The Wharf Rat

The Wharf Rat

Swallowing the delectable Boston Harbor in liquid form of course, I now think in hindsight, I guess Mommy’s do know more than we give them credit for. The last word’s I’ll ever hear from her beautiful lips, “Don’t let your sister out of your sight”. That’s how I got into this predicament. It all started when mother called in that sweet melodious tone that let me know I was going to be restrained.

“Dickie darling, I need you to watch your sister for a while out back.”

“But Ma, I was just running out the door to play with the guys.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to play later. Now take your sister out back and don’t let her out of your sight or you know what?”

“Where’s Billy, can’t he take care of Honey, she’s his sister too and he’s older; shouldn’t he have a turn?”

“Don’t you dare contradict me? Don’t you worry about your brother; just do as you’re told.”

“Yes Mommy”, I answered. ‘Billy’s, momma’s boy; he can do no wrong.’ Once out side the door, I’m thinking. ‘I get stuck with you all the time; you little chuba wabba. I wish I never had a sister. Awww, that’s not true, I really love you Honey, I just hate being tied down; I have too much energy. Let Billy watch her. Under his breath he continues, ‘I’ll fix you, you little fatty.’ Down the stairs to the court yard out back where mother can not see her, the little rat helps fatty over the fenced in area. It’s fenced because we are not supposed to dig up the garden areas.

“Here Honey take your pail and shovel. I’ll show you how to find worms. Now Honey, Gail Parella has the record for digging and eating the most worms in all of East Boston, she’s really Italian. Only Italians eat worms; that’s why Mommy’s so beautiful. Granma LaBella had the most beautiful gardens with the best dirt and her worms were the most delicious. Where do you think spaghetti comes from? It’s dried worms all stretched out?”

“Really, Dickie, they’re so slimy?”

“Really, Honey.” [Voice] ‘The Devil Horns pop out of the top of his head from his devilish mind. My Grandmother cursed me when she tabbed me ‘The Dailey Divil’ with her thick Irish brogue.

“Would I do anything to hurt you, my beautiful baby sister? I’m just trying to make you the most beautiful Angel, just like your Italian Princess mother.”

Meanwhile I hear this loud commotion behind me.

“Way to go Jack,” the group screams; “you got one.”

Honey has her head buried in the dirt busying her with worms and ants. [Spaghetti and Chocolate Jimmie’s] The gang across the street is running around like crazy. I watch them with sticks smacking the rotted piers.

“What the heck is going on over there,” I’m now thinking? Little did I know this was to be my day of reckoning?

I sneak away, cross the dangerous cobble stoned street, with at least one car every five minutes the year is 1943, I slip through the bent and twisted gate onto the forbidden Rat Haven everyone called ‘the wharf’. The property is posted, Government Property, No Trespassing, and Police Take Notice. The Warf, the rotten abandoned piers my mother warned us kids about constantly because of the impending danger, “Don’t ever go in there, it’s Government property and the Police will arrest you and put you in jail?”

I recognized the group, the project gang. They terrorize the neighborhood. Most of the kids did not live in the projects; they were all wise guy ‘Wanna bees’. They were all destined for lives of crime and disruption. I overheard my brother and his group of misfits laughing and joking about a cruel and vicious game the gang guys’ play. Billy told me, “They catch a frog, stick a straw up its ass and blow it up. Then they throw the thing in the harbor and shoot BB guns at it until it explodes.”

I thought that was very cruel now hearing the screaming and laughing I think they are teasing frogs. I was hoping who ever was doing the stupid straw blowing would get some blow back and get warts on his tongue. I learned at summer camp if a frog pees on you, you get warts. Closer now I creep because if they see me they will taunt and tease me, actually anyone not part of their gang was tormented.[not unlike the youth of today]

“Reel him back in and give Harold a turn,” says Big Jack Ross, the so called Don of the Wanna Bees. He and his five brothers lived in the Projects and life to them was a piece of cake. They were red cheeked pretty boys and had two beautiful sisters. I was now stepping in way over my head but the excitement had me pursuing the ‘high’ not thinking about the end result. I stepped over big holes in the rotted piers.

