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Wednesday, July 25, 2012

A Towering Epiphany



We were hanging around our cramped one bedroom apartment in Santa Monica with a couple of friends. Mrs. C. and I hadn’t been married long. We were short on money and looking for cheap entertainment. Mel, formerly my dorm roommate, said, “Why don’t we go check out the Watts Towers?”


“The what?” I asked. I’d transferred to UCLA for my final year of college and still wasn’t familiar with the area.


“I hear it’s really cool,” Mrs. C. piped in.


Mel added, “An Italian guy started creating these giant towers of junk in the 1920’s and worked on them for over thirty years. He disappeared after finishing them.”


I stroked my chin. “But Watts…isn’t that a bad part of town?”


Aaroni perked up. Her off-beat parents had wanted a boy to name after Aaron Burr. We’d met working in our dorm’s kitchen my senior year. She was wearing a peasant blouse and skirt made of men’s dress ties, worn like a hula skirt. I don’t recall her taking any classes.


“There was racial rioting in the mid sixties,” she said. “A bunch of people were killed, but that was a long time ago. I’m sure it’s safe now.”


I was the only one with wheels. We checked under the cushions for coins to fill the gas tank, climbed into my faded blue Beetle and hit the highway in search of the Watts Towers. As fate would have it, we never found them.


The day was bright but the sky had skimmed over with thin clouds. Late afternoon traffic was building along with the heat. The Beetle’s air-conditioning, erratic at best, wheezed and died. I rolled down my window, and that was when I saw a UFO spinning in the air, glinting in the dirty light. My eyes followed its trajectory—an unfortunate distraction drawing my attention away from the cars braking in front of me. The sound of colliding vehicles prompted me to look directly ahead. I saw red lights and pounded my brakes, but it was too late. I wasn’t the only one distracted by the UFO, which turned out to be a hood that had flown from its car. I plowed into the vehicle in front of me, becoming the last in a nine car pile-up.


Fortunately, no one was hurt. The police arrived and we all gave statements and exchanged insurance information. Then Mrs. C. and I, along with our companions, piled back into the Beetle and limped to the nearest off ramp, which landed us in downtown Watts. The front right fender was smashed over the wheel and the slow-moving Beetle lurched like a wino. I pulled to the curb and studied the street, not liking what I saw.


Most of the houses were boarded up. A gas station on the corner was surrounded by a gated chain link fence topped with razor wire and barricaded with plywood so you couldn’t see inside. I doubted the station was still operational but I figured it was my responsibility to get us out of this situation since I’d done such a poor job driving. I left Mel to guard the womenfolk, walked over to the gate and pushed it open. What I encountered made my heart freeze.


In a courtyard, a dozen black men in tank tops and tattoos were throwing knives at pennies in the dirt. Several of them looked up at me. Crowbars materialized in their hands. A giant fellow stood and sauntered up to me. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, towering over me.


I felt whiter than the Pillsbury Doughboy and anticipated a game of Whack-the-Mole, with me being the mole. I’d like to brag, claim my voice didn’t crack, but I’d be lying. “My friends and I were on our way to see the Watts Towers,” I squeaked. “We had an accident. Is there a mechanic here I could pay to help us?” I’d momentarily forgotten that all of our money had gone into the gas tank.


“We’re all mechanics here,” he said. “Let’s see this car of yours.”


These so-called mechanics followed me to the street. I tried to ignore the crowbars several of them had insisted on bringing along. There was no need to point out my car; it was the only one on the street with tires and not jacked up on cinderblocks. They surrounded the Beetle. I held my breath and tried to look brave for my wife and friends, none of whom exited the car to stand beside me.


My heart was jackhammering in my chest when the crowbars suddenly came into play; they pried the crumpled fender off the wheel so it could turn properly. When they were done, one of them grunted, “Where you headed?”


“Santa Monica,” I answered.


Another dude said, “Go down two blocks and take a left. You got a twisted frame and a few other problems, so stay off the freeway. This Bug ain’t up to speed in its present condition.”


They were friendly and cooperative, and I felt guilty having misjudged them. We were halfway home when I realized they hadn’t bothered asking for money. They treated me far better than my insurance company, which later dropped me when the other motorists claimed I caused the pile-up by pushing all of the braking cars together.


