Chapter 1: A Friendship is established
My name is Andrew Johnson. I grew up in South Philadelphia the oldest of two children. My father was a postal driver and my mother a stay at home mom. My story starts in my twelfth year when we moved into our first house.
Like most of the homes in that part of town, that house was a small "row house" located in a very narrow street. At twelve years old my world was not much larger than that one block. It's funny, but as I travel back to the old neighborhood today the one thing that I notice immediately is the absence of trees and shrubs. Grey remains the dominant color.
Down the street, only ten doors away, lived my grandmother and her own mother's home was just a few streets to the east. In my community, families tended to live close to one another. Members rarely moved away. This custom held regardless of the ethnicity of the neighbors.
I was a rather shy kid and not one to make friends easily. I was also tall for my age and lanky. My height made me a target for every bully in the neighborhood. I had had a few fights a couple of years ago in my old block, just enough to establish myself in the pecking order. Therefore, I had grown unaccustomed to the violence that marked my age. In this new place, the process was starting over.
My adversary was a boy called 'Tank'. He was half a full foot shorter than I was but made up for his height in bulk and bravado. I was called out one afternoon while coming back from the corner grocery. Unfortunately, for Tank he managed to break one of my packages during our introduction. That act infuriated me. I was facing big trouble from my mom for that damage. If I were going to pay then Tank would pay double.
The fight was over quickly. I dispatched Tank with a left jab to the eye. He went down hard and stayed down. He was literally carried away by friends. I knew that there would be a rematch but I thought I would have a few weeks of relative peace. Tank had other ideas. He used his time to persuade four other boys to assist in his revenge.
A week later, his gang jumped me on my way home from school. I was unprepared for the attack and would have gotten seriously hurt had not it been for the intervention of two other boys. I did not know their names; I had seen them only a few times. I only knew that they went to the local Catholic school.
The smallest of the pair rushed in fists flailing and overcame two of my assailants single-handedly. His partner intervened when it was apparent that his friend was going to be hit from behind. I had never seen boys fight like that. They fought as a team and they were fearless. There was a calm confidence in their movements that dominated the fight. My attackers were beaten back and never challenged me again.
Later we introduced ourselves. I thought they were brothers since they bore a strong resemblance to one other. The one who first came to my defense was Michael McCarthy his partner was Bradley Thomas. Both were my age and we soon developed a fast friendship.
Michael was the most outgoing of our group. He had an easy manner, was quick to laugh and always had a ready joke or funny story to tell. He was also the most athletic. He knew everyone in the neighborhood and was liked by most; he was a natural leader.
Brad, as he preferred to be called, was our negotiator. Where Michael genuinely enjoyed meeting people Brad enjoyed striking deals. Brad was the talker. He was the most adept at reading people, at sizing up situations quickly. If a situation posed any danger, Brad would alert us. He seemed to have a sixth sense about such things.
Since Brad was an only child, we became his brothers. Neither Michael nor I had brothers. We both had younger sisters though his was much younger by seven years. My own sister was just two years younger than I was and she acted as if she were the older one.
At the time we met, Michael had lost his father in a fire some six months prior. The absence of his father during the school year acted to restrict many of our activities; so the three of us became accustomed to hanging out at his house as he babysat for his sister or helped his mom with various chores.
Much of the time at Michael's was devoted to reading and trading comic books or baseball cards. All of us were big comic book fans and by extension, avid readers. We graduated to short stories and adventure books with the help of Michael's mother who was an English teacher. Our reading kept us out of much of the mischief that was endemic to the neighborhood at that time.
When that first summer arrived and Michael's mother was home our interests changed. Now that were free we played baseball from sunup to sundown. Most times, we played in the sandlot behind our street. Brad got permission from the manager of the container company that owned the lot to use it for our games, while Michael became the organizer of the teams.
I was not a particularly good player but I was chosen on all teams where Michael was the captain; and Michael was always the captain. It was in this setting that Rueben Lopez joined our group the following summer.
Rueben's was the only Puerto Rican family in the neighborhood. I had heard whispers from the adults in the block soon after they arrived. Being curious, we introduced ourselves to him. Rueben's love for baseball made us all instant friends. For his part, Rueben became very infatuated with my sister, so I never knew whether it was baseball or she that made us become friends. Years later, when he married my sister Debbie I thought I knew the answer to that question.
I found that I could not be my normal introverted self around these boys. I was used to being the odd man out, but their outgoing natures carried me along. Michael had a habit of always drawing me into a conversation and Brad knew how to push me into meeting new people. Looking back, I can say that I met most of my other friends through them. For the next six years, we were inseparable.