American Male:: Tribute To A Dying Breed

By Shaymus McGirk

American Male: Tribute to a Dying Breed chronicles the exploits of three American men; Rhett Thorton, Michael Lanagan, and Eddy Shoobrooks, from the jungles of Vietnam to the muscle beach scene in the 1960's to the streets of a steel mill town in Ohio.
These men represent the dying breed who built this country, won two world wars and made America a beacon of hope in the decaying politically correct world we now live in. Patriotic, raw, uncensored and politically incorrect best described this trio. Relive the past 60 years through the eyes of these American heroes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098331597

Book preview

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 9781098331597

Table of Contents

FORWARD

PROLOGUE

DEDICATION

Author’s note to the reader

DISCLAIMER

Legend of the Blood Moon: The Warrior Cometh

Part One: It Was An Age of Innocence

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Part Two: The Road Less Traveled

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Part Three: Home Is Where the Heart Is

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Author’s Thoughts:

Malibu Mike and His Macho Men

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

DIARY OF AN EGOMANIAC: THE LEGEND OF FAST EDDY OLD SCHOOL

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

EPILOGUE:

FORWARD

The American Male? Who is that guy? Well, if you chose to read this book, I’ll bet he is you. Or, if you are a woman, he is someone you know, respect, and love. I will start by defining the American Male as a man raised in John Wayne’s America; need I say more. This magnificent group of men share a multitude of similar traits. First and foremost, they are secure in their manhood, who they are as men just feels comfortable. They neither suffer from any social guilt complex, nor do they feel the need to apologize for their views, feelings, or attitudes. After all, a nation of men like these won two World Wars. They built the infrastructure, highways, and institutions that make America the greatest nation on Earth. Because of them the United States is a beacon of hope in a world overrun with evil, anarchy, and chaos. Additionally, the American Male possesses a unique trait which is all but extinct in our modern society, a sense of humor. The ability to laugh at yourself and the hardships which life presents has all but disappeared in the new age male. Just having a sense of humor puts the world’s problems into perspective, therefore, solutions to seemingly insurmountable issues are just another day at the office. The American Male believes in right or wrong. He is a self-reliant leader, not a follower. He is independent, a problem solver, and recognizes bullshit when he hears it. He knows there is no such thing as a free lunch and believes every man has an obligation to pull his own weight and work for a living. American Males do not snivel about the hardships and obstacles thrown their way, they simply handle it and move on to the next shit pile. The American Male is not just one color, race, nor nationality. He is straight, gay, black, white, or any color in between. So, to all of you about to read this book, be proud of who you are, because sadly, you are a dying breed. Once you are gone, there will be no one to pick up the torch. I worry about the future of our great country, just like you. You are about to read three stories which depict the American Male. Regardless of your profession, religion, or educational background, I believe you will see a spooky reflection of yourself in my characters. After all, I wrote the stories with you in mind. And to all those people who mock and despise what we represent I say, kiss our red-blooded American asses. So, hold on to your hats folks, you’re in for a hell of a ride. I am sure the liberal left-wing loons will be outraged, incensed, and infuriated by the content contained herein, just as I intended… Mission accomplished.

Shaymus McGirk

PROLOGUE

Friday, June 5th, 1964

Thornton, Shoobrooks, Lanagan family reunion

Camp Logan wilderness picnic area

Jefferson County, Ohio

Hacaweh Logan, medicine man and direct descendant of the 17th century mythical Chief Logan of the Mingo Indian nation looked approvingly at the three American males seated before him on a picnic bench. Seated on the left was Michael Lanagan, age 33, a Green Beret operative home on leave from Vietnam. Seated in the middle was Rhett Thornton age 18, the most sought-after high school football player in the country. Seated on the right was Eddy Shoobrooks, age 10, the terror and worst nightmare of the nuns at St. Francis School. These three wild looking individuals were first cousins. They were together to celebrate the family reunion. Their parents, Sandy Lanagan, Harold Thornton and Midge Shoobrooks were brother and sisters.

Fifty extended family members including aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins were enjoying the tranquil rustic atmosphere of Camp Logan, located on the great Yellow creek. The previous night Hacaweh was seated in the meadow next to the Sacred Tee Pee of his elders, on his ranch adjacent to Camp Logan. It was a moonless night and thousands of stars shimmered in the sky. While enjoying the magnificence of nature in a transcendental state of mind he heard the faint screech of an eagle in the pine forest to the west. The screech became louder as the eagle flew straight at the Tee Pee. As the eagle passed over Hacaweh three shooting stars streaked across the sky from different directions, coming together in a single point. The flash from the collision lit the night sky like the explosion of an atom bomb. As Hacaweh instinctively shielded his eyes the eagle landed in front of him, clutching a live cougar cub in its strong talons. The eagle

released the cub which instantly ran into the forest. The eagle then flapped his mighty wings and disappeared into the night. The meaning of this vision was clear. The eagle was Beshkno, the ancient god of the Mingo Indians. The vision signified the coming of three warriors from different worlds who would use their bravery to fight evil and protect the innocent and vulnerable. Hacaweh knew his mission was to guide these warriors on the path to their destiny. He had a premonition about the coming family reunion. Hacaweh knew in his soul, the warriors were family.