I learned a valuable lesson about human nature that day in Watts. Over the years I’ve had several auto accidents and I’ve learned not to judge people by their appearance. Character is important, not background or skin color. If it were possible to look into a person’s soul it would be apparent that all humans are pretty much the same—everyone is willing to lie to the police and point a finger of blame at the person on the tail end of a pile-up. Trust me on this.


To date, I’ve never seen the Watts Towers.


* If you aren’t aware of the Watts Towers I hope you’ll Google them. It’s amazing what an untrained artist managed to accomplish by himself.

38 comments:

  1. That was very well said. It's natural for us to make judgements of others based on their appearance, but sometimes looks can really be deceiving. I went to college in the city, where as new freshmen we were told not to trust anyone we met on the street. It turned out that sometimes the people to really be wary of were fellow students at the university.

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  2. Chatterbox....I love that story on so many levels.

    1. Everyone needs to be that poor to appreciate the time when you aren't. You and Mrs. C started out just as my husband and I did. When you described the smashed car, my heart bled for you because it was hard enough to pay the electric bill without a collision repair to contend with.

    2. Years ago, my husband drew the short straw and got assigned to manage a store in East St. Louis, IL. The co-manager was a part time drug dealer with 9 kids from 7 women. (He died in a shoot out after we left} A year and a half later we cried tears when he got promoted out of there. They lost their token white guy and we lost some dear friends.

    3. I hate insurance companies.

    4. I will google Watts Towers. Wish you would have gotten to see them.

    5. Oh...and I loved the humor "Pillsbury doughboy", Whack-a-Mole, and "guard the womenfolk". Just hysterical...still laughing.

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  3. That's a great story. I wrote something like that once (It's in my short story collection "The Carnival Papers") but that was fiction while this was reality. BTW, I had it happen too where I was the last one in an accident (only 4 cars) and I got the ticket. I was like, WTF? You think I PUSHED those 3 other cars together? Especially since my car didn't have that much damage comparatively. I wrote an appeal of the ticket and they knocked off the points on it so that was something.

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  4. I recall a day when I went to the bank on my lunch hour to get Canadian money for a trip to Montreal we were taking the next day. With $600 in my purse, and a sandwich and a drink in my hands, I lost my footing on the cobblestone sidewalk! My drink, my sandwich, and my purse all went flying as I fell to the ground. As an elderly gentleman tried to assist me, I mentally said goodby to my purse as I saw a shabbily dressed black man pick it up. He also retrieved my sandwich and drink and came back and helped me to my feet (which the little old man had been unable to do.) He asked me if I was okay, seated me on a bench, and returned all my belongings to me. I felt guilty that my initial reaction to him picking up my purse had been so negative. Your post is right on!

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  5. Another great story! I too will be searching the internet for more information on the Watts Towers.

    It is true that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I worked retail for 10 years and definitely have seen a wide variety of people, they sure can shock and amaze you. Sometimes the roughest looking people are the ones with the kindest hearts.

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  6. I'd say the Watts towers still brought you a pretty rewarding time that day,all in all. And yes, all bets are off about people being honorable in a car smash up.

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  7. Life lessons come in all kinds of wrappers. Great story.

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  8. Okay, this is one of my favorite post of yours. Pillsbury dough boy, Aaron Burr, SEVERAL car accidents since then? Let me know when you're driving around Seattle, I'll stay home.
    Seriously, excellent story. It started out like a real good beginning to a short or a novel....just sayin'. Keep writing. Mindy

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  9. Stephen-
    Thanks for a wonderful and uplifting story, beautifully told.

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  10. A painful but valuable experience Stephen. I could feel my heart pounding reading about when you first met your helpers.

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  11. A good lesson. I learned it years and years ago. We are also members of Ebony Boat Club. Need I say more? I didn't think so.

    Have a terrific day. :)

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  12. Growing up as a 'foreigner' I so identify with your story. I love the way you write...who would have thought a beginning about the Watts Towers would end up as a story about human nature?

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  13. One thing i learned a long time ago -- no matter what people look like, if i smile, say hello, and act like i expect them to be good people, they usually smile and say hello back.

    Great story, as usual.

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  14. I love this story. I wish everyone could learn such valuable lessons about human kindness.

