My Friend, My Protector

One night when I was about 19 or so, I was hanging out at this bar/restaurant in town. The drinking age was 21, but because my father was the chef there, I was allowed to hang out. Plus, I didn’t really try to sneak a drink and the owners were cool.

An older black man that I didn’t know said something to me that was off the wall and I just looked at him like he was crazy. He took my lack of comment as approval and kept talking to me. I was quite uncomfortable with his sexual innuendoes and not really sure how to get him to shut up without being totally disrespectful.

A big blonde biker looking man was sitting at the table nearby and correctly assessed the situation and leaned over and told the guy to back off. I had seen that guy before; he came to the place often and nodded at me with a grin as he passed by.

The man got totally offended that a white guy would tell him to leave me alone and went into this whole tirade about how he was going to kick his butt. I was wondering if he had really gotten a good look at this guy because he was no pushover.

He was big and broad and looked strong as all get out not to mention he was wearing black leather and a no-nonsense look on his face.

They went back and forth and finally the black man said let’s take this outside. The biker gladly got up and so did I and we went to see what was going to happen.

It was over before it started. It was one of those two-hit fights you hear so much about – the white guy hit him and he hit the ground. And he lay there a while.

We went back downstairs laughing and my Dad asked what had happened and we told him. He told the biker, Jerry, my Dad called him, thanks and bought him a beer.

And so I met Jerry Whitman – known to many as “Animal.”

So Jerry and I became friends. I think we knew instantly there was no sexual chemistry or any of that. Hell, he was married and I was still innocent and kind of childish. That didn’t last long!

One night I let him convince me to go to a party in Wataga with him. I didn’t go out there much – it was just a lot of white farmers and they weren’t always cool to black folks but he insisted I would be all right. So I got in the sidecar of his bike and went with him.

Apparently Jerry told his friends to spike my Pepsi and anything else I was drinking. I was staggering about and being silly and he and his friends were laughing like mad. I don’t remember hardly anything except when he was taking me home and I said I wanted some tacos from the Hideout.

Somehow we made it there and I got my tacos and when we got to my house, it took me a while to get out of the sidecar. I was drunk beyond belief.

My parents heard the bike and my Dad came to the door, turning on the front porch light. By then I had fallen out of the sidecar and was lying face down in the grass, still clutching my bag of tacos and my purse. Jerry figured my Dad wouldn’t like that much and he took off and left me like that.

Yeah, I had some choice words for him the next time I saw him! And my Dad was winding up to rip him one when another patron of the bar had decided he needed to take my virginity and was squeezing my butt and thighs, not realizing that my father was not far away.

Jerry being the good citizen he was, told the dude that I was indeed a virgin but that he should tread light if trying to hit on me. The man then detailed to Jerry exactly what his plans were which Jerry helpfully repeated to my father.

Dad came out of the kitchen with a large knife and snatched up the poor guy and threatened to cut him up in dozens of tiny pieces. The guy was scared out of his mind and took off.

I looked back and saw Jerry sitting in a booth with the beers my Dad had bought him just grinning like a Cheshire cat.

I knew then what my friend was really like. And I loved it.

Jerry took me to biker parties and I took him to the black bars, called “The Clubs.” People were always doing double takes when they saw us.

Who expected to see a big muscle bound blonde biker with a little black chick dressed in spandex and heels together?

I got to know some of Jerry’s family. His sister was married to a guy I had known since high school and her laughter was like magic to me.

To this day, I love to see Marilyn laugh. She radiates an inner beauty that most people only dream of. She and I became fast friends. I love her madly.

He had another brother that I knew from the bars but he and I were never close like Jerry and I were. And of all people, his father was one of my biggest fans.

My father liked Jerry but he had known him before I did. They had been drinking buddies and Jerry had been asking him for recipes and such. I don’t think Dad thought about us being friends but as long as that is all we were, he was ok with it.

Mama was a bit nervous about it but Jerry had dinner with us one night and declared her food to be sent from Heaven and he gave her one of his famous bear hugs and kissed her cheek and that was that. She would often ask me where my friend Jerry was and when he was coming over again.

Now we grew up in a town that liked to say it was tolerant about race but it was just a story for them. While we all lived close together and went to school together, there was still a generous dose of classism/racism going on.

Galesburg had been a stop on the Underground Railroad in the 1800’s and there were stories about how they had helped slaves escape to freedom but those days were long gone.

Our swimming areas were still segregated and there were some restaurants and bars where people of color were not welcome. (That never stopped Jerry. He took me to several of them daring anyone to say a word.)

It was obvious that many people there thought they were superior to black people and, I might add, a biker from Wataga too.

I was at a bar one night with a couple of friends when a truck driver came in and was giving us looks. He was a white guy, big and country and he didn’t like to see so much “race mixing” going on.

Jerry had come in too and he was standing not far from the guy who was at the bar.

Finally, the man leaned over to the bartender and said something like there are too many niggers in here. Why do you let them hang out in here?