Hacaweh stared at the three males seated on the picnic bench. The search was over. These were the three. Rhett Thornton rose from the bench and gave his uncle Hacaweh a hug. He introduced Mike and Eddy to his mythical uncle.

Hacaweh invited the three to attend a Pow Wow at the Sacred Tee Pee. They eagerly accepted the offer. A half hour later they were seated inside the cow hide Tee Pee. A fire pit lit up the center of the ancient structure, and two of Rhett’s Indian cousins rhythmically beat on drums at the entrance. The three warriors sat cross legged on the floor as Hacaweh scooped powder from a leather bag and sprinkled it onto the flame in the fire pit. A phosphorescent glow filled the Tee Pee as apparitions appeared inside the flames. The eerily familiar shadowy figures reached out of the flames and touched the three warriors on their cheeks. Suddenly the flame disappeared leaving the Tee Pee in total darkness.

The three cousins sat speechless as Rhett asked his uncle what the vision meant. Hacaweh sat silently for a minute before answering. He then relayed the vision from the night before. "I believe each of you is destined for great adventures. You will be leaders who protect the good from the evil. Follow your instincts and your hearts and never compromise your values. The three of you will be separated for many years but will meet again in the land of the setting sun.

The magical atmosphere ended abruptly as the sound of a dozen roaring motorcycles shook the Tee Pee. Hacaweh opened the flap and shouted, son of a bitch, as the outlaw motorcycle gang Satan’s Few drove toward the Camp.

Come with me, men. I threw these bastards out of here last week for assaulting a family in the picnic area. The three cousins jumped in the back of Hacaweh’s pickup truck as little Eddy picked up a baseball bat lying next to a tree stump.

Hacaweh drove the mile from his ranch to the picnic area fearing for the family’s safety. These punks were bent on revenge. God knows what they’re capable of he thought.

Hacaweh entered the picnic area and saw the bikers harassing different groups. Simultaneously Rhett leaped out of the right side of the truck bed and charged a biker trying to drag his female cousin into the bushes. Mike jumped out of the left side of the truck bed onto a group of three bikers pushing several elderly relatives around, while Eddy swung the bat and smashed the head of a biker who fell against the truck bed.

Rhett lowered his head and sprinted toward the biker, clothes-lining the asshole and driving his head into an Oak tree. A right hook from Rhett’s powerful fist sent the punk sprawling to the ground unconscious. Mike leaped on top of three bikers causing them to scatter like bowling pins. Using his martial arts skills honed to perfection in the Green Beret he kicked one attacker in the right knee, shattering the knee cap. As this punk fell to the ground Mike knee kicked him in

the face, shattering his eye socket and knocking out several teeth. Mike pivoted and kicked the next attacker in the head as the third assailant came at him with a switch blade knife. Mike grabbed the knife hand and secured it to his left hip while placing the biker in an arm bar. With his right forearm Mike smashed the locked elbow, shattering it like a matchstick.

The remaining six bikers swarmed Mike in a huge pile, punching and kicking the war hero. A maniacal scream caused the entire family to look as Rhett charged the punks in a dead sprint, his forearms up and locked. The faint wail of a police siren could be heard in the distance as he hit this shit pile of humanity at twenty miles an hour, scattering the motley crew like marbles. Hacaweh retrieved a tire iron from the truck and swung it wildly, hitting several bikers in the head as they tried to regain their feet. Harold Thornton attacked the group from the other side with an iron poker from the barbeque pit.

The dynamics of the fight caused Mike, Rhett, and Eddy who was still wielding the baseball bat to stand back to back as the last of the bikers was beaten into submission. Sgt. Ron Ely of the Jefferson County Sheriffs Dept., who was leading a convoy of five police cars screeched to a stop at the entrance to the picnic area, stunned by the carnage strewn about in front of him. He shook his head in disbelief, then smiled as he looked at the three cousins standing back to back with bodies lying on the ground all around them. Well I’ll be goddamned he chuckled.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the following groups and individuals:

First and foremost, to my wife Sandy, a woman confident and secure in her femininity, she encouraged me to share chapters in my life that involved other romantic relationships.  What a woman!

The 1974 Toronto Ohio Red Knights football team, led to an undefeated season by quarterback Steve Romey.

