by Donna Swagerty Shreve
As a mother, I tried to encourage any interest my two sons showed. At age 12, Aaron, my oldest, was consumed with acting. He auditioned and got a part in a Stockton Civic Theatre play, “To Kill a Mockingbird.” His part was not a major one but he threw himself into the part and had just as many rehearsals as the leads. One of the leads was a girl close to his age and she became distinctive in several ways. Aaron made several friends in the cast of kids and one remains a friend to this day some thirty plus years later.
I spent many miles in the car taking him to and from rehearsals and grabbing something to eat before or after them. Of the parents involved in driving their actors to rehearsal, most were mothers. We waited in the hallway expecting at any time for the kids to be released to hurry home for other activities such as homework and family time. One of the parents stood out immediately. He walked into the side door into the hallway where many mothers were waiting. He had long hair past his shoulders and beard that immediately set him apart from the usual. Add to that image, he was a shirtless guy in bib overalls with a wide girth. Several, if not most, of the mothers quickly scuttled further down the hall. I decided to stand my ground. His demeanor screamed, “Don’t mess with me!” He wasn’t contagious and was just there to pick up his daughter who happened to be a lead in the play. Thus started my relationship with the single father trying to do the best by his daughter.
While waiting in the hallway, he was friendly and would say “Hi” but not much dialogue was exchanged between us. That would change when we showed up after the run of the play was finished and the parents showed up to help strike the set to get ready for the next play. Our kids were there but the parents were encouraged to be present also to offer more grownup help. I arrived on time and was assigned the job of removing nails from some of the sets so they could be taken apart and stacked. Aaron was given some other job and I was working by myself on stage on my project with many others busily doing various chores that would make the process easier. Arriving a bit late, Mr. Bib Overalls arrived and scanned the scene. I saw him out of the corner of my eye and kept on working. Soon I was joined by him as he decided we should be partners. He asked what my job was and then quickly obtained a hammer and joined me.
I did not flinch but kept working and he started conversing. He sometimes arrived at the theatre on his motorcycle and his daughter would ride on the back. He brought up his motorcycle and I responded that my husband rode a Harley and I had spent some time on the back of his bike before the kids arrived. I wanted to establish that I was married and my husband had a Harley so I was not star struck or impressed that he had one. He continued his conversation about Harleys and I jumped in when I could offer any comment. I mentioned that my husband was planning on going to the Redwood Run this year. It is held yearly and took place in the Redwoods by Garberville, California. It has quite a reputation but a conservative rider like my husband could also be involved along with the outlaw embracing types. I found out quickly that Mr. Overalls was one of the latter.
Mr. Overalls bragged about many of his previous experiences when he attended. According to him, it used to be much more fun when a bunch of fights would break out and one could have a grand time mixing it up. He also mentioned the wet tee shirt contest which was really so much more. I put on my acting skills and kept a calm face with no judgment. I then shared with him about an incident that had occurred to my husband years ago when he worked at Straw Hat Pizza.
John was part of the closing up crew when a guy and his girlfriend showed up on his motorcycle. The motorcycle guy was a tough customer and ordered a pizza and a pitcher of beer for the two of them. Alcoholic Beverage Control had been working the area and if any establishment was caught serving underage patrons, there would be a $500 fine for the owner and the worker if caught. Some of the ABC guys worked undercover and John decided not to take any chances. John asked to see the I.D.s of both the patrons as the girlfriend’s age appeared borderline at best. Only The motorcycle guy showed his ID, and quickly just changed the order to a coke for his lady. The guy’s body language showed that he was annoyed so John decided to talk motorcycles with him as John cleaned the neighboring tables. The pizza place was almost empty and closing time was coming right up. There was an added rule about picking up all glasses and pitchers by closing time so liquor would not consumed after hours. That was John’s next chore.
At about ten minutes to closing John had to mention to the guy about the closing rule and drinks. John mentioned that he rode a 250cc Yamaha which turned out to be almost as bad as riding a scooter. John asked the guy if he had an opinion about his Yamaha. The guy gracefully replied that at least John was “in the wind” so John felt a bit less of his antagonism. The motorcycle guy quickly chugged the rest of the pitcher of beer and John was able to remove am empty pitcher just in time. Usually when John worked the closing shift, I would take a beef pot pie over to the pizza parlor to bake in their oven. John was entitled to a free pizza and was tired of them. I was not and it saved us money on our limited food budget. I would eat a pizza while he would eat the beef pie on his break. Sometimes I showed up at closing. This evening I had not.
A week later John froze as he read the Stockton Record. There on the front page was a picture of the same guy John had encountered in the pizza parlor with his underage girlfriend. The motorcycle guy had arrived at another pizza parlor close to closing time and had robbed the place, raped a bartender, who happened to be the owner’s wife and kidnapped the owner and dropped him in the remote rural area near Stockton. He had been a member of the Gypsy Jokers which was a notorious motorcycle gang out of Manteca. He was sent to San Quentin after a local trial that was reported on in the paper. We had followed the entire process carefully.
As I related my motorcycle tale, Mr. Overalls was very aware of the case. He knew the guy well and was so disappointed because according to him “the guy was released and came out queer.” I was stunned but again I tried to maintain my calm face. Finally our tasks were done and we were excused. Before I could quickly gather up Aaron and leave, my new friend had to mention that he thought we made a great team.
A few months later Aaron received an invitation to the girl’s birthday party. Oh dear. The party was to be held in a picnic area in front of the Haggin Museum. It was an afternoon party and Aaron really wanted to go. Deep breathe. I dropped him off with his present and scanned the group. There were many people with kids and parents but I had another obligation. Aaron and I agreed on a pick-up time and off I went. I returned at our agreed time and Aaron had had a good time. Yes, Mr. Overalls put on the party in the park and other adults were there to help. There was no big motorcycle presence or anything else untoward. It seemed he was doing a decent job of raising his daughter. Still, I believe it was time to strike the set so to speak. Fortunately nothing else transpired between us where I had to examine my treatment of fellow human beings.
1442 words
10/14/2021
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