“I got it, I got it Harold screams”; he was a little slow. He was mildly retarded and it was great seeing Jack bringing him along, to entertain him. Too bad it wasn’t a more meaningful endeavor. Harry swings the pole to the rear menacingly. All the kids duck down running, laughing, scattering in every direction. They were trying to avoid being tagged bye Harry and the Shit Stick. A game I learned later from the kids I hung out with. We would dip a stick in dog mess and play tag.

“Opps, get the hell out of the way kid,” Some kid scrambling to get away, bangs right into me. I’m now struggling to keep my balance. In front of my face is a huge rat struggling, screeching and clawing to get free of his bondage. There is no greater fighter than a cornered rat. I trip and fall and Harry has found a victim for his savage amusement.

“Get him off of me,” I’m now screaming hysterically. I’m backing away from the ugly beast. “Arrgg”, I scrape my hand on the splinted rotted wood and get stabbed. A sliver of wood pierces my palm and exits between my fingers, about 7 inches long. I hardly feel it as my main concern is the ‘Terror Trip’, I’m now on. Things go from bad to worse as I finally get the help I didn’t need. I scramble aimlessly and without realizing it; I tumble backward falling through a hole into the Atlantic Ocean.

“What the fuck? Where did that kid go?

“Holy Shit,” says another, “He fell into the ocean. He’s going to drown.”

“Jack what the hell are you doing?”

Jack jumps in, clothes and all; swims under the pier and grabs me by the back of my shirt collar. As I surface for the second time, coughing and sputtering the rotten oily tasting brine of the Boston Harbor.

“Oww, Arrgh,” I’m now screaming as Jack is pulling me out from under the pier by the hair on my head.

“Help help”, as I slip out of his grasp and go under again; the only thing in my mind is drowning. My Mother’s warning, “The water rats will get you if you go in the Wharf.” I now picture a giant Gorilla Rat pulling me down as I swallow another mouthful slipping out of his grasp.

“Here, grab the stupid kid,” Jack passes me up, I’m still choking. One of the older gang members is now teasing me, threatening to drop me back in.

“Shut the hell up kid before I throw you back to the sharks.” I keep losing my breath with each pretend swing.

“Aaaa, Aaaaa,” I’m sobbing, “Let me go”.

“What the hell are you crying for, you baby; you’re out of the water. Now get the fuck outta here before you get your little ass kicked”, Jack threatens.

Sloshing tearfully back out through the gate, I cross the cobblestoned street and wander back to the area where my sister sits. She has collected quite a few slimy trophies. Honey filthy with dirt all around her mouth is now screaming as she sees me hiding around the corner dripping wet.

“You’re supposed to be watching me and you went to play”, she’s sobbing while screaming “Ma” between gasps.

“Please Honey don’t, I’ll get killed.” Too late Mom comes down the stairs, looking around the corner she is in shock as she spots the trail of water coming from the fenced area across the street.

“Oh my God Dickie what is wrong with you? You’ll be the death of me, yet. Get up stairs before I kill you. Put those rotten worms down and get over here darling. You were supposed to be watching your sister.”

Once inside the hallway, out of the view of the peasants Mom becomes ‘The She Devil’; you know Doctor Jekyll meet Mister Hyde. She franticly sweeps me off my feet bye the nape of my neck, spanking me quietly speaking under her breath, “I told you not to leave your sister alone”. Whack, whack, “How many times have I warned you to stay away from that filthy wharf? Whack, whack, Do you realize you have made me the laughing stock of the whole neighborhood. Now get up those stairs and get in the house, I’ll take care of you in a minute.” As she reaches down to pick her precious little girl up, Honey asks, “Ma, is that poo, poo on the floor?”

I’m leaving a trail of Ocean drips [pee,pee]and drops fishes [fecies].

“Stop,” Mom screams, “Don’t walk on that rug; you’ve messed your pants”

Mom places Honey down and scoops me up off the hall floor; depositing me in the tub with a bang. Mom is stripping the wet, soiled clothes into the running water. She fills the tub with warm water while I’m still traumatized and sobbing.

“Sit down so I can clean you up.”

“Sob, sob, The Ross Gang, huh,, huh, was teaching rats to swim on a string, huh, huh. They threw him in my face. Ahuh, I was scared and tried to get away. I ran too fast and fell in a hole.”

“Dickie how many times have I told you not to cross the street? When are you going to listen; didn’t I tell you to stay from that wharf?

“Yes Mommie.”