The members of the Toronto Ohio Police Dept. during the 1970s; particularly the three Mosti brothers, Howard, Emmett, and Danny, who protected the community against the anarchy of a decaying society.

Frank Owens, Air Force veteran, California Highway Patrol Officer, pilot extraordinaire and my dearest friend.

And finally, Elwood Charles Baker, born and raised in Toronto Ohio, killed in action in Vietnam on December 18th, 1970.  The sacrifice he made gave me the freedom to write this book.

Author’s note to the reader

This is a fictional story based on true events, in which I was an active participant.

It’s about an America that used to be; one which is quickly fading from existence. I genuinely believe you will be inspired by the everyday Americans described herein. Their journey will ignite your sense of patriotism and longing for the raw uncensored America of our fathers, not the anarchy of the decaying politically correct society we now find ourselves in. The timeline is based during the most turbulent as well as the most enlightening decade in our nation’s history, the mid-1960s through the mid-1970s.

Our lives are defined by the music of our generation.  I’m suggesting something unusual, however, I believe it will enhance your reading experience in ways unimaginable. I’ve included a list of music, the soundtrack of a generation if you will, for each of the three parts which comprise this story.  You can obtain the entirety of the music free on YouTube.

Listen to the music as you read the story.  I promise, your mind and soul will be immersed in the magnificence of the era and every nuance and subtlety will be made clearer.  You will be magically transported to this wonderful time and live the story, not just read about it as a spectator.

Enjoy… 

SM

DISCLAIMER

WARNING

This book is not for the politically correct. Neither is it for those individuals who don’t share our belief that America is a bastion of good in a world full of evil men, or those pathetic people who would rather run than fight for the American way of life. I guarantee the following to all those people listed above; your senses will be offended by the content contained herein.

Legend of the Blood Moon:

The Warrior Cometh

The Mingo Indians of the Ohio Valley believed the darkening of the moon during a lunar eclipse was a sign of danger and chaos. They called this phenomenon the Blood Moon.

Part One: It Was An Age of Innocence

CHAPTER ONE

A child once asked an old man this question. Sir, what is the definition of life?  The old man pondered the question under a wrinkled brow.  Suddenly, he chuckled and responded this way: Son, life is that mischievous devil that interferes with all our carefully laid plans for success.

June 20, 1973

The piercing sound of the phone ringing jolted Janet Bauman from a deep sleep.  She glanced at the clock beside her bed.  Eleven o’clock, who the hell is calling me this late, she said out loud.  Angrily she jerked the phone from the receiver.  Before she could yell her displeasure, she was stopped by a gruff voice, one she instantly recognized as her editor and boss, Bill Cardill.

Bauman get your ass out of bed; all hell has broken out in Toronto.  The Police raided the largest illegal drug warehouse on the East Coast.  Seven people were killed in a massive shoot out with the police and a Toronto cop was shot.  Janet’s heart stopped.  It wasn’t Scallatini was it? she screamed at her boss.  No, it was Prosser, shot in the shoulder.  Janet sighed with relief so loudly that Cardill remarked, Bauman, are you, all right? I’m fine, she said, realizing at that moment she was in love with the Toronto Police Captain. She jerked back into the moment by Cardill, who was yelling, Bauman, are you listening to me? I’m listening boss, she said.  I want you to go to City Hall in Toronto; the Mayor is holding a press conference in an hour.  I’m on it, bye.

Janet jumped out of bed and threw on a pair of 501 jeans, black tee shirt and tennis shoes.  Standing five feet eight, lean and athletic, she glanced in the mirror, happy with the reflection.  She brushed her teeth and waist-length black hair, then grabbed her notebook and car keys and stepped into the night.  She walked across the dark back yard to her 1974 Datsun 240Z, then stopped suddenly and stared. Poised eerily above her car was a sight she hadn’t seen since 1964.  It was the Blood Moon, a total lunar eclipse.  A luminous red glow enveloped her car. She looked at her hands which were glowing deep red.  It was surreal.  There was something very magical about this experience. An omen of doom perhaps, or maybe of good things to come, she thought.  A strange feeling came over her.  This night would change her life forever; her instincts told her so; she felt it in her bones.

The emerald green 240Z zig-zagged through the empty streets of Steubenville, Ohio until she merged onto the northbound lanes of Route 7.  She was enroute to Toronto, Ohio eight miles north, along with the Ohio River. The intoxicating fragrance of jasmine and lilac bushes filled the sports car as she sped northbound, the Ohio River on her right side and the steep rolling hills of northeast Ohio on her left.

