Q.. Horse Racing in Derita? Yes, there was!
Long before we even had dirt roads in the old Charlottetown of the 1770's, young bucks used to gather at the gardens of historic Rosedale on North Tryon Street (between 36th St and Craighead Rd.) Wagers were sometimes made, but more often it was a contest not to see who had the fastest horse, but would could best impress the young ladies in attendance. No formal track, it was usually from the garden to a distant point and then back again, as fast as you can, without losing a rider or injuring your horse. As I said, the roads were little more than dirt trails and not very forgiving.
Friendly competition was not just for the idle rich. Single folks and families who gathered at the Derita Mineral Springs off Neal Road for Sunday afternoon picnics, fiddle & banjo playing, square dancing, and such also say their fair share of competition. Whether it be a surrey race or young men on horseback, most every man took pride in the animals he owned. Even a farm horse might be entered in a load pulling contest.
Through the years, there were horse tracks at the old Southern States Fairgrounds on North Tryon St. A successor track behind NorthPark Mall on Eastway Drive, with several long rows of stables just before you cross the railroad bridge to the Plaza.
But the race track that I was most surprised to hear about --- was the horse track located behind the current Derita Post Office. Mrs. Ona Puckett mentions it in her "History of Derita" and Doris Crittenden had also run across a note or two. I'd love to hear more, if your parents or grandparents have ever mentioned this one. --- Bernie Samonds, deritarep@aol.com
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Memories of Griffin's Fish Camp
I remember going to Griffin's Fish Camp, set far back in the woods off West Sugar Creek Rd. down a long gravel road behind Cheshire Field. If you didn't know it was there you'd miss it. But all of us local folks knew, and boy did we. Looked like a big hunting lodge from the outside with it slab board siding. But you could smell the hot grease and fried fish wafting through the dimly lit parking lot as soon as you got
out of your car.
The interior was done in early American plywood, from the walls to the cushion-less long booths that could sit 5 or more persons on a side, more if you weren't that big. Music was usually blaring and the waitresses would be rushing about with huge trays of freshly fried fish, straight from the deep fryer and still steaming. Across the way. a table was calling for a fresh pitcher and the folks would be chomping down on a tray of hot hushpuppies as Mrs. Griffin or Mrs. Stephenson took their dinner order.
I'd be checking out the music listed, turning page after page in the boothside console. Tunes were 3 for 25 cents, and the newest records were probably only listed on the juke box hear the cash register. It was set to play loud, but even that wasn't always loud enough to be heard over all the people talking, laughing, and partying on. This was the fun place to be, even if the fish hadn't been the best we'd ever eaten.
My Mom, Dad & I used to go there for dinner often. It was about the only place open nearby by the time we closed the grocery store at night. Mom & Dad would enjoy a cold beer with their meal, followed by some hot coffee (to settle the grease). I'd get a soda or sweet iced tea (and I mean really sweet). Then Dad would walk up to the cash register to get some quarters. Even though Mr. Griffin and his son were working away at the fryers, he would let out a big belly laugh and take a short break because he knew what was about to follow. Dad would feed a couple of quarters into the juke box and push a few buttons. Maybe a current hit to give Dad time to get back to the booth, but then it played. . . Shall We Gather at the River . . .Onward Christian
Soldiers! . . . Oh, I don't remember them all, but there were about 4 or 5 songs that were always found on the jukebox at Griffin's. The Party Crowd would go bananas! "Who played that?" "Somebody shut that thing off!" My Dad and Mr. Griffin would be rolling in the aisles.
Sad day when we heard the place burned down. Grease fire, electrical wiring started it, they said. But you know, even to this day, I still have folks asking me if I had ever been to a Fish Camp out in Derita somewhere and if it's still there? . . . I have and it was the best. --- Bernie Samonds
Re: Griffin's Fish Camp
Griffin's rocked! Two memories ... my cousin, Donnie Baker, a 1967 North Meck grad, lived in Hunter Acres, just down the road a little from Griffin's. One summer I was visiting them, probably would've been around 1966, and we walked down the road to Griffin's ... woulda been in the middle of the afternoon. We walk up to the jukebox, and I saw a 45 of a new Beach Boys song that had just come out, but it was the flip side I wanted my cousin to hear. Donnie was a GIGANTIC Beach Boys fan, and I'm pretty sure both these songs were on Pet Sounds which had just come out. So we stood there, jamming to the Beach Boys! My other Griffin Fish Camp memory comes from what was probably my last trip down there. I'm going to say it was around 1972. I was there with my father and mother. My Dad was a great guy but not particularly articulate. Someone at the table mentioned an incident where someone died in a fire. Everything got quiet for a minute, then my Dad said: "Dying in a fire probably wouldn't be so bad, if you'd just burn up real quick." Right, Dad! --- Jim Brown, Tyler, TX
out of your car.
