Home Boy

Home Boy

George Nelson

Copyright © 2018 George Nelson

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64138-555-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64138-556-5 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Introduction

When presented with this assignment, the selection of retired Captain George Nelson Sr. (whom we affectionately call Pop Pop) as my subject was a no-brainer. At eighty-two years old, he is the last surviving great-grandparent to my two children and is currently completing his autobiography. Although he is still working, he spends a lot of time reflecting on his life and the importance of preserving his narrative. An example of healthy reminiscence and Pop Pop’s achievement of ego integrity (Erikson’s final life crisis, Life Span Development 5th Edition, Boyd 514), this fact made him more than happy to speak with great candor and poise about his life and adolescence in particular.

It is undeniable that humans are heavily affected by the linear progression of life: we’re conceived, we grow and live, then we die. From a biological perspective, the decision that a pregnant mother makes while pregnant can have biological ramifications for the rest of her baby’s life (6). Similarly, it can be argued that one’s adolescence has a significant impact on who they become. Adolescence can be defined biologically as the physical transition marked by the onset of puberty and the termination of physical growth and, cognitively, as changes in the ability to think abstractly and multidimensionally or socially, as a period of preparation for adult roles (wikipedia.org). These are the years when a person becomes individually responsible for the adult they become.

When the Nelson family moved from South Carolina to New Jersey during the late 1920s, Pop Pop was the first of the siblings to be born there in 1930. Consequently, they relied on family as well as their community and church to get them through the Great Depression. One incident that may have been pivotal in Pop Pop’s development of high self-esteem and strong self-concept was when he was punched by the school bully during middle childhood. The presence of his future wife caused him to fight furiously, win the fight, and become known as a fighter. That was the beginning of his interest in boxing. It seems that Pop Pop’s peers were an influence on him, and he goes as far as to call himself a follower, but it seems that they recognized his potential to be different from them. Coming from a family with two authoritative yet loving biological parents, and having eleven close siblings and an extended family in the same neighborhood contributed to his positive personality development. This fact is supported by the text that states that African Americans (and Asian Americans) are more authoritarian than those of other ethnic groups, and poor parents in all ethnic groups tend to be authoritarian (p. 236). I was interested in Pop Pop’s teenage years specifically because I’d been told that he was once in a gang. I found this interesting because I knew of him being a boxer and a police officer only. I found it difficult to reconcile the image of this man who has become the elder of high esteem in his family and community in Atlantic City with that of what I would consider a gangbanger.

Gang life in the 1940s was quite different from what we see today. According to Pop Pop, they focused mainly on their rivals across town, making sure they stayed in their own neighborhood and vice versa. It seems that the extent of his crimes was extorting goods from the local delivery men. He explained that because he was into boxing and one of the younger members of the gang, the older guys advised him to stay away from crime and trouble and to focus on boxing. This is a clear example of peer influence in his adolescent life. This phenomenon is supported in the text that states when explicit peer pressure is exerted, it is likely to be pressure toward positive activities (p. 360). In reality, what Pop Pop considered a gang would probably be better labeled as a crowd. Researchers today use the word crowd to refer to the reputation-based group with which a young person is identified (p. 360). According to B. B. Brown, an identity prototype is a way of labeling others and oneself as belonging and helps to create or reinforce the adolescent’s own identity and to identify friend from foe. This approach alters my previous understanding of gang activity, highlighting that it is a phenomenon that is impacted by natural adolescent development.

Indeed, being an athlete seems to highlight the overall self-concept that Pop Pop had at that time in his life, but another aspect of his identity that was perhaps more influential was that of a young man in love. When Pop Pop married his neighbor and childhood sweetheart at the age of 18, the national average age of marriage (in 1940) was about 24.3 years old for men and 21.5 years old for women (about.com). Some people felt that they were too young to marry; thus, they encountered some conflict from others with their decision. According to Erikson, overcoming the identity crisis and becoming a family man instead of lifelong gang member served as an example of one leaving the security of the group that housed them as they move toward a solution to finding out who they are. This fact is made even clearer when we take James Marcia’s theory of identity achievement into consideration (p. 342). Pop Pop had to reexamine his values and choices during a classic crisis illustrated clearly in involvement with the gang. The outcome of his reevaluation came in an even clearer commitment—a commitment to his wife, athletics, education, and later, law enforcement.