The bartender was flustered and asked him what drink he wanted and he said he didn’t want a drink, he wanted all the niggers gone. Jerry turned to him and said, “Maybe you need to leave.”

“Why should I leave? I’m a white man. I can go where I want to.”

“People here get along. We don’t need trouble from assholes like you. I think you need to leave.”

The redneck bristled up and stood up, glaring at Jerry, “What are you fucking one of nigger girls? You can’t tell me what to do…..”

And then Jerry stood up and said, “I’m going to tell you one more time to get out of here and then I’m going to kick your ass. You can’t come in here insulting my friends.”

The two glared at each other a long moment when the trucker realized that Jerry had about 4 other bikers with him and they were all standing at attention ready to spring into action if Jerry said the word.

Not only that, but all the black men around were also glaring at him and he realized that he was about to get the ass whipping of his life. The bartender repeated that he had to go or he was going to call the cops.

He paid for his drink and left and the party went on.

Later one of the black guys said to Jerry, “Just one time will you let us kick the redneck’s butt? You always get at them first!”

Jerry laughed, “Next time we take them together, ok?” And they agreed and laughed.

We both had our friends and we went separate ways, but we always managed to hang out together. I will not ruin both our reputations by telling you all the things we did together. Suffice it to say we had lots of fun.

We were always laughing. We used to just give each other the side eye and we would both would fall out.

We would drink shots together and he would egg me on to drink more knowing I had no tolerance and that I would get drunk. And then he would laugh and tell me what I had done the next time he saw me.

One night we were at a bar and an older woman had decided that she wanted to take Jerry home. He was not into it but she wasn’t giving up..She kept brushing up close to him and grinning up at him and he was really embarrassed but kept trying to let her down nicely. She tried to drag him to the dance floor and she was simply relentless. I was laughing and he was threatening to throw me out the window but it was too funny.

Finally, he said he had to go to the bathroom and he managed to escape. I teased him about that one for years.

But out of all the people I knew, Jerry was one who would not tolerate any kind of slight be it racist, sexist or what. He insisted that we all be treated with respect and while I knew his friends all thought I was his side chick, they were always friendly and nice to me.

I found out later that the way he kept them all from trying to hit on me was by telling them that I was indeed his mistress and they dared not approach me. I had to laugh when I realized that.

There were other times that some drunk guys said something off color to me or referred to me as a coon or something like that. He didn’t try to reason with them or tell me to ignore them. He got right up in their faces and insisted that they shut up and/or apologize or get handled. Nobody wanted him to handle them and usually left right away. I especially liked it when he made them apologize to me.

I always felt safe around him even though I knew that Devil was not beyond pulling some prank on me. We agreed early in our friendship not to do that as I have never been good with practical jokes but he managed to get me a few times and we laughed as we always did.

But we were the Odd Couple who remained just good friends. I left for a while and went to college but when I came home, I usually ran into him and we took up where we left off.

He told me that it had been fun watching me grow up and that I had become one hell of a woman. He said he was proud of me for going to school later in life.

We talked about lots of things and he would warn me about some of the guys I was talking to.

I remember once I was talking to a guy and he seemed to be more nervous than anything. I didn’t think trying to take me home was that big a deal but  the guy was flushed and red faced and stammering and finally took off like the Hounds of Hell were after him.

It was only after I turned around that I realized they kind of were. I saw Jerry standing there, trying to look innocent that I realized what was going on. He didn’t like the guy and wasn’t going to allow him to hit on me.

I didn’t think about how special our relationship was until after he was gone. I remember the day someone told me in passing that they thought my friend the biker had died. I called his sister who confirmed the story. He was gone.

I was crushed. She and I cried together but then she called and said I should attend the funeral with the family and then his friends wanted us to come have join them. It was at a place out in the country with his friends.

I had never been any place like that without Jerry and I was nervous but Mr. Whitman said I shouldn’t worry. So I went.

We all walked in together and Mr. Whitman put his arm around me as if to say, “she’s a part of us,” and it seemed everyone stood down and it was cool.

Jerry’s wife and I had always gotten along and as we were talking, one guy muttered, “How lucky was Animal to have his wife and his woman get along like that?”

She and I just laughed.

But the funny part was one guy said “Well, now Animal is dead so one of us should get to have you.”

Mr. Whitman bristled up and said, “Jerry left her to me!”

I tried hard to keep a straight face but to no avail. We all burst out laughing, knowing it was just what Jerry would have wanted.

I miss my friend. I miss the man who never allowed anyone to denigrate or insult me. I miss the man whose sense of fairness was almost as big as his heart.

I miss his laughter and his devilish ways. I miss seeing that cap with the flaps hanging as he walked away, waving and smiling.

“Stay out of trouble,” he used to say.

“You too,” I would tell him.

He would laugh and say, “Why? That’s no fun.”

I was lucky to have the friendship and trust of that man. I just never thought about what a gift it was till later. But I will never forget him.