Janet exited the Franklin St. ramp in Toronto. She noticed an unusual amount of traffic on the road for this late hour.  She weaved her way through the side streets of this small community and saw several groups of people standing in the front yards of Victorian homes, engaged in animated conversations.  News travels fast in this blue-collar town of ten thousand, she thought.  Janet turned northbound on 5th St. and soon the one-hundred-year-old brick and mortar school building came into view.  The school now housed the City Hall and Police Dept.

She was shocked at the large number of vehicles parked askance in front of the building. In addition to the three Toronto Police cars she saw Police Cruisers from the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Dept., Wintersville P.D., Steubenville P.D., Mingo P.D., the Ohio State Patrol and the DEA.  She couldn’t recall seeing this much activity at City Hall since the State Championship football game in 1964.  Janet parked on 5th St. then grabbed her notebook and walked up the steep incline to the towering old school building.  This magnificent structure was an icon of the past, overlooking this small community nestled on the Ohio River.  This building represented the stability of America in an age long gone.

Janet was unprepared for the visual scene when she opened the steel door of City Hall. At least a hundred people milled about in small groups.  The door to the Mayor’s Office located on the right and the Police Dept. located on the left were wide open, which was very unusual.  People hurriedly walked in and out of offices, arms waving frantically, some laughing and some with stern looks on their faces.  Looking further down the hallway, past all the marble floors and ornate mahogany trim on the doors, Janet saw her old friend Roofy Turuli, the City Auditor.

Roofy stood in front of his office, engaged in an animated conversation with several people.  He dominated the conversation as usual, his huge belly shaking as he laughed with his cronies.  Janet smiled watching this humorous display, which oddly relieved the tension she felt. Roofy saw Janet standing in the hallway. Hey sweetheart, he yelled above the din of the crowd, come and give your daddy a hug.  She made her way through the different groups to Roofy and gave him a big hug.  He had a strong odor of beer on his breath.  She giggled, Roofy, you’re hammered. What do you expect, he said, They dragged me out of the American Legion bar for this circus.

What the hell is going on? She asked.  Belching out loud, Roofy said all I know is this; Thornton and Prosser uncovered a massive drug operation at the Kaul Clay property, which is run by the white trash family of Ira Lafont. They raided the place tonight and got in a big shootout.  A bunch of people was killed, and Prosser was shot.  Is he going to be ok? She asked.  That cock hound, he said, is too much of a horn dog to get killed and yeah he’ll be ok.  Where is Scalatini? She asked, scanning the crowd.  The last time I saw him, he was dealing with several knuckleheads back in the jail area.  They have about thirty guys stuffed into three cells.  It’s a fucking mess.

Janet looked down the long narrow hallway leading to the holding cells. Cops from various agencies filled the corridor. They were laughing and slapping each other on the back, like warriors victorious in battle.  The cops were happy to be alive and proud of their conquest. Through the crowd she saw the back of a shorter cop and immediately recognized the profile of her friend, Captain Bill Scalatini, whom she intermittently called Butch or Scal.  Cupping her hands around her mouth she yelled, Hey Scal.  He turned instantly at the sound of her voice, scanning the crowd until he locked gazes with her.  He wore an ornery smile on his face while making his way through the sea of people to Janet’s location.  She hugged him instinctively, happy he was unhurt.  Caught off guard Scal said, Damn, I’ll have to get into shootouts more often.

Someone in the crowd yelled, the press conference is about to start, everyone come inside the Mayor’s Office. Shit, she said. Look, Butch, I have to go to this press conference, but I want to meet you afterward and get the real scoop. You have a date missy, he said, I’ll be looking for you. Janet made her way through the crowd to the cavernous office and took a seat with the other reporters.  Excitement stirred the air. She looked at the quirky cast of characters filing into the office then smiled to herself and thought, like something out of a B movie.  Suddenly the Mayor walked in. He was a striking man in his sixties, lean and mean, standing six feet six.  Mayor Andy Blaner proudly wore a flat top haircut and exuded a no-nonsense no-bullshit attitude. He was the quintessential poster child for the World War Two soldier; a self-made man, extremely patriotic and a man who didn’t take shit from no one.  A hush came over the courtroom as the Mayor prepared to speak. Good evening folks.  Today, the Toronto Police Dept., in an operation led by Reserve Officer Rhett Thornton raided the largest illegal drug distribution operation on the East Coast.  Numerous surrounding Police Agencies assisted in the take down.

During the operation at the abandoned complex of buildings at Kaul Clay a shootout occurred.  The Police killed seven suspects, wounded four and arrested thirty-eight. Five tons of marijuana, one hundred kilos of cocaine, fifty pounds of black tar heroin, LSD, Quaaludes and various other pills were seized.  One Toronto Police Officer, Tom Prosser, was grazed in the shoulder by a bullet, but will be ok.  The Police seized two million dollars in cash as well.  Ira Lafont and his family, all Toronto residents ran this illegal enterprise. Ira Lafont purchased this property two years ago. I just want to say how proud I am of our Police Department and all the Police Agencies assisting in this extremely dangerous operation.