The interior was done in early American plywood, from the walls to the cushion-less long booths that could sit 5 or more persons on a side, more if you weren't that big. Music was usually blaring and the waitresses would be rushing about with huge trays of freshly fried fish, straight from the deep fryer and still steaming. Across the way. a table was calling for a fresh pitcher and the folks would be chomping down on a tray of hot hushpuppies as Mrs. Griffin or Mrs. Stephenson took their dinner order.
I'd be checking out the music listed, turning page after page in the boothside console. Tunes were 3 for 25 cents, and the newest records were probably only listed on the juke box hear the cash register. It was set to play loud, but even that wasn't always loud enough to be heard over all the people talking, laughing, and partying on. This was the fun place to be, even if the fish hadn't been the best we'd ever eaten.
My Mom, Dad & I used to go there for dinner often. It was about the only place open nearby by the time we closed the grocery store at night. Mom & Dad would enjoy a cold beer with their meal, followed by some hot coffee (to settle the grease). I'd get a soda or sweet iced tea (and I mean really sweet). Then Dad would walk up to the cash register to get some quarters. Even though Mr. Griffin and his son were working away at the fryers, he would let out a big belly laugh and take a short break because he knew what was about to follow. Dad would feed a couple of quarters into the juke box and push a few buttons. Maybe a current hit to give Dad time to get back to the booth, but then it played. . . Shall We Gather at the River . . .Onward Christian
Soldiers! . . . Oh, I don't remember them all, but there were about 4 or 5 songs that were always found on the jukebox at Griffin's. The Party Crowd would go bananas! "Who played that?" "Somebody shut that thing off!" My Dad and Mr. Griffin would be rolling in the aisles.
Sad day when we heard the place burned down. Grease fire, electrical wiring started it, they said. But you know, even to this day, I still have folks asking me if I had ever been to a Fish Camp out in Derita somewhere and if it's still there? . . . I have and it was the best. --- Bernie Samonds
Re: Griffin's Fish Camp
Griffin's rocked! Two memories ... my cousin, Donnie Baker, a 1967 North Meck grad, lived in Hunter Acres, just down the road a little from Griffin's. One summer I was visiting them, probably would've been around 1966, and we walked down the road to Griffin's ... woulda been in the middle of the afternoon. We walk up to the jukebox, and I saw a 45 of a new Beach Boys song that had just come out, but it was the flip side I wanted my cousin to hear. Donnie was a GIGANTIC Beach Boys fan, and I'm pretty sure both these songs were on Pet Sounds which had just come out. So we stood there, jamming to the Beach Boys! My other Griffin Fish Camp memory comes from what was probably my last trip down there. I'm going to say it was around 1972. I was there with my father and mother. My Dad was a great guy but not particularly articulate. Someone at the table mentioned an incident where someone died in a fire. Everything got quiet for a minute, then my Dad said: "Dying in a fire probably wouldn't be so bad, if you'd just burn up real quick." Right, Dad! --- Jim Brown, Tyler, TX
Friday, April 17, 2009
The Snows on The Three Consecutive Wednesdays, 1960
A "Latch Key Kid" Remembers . . .
I never thought of myself as a Latch Key Kid until just recently. I had always been kind of independent and pretty disciplined. Although my teenage older brother was usually nearby, out playing with his teenage friends when we lived in Oakhurst, my caretaker was a mixed boxer-bulldog who used to block my path whenever I tried to leave the house or headed out of the yard --- once I had liberated myself from years of kindergarten, that is. I got my real independence when I started riding the City bus alone at age 6 (although I think they were owned by Duke Power back then, because the busses were kind of a faded gold & gray in color.) I would ride downtown to the movies, or to my folk's store, or transfer and go to Grandma's.