Through our study of human development, I find Erik Erikson’s psychosocial theory to be very accurate when analyzing stages of development with his emphasis on crisis. However, I appreciate heavier emphasis on the social aspects of development: the role the environment plays and how those factors interact with physiological and biological processes (41). Urie Bronfenbrenner’s bioecological theory attempts to classify all the individual and contextual variables that affect development and to specify how they interact (43). Together these theoretical approaches (Erikson and Bronfenbrenner) seem best suitable for a life-story analysis because they illustrate how unique an individual’s experiences are throughout their lifespan and yet how similarly we experience the human condition. Just as Pop Pop is a product of his life experiences and the individual psychosocial crisis he has overcome, those experiences did not occur in a vacuum; thus, he is a product of this context. By conducting this interview, I was able to clearly see him as an individual within his personal biological context but also functioning within various immediate, socioeconomic, and cultural contexts. Some things will never change (and yet are always changing), and some things will never be the same—that is what it means to be human.

Thandi Shange

Preface

This is a work of nonfiction based on an actual case that occurred in Atlantic City during the precasino era. The Atlantic City Major Crime Squad was initially one of the entities used to help clean the city up in preparing for the onslaught of the one-armed bandits and table games, along with other gambling enticements.

The names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously to protect those who may have a resemblance of actual persons, living or dead. Business establishments, events, and locales are entirely coincidental and should likewise be considered.

The distribution of this book is covered under the copyright laws and should not be reproduced without the permission of the author.

I acknowledge the advice of Pat Jenkins, reporter for the Atlantic City Press, who covered and reported cases that occurred in the city.

Prologue

This is America. You can be whatever you want to be; just work toward your goal despite obstacles that might seem insurmountable. Telling that to a youngster with twelve siblings will make it seem to be an impossible dream, but dream he did, bringing his life to an unbelievable and dramatic conclusion that has not yet played out the final curtain.

Being raised with families living in the same set of circumstances and conditions made you feel equal. Everybody was poor. There were daily trips to soup kitchens on Hummock Avenue and the monthly welfare distribution center at Illinois and Arctic Avenues where clothing was given to those who took advantage of the handouts. There were very few families that did not take advantage of welfare during the Depression years.

I remember quite vividly the early-morning weekend trips to the municipal market with Momma. The open-air facility was a place where farmers brought their goods to be sold. Momma would purchase bushels of tomatoes and peaches to be canned for the cold winter months to feed that small army of ours.

After leaving the market, we would stop at the chicken house, which was a stone’s throw away from the market. It was a huge warehouse-type structure lined with cages full of live chickens. I was always glad to stop to get warm, because those early-morning hours were cold. Momma would pick out the chickens she wanted, and one of the attendants would wring their necks off and let them run around until life left their headless bodies, then they were carried through a process to remove the feathers.

Daddy worked for the WPA, a work program established by President Roosevelt to help families survive the Depression. I remember Daddy telling me that he helped build the world-famous Convention Hall while working for one of those subcontractors, and he would supplement that salary by pushing rolling chairs on the boardwalk. A strong individual he was. I don’t ever remember him taking off from work because he was sick. I guess he couldn’t afford to.

When work slacked up in the construction business, he would go to work for the Deerfield Farms, where he picked and packed apples. I remember him coming home on weekends with a satchel full of apples hanging over his shoulders. It would become routine waiting and watching for him to come walking down the dirt road of the eight hundredth block of Fisher Avenue. We had it down to a science; it was usually on a Saturday. I was most likely shooting a ball into a wicker basket hung on a pole next to our home while my sisters would be jumping rope or playing hopscotch. We would follow him like he was the Pied Piper. They were the sweetest apples I had ever tasted. We got our fill of them.

The Nelson clan had established themselves as survivors. I was the oldest boy, and because Daddy was never around, although I was just eleven, I took on a patriarch role in the family. I had a hustle of my own. On weekends I would canvas the neighborhood, going through trash cans for rags and papers to sell to Snyder’s junk shop. We called it ‘junking." The owners never gave you what the junk was worth. At times I would put a flat brick or some other undetectable object in the bundle to build up the weight. I felt somewhat reprieved, but even then, they had the advantage.

There were times that I sold ice from the refrigerator trains that lined up along the Bacharach Boulevard on a certain day and time. Melted clunks of ice would be discarded from the containers located under the trains. You had to position yourself so that you would be able to claim the chunks of ice as they hit the ground. I had my regular customers waiting. It was usually the elderly who could not stand the frenzied crowd who usually congregated to take advantage of this free ice.

All this hustling was to make enough money to go to the Alan Theatre, the only black theater in the city. We were segregated and isolated by the Hollywood Theatre, Colonial Theatre, and the Embassy Theatre, all within walking distance. You were not barred from the theaters, but the moment you entered, the ushers would escort you to the balcony: you were not allowed to sit downstairs with the white folks.