Haven’t I warned you to stay away from that stupid God forsaken place? That gang is nothing but trouble. All they do is wreck everything in this beautiful development. Where else on earth would we be able to live with continuous heat and hot water. We leave the windows open in mid winter and get the ocean breezes off the Harbor and still stay warm at no extra cost. The buildings are fire proof and when your father comes home tipsy and tries to burn the house down; he can only burn him self. The metal and concrete floors will not burn, the steel doors trap every thing inside so none of our neighbors would burn because of Dad’s carelessness. Think about that fire on Saratoga St., the whole block burned down because the houses are so close; don’t you realize how lucky we are?”

“Whimper, whimper, yes mommy.”

“People living here certainly do not appreciate the safety and comfort afforded us. Do you realize how fast those wooden tenement houses burn?”

“Whimper, sob, no Mommie.”

“We just moved from a rented apartment in Roxbury. We had to pay all our utilities, light, gas and heat if we turned the heat up a little Nancy, the landlady would scream bloody murder. Her husband Tony Costa just got arrested with his cousin Vinny as principals in the Brinks Robbery. Your father calls them, Stupid Guineas, who’s the stupid one?”

“Who’se stupid, mommy?”

“Your father; working three jobs, killing him self while Tony and Vinny, drive these big Caddy’s and go to Florida every year. Where the hell do we go, Shays Beach [Constitution Beach] or the Mundanyelle, ‘{Muntaniella, meaning little mountain in Italian} Wood Island Park. Did you every notice your brother Billy’s, God Mother, Nancy?”

Notice, how could I miss her, she’s 900 pounds. “Yes, Mommy.”

Mom babbles on, “Her jewelry, it’s gorgeous. Nancy wears the best of clothes and has men drooling all over her.”

“Isn’t drooling baby spit,Mom?”

“I know Tony offered your father a couple of driving jobs and he made more money in one night than he makes all week on his three jobs.”

Dad told me later in life the night he filled in for the regular driver; he found out three of them had been shot in liquor heist. No thank you.

‘Do we need money, Mommy?”

Thinking about gangsters I suddenly remember a story Mom told us.

“As a teen ager my family lived near the infamous Quincy Quarries. I used to go there to swim with your Godmother, Dorothea. A couple of kids even died there; they hit their heads and drowned, diving from the higher cliffs they couldn’t see the rocky bottom.”

No wonder I go to the Wharf looking for adventure; an undying mentality I was saddled with.

“One day we saw police cars everywhere. My curiosity got the best of me so we squeezed through the crowd of spectators. I saw a tow truck and wench, two Police row boats and a couple of divers. They were dragging the bottom for bodies. I thought someone else had hit their head on the sloops and drowned. To my amazement, the wench started turning and slowly lifted a car off the bottom. The water was poring out the windows and small holes in the doors. As they set it down and removed the occupants, we froze; it was as if the two men had come to life. They were gangsters all shot up. We had to jump back as blood started squirting from every bullet hole; the pressure of the water stopped the bleeding until the pressure was released.

Back in the bathtub Mom continues rambling on in her upset, “Look at the magnificent view we have every day; just look at that beautiful skyline of Boston where the tallest building in Massachusetts sits, the Custom house. These people don’t know how lucky they are and their destrioying everything. That’s why you kids need to behave; I won’t have you growing up without respect and appreciation. Now go to your room, you’re in for the rest of the week.

“Oh my God, what’s that?” She sees the giant splinter in my hand.

I had been shielding it from her so as not to get into any more trouble.

“I scraped my hand on the wood.”

She immediately softens and hugs me tearfully.

“Oh my darling I’m sorry; Ive only been thinking about me. We need to get you to the Relief Station up the square. It looks terrible, does it hurt much.”

“No Ma, I can’t even feel it.”

“Honey come in here, you need to change and wash up. I’ll see if Mrs. Coutreau will watch you till we get back from the Hospital”.

We now head to Central Square to the Relief Station, a Sub Division of Boston City Hospital where many of my future days will be spent. I still remember my patient number 21590 as if it were yesterday. I’m now feeling very special being alone, just me and Ma. I’m thinking ‘this is a special treat’ and I thought I was going to get killed because I drowned.

“Owww,” I scream as the needle and the painful extraction, bring me back to reality.