Mom and Dad both worked long hours at our first grocery store on McDowell St. It was just two doors up from the House of Prayer, and one door down from Mr. Barker's where I bought bubble gum and perforated caps for my six-shooter. And yes, I met Sweet Daddy Grace . . . the real one. He stopped in the old G&C Grocery quite often during those early days, as did his "Special Police" and many members of his Band and his Congregation. It was really a grand time when his return to Charlotte would be marked with special parades and folks crowded shoulder-to-shoulder along McDowell St.
Good things were happening for us back then. Dad and another business partner opened another store on Beatties Ford Rd. and Mom finally convinced Dad it was time to build our home on the wooded lot we owned on Allen Rd. South in Derita. That was 1952. The new store kept them busy, 8am every morning until 7pm every night and usually 8:30 - 9pm on Fridays and Saturdays. But they made a real go of it on Beatties Ford Road and Mom bought out my Dad's partner (to satisfy terms of their original deal). He stayed on, because there was plenty of work for the three of them. plus the two stockboy/delivery boys and the delivery driver who worked weekends. I used to work weekends and everyday through the summer by the time I was ten.
I started at $1 a day, plus movie money of weekends.
Me??? Well, that's where the Latch Key comes in I guess. I was in school most of the day, riding "the Second Load" from Statesville Rd. Elementary, which meant I was usually 4:30pm getting home. I'd retrieve my hidden key and head inside for a quick change of clothes and take time to fix myself a PB&J with a big glass of milk. If my homework wasn't heavy, I'd dash out the door to meet up with friends.
Linda Akins lived in the green house at the top of the hill. She was a real tomboy and we'd play Cowboy & Indians with our cap pistols or ride our bicycles over at the trucking center parking lot until they ran us off. Allen Rd. South was still mostly a large gravel road, but Overland Trucking had a fine gravel lot made for smooth riding. By 6pm, her Mom had come home from work and Linda would have to go in.
Mark Kilby lived down the street from me. He was younger than me, but we would ride bicycles, build things, and work on my model train layout. His Mom was usually home during the day. She would insist that if Mark came up to visit, I had to go to their house the next time. At Mark's we'd "create towns" in the backyard with a huge pile of un-used bricks, read books or play board games. At my house we would "play war" in the woods, wrestle and rough-house, and work some more on the model train. You can guess where Mark and I really preferred to play.
We added a few more friends as the new houses were being built in Allen Hills, but Linda, Mark and I were best buds for quite a few years. Which leads me to the Winter of 1960. Linda and I both road school buses, but in opposite directions. I think Mark was going to Derita School back then. I'm pretty sure we were all praying for a heavy snow that first Tuesday night in March. It was pretty cold in the morning out there waiting for the school bus to arrive, most of the time it was still dark as I walked to the top of the hill to wait for it. Even worse when it was drizzling rain.
Can't remember if Doug Mayes the Esso reporter was doing the news on Channel 3 or if I had seen Alan Newcombe reporting the forecast as Atlantic (gasoline company) Weatherman late that night, but somebody had predicted snow and all three of us were hoping. As I recall, we made it to school that morning and flakes began to fall about midday. By 1pm. the bus "First Load" was traveling home (had to serve us the big lunch the cafeteria ladies had already cooked) and it was getting thick and slushy before our "Second Load" ever hit the road. Figure I must have "abandoned ship," because my school bus didn't make it up the hill in front of the Kilby's. The wheels would spin, smoke and steam would fly, but in the end, the big bus would slide back down to the bottom of the big dip on Allen Rd. South. Two county trucks with chains eventually hooked on to the front of it and hauled it to the top of the hill.
It snowed and it snowed. I went out several times that evening, but came back coldand soggy. I had decided to hold off until morning. Surely, there would be no school tomorrow. . . About midnight or maybe it was earlier in the morning, I heard voices outside my window. The snow had let up and some of the neighborhood teenagers were out on the road with sheets of cardboard. The cars coming home from work had packed the road just well enough that there were some icy grooves. Good thing those folks got home when they did, no one would dare tackle Allen Rd South without chains once the sun went down. Well those guys sledded (on their cardboard) for a couple of hours. Other folks, mostly young couples I think, were out walking up the street and watching the snow fall.