The Toronto Police Dept requested the assistance of the FBI and DEA to investigate the illegal interstate transportation of drugs.  Officers from the Pomona California Police Department followed the shipment of drugs all the way from California and should be commended for their extraordinary effort.  I am now going to turn this press conference over to Captain Butch Scalatini, who will answer your questions about the raid and the subsequent investigation.  All eyes turned toward the door as Scal walked in.  The entire room erupted with applause and cheers as he made his way to the podium.  Scal looked at Janet and winked.

Scalatini was the hometown hero and All-Star quarterback for the Toronto Red Knights, leading the team to the State Championship in 1964.  He was a decorated Vietnam war veteran and Captain of the local Police Dept. Scal was short in stature, however no one noticed because his character and heart overshadowed any lack of height. He had a thin build and didn’t particularly look the part of a hero.  However, to those who knew him, there was no one better.  Janet met Scal on the night of the State Championship game in 1964, when she was a cub reporter for the Wheeling Intelligencer Newspaper. She was thrilled with her first major assignment and eagerly covered the game for the paper. She had a vague memory of Scal flirting shamelessly with her at the game.

She didn’t see Scal for the next three years, while he was away in Vietnam.  They became reacquainted when she was assigned to cover the activity at the Toronto Police Dept., and he was just a rookie officer.  They became friends, and in time she came to trust him implicitly.  Although both were involved in romantic relationships with other people, they became awfully close over the years. There was a mutual attraction between these two, and they continued to flirt shamelessly.  Pop Herdman, the editor and chief of the local newspaper, the Toronto Tribune, stood up and asked the first question.  Captain, how did this investigation come about? Well Pop, Scal said, Officer Tom Prosser arrested a juvenile for possession of marijuana about six weeks ago.  The kid rolled over on his pusher.  Prosser then involved Reserve Officer Rhett Thornton in the investigation.

At the mention of Rhett Thornton, the crowd burst into excited chatter.  If Scal was considered a hero by the locals, then Rhett Thornton was regarded as a God.  Like Scal, Thornton won medals in Vietnam and was the most sought-after high school football player in the nation in 1964. Thornton was considered by many as the greatest High School football player of all time.  Rhett Thornton was one of a kind, people often said, remarking that God broke the mold after he created Rhett.

Scal continued, Thornton and Prosser arrested the pusher, who in turn rolled over on his supplier.  Thornton acquired an airplane and he and Prosser conducted aerial surveillance of the main players over several weeks, building the case and tracing the source to the Ira Lafont organization.  Information was obtained which implicated a truck company in Pomona California.  With the assistance of the Pomona Police Dept. Dope Team, who witnessed a large shipment of drugs being delivered to the truck company, we began this complicated investigation.  Sgt. Sal Columbo and his dope team followed the truck from California to Toronto, and the takedown occurred today.

Toot Wilson, gas station owner and part-time reporter for Pop Herdman asked, Where is Thornton now? He left about an hour ago; he had some personal business to attend to.  The questions continued for the next half hour.  Finally, the press conference ended.  The crowd filtered out of the Mayor’s office, and Janet made her way to the podium.  Let’s get out of here for a while, Scal said, we have a lot to talk about. I agree, Janet said, where do you want to go?  Meet me at Memorial Park on Jefferson St. in a half hour.  I will be sitting on a bench at the top of the hill, directly behind the city swimming pool.  It’s quiet there and we won’t be interrupted.  You have a date mister, see you there.

The town’s people built Memorial Park after World War Two and dedicated it to the residents of Toronto who lost their lives fighting for America.  They forged a large bronze plaque containing the names of the dead heroes etched in bold type and mounted it to the base of a fifty-foot flagpole at the entrance to the park.  The Park featured a large swimming pool patterned after the Coliseum in Rome. The structure stood fifteen feet high and a hundred fifty feet long. The pool sat in the center of the oval. A large hallway circled the interior, which housed the dressing rooms, offices and concession stands.  Every brick in the structure was kilned at the Kaul Clay pipe and brick company in Toronto.

Janet left City Hall and drove two miles to the park through the old neighborhoods of Toronto.  Huge Victorian homes sat proudly on both sides of the tree-lined streets.  Passing St. Francis Catholic Church on Findlay St, she turned right onto Jefferson St.  Memorial Park came into view. The American flag blew defiantly in the breeze. She circled the right side of the pool area and parked next to a chain link fence.  Janet exited the car and her senses were instantly overwhelmed by the thick delicious smells of the warm summer night.  Jasmine, Honeysuckle, and Violets rushed by the breeze caressed her face.  The leaves of the Maple, Cypress, and Oak trees rustled in the wind and flowers in bloom dotted the landscape. The ambiance was seductive and inviting. She closed her eyes and breathed in the smells of the night, savoring the moment. She felt alive.

