This story is loosely based on the show, Sons of Anarchy and is a prequel to where the show starts. It tells of the beginning of the club and how they met. In this, the opening chapter, JT and Piney make the decision to start it and the first members are chosen. In reference to the First 9 and the original chapter, I called them the Redwood Nine.
Chapter 1 E Pluribus Unum
The last tour of Vietnam ended in 1967 and the army was behind them, but JT Teller and Piermont 'Piney' Winston wanted to get even further away. Coming back to the California they left over three years earlier, they became disheartened by the rejection of them, like others, as veterans, as heroes, as those who bravely and proudly served their country for two tours. They were shunned, almost despised in some cases, leaving them blackened by a country that took what life they had and destroyed it, leaving many bitter and resentful of their nation. With little to go on, some turned to crime, some to booze and drugs, while others strove to make a life for themselves, despite the adversity against them. It was their country too and they wanted a part of it, a part they would live in, under their own rules. Rules based on an anarchistic way of life, were ones that favoured them, ones they felt compelled to follow, if they wanted to find a place of their own to exist.
John Thomas Teller was a free spirit at twenty eight years old. He'd gone by his initials since he was ten, when his dad started calling him that. He was never one to be tied down and held in one place too long, so he yearned for his freedom and independence. Since he left Charming High School, he never found much use for the education they taught him, but they did teach him how to learn and teach himself. He became an avid reader of material that appealed to him, rather than what was considered appropriate by his teachers. JT became a self-taught man, but one with insight and intellect. Even during moments of downtime between missions, he would invariably be found reading two, sometimes three books and papers at a time. He had a thirst for knowledge, so long as it had a purpose to him. To say JT was a passionate man, was an understatement.
Piermont Winston was JT's best friend since public school, when at the age of ten, he stepped in to back up an eight year old JT, who was fighting against three of the local bullies. Together, the classmates turned the beat down JT was getting, into a lesson that stayed with the bullies ever more. Piney had been kept back twice, making him a couple of years older than JT, but his friend soon helped him with school and passing grades. It wasn't until high school, when Piermont shot up in height and size, dwarfing his friend and other classmates, that JT gave him his nickname, Piney, in reference to his similar growth to the huge redwood pines that grew around them. Piney hated school and only went because JT was there and there was nothing much to do otherwise. By grade nine, he felt they had taught him all he needed to know and by grade eleven, Piney spent more time skipping classes, than going to them. He had no problem with people calling him a big, dumb oaf, as long as they didn't mind getting a beat down for it.
Trouble was always walking behind them and it wasn't hard for it to quicken its pace and join them. Having worn out his welcome in Charming, he stayed in Lodi with JT before and after the war, hitch-hiking in and visiting with his mother and younger brother, while his father was at work. JT and his mother had left Charming when he was seventeen and moved to Lodi, when his father died in a work accident and she couldn't afford to stay there on her own. They moved in with her widowed sister, Nancy and her son, Henry, who JT had no time for, related, or not.
When he was old enough and could afford it, he found his own place, leaving the misery of living with two grieving widows and a momma's boy. Eventually, Piney joined him when his dad tossed him out and they struggled to make ends meet, until Piney started working at the grocery store packing bags for people and returning carts. He was almost happy, when they let him stock shelves, for ten cents an hour more. Today wasn't a day for sitting around idle, it was about friends getting together and without knowing it, changing the course of their lives and local history. This day in August 1968, was the beginning of a birth. A birth that would spawn many sons to be born.
Driving around in a boosted '65 Chev Impala, the pair shared a six pack of beer and a pack of cigarettes, using up a portion of their combined money. The car was almost new and they checked out the power features of it, including the horsepower. Listening to the local radio station, Jimi Hendrix was playing Foxy Lady and it was being well received in the car. JT turned up the volume and Piney's hands started keeping the beat on the dash, then the glowing cigarette ash dropped on the carpet.
"Hey, you dropped the heater, man."
Piney looked at him and shrugged his huge shoulders.
"So?"
JT looked at him and then burst out laughing. Piney pulled open the tab on another beer and passed it to JT, then opened another beer for himself. They clinked cans together and swallowed back a large gulp each, then set the cans on the glove box tray and went back to drumming along to the song with their hands.