Mom fixed a hot breakfast for me, kissed my on the cheek and told me she was heading into work early with my Dad in the pickup. (I didn't mention that our store was in an older neighborhood and we sold a lot of kerosene (heating oil) by the gallon jug. Folks would be lined up waiting for them. Kerosene to heat the house and kerosene to heat their water.)
I had an honest to goodness sled in the basement, but it was a lost cause. The snow was too fine and the metal runners sunk all of the way to the gravel road. But where there's a will, there's a way. I had one of those old red & white rectangular CocaCola signs about 6 ft. long and probably 30 inches wide. If Linda, Mark and I pushed and shoved, we would snag a ride on the steeper sections of the road, but we would bottom out a little later. That's when I suggested the big hill behind my house. It was level with Linda's yard at the top, ran steeply downhill and then
bottomed out in a huge gulley stopping just short of the creek. It was one heck of a ride and the three of us repeated it over and over that day until we couldn't climb the hill any more.
The sun had been out most of the day, so it was pretty much a toss up whether we would have school the next day or not. But we were in luck. The roads were in much better shape here, but not in the north end of the county. We got the day off, grabbed the big red sign and headed back for our hill. The previous snow had melted and then re-frozen during the night in my yard. It crunched under our feet as we walked, though it was still probably 4-5 inches deep. But what we didn't consider was that it had done the same on our tree shaded hill.
Linda climbed onto the front of the sign. I was to give us a shove and then jump onto the rear as it started moving downhill. Well, I'm here to tell you that I almost got left behind. The hill was a sheet of ice and we were moving, moving fast, moving faster that we had ever moved before. We passed the end of yesterday's run, bounded over a fallen log and went airborne taking out the tops of several saplings that stood between us and the creek. It was just about that time that the red sign hit a sawed off tree stump stopping it dead in its tracks. Linda and I were hurled forward fortunately into a huge tangle of honeysuckle and vines which stopped us both before
we could hit the creek. I pulled myself together, as did she. Nothing seemed to be broken, although my bottom was smarting from the bumpy portion of that last ride. And yes, we rode it another time or two until the glide path had worn thin and there was mostly leaves and pine needles with all of the snow pilled at the bottom of the hill. Sadly, the hill was too thick with trees to have much success elsewhere. Mark didn't get to join us because we had played at my house the day before.
By Monday, we were back in class again. But come that next Wednesday, and the Wednesday after we had snow again. What was it Mom always used to say, "If it snows and the lays on the ground from three days, it will snow again."? Well, I don't know about that, but I do know we had a lot of fun that year.
It was also the first year of NASCAR Racing at the Charlotte Motor Speedway (LMS), but the snows had delayed construction so much that the race had to be put off until mid-June instead of May. And that's the way I remember it. --- Bernie Samonds
I never thought of myself as a Latch Key Kid until just recently. I had always been kind of independent and pretty disciplined. Although my teenage older brother was usually nearby, out playing with his teenage friends when we lived in Oakhurst, my caretaker was a mixed boxer-bulldog who used to block my path whenever I tried to leave the house or headed out of the yard --- once I had liberated myself from years of kindergarten, that is. I got my real independence when I started riding the City bus alone at age 6 (although I think they were owned by Duke Power back then, because the busses were kind of a faded gold & gray in color.) I would ride downtown to the movies, or to my folk's store, or transfer and go to Grandma's.
Mom and Dad both worked long hours at our first grocery store on McDowell St. It was just two doors up from the House of Prayer, and one door down from Mr. Barker's where I bought bubble gum and perforated caps for my six-shooter. And yes, I met Sweet Daddy Grace . . . the real one. He stopped in the old G&C Grocery quite often during those early days, as did his "Special Police" and many members of his Band and his Congregation. It was really a grand time when his return to Charlotte would be marked with special parades and folks crowded shoulder-to-shoulder along McDowell St.
Good things were happening for us back then. Dad and another business partner opened another store on Beatties Ford Rd. and Mom finally convinced Dad it was time to build our home on the wooded lot we owned on Allen Rd. South in Derita. That was 1952. The new store kept them busy, 8am every morning until 7pm every night and usually 8:30 - 9pm on Fridays and Saturdays. But they made a real go of it on Beatties Ford Road and Mom bought out my Dad's partner (to satisfy terms of their original deal). He stayed on, because there was plenty of work for the three of them. plus the two stockboy/delivery boys and the delivery driver who worked weekends. I used to work weekends and everyday through the summer by the time I was ten.