The red glow of the Blood Moon filtered through the rustling leaves of the trees.  The warm radiant light cast a magical spell on the night and her heart suddenly raced with excitement.  Janet saw a shadowy figure sitting on a park bench at the top of the hill and recognized the silhouette as Butch Scalatini.  She slowly climbed the metal stairs and noted Scal was constantly watching her.  She smiled and said, Hello stranger, you certainly picked the perfect place to meet, this park is beautiful.  Scal stood and extended his hands.  She instinctively reached out and interlaced her hands with his.  They stared at each other without talking, both content in the moment and happy to be together, finally.

Scal pulled Janet to him and kissed her tenderly on the lips. She held him tightly; giving away her heart and soul to this man she knew only as a friend till now. They separated after a long embrace and looked into each other’s eyes. Well, how about that, she said.  Yeah, how about that, he replied. Scal led her to a bench and they sat side by side, drinking in the beauty of the night, quiet in the moment.  Looking into the distance she said, When my boss called me tonight to cover this story, he said a Toronto cop had been shot.  My heart stopped, I thought it was you.  When he said it was Prosser I almost fainted with relief.  I knew at that moment I was in love with you. Scal smiled, taking in all that Janet said, then said reflectively, I knew a couple months ago I was falling in love with you. I remember being out with my girlfriend and all I could think about was you, however, I knew you had a boyfriend and I didn’t think I had a chance. Humph, she muttered, nodding her head in agreement, absorbing all he said.  Suddenly she turned and looked at him.  Are you in? she asked.  I’m definitely in, he said laughing.  She started laughing too and they held each other like lovesick teenagers.

They hugged for a while, experiencing feelings of fulfillment and contentment that neither had known before. You know, Janet said, there is a big, big story here and it’s not just the drug raid.  I’ve noticed all this activity in town since Thornton came home two months ago.  This town, this Police Dept. and the whole community have come back to life since his return.

Butch, there is so much of this story that I don’t know.  I want to know the whole thing and you are the only one who was there from beginning to end. Scal stared at the trees blowing in the wind and sat silent for a minute.  Wow, it just hit me, he said, not only did Thornton save my life in Vietnam, he set the stage for us to be together as well.  He brought pride back to our Police Dept. and hope to the community.

You know Janet, as I think about the crazy cast of characters in this story most of them were here tonight.  The cops, all former Red Knights and members of our championship team in 64, plus the bad guys Ira Lafont and his family, the unforeseen hero Bill Jako and Melissa Krause. Your brother Chance Bauman played an enormous role in this story as well and of course the main character, Rhett Thornton.  Ok Janet, I’ll tell you the story, but to do it justice will take all night and there are blank spots that only you can fill in. I got nothing but time Scal.

CHAPTER TWO

Well, I guess it all started the day of our homecoming dance and State Championship game in 1964, Friday, December 18th.  Oh my God, Scal said stunned, that was the night of the Blood Moon, just like tonight. Way too much of a coincidence; I’m starting to believe all this Indian voodoo shit.  Question, Janet asked, Who is Melissa Krause?  Well, based on the events of the last month, I would say she is the love of Rhett Thornton’s life. Pausing, and looking at the stars, Scal said reflectively, it all makes sense now.

Continuing, Scal said, On that Friday morning, in December 1964, Melissa Krause woke up abruptly.  She sat up in bed and brushed the long blond hair out of her sleepy eyes.  For you see, Janet, Melissa was nine years old and her hair had never been cut and reached almost to her waist.  It’s homecoming day, she said aloud.  She looked at the alarm clock next to her bed; 7:40 am. The Football Mass starts in twenty minutes, she thought, I can still make it.  Melissa jumped out of bed, threw on her jeans and a sweatshirt, then brushed her hair and teeth, put on her shoes and was out the door.

She rode a mile from her house to St. Francis church on her bicycle at breakneck speed.  She kept thinking to herself, I can’t wait to see my hero, Rhett Thornton.  She thought back to that terrifying night a year ago, when her father, Hank Krause, beat her mother Jane, in a drunken rage.  Melissa was paralyzed with fear, watching her dad pummel her mother’s face while sitting on her chest in the middle of the living room floor.