I looked forward to Saturdays because it was a day for fantasizing. At one time I visualized myself swinging through the trees like Tarzan, Buck Rogers exploring the universe, or Dick Tracy solving crimes using his wrist watch to communicate with his men as their images appeared thereon.

When the time came for the westerns I took on the cowboy mode. Whoever the cowboy for the week was, that is who I became. It could have been Buck Jones, Tom Mix, Gene Autry, or the Lone Ranger riding off into the sunset with his Indian partner, Tonto. For less than twenty-five cents, you saw the main feature, a cowboy film, the world news, and a cartoon. Every once in a while, the theater would feature a doubleheader (two main features). Boy, what a treat!

As I grew in age, my priorities changed. The gang thing got to be an attraction to me. I started hanging out with a group of neighborhood guys. All of them were older than I, and I came out of this phase of my life unscathed. I don’t know what caused it, but I got a revelation that I wanted more than that gang thing I wanted to do something that others would look up to. Boxing became a reality in my life.

Joe Louis, Sugar Ray Robinson, Ezzard Charles, Jersey Joe Walcott, and a few others were my idols. Little did I know at that time that by boxing career would carry me into the same boxing arenas where those great black champions fought for fame and glory. It was a great feeling knowing that you were considered good enough to compete with some of the greatest fighters of all time. I never acquired championship status, but my three amateur championships were equally as gratifying.

My boxing career propelled me onward to becoming a police officer, another profession I desired as a young boy, never realizing that it was a goal that I could conquer. The role as a police officer placed me in position to meet many famous people: President Lyndon Johnson during the democratic convention in Atlantic City; Edwin Buzz Aldrin, the second man to set foot on the moon; the Beatles; the Supremes; the Temptations; Sammy Davis Jr.; Frank Sinatra; just to name a few.

I have many friends and acquaintances to thank for this finished work. It should have been completed years ago, but because of circumstances and certain individuals, the enthusiasm was lost. Close friends who knew of my desire to write about my life experiences continued to ask me, When are you going to finish your book? even one of my best friends from his death bed. So I decided to finish it.

I also want to thank Abe and Bobby Schiff for their help for having faith in an untried and unpublished writer.

I know that faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. No one saw this in me. I thank God for giving me the ability to express myself on paper.

Characters

Dr. Ackerman

Anna Mae

Mark Anthony

Joseph Allmond

Aunt Helen

Aunt Martha

Anita

Asia

Albert Aronowitz

Ben Anderson

Billy Arnold

Beverly Avery

Bill Demones

Brody’s poolroom

Junnie Branch

Stanley Ambrose

Jimmy Barnes

Mr. Brooks

Laoma Byrd

Bev Baldwin

Boardwalk Billy Smith

Sergeant Barab

Johnny Bratton

Bertha

Bemard Francis

Billy Mitchell

Felix Bochicchio

John Burke

Vincent Biaggi

Raymond Britto

James Cherry

Billy Coleman

Dutch Campbell

Robert Callender

Charles Carter

Joe Calio

Daddy

Dirty Harry

Bill Demones

Emest Davis

Danny

George Dix

Dorothy

Mr. Harris

Robert Christenberry

Ezekiah Bing

Emory

Frank Farrell

Mario Floriani

Gino Franchetti

Frank Greenidge

Bob Glass

Pathologist

Wife

Witness

Chief of police

Family

Undercover police

Prostitute

Crime figure

Farley All Stars

Middleweight contender

Boxing Trainer

Scene

Gang member

Boxer (South Jersey AC)

Youth mentor

Boxing-camp owner

Bader Field Recreation Center

Police Schools

Pro boxer

Mob contact

Bookie/gambler

Entertainer (Paradise Club)

Walcott’s manager

K9 officer

Murder victim

Mob victim

Boxer (South Jersey AC)

Murder suspect

Boxing-camp co-owner

High school (technical)

Chief’s secretary

Father

Sub-shop owner

School bully

Walcott’s trainer

Polygraph examiner (SP)

Sister

Ducky/Iceman

New York Boxing Commission

Poolroom owner

Bader Field coworker

Police commissioner

Organized crime member

Delaware Polygraph Examiner

Lieutenant Grabowsky

Jim Foster

Herbert Gould

Joey Giadello

Billy Graham

Isadora

Sergeant Hall

Wally Haines

Joe Haines

McCaigher Gallagher

Sheriff Gormley

Sonny Fields

Harry Hoffman

Norman Jordan

Jacque Jamison

Gus Levy

Larry Lee

Pop Henry Lloyd

Olean McHaney

Pete Miller

Uncle Modica

Mac

Momma

Mundy

David Nelson

Donald Nelson

Joseph Nelson

George Nelson Jr.