I started at $1 a day, plus movie money of weekends.
Me??? Well, that's where the Latch Key comes in I guess. I was in school most of the day, riding "the Second Load" from Statesville Rd. Elementary, which meant I was usually 4:30pm getting home. I'd retrieve my hidden key and head inside for a quick change of clothes and take time to fix myself a PB&J with a big glass of milk. If my homework wasn't heavy, I'd dash out the door to meet up with friends.
Linda Akins lived in the green house at the top of the hill. She was a real tomboy and we'd play Cowboy & Indians with our cap pistols or ride our bicycles over at the trucking center parking lot until they ran us off. Allen Rd. South was still mostly a large gravel road, but Overland Trucking had a fine gravel lot made for smooth riding. By 6pm, her Mom had come home from work and Linda would have to go in.
Mark Kilby lived down the street from me. He was younger than me, but we would ride bicycles, build things, and work on my model train layout. His Mom was usually home during the day. She would insist that if Mark came up to visit, I had to go to their house the next time. At Mark's we'd "create towns" in the backyard with a huge pile of un-used bricks, read books or play board games. At my house we would "play war" in the woods, wrestle and rough-house, and work some more on the model train. You can guess where Mark and I really preferred to play.
We added a few more friends as the new houses were being built in Allen Hills, but Linda, Mark and I were best buds for quite a few years. Which leads me to the Winter of 1960. Linda and I both road school buses, but in opposite directions. I think Mark was going to Derita School back then. I'm pretty sure we were all praying for a heavy snow that first Tuesday night in March. It was pretty cold in the morning out there waiting for the school bus to arrive, most of the time it was still dark as I walked to the top of the hill to wait for it. Even worse when it was drizzling rain.
Can't remember if Doug Mayes the Esso reporter was doing the news on Channel 3 or if I had seen Alan Newcombe reporting the forecast as Atlantic (gasoline company) Weatherman late that night, but somebody had predicted snow and all three of us were hoping. As I recall, we made it to school that morning and flakes began to fall about midday. By 1pm. the bus "First Load" was traveling home (had to serve us the big lunch the cafeteria ladies had already cooked) and it was getting thick and slushy before our "Second Load" ever hit the road. Figure I must have "abandoned ship," because my school bus didn't make it up the hill in front of the Kilby's. The wheels would spin, smoke and steam would fly, but in the end, the big bus would slide back down to the bottom of the big dip on Allen Rd. South. Two county trucks with chains eventually hooked on to the front of it and hauled it to the top of the hill.
It snowed and it snowed. I went out several times that evening, but came back coldand soggy. I had decided to hold off until morning. Surely, there would be no school tomorrow. . . About midnight or maybe it was earlier in the morning, I heard voices outside my window. The snow had let up and some of the neighborhood teenagers were out on the road with sheets of cardboard. The cars coming home from work had packed the road just well enough that there were some icy grooves. Good thing those folks got home when they did, no one would dare tackle Allen Rd South without chains once the sun went down. Well those guys sledded (on their cardboard) for a couple of hours. Other folks, mostly young couples I think, were out walking up the street and watching the snow fall.
Mom fixed a hot breakfast for me, kissed my on the cheek and told me she was heading into work early with my Dad in the pickup. (I didn't mention that our store was in an older neighborhood and we sold a lot of kerosene (heating oil) by the gallon jug. Folks would be lined up waiting for them. Kerosene to heat the house and kerosene to heat their water.)
I had an honest to goodness sled in the basement, but it was a lost cause. The snow was too fine and the metal runners sunk all of the way to the gravel road. But where there's a will, there's a way. I had one of those old red & white rectangular CocaCola signs about 6 ft. long and probably 30 inches wide. If Linda, Mark and I pushed and shoved, we would snag a ride on the steeper sections of the road, but we would bottom out a little later. That's when I suggested the big hill behind my house. It was level with Linda's yard at the top, ran steeply downhill and then
bottomed out in a huge gulley stopping just short of the creek. It was one heck of a ride and the three of us repeated it over and over that day until we couldn't climb the hill any more.
