone, they made time for petty talk.

  “Did you see that suitcase? Yellow vinyl with butterflies? Really.”

  “Talk about gaudy retro – that’s it. Looked like something from the 1960’s.”

  “Yeah. The last millennium.”

  They laughed.

  “Last time I saw a suitcase like that, we were cleaning out Grandma’s attic. Goodwill wouldn’t take it. ‘Not salable,’ they said. We tossed it in their dumpster.”

  “Seriously, I wonder what her story is. She looked well-todo.”

  “That big diamond ring almost blinded me?”

  “The dress and those shoes weren’t slouchy either.”

  “No telling.”

  Maggie was oblivious to the attention and anxiously pressed the elevator button for the fifth floor. She was no longer the family matron, the competent business woman, ready to meet any task head-on, with confidence. She was here as her father’s daughter—a role abandoned long ago. The feelings erupting were not comfortable and not entirely welcome.

  Today he tells me the big secret. God, don’t let it be any worse than learning he was friends with Charles Manson.

  She rested the suitcase beside the chair and kissed him.

  “Will you get me a drink, baby?”

  Maggie bent over and held a glass of water to Jake’s lips. She watched as the old man lipped the straw and sipped. When he was finished, she returned the glass to his bedside table and sat.

  She looked at his face to gauge the pain and was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

  “Dad, are you alright?”

  “I’ve been agonizing over your visit all day.”

  “I’m ready to hear what you have to say. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Put the suitcase in my closet. Then come sit down.”

  She placed the but
terflied case in the closet with the spare bedpan, blankets, and his old-fashioned clothes.

  “The things I’ve told you so far aren’t so bad, not really. Me and Charlie and Hiram were basically just rambunctious kids releasing energy.”

  She had no response, no affirmation. Almost at once, things between them began to go wrong, just like always.

  “Honey, reach into the second drawer and get that newspaper for me.”

  She complied.

  Omaha Tribune, only a few days old.

  “Go to page four. There’s an article in the bottom left corner.”

  She read.

  “They found a body near Dodge Street. You know about this?”

  Jake nodded.

  “Charlie killed him?”

  “We killed him.”

  “You were there?”

  He looked her squarely in the eye.

  “I can remember the exact heartbeat when it happened, how Charlie rescued our family.”

  “You’d better start at the beginning,” Maggie said without enthusiasm.

  For the next hour, Jake explained every facet of the painful story to a grim-faced Maggie. The gangster. The storm. The killing. The flight from Boys Town. He answered every question.

  She sat mesmerized by him, yet estranged, seething and furious yet empathetic for his uncontrived pain. He stopped twice to let her cry. In the end, she felt betrayal for her belief in him, betrayal in believing that Jake was a good man that a daughter could respect.

  She felt her confidence in him had been misplaced; she flushed with anger. Sparks flew from her eyes. She wanted to react but was unable to give a man on his death bed the lashing he deserved.

  She stood abruptly but was speechless and collapsed again into the chair as insecure as she had been as a teen.

  Jake said: “When I was twenty-one my conscience was killing me. I kept seeing Spider’s face as he died. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Knew I was going to Hell. My sins were taking my sanity.”