I slowed the old bike. Pulling off the highway, I stopped and sat with the motor idling on that 49 FLH Panhead.
She was barefoot- halter top, hip huggers, an old hippie chick, long hair- kinda pretty. It was 1975 and hippies were disappearing! She had a sleeping bag rolled up and hanging from one shoulder and a leather bag with strap on the other.
”Can I ride with you?” she panted after running to where I sat.
”You got some footwear in that bag?” I yelled, “Without something on your feet, them shotgun pipes will burn your feet. I got these western boots. Put 'em on. Tie that bag to the sissy bar and get on.”
“Where are you headed?” she asked.
”Up on the Range,” I responded.
”Can I ride with you to Hibbing? I’m going home, haven’t been back since '65!” she yelled!.
”It's still there!” I yelled back. ”Hang on!”
Getting into fourth gear, I leaned back into the step seat. The bike was geared for”cruzin” with two up the 86
“Stroker” did 70 mph with ease. The 3 and 1/2 gallon “Fat Bob” tanks were full. I made Duluth to Hibbing in two hours. I felt good to be going somewhere!
A lifetime curse, I move frequently. Hibbing was Iron Range country, home of Robert Zimmerman, aka Bob Dylan, famous singer.
Mesabi Range had the largest iron ore open pit mine in the world. The two World Wars had built the Iron Range, as they provided the iron for ships, tanks and guns. The Iron Range was mined out by the 1950s when it was discovered how to make “Taconite Pellets”- grinding the rocks into powder and the use of magnets to extract the iron, rolled into pellets. They were loaded on the 100 car iron ore trains and sent down to Duluth, loaded on the ore boats which then took its cargo to smelters in Ohio.
The Edmund Fitzgerald was one of these iron ore boats. She was once the biggest on the Great Lakes. She would break her own records she set for speed and tonnage. I had applied to work on her. I was a welder, waiting for my “Z Card”, having decided to switch unions. I hadn’t got it, so I waited. You couldn’t work “Merchant” without it.
On my way back to the Range, where I had a three-room shack with an outhouse in the woods- the summer welding job in Duluth was over- I was partied out! So, I decided to move on and try and save some money. The Union steward figured they would send my Z card by October or November.
Anyhoo, upon arriving in Hibbing, I dropped the old hippie chick off, picked up a bag of groceries and headed home. That evening there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find old hippie chick standing there!
”Can I come in?” she asked.
”First, who brought you out here?” I asked as I saw a pickup driving away.
”Oh, a friend of yours. You're very well known in town, in the bars I visited looking for you. I’ve got something important that I must inform you about. I won’t be long, I just need to sit down.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“I drink coffee. Ya want some?”
“I would prefer tea,” she said.
As I made her tea, she pulled out a deck of cards I recognized as Tarot. She threw some stones and dealt the cards. “Oh, they haven’t changed,” she said. “You must listen to what I have to say! It's both good and bad.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
”You are going to be sent to prison for five years unless you do what this woman tells you to. She will keep you out of jail! You mustn’t take that job on that ship. Everything will turn out OK if you reconnect with the people who are coming back into your life. You will be put through some difficult times, but remember how you made it out of the War you were in! I am but a messenger. I cannot help you. I must go now!”
With those words she was up and out the door. A few days later I asked around town. No one had seen her.
2 Oct 1975. My Birthday. I was indicted by a Minneapolis County Grand Jury. I had been foolish enough to deposit checks for my Ex. She said it was only dropping them off. I should have listened to that little voice in my head. Anyhoo, she was going to prison for five years, I think she did three, and I was waiting trial.
I had learned a few things in Nam. Don’t sweat the petty, and it’s all petty!!I made a call to My Ojibwa Mother. I had been taken away from her as a baby because she was in a TB sanatorium. Years later I would track her down. Back in the day, she had a lawyer, named Miles Lord, who had sued the State of Minnesota and proved TB was curable! In 1964, he was appointed 8th District Federal Judge by L.B.J., the new “Prez”. His Honor made the phone call that would keep me out of prison. I would end up in an “Indian Halfway House”.
By 1975, I was working as Chief Dish and Bottle Washer, and Mechanic. I had been assigned a Lakota Woman who was helping me stay straight, and made the rules. I had to make restitution to the courts, and QUIT DRINKING! Should I say Life was Boring!!!
After selling my old Harley ”Sweathog”, the money went to restitution! I was a Cowboy without a horse! It
was five years before I could build myself another Harley!I got the letter from the “Merchant Mari-timers' '- it was my “Z Card”. I had been hired as a welder with a salary of $18.00 an hour! FFO!! I couldn’t believe it when I told My Lakota Helper. She had been my guide to help me get and stay straight, now she said NO! You haven’t been sober long enough! Well Fuck It,I’m outta here.
I still had my 68 c-20 396 POWERED 4X4,with Topper. I put all I owned in it. I would lay rubber the length of the parking lot leaving the Halfway House. I was outta there. I had that old feeling of Freedom! Drivin north,ya know it when your balls are feelin’ good!! I had a Doobie Brothers tape on loud. I'm fuckin free! Far Fuckin Out!!
In two hours, I was in Superior. I reported to the wheelhouse, showed my papers, and was told “Welcome Aboard” by the deck officer on watch. He said everyone was off ship until the 10Th of November and to come back in the morning. I drove over to Duluth, got myself a room on Skyline drive. I now had a free night, so I drove down to an old bar I use to drink in years earlier. Same old drunks and hookers found in any Skid Row part of town. My kinda people. Ten hours later I woke up in my truck. I could see the harbor. The ”Big Fitz” was under way. Fuck, I had missed my shipping out Day! I drove back to my room and called the Union office. After listening to my excuse, the steward said since I had not yet shipped out, no sweat! She was makin' her usual run to Toledo, be back in a week. The “Big Fitz” would never be back. It was 10 Nov 1975, the Marine Corps 200th birthday. That night I celebrated the Marine Corps birthday!The Edmund Fitzgerald sank 530 feet in Canadian waters. She broke in half from huge waves of a winter storm! There were no survivors!!! RIP Big Fitz!...
No comments:
Post a Comment