"I am digging this guy's music, man. Listen to that guitar playing."
"No shit, Piney, he's got a sound all his own."
Music was another of the things that had changed over the years since boot camp. Songs began speaking to them and getting them to think, instead of being mildly amused by it. The sound was theirs, it was their generation's contribution to the history of man and music. They felt defined by it, inspired by it, to be able to separate themselves from the mainstream of society. Rebellion of society's rules, was what they desired. Things were only wrong, if they thought they were wrong, not because a small segment of humanity decided this was the best thing for everybody and made a rule about it.
Stealing a car was second nature to both of them. When you couldn't afford to own one, stealing one for the night, was the next best thing. Walking through the parking lot on the way to the store to buy beer, that Saturday morning, it was shear luck to find the dark, blue Impala with the doors open and the keys still in the ignition. The way they looked at it, the owner must have wanted it stolen for the insurance and they were doing him a favour. Either way, the tank was almost full, the radio was cranked up and four six packs sat on the floor at Piney's boots. They stopped at the first phone booth and called their friend, Lenny and told him the news. In five minutes, an impromptu party was happening and the day was shaping up. Hopefully, it would see many of the old unit together and sharing good times again.
Kettleman Lane out of Lodi was clear of traffic, almost as if everyone had decided to stay off it and let the pair enjoy the ride alone. They turned off Kettleman Lane and made a left onto North Hwy. 88, JT flooring the gas and burning rubber around the corner, both of them impressed with the performance. The carefree day became one of concern not long later, as the temperature gauge began climbing into the critical zone. They were miles outside of Charming, so JT decided on trying for the first service station, or pull over, as the red light blazed at him, telling him he didn't have long or he'd kill the engine. With nothing but fields in sight and a knock starting in the engine, he opted for pulling over and checking it out.
"Fucking Chevys, Why the hell can't GM put a decent thermostat in these things? Look at what we put those five tons through, back in basic. Temperature was way hotter than this, man and those fuckers never overheated. Bastards at GM, can suck my dick."
"Maybe it needs a few beers too, JT."
"Like I'd waste good beer for this piece of shit. If anything, Piney, we should just drink all the fucking beer and piss in the radiator."
"Now you're talking, my friend."
Piney drained the half can he had and opened another, taking another giant gulp of it, as JT pulled over onto the soft shoulder. He slammed the side of his fist against the dash, then his palms off the steering wheel.
"Temper, temper, JT. How did we know the owner has overheating problems?"
"That's the problem with this country, Piney. Nobody takes care of anything, anymore. It's all going to shit and no one cares."
Piney shook his head and laughed, pushing JT out of the car with his boot and onto the ground, as he was getting out.
"Fuck, Piney."
"Lighten up, John. It's a new car, a lovely day, we got beers and smokes and Lenny has some girls he says are good to go and he scored some grass. Seems to me, this is minor."
JT looked at Piney, shaking his head, as he dusted himself off, Piney got out after him and put his arm over his shoulders, as they went around to the front of the car, then JT felt for the latch and opened the hood. He raised it up and they looked at the engine, trying to see the source of the problem. Waving away the steam, he saw the cause and cursed some more.
"See what I mean? A fucking, new car and the fan belt is gone. Doesn't have more than fifteen thousand on it and it's shot. It's all shit, man, I'm telling you. Give me a fifty Merc and I'd be happy as pig in shit, Piney. There's a car that will last. It's a fucking tank."
"I would have thought you'd had enough of tanks by now? I know I have. You know what I do miss from there, JT?"
"What, Piney?"
"The grass, man. That has got to be the best shit growing. I could do as many tours as they asked me to, as long as I got to sit around and shotgun that shit all day. Too bad the little gooks don't know how to make a decent tequila like the wetbacks. I'd be in heaven. Get me a couple of those little 'Nam honeys and I'd be all set. One can roll a joint and pour me a glass and the other can suck on my big dick."
JT laughed uproariously, slapping his leg several times.
"Doesn't take much to make you happy, does it, Piney?"
"Not really, I'm a simple man, with simple tastes."
"Nothing wrong with your tastes, Piney. Nothing at all. So, what the fuck are we going to do about this piece of shit?"