Melissa recalled the pain in her head when she jumped on her father’s back, trying to pull him off her mother.  Hank tossed Melissa aside brutally, causing her to hit her head on the coffee table.  When all seemed hopeless, Melissa couldn’t believe her eyes when the heavy Oak front door exploded off its hinges and Rhett Thornton came charging through the shattered door like a freight train.  To Melissa, who was lying on the floor, Rhett looked bigger than life, with his fists clenched and a murderous rage on his face as he charged Hank Krause.

Running at top speed with his head lowered, Rhett hit the bully with such force that Hank’s false teeth popped out of his mouth. Rhett drove the unsuspecting wife beater across the room into the side of the china closet.  He picked Hank up with ease and pressed him overhead like a barbell, then smashed him headfirst into the hardwood floor.  Blood spurted everywhere from Hank’s broken nose, as Rhett punched him several times in the head. Hank’s body went limp and laid in a heap like a rag doll.

Snapping out of his rage, Rhett turned to Melissa and asked, Are you all right, honey?  Melissa ran to Rhett, who scooped her up in his massive arms and kissed her gently on the forehead. He’ll never touch you again; I promise, he said reassuringly.  Thank you, Rhett, please help my mother; she’s hurt.  Rhett rushed to Jane’s side.  She was moaning and spitting blood.  He cradled Jane’s head as his mom, Margaret and his dad, Harold rushed in from next door.  Seeing what just happened, Margaret said, ‘I’m calling the Police."

Melissa had vivid memories of that fateful night. She remembered the Police arresting her father and the ambulance taking her mother to the hospital.  But most of all she remembered Rhett holding her to his chest, cradling her and saying kind and loving things.  You will stay at our house tonight, Melissa. He carried her across the yard to the Thorton family home and tucked her in bed, wrapping her tightly in the goose down blankets in the Thornton spare bedroom. Yes, Melissa Krause fell in love with Rhett Thornton that night and a bond was forged between them that would never be broken.

She arrived at St. Francis Church just as the Football Mass was beginning. Melissa parked her bicycle and ran up the brick stairs between ornate columns of stone into the back of the church. Parishioners filled every seat, so Melissa climbed the long winding staircase to the balcony.  She sat on the floor and looked down on the activities below between the railings on the banister.

The only person in the balcony was old Miss Maud, the High School librarian who also played the organ at Mass.  She scowled at Melissa, showing her disapproval of the brash young girl.  Melissa stuck her tongue out in return, which made her scowl even more. Miss Maud played the first hymn of the Mass and Melissa took in the scene below.  As was customary for the Football Mass, the Toronto Red Knight football team took up the first two rows where they were under the scrutiny of the salty old Irish priest, Mikalean Flannigan.

Father Flannigan intermittently blessed the team or chastised them for a poor performance at last week’s game. For you see, Janet, high school football was king in Toronto, as it was in all the Ohio Valley.  Every mundane activity in life ceased to exist on Friday nights during football season.  A dozen teams battled each other for bragging rights, or in the case of the Toronto Red Knights, on this December Friday in 1964, fighting for the State Championship.

The Toronto Red Knights were undefeated for the last three years because of one player, Rhett Thornton.  Rhett was touted as the best high school football player in the nation and every major college was courting him. Melissa suddenly realized why the church was so packed. The news media filled every aisle, covering the Mass and later that night the championship game. She turned her gaze back to the team and immediately recognized the rear profile of her hero, Rhett Thornton.  The high pompadour haircut, reminiscent of Elvis or Ricky Nelson, thick neck, enormous trap muscles and his broad wide shoulders were a dead giveaway.  There’s my Rhett she giggled.

Feeling her gaze Rhett turned and scanned the church, spotting Melissa in the balcony.  He smiled and winked.  She blew him a kiss and giggled again. During this exchange Father Flannigan walked out to the podium, followed by two altar boys. Again, as was customary Father Flannigan sauntered up to bless the boys.  Pacing up and down in front of the team, he looked at each player and nodded his head in approval.  Here, he thought, was the most incredible group of young men he had ever known.  Speaking in a thick Irish brogue, which he failed to lose despite living in America for twenty years, he said boys, I’m proud of you, the community is proud of you as well as the entire Ohio Valley.  You have defied the odds time and again and here you sit, ready to battle for the State Championship.  Win or lose you are our heroes.  With this accolade the audience burst into applause.

Father Flannigan waved his arms for the parishioners to be quiet as the expression on his face changed to a frown.  Unless, he said, looking at me, our quarterback gets lazy and quits going to the pass, like he did against Jefferson Union last week. Or if Sumo Shimeretti sits on his dead ass, trotting instead of sprinting on that reverse play; like he did against Mingo Junction two weeks ago. Or, if our prima donna Thornton gets pissed off again and starts another fight like he did against Wellsville three weeks ago, which I might add got him kicked out of the game for his outburst. Luckily, we were thirty points ahead in the 4th quarter.  You and your damn temper Thornton.