The sun had been out most of the day, so it was pretty much a toss up whether we would have school the next day or not. But we were in luck. The roads were in much better shape here, but not in the north end of the county. We got the day off, grabbed the big red sign and headed back for our hill. The previous snow had melted and then re-frozen during the night in my yard. It crunched under our feet as we walked, though it was still probably 4-5 inches deep. But what we didn't consider was that it had done the same on our tree shaded hill.
Linda climbed onto the front of the sign. I was to give us a shove and then jump onto the rear as it started moving downhill. Well, I'm here to tell you that I almost got left behind. The hill was a sheet of ice and we were moving, moving fast, moving faster that we had ever moved before. We passed the end of yesterday's run, bounded over a fallen log and went airborne taking out the tops of several saplings that stood between us and the creek. It was just about that time that the red sign hit a sawed off tree stump stopping it dead in its tracks. Linda and I were hurled forward fortunately into a huge tangle of honeysuckle and vines which stopped us both before
we could hit the creek. I pulled myself together, as did she. Nothing seemed to be broken, although my bottom was smarting from the bumpy portion of that last ride. And yes, we rode it another time or two until the glide path had worn thin and there was mostly leaves and pine needles with all of the snow pilled at the bottom of the hill. Sadly, the hill was too thick with trees to have much success elsewhere. Mark didn't get to join us because we had played at my house the day before.
By Monday, we were back in class again. But come that next Wednesday, and the Wednesday after we had snow again. What was it Mom always used to say, "If it snows and the lays on the ground from three days, it will snow again."? Well, I don't know about that, but I do know we had a lot of fun that year.
It was also the first year of NASCAR Racing at the Charlotte Motor Speedway (LMS), but the snows had delayed construction so much that the race had to be put off until mid-June instead of May. And that's the way I remember it. --- Bernie Samonds
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Living Next Door to the Outlaw Motorcycle Gang
Okay, If I had a nickel for every time I get this question . . . Here goes!
Yes, back in the 1970's when my Mom & Dad ran The Cubbyhole Grocery, a
small convenience store on Allen Rd. South (now Charlotte Rod & Custom) ---
The Outlaw Motorcycle Gang lived in a small green house next door. (Now office
& warehouse for Western Waterproofing Co., Inc.)
They had secured the yard with a high board fence. The windows were shuttered
and access was handled through a solid gate on the Graham St.side. Other than
that, the house and grounds looked pretty much as they did when Harvey Akins &
his family had lived there. The Gang did add a firepit out back for an occasional
bonfire or cookout.
You've probably heard the old admonition, "You don't S____ (Mess) where you live!"
Well, that was true of the Outlaws. They were good neighbors, probably even better
than some. Even with the sometimes late night arrivals of traveling motorcyclists,
they really made no more noise than the trucking company on the other side
of their house.
In the store, in public, and around neighbors --- their language was clean and
probably with less inuendo than an average high school teenager's. The Gang Girls
did dress rather skimpy during the summer. Outside, I saw a leopard print bikini
more than once but the girls usually slipped on a oversize tee when coming to
the store. Though once I recall hearing a shrill whistle emanating from somewhere
near the parking lot and a then voice booming over the wood fence, "Come back
here and get some clothes on!" when one of the visiting girls attempted to do her
grocery shopping in a thong and bikini top.
Often when I was away leading my weekly Boy Scout meeting, on a campout,
or maybe taking the Seniors on a trip --- a Gang Member, sometimes two, would
come over, pull up a stool in the corner behind the checkout counter and sit with
Mom or a night cashier until closing time. The store had been robbed before, but
never when a Gang member was present . . . Even guys that looked suspicious
did not tarry long when they saw who was "watching our backs."
For the most part, they were courteous and polite --- far different from the reps
they had on-the-road. News accounts talk about arrests for racketeering,
conspiracy, cocaine conspiracy, and participating in a bombing. Away from here
they were definitely not angels. It wasn't unusual to see a Gang member with a
broken wrist, and arm, or a leg in a cast. It might have resulted from a bar fight,
a rout with another gang, an initiation, or even as Club discipline, if a member
got out of line.
But that's not really what most people want to ask me about. They want to know
about the July 4th Massacre. One account reads:
"Angels In Derita: Welcome to the Derita neighborhood in northwest Charlotte.