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  15. Yes, outside appearances can be deceiving. I also share your distaste for insurance companies who are always keen to take your premiums but rather less fluent at paying out when you've had a bump.

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  16. Reminds me of the time I backed into a dude with a crazy meth beard (like in a ZZ Top video) at the bank drive-thru. No sooner had I stepped foot out of my large SUV than he screamed, "GET IN THE CAR!" I was a bit apprehensive. Until I noticed he was talking to his pit-bull-on-a-chain that had hopped out of the car with him. He assured me that since I had only bent his license plate with the ONSTAR emblem on my trailer hitch, there was no need to call the police or exchange insurance info. Nice guy.

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  17. Excellent story teaching an imprortant lesson.

    S

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  18. Interesting post, and very true. I had a sort of similar experience when struggling along a VERY lonely road in Arizona mountains in February, plenty of snow falling hard, did not see a single person for about an hour and then noticed we were being trailed by a battered pickup truck in which were 3 shabby, unshaven men. Finally they overtook us and made us stop. We had our daughter then 7 in the car, and like your womenfolk, NONE of us got out. The guys banged on the window and when T opened his window, one of them said, "We noticed you don't have snow chains on but you need them otherwise you're in danger. We'll put them on for you if you don't know how." And they did. Then took off into the blizzard, waving us a friendly goodbye.

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  19. A well told story. I really worried about you. I made a wrong turn in L.A. and ended up in a similar place. I wouldn't say I had as positive experience as you did. I got my directions and got out.

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  20. another great story. i'd like to think the beetle survived to drive another day and i will google the towers. :)

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  21. Love the story and your sense of humor. And I agree, you just never know if your first impressions of people are the correct impressions.

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  22. I broke down in an interesting neighborhood. Everyone was so nice, I felt bad for feeling nervous. But those towers, how cool ar they?

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  23. Good for you. But I'm mystified by the hood flying off the car.

    Love,
    Janie

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  24. Didn't know about these towers. Well, nice story.

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  25. G'day. Great post. How very true your words are. Many, many years ago I worked with a young woman who looked rough and tumble, had a couple of tattoo's, drank, smoked and swore and I am disappointed to say that I judged her by her appearance. She went on to become one of my very best friends. She had a heart of gold. I learnt a very valuable lesson that I have never forgotten. Those towers look interesting. Take care. Liz...

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  26. Very, very nice my friend? What year was this? Was the 105 freeway even built? I loved this post! By the way, I mentioned you in a post today. Stop by and check it out!
    http://www.thesexysinglemommy.com/

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  27. That was quite a story and very much a perfect example of "You can't judge a book by its cover."
    By the way, "Aaroni"? I love it and her parents' sense of humor!
    But, what else can you expect from a guy whose pen name come from German bottled water?

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  28. your blog posts never fail to entertain and teach-thanks Mr C!

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  29. 'untrained' artist ... I am not sure one needs to be trained or taught art .. nevertheless I think Hilary is right this is definitely a fine post .. worthy of a POTW .. congrats!

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  30. what an awesome lesson to share. :) congrats on your POTW!

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  31. What an excellent story. "We're all mechanics here..." is an awesome line. Love this. Sometime you should go back and actually see the towers.

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  32. Another great post. Unfortunate that society has painted certain looks as scary or beneath others. The outsides of a human being cannot be so important that we put up a wall and refuse to see the true person. The men you found that day sound like a good bunch of guys. That incident probably meant nothing to them, they were just being themselves, yet it is a memory for you and your wife and friends. A good life lesson.

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  33. What a warm tale, it was very enjoyable to read

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  34. Wonderfully written and as others have chimed, life lessons too boot!

    Candy comes in all types of wrappers.

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  35. Eeep. That would have still made me nervous. I'm glad things turned out all right.

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  36. When we lived in Mexico, we had several incidents that required help from people with whom we didn't share a language. Amazing what those backyard mechanics can do with duct tape and some wire.

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  37. Stephen, I love this story, for so many reasons...for the adventurous spirit of setting out to see something cool. For the honesty about knee-jerk judgement of the fellows with the crowbars. For the obvious bravery it took to seek out their help. For your analysis of people at the end. It reminds me of a question I am contemplating asking this upcoming (last) week of my give-away.

    I am counting this as an entry...I hope you'll come by and join in!

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