Father Flannigan! your language, Sister Mercedes yelled from the sanctuary.  Sorry sister, the embarrassed priest replied.  Anyway, he continued, I’m going to ask the Lord to protect our motley crew one last time and bring the State Championship home to Toronto, where it belongs and kick those heathen bastard’s asses all the way back to Massillon.  AMEN to that, the crowd chanted in unison.

When Mass concluded the team mingled with the parishioners outside the church.  Melissa walked up to Rhett and gave him a hug.  Hi angel, he said, I knew you would be here.  I couldn’t miss the Football Mass, she replied.  Rhett suddenly looked past Melissa to the St. Francis school playground adjacent to the church parking lot.  Son of a bitch Rhett growled and took off running toward the playground.  Startled, Melissa frantically scanned the area to see what the commotion was.  She saw four 8th graders pushing Bill Jako around. The bullies were several years older than him.  Bill fell to the ground and tried to protect his head when one of the bullies started kicking him.  With his head lowered and charging like a bull, Rhett hit the four attackers with such force they flew like bowling pins.

Rhett walked over to the ringleader, Mitchell Lafont, the one kicking Bill and picked him up by his shirt, easily pressing him over head.  Listen to me you goddamn little bully, if you or your shit head friends ever touch Bill Jako again, I will personally kick your white trash asses from one end of town to the other. Rhett tossed Mitchell on top of his friends like a sack of potatoes, knocking all four to the ground again.  The humiliated attackers scrambled to their feet and took off running, disappearing behind the school.  Melissa roared with laughter watching those jerks get their asses beat.

Rhett walked over to Bill, who was still cowering in fear, lying in a fetal position on the ground.  He bent down and scooped Bill up in his arms.  It’s ok buddy, I had a little talk with them, and they’re gone.  Rhett stood him on his feet and noted Bill stood almost as tall as him. Bill, as big as you are, you don’t have to take any shit from those punks.  Promise me, Bill; you will fight back if they ever bother you again. Bill clutched Rhett’s neck, traumatized by the beating.  I will, Rhett, I promise.  You see, Janet, Bill was autistic and slow in school, but a truly kind and loving boy toward everyone.  He was an incredible artist and his skills exceeded many professionals.  Rhett, you’re my friend, he said.  You protected me, and I love you.  I won’t forget what you did, and I will pay you back someday, I promise. Rhett gave him another hug and said, I love you too, Bill.

Rhett, I have a drawing for you. Bill picked a folder from the ground and handed it to him. Rhett opened it and stared intently at the complex picture, puzzled by its meaning.  For you see, Janet, Bill had the gift of prophecy, the power to see bits and pieces of the future. The pencil drawing depicted Rhett standing tall, holding a football in his left hand and an American flag draped over his right shoulder.  Standing on Rhett’s right side were several team members.  Deep in the background on his left side stood Rhett’s girlfriend, Jan Mahoney, standing with folded arms and a stern frown on her face.

Seated at Rhett’s feet in the drawing were Melissa and Bill, looking up lovingly at him.  Behind Rhett a large Bald Eagle soared, wings outstretched, clutching a snake in its talons. Ominous storm clouds filled the sky while bolts of lightning streaked across it. A tombstone with blood dripping onto an Army helmet filled the lower right side of the drawing.  On the far left an Indian Chief riding a white stallion pointed a finger directly at Rhett.  What chilled Rhett to the bone was the transcription below the Chief, written in the ancient language of the Mingo Indians.  Few people knew that Rhett’s mother, a full-blooded Mingo Indian, taught Rhett the ancient tongue when he was just a boy. Beware the 20th of June,1973 it read. The picture sent a chill through Rhett’s heart.  He looked at Bill for an explanation. I dreamed about this last night, Bill said.  I woke up scared and drew what I saw in my dream.  I don’t know what it means he said sadly.

Rhett, a girls’ voice yelled across the lot.  Startled out of his melancholy, Rhett, as well as Melissa and Bill turned toward the church.  Oh great, Melissa said with disdain, it’s the Queen of Sheba. Melissa, Rhett frowned, enough.  Jan Mahoney, Rhett’s longtime girlfriend and cheerleading captain approached the group, accompanied by several cheerleaders. Hey big boy, how ya’ doin’ she said, brushing past Melissa and planting a big kiss on Rhett’s lips. Great, Rhett said, but I didn’t see you at Mass this morning. "You know I’m not into that church shit, Rhett.  I just came by to wish you luck

Reviews for American Male:

[Mike Donohue · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Outstanding, finally, a writer with the guys to stand up for the American Male. The right book at the right time. Incredibly funny, uncensored and in your face. You got to read this book.