Wayne Nelson

Racist cop

Frankie Polo

Snooks Pearlstein

Bob Phillips

Ike Nichols

Whitey

Earl Priesley

Pappy

Renee

Ralph Peterson

Luther Rawlings

Richard Robinson

Joe Rowan

Mr. Ray

Mr. Eugene Starks

John Sochocky

Elder Stephens

Jerry Sullivan

Wilbur Spriggs

Reo

Leon Tabbs

Jimmy Winder

Gil Turner

Danny

Bader Field manager

Detective (Delaware)

Pool-hall owner

Pro fighter

Sister

Patrol sergeant

Wallace Stationery owner

Bdwk. Billy Smith

YMCA (Arctic Ave.)

Sports writer

Hit man

Police / special unit

Gang-member police

Murder suspect

Railroad police

Pool shark

Bar / pool-hall owner

Whitey’s Poolhall

Sister

Patrol sergeant

(Pro) minister / manager boxer

Big Six (Shepperson)

Addie Ward

Joe Williams

Richard Williams

William Williams

Al Wilson

Additions:

Florence Avery

James Avery a.k.a. Uncle Phil

Paul Godwin

Will Smith

Police

Murder Victim

Farley All Stars

Gang Member

Prosecutor

Police Partner

Captain of Detective

James’s m

TV personality

Florence’s brother

Actor

Chapter One

In the Beginning

I heard the sound of Momma’s footsteps as she proceeded down the hallway in the direction of our bedroom. I was hoping that she would stop at the girls’ room first, but that wish was interrupted when our door was suddenly pushed open with such force that it got our attention. All four of us sat up in the bed. David and Donald wiped their eyes as if they were trying to push their eyeballs back into their sockets. Joe was out of it; he didn’t know where he was, and I was in awe of the immediate surroundings: there Momma stood in the doorway with a bandana wrapped around her hair, with an air of disgust.

Get your butts out of bed, she said with a resounding voice. It’s Saturday and I want you to burn that spring to get rid of those bed bugs.

She stood there momentarily waiting for some movement, and when we didn’t move fast enough for her she started pulling the covers off us and, at the same time, turning her nose up from the smell emanating from the bedsheets.

Who pissed in the bed?

All four of us sat up in the bed with the I don’t know look on our faces. It was a little difficult to pinpoint who did it because we were all wet. Joe and I slept against the wall while Donald and David slept on the outside of the bed. As I climbed over David, I knew that I was the guilty party, but I didn’t admit to it. I think Momma knew that it was me, but she wasn’t 100 percent sure. I felt a little uneasy the way she stared at me when she shouted out her next demand.

Take that underwear off and put them in the wash tub in the kitchen, she blurted out as she stood there watching our every move. We moved about attempting to hide our shame by placing our hands in front to cover our stuff, but that didn’t faze Momma; she stood there and didn’t move while we changed into dry underwear and watched as I gathered the wet bottoms to take downstairs. I filled the tub with hot water, adding Clorox and soap powder. I placed the washboard in the tub and attempted to wash the underwear when I heard Momma.

What’s taking you so long? she yelled impatiently. And bring the box of matches from the cupboard next to the stove.

I’m coming, Momma! I answered quickly and loud enough for her to hear me. I didn’t want to upset her any more than she was. She was the disciplinarian of the family, and there was usually hell to pay if you crossed her. Daddy was too busy working to feed that small army of ours and left that part of running the family to Momma. She reminded us of that, and she was relentless in performing that task.

She sent David to get some newspaper to spread under the springs to make sure the chinches didn’t get away once the fire chased them from their hiding places. She reminded us that once we finished our room, we had to do our sister’s room and also the front room where she slept. She had other things to do and wasn’t going to hang around while we performed our duties. She was a task master, and because I was the oldest, she left that responsibility in my lap to make sure it was done. She also reminded me that when I finished with the bedbugs, I had to clean the furnace. I was hoping that she had forgotten about the furnace. I knew I had to do it, but I wanted to do it in my own time. Cranking the grates to make the ashes fall down wasn’t that bad; it was sifting the ashes afterward that bothered me. Even though I sprinkled the ashes with water, I always ended up looking like a minstrel. Picking