Specifically, 2500 Allen Road South. Looks pretty quiet, doesn't it? Well, it was
anything but quiet on the night of July 4, 1970. That's when five Outlaw motorcycle
gang members had body parts blown all over the house in the infamous "July 4
Massacre." Four of the shooting victims were male gang members; the other was
17-year-old Bridgett Suzanne Benfield, a woman who rode with the gang. Members
of the rival Hells Angels motorcycle gang were suspected, but no charges were
ever filed."
First of all, I was not at home that weekend. Like most folks, I heard the news on
the television the next morning. I called home to see if my folks were all right. They
were. They had heard some gunfire during the night and then a near-endless
screech of sirens as Police & Medic arrived on the scene. Other than the original
reports, information was clamped down tight.
Yes, I knew Bridget well and Bill (the tall, lanky 20-something kid you used to sit in
the store at night with my folks). The others I knew in passing. Sometimes, one or
more of them would come knock on my door at 2 or 3am when travelling riders would
arrive here long after closing time. They usually asked earlier and I would go open up
the store so they could fill their tanks or grab a snack. They, too, obeyed the rule and
didn't create a scene at another Chapter's house.
Yes, I was often invited over for a beer or to join the party --- but No. I never did.
Something else that seems to surprise folks. I used to print their Christmas Cards
each year at my small print shop. Yes, The Outlaws send Christmas Cards! Not
your usual cherubs or gaily lit Christmas Trees. This Chapter usually requested a
white skull over crossed pistons (that looked more like bullets to me) and red eyes.
Inside was a worded holiday message and usually everyone in the Chapter signed
it. The cards were sometimes mailed, but usually hand-delivered as riders passed
though. But I'm getting off-topic here.
This account suggests that Hell's Angels done them in as the Outlaws slept,
but few folks believe that. There was no fierce battle. In fact most slept as the
assassins slipped past the Security Watch. Could he have been asleep. Not
likely. An offense like that could easily have gotten the Guard a broken leg as
discipline. Could be it was a disgruntled Gang member who opened the gate
for the outsiders and then got shot for his trouble. A number of theories still
exist.
I never went in the house after that, though some local teens did (either in
curiosity or on a dare). Police say they found a small arsenal at the crime scene.
Upstairs, the attic had purportedly been lined with sheet metal and gun ports.
But who's to say. Not long after that I was awakened at home by a report that
the store was on fire. It wasn't. It was the Outlaws house next door and the
flames shot high in the air. It had been doused well and torched. The Gang had
already moved to a new location, reportedly one that was better fortified. The
fire department put out this blaze, but the structure was torched again a few days
later and this time pretty much burned to the foundation.
After the Gang moved, I printed their Christmas Cards one last year. The
following year, a rider stopped by to pick up the artwork, any plates, negatives,
and file copies. The Gang had a new printer. He thanked me and left. For the
next few years, Members returned here to Allen Hills for a ride-by en masse on
the July 4th Anniversary. Haven't seen them in years, but I understand that
"The Outlaws today exist as one of the largest Motorcycle Clubs worldwide."
--- Bernie Samonds
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Yes, back in the 1970's when my Mom & Dad ran The Cubbyhole Grocery, a
small convenience store on Allen Rd. South (now Charlotte Rod & Custom) ---
The Outlaw Motorcycle Gang lived in a small green house next door. (Now office
& warehouse for Western Waterproofing Co., Inc.)
They had secured the yard with a high board fence. The windows were shuttered
and access was handled through a solid gate on the Graham St.side. Other than
that, the house and grounds looked pretty much as they did when Harvey Akins &
his family had lived there. The Gang did add a firepit out back for an occasional
bonfire or cookout.
You've probably heard the old admonition, "You don't S____ (Mess) where you live!"
Well, that was true of the Outlaws. They were good neighbors, probably even better
than some. Even with the sometimes late night arrivals of traveling motorcyclists,
they really made no more noise than the trucking company on the other side
of their house.
In the store, in public, and around neighbors --- their language was clean and
probably with less inuendo than an average high school teenager's. The Gang Girls
did dress rather skimpy during the summer. Outside, I saw a leopard print bikini
more than once but the girls usually slipped on a oversize tee when coming to
the store. Though once I recall hearing a shrill whistle emanating from somewhere
near the parking lot and a then voice booming over the wood fence, "Come back
here and get some clothes on!" when one of the visiting girls attempted to do her
grocery shopping in a thong and bikini top.
