Most people that follow this series, enjoy riding motorcycles, but many are what outlaws call ‘citizens’, which means – you’re an average Joe that likes the ‘sport’ of riding motorcycles and that’s where the similarity ends between Citizen Motorcycle Enthusiasts and outlaw MC’s (Motorcycle Clubs).
No doubt where Country (author of this series) lands in the above comparison . . . he’s an outlaw; however, there is also an outlaw club whose club name is ‘Outlaws MC’. Therefore, watch for the distinction between ‘Outlaw’ (with a capital ‘O’) and just the generic word ‘outlaw’, meaning someone that belongs to an outlaw motorcycle club.
If you’re just finding this series that investigates and discusses what’s inside the mind of an outlaw biker, Click Here to catch up and you’ll soon become just as addicted as the rest of Country’s followers.
The crew at that time consisted of Gino D’Angelo, Dino, Big John, plus another guy I forget because he left soon after, Big Red and me; plus Gino’s two Ol ladies. What we did was hire out to the major clubs for dirty deeds done cheap. No deed to big, no deed to small.
One time the Death Barons went to Louisville, KY to meet up with a major club that wanted to hire them. The club house at that time was behind the seawall on the Ohio River. It was a two story house that the river had eaten right up to the back of the place. They jokingly said, “Just right to throw a body off the upstairs veranda”.
The bath room was fairly large and had a tall ceiling. It was also pretty dark. After partying for 3 days and going to the restroom several times, two members were standing at the urinal at the same time talking while taking care of business. Suddenly something moved overhead and caught their attention. Jumping back and drawing guns (everybody carried back then) they looked up at the wall squinting in the dim light. They could see a guy standing on some exposed water pipes with his arms stretched overhead handcuffed to some more pipes, staring down at them. “How long you been up there M…F….r?” One of them asked.
“Well, I been watching you guys for three days,” he croaked. Come to find out he had committed the crime of messing with one of the patch holders Ol ladies.
The club had another major club’s patch hanging over their fireplace. The Death Barons hired out to go into Chattanooga. Seems there was a club, whom the guys that done the hiring, wanted to patch over, but couldn’t be convinced they should do it. [Sic]
Enter the Death Barons who beat the crap out of every one they caught up with and finally their club house was blown up with two bikes in it. The Chattanooga club told the cops who they thought did it and even went to court against them.
The Death Barons were exonerated. They were few but they were badass and just didn’t give a crap. A few guys to take on a whole club, well enough said . . . Ha ha.
By now the Chattanooga club was running scared. Enter the major club, held their protective arms out and the Chattanooga club ran right into them. Another chapter was born. They never knew how they became patch holders of the major club for nearly 20 years later when there will be a sequel to this story that is hard to believe.
Another time we went to Louisville, KY to meet up with Daugherty, President of the Louisville Outlaws at that time. Later he would discover and make David Allen Coe. He was one cool guy.
I was sitting outside the Clubhouse with three of the members, Clean Cut, Fat Louie and Red. The weather was about 100 degrees. They had their shirts off and you could see they all had several bullet hole scars. We were drinking straight whiskey out of the bottle. There was a burglar alarm that rang for the three days we were there and the cops never came.
Fat Louie, Clean Cut and I walked next door to Clean Cuts house. His two Ol ladies were just getting ready to go work the bars and looked hot.
Clean Cut said, “They lay around all day and just when they fix themselves up to make a man want them, they leave”. We all laughed, including the gals that left with an extra swing to their behinds for us to remember them by.
We hired out to go into Charleston, SC to take over a couple of bars they were having trouble with. Two days after we left Clean Cut was shot and killed in a shootout with a black guy in a bar.
RIP Clean Cut, I liked you a lot.
As for things in my life, it was picking up speed . . . and you just thought you’d ‘heard it all’.
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