240917 The East Side of Hell

During my day in Saint Louis, I wanted to drive by the old house where I lived for 18 years until I enlisted in the navy.

The old neighborhood was run down and when I drove by where the old house was, it was gone. There was nothing left but an empty lot. I wish I hadn't gone by there.

It was nightfall and as I crossed the old Eads Bridge into east Saint Louis, Illinois. I thought about how many had used this 150 year old bridge before I crossed over it. The answer must have been a million or more. It had been a long, discouraging day and I was tired. I saw some lights ahead and thought I’d pull in there and stop for a few beers. The east side was well known for its all night bars and clubs. I thought as long as I stayed away from the ladies of the night, I’d be okay.

The club was the biggest I had ever seen and I’d seen quite a few overseas. I usually stayed away from big clubs, but I was thirsty so I pulled in and shut off my truck and walked in the place. I’ve been in some rowdy places overseas, but this place topped them all. The bouncers were knocking out the worst of them and throwing them out.

I was enjoying my 3rd beer when all hell broke loose! A huge fist fight broke out bringing all the bouncers inside to quell the nonsense. That left the doors unguarded and those who were kicked out earlier grabbed their guns and came in blazing. The riot was on! Patrons were falling left and right. The ladies of the night were shrieking and running for the exits.

I had been on a navy flight back in 1965, tracking a typhoon. We had been in the air for over 20 hours and didn’t have enough fuel to get back to our base, so we landed in Da Nang for refueling. As the plane was nearly refueled, the North Vietnamese launched a mortar attack on the air field. We stopped gassing up and climbed back into the plane and fired up all four engines. The plane commander revved up the engines past any point I had ever experienced. The big bird lifted the front wheels and off we went down the runway, headed for home. That was, I thought, the scariest event ever; but the riot in the east Saint Louis bar topped the escape from Da Nang hands down.

After I left the club and got back to the truck, I started it up and I saw one of the bouncers walking toward the truck. He asked me if I’d give him a lift. I asked where to? His reply was: “Anywhere but here. I’ve had enough of that club and I’m hitting the road. The job ain’t worth getting killed for.” That’s how I met Big bad John.