Often when I was away leading my weekly Boy Scout meeting, on a campout,
or maybe taking the Seniors on a trip --- a Gang Member, sometimes two, would
come over, pull up a stool in the corner behind the checkout counter and sit with
Mom or a night cashier until closing time. The store had been robbed before, but
never when a Gang member was present . . . Even guys that looked suspicious
did not tarry long when they saw who was "watching our backs."
For the most part, they were courteous and polite --- far different from the reps
they had on-the-road. News accounts talk about arrests for racketeering,
conspiracy, cocaine conspiracy, and participating in a bombing. Away from here
they were definitely not angels. It wasn't unusual to see a Gang member with a
broken wrist, and arm, or a leg in a cast. It might have resulted from a bar fight,
a rout with another gang, an initiation, or even as Club discipline, if a member
got out of line.
But that's not really what most people want to ask me about. They want to know
about the July 4th Massacre. One account reads:
"Angels In Derita: Welcome to the Derita neighborhood in northwest Charlotte.
Specifically, 2500 Allen Road South. Looks pretty quiet, doesn't it? Well, it was
anything but quiet on the night of July 4, 1970. That's when five Outlaw motorcycle
gang members had body parts blown all over the house in the infamous "July 4
Massacre." Four of the shooting victims were male gang members; the other was
17-year-old Bridgett Suzanne Benfield, a woman who rode with the gang. Members
of the rival Hells Angels motorcycle gang were suspected, but no charges were
ever filed."
First of all, I was not at home that weekend. Like most folks, I heard the news on
the television the next morning. I called home to see if my folks were all right. They
were. They had heard some gunfire during the night and then a near-endless
screech of sirens as Police & Medic arrived on the scene. Other than the original
reports, information was clamped down tight.
Yes, I knew Bridget well and Bill (the tall, lanky 20-something kid you used to sit in
the store at night with my folks). The others I knew in passing. Sometimes, one or
more of them would come knock on my door at 2 or 3am when travelling riders would
arrive here long after closing time. They usually asked earlier and I would go open up
the store so they could fill their tanks or grab a snack. They, too, obeyed the rule and
didn't create a scene at another Chapter's house.
Yes, I was often invited over for a beer or to join the party --- but No. I never did.
Something else that seems to surprise folks. I used to print their Christmas Cards
each year at my small print shop. Yes, The Outlaws send Christmas Cards! Not
your usual cherubs or gaily lit Christmas Trees. This Chapter usually requested a
white skull over crossed pistons (that looked more like bullets to me) and red eyes.
Inside was a worded holiday message and usually everyone in the Chapter signed
it. The cards were sometimes mailed, but usually hand-delivered as riders passed
though. But I'm getting off-topic here.
This account suggests that Hell's Angels done them in as the Outlaws slept,
but few folks believe that. There was no fierce battle. In fact most slept as the
assassins slipped past the Security Watch. Could he have been asleep. Not
likely. An offense like that could easily have gotten the Guard a broken leg as
discipline. Could be it was a disgruntled Gang member who opened the gate
for the outsiders and then got shot for his trouble. A number of theories still
exist.
I never went in the house after that, though some local teens did (either in
curiosity or on a dare). Police say they found a small arsenal at the crime scene.
Upstairs, the attic had purportedly been lined with sheet metal and gun ports.
But who's to say. Not long after that I was awakened at home by a report that
the store was on fire. It wasn't. It was the Outlaws house next door and the
flames shot high in the air. It had been doused well and torched. The Gang had
already moved to a new location, reportedly one that was better fortified. The
fire department put out this blaze, but the structure was torched again a few days
later and this time pretty much burned to the foundation.
After the Gang moved, I printed their Christmas Cards one last year. The
following year, a rider stopped by to pick up the artwork, any plates, negatives,
and file copies. The Gang had a new printer. He thanked me and left. For the
next few years, Members returned here to Allen Hills for a ride-by en masse on
the July 4th Anniversary. Haven't seen them in years, but I understand that
"The Outlaws today exist as one of the largest Motorcycle Clubs worldwide."
--- Bernie Samonds
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