Act III Episode 8 - The Search for Lost Nukes

Act III Episode 8 - The Search for the Lost Nukes

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff at the Pentagon ordered some questions be answered in response to a report on Ian Fleming’s 007 spy-fiction thriller Thuderball and recently released movie on the possibility that Fleming got the idea for the fictional story of an international terrorist cartel recovering two nuclear bombs from the ocean floor from the accidental disposal of two 20 megaton nuclear weapons in the ocean off of Cape May, New Jersey on July 28, 1957. 

Since the Air Force had lost the nukes the Chairman of the Chiefs ordered a four star Air Force general to look into the whole affair, and the general ordered a full bird Colonel in Counter-Intelligence to determine if there was a national security leak of classified information if Ian Fleming had learned about the accident and used it as the basis for his Thunderball story because it was officially classified a “Broken Arrow” Top Secret incident and downplayed to the media as the public safety was not threatened at the time, .

The Colonel was also instructed to determine if there was a public safety issue today, some six years after the accident. The Colonel then passed on the CI-mission to a Captain and the public safety issue to a Second Lieutenant who ordered a Staff Sergeant to investigate and file a F-301 Report that would be classified.

The Staff Sergeant responsible for the public safety issue didn’t know where to begin looking into the accidental disposal of two 20 megaton nuclear weapons of mass destruction and what dangers they posed to the public safety, so he called Bob Schoelkopf, a high school friend who was in charge of training the dolphins for the Sea World Act at the Steel Pier on the boardwalk in Atlantic City, which was just north of where the accident took place

It being late on a Sunday afternoon Bob was in his office that overlooked the Diving Horse act and the Deep Sea Diving Bell, and was quite surprised to hear from his old school friend, and even more perplexed by the nature of his questions.

“Bob, this is strictly off the record, but I need to know if you or if you know anyone who tests and monitors the sea water for pollution?”

“Sure,” Schoelkopf replied, “we do it all the time. We look for fecal matter, industrial pollutants fertilizers, insect and bug killing chemicals and the like…”

“Radiation?”

Schhelkopf was perplexed by the question.

“You mean nuclear radioactivity?”

“Yes,” came the stern replay.

“No,” Schoelkopf said, “we don’t normally test the waters for that.”

“Well Bob,” the Sergeant began, “we have a problem, and I’ll give you the basic facts, but this is all deep background and off the record, and you can’t quote or repeat what I have to say, but I want you to know because you can help me and possibly help avert a national catastrophe.”

The Air Force guy who knew Bob from college days, only a few years ago, explained how on July 28, 1957 an Air Force cargo plane C-124 took off from Dover Air Force Base in Delaware and after losing two of its four engines, utilized emergency procedures and dumped its cargo two 20 megaton nuclear warheads with Plutonium 239 that were never recovered.

After a few moments of silence, Sshoelkopf asked, “So what do you want me to do about it?”

The military wanted to know if they did routine testing of the water samples from Atlantic City to Cape May, and if they did could they include testing for radiation?

The problem, the Air Force sergeant explained, was not that the war heads would explode, that was not possible, the problem was the metal container the bombs were in would rust through and the bomb casing would leak the Pu 239, one of the most dangerous substances known to man, and contaminate the entire North Atlantic Ocean.

The other problem, the sergeant hesitated to verbalize, was that the Soviets or as in the movie Thunderball, some rogue terrorist group would locate and retrieve the warheads and make a dirty bomb out of them that could be used to blackmail the nations of the world, just as in the movie, but, he noted, that was not a credible possibility, at least in the eyes of the Department of Defense analysists.

Schoelkopf, who was having growing doubts about the ethics of training dolphins to do tricks, after reading Dr. John Lilly’s book “The Mind of the Dolphin,” realized that the porpoises, like man, were mammals, and not fish, and since they have the same sized brain as man, communicated among themselves and were easy to train to do tricks, should not be captured and trained like circus animals. Now he believed that the dolphins were actually smarter than man, and maybe al of mankind were knuckleheads.

After pulling a science book off his office shelf, Schoelkopf read:  “Plutonium is a transuranic chemical element with symbol Pu and atomic number 94. It is an actinide metal of silvery-grey appearance that tarnishes when exposed to air, and forms a dull coating when oxidized. Created when uranium atoms absorb neutrons, it was discovered in 1940 at the University of California, Berkeley, and made during World War II for use in atomic weapons. Nearly all plutonium is man-made, and emits alpha particles…”

Taking it all in and then sitting back and thinking about it for awhile, he picked up his desk telephone and called the Margate Beach Patrol Headquarters and asked to speak to Joel Fogel, a lifeguard who just got off duty and was checking out his equipment for the day. Schoelkopf knew that Fogel was an environmentalist as well as an adventurer, and had started a non-profit research organization Water Watch International that tested waters for pollutants.

Fogel too said that testing for radioactivity was new to him, but he would look into it, and after asking why he was doing this, Schoelkopf told Fogel the basic deep background of the “Broken Arrow” nuclear accident that deposited two 20 megaton nuclear warheads about 100 miles off of Cape May in 1957 and have not been able to find them or retrieve them, and they’re now worried the metal casings may have corroded and may release the Pu 239 into the water.

“Do you know what the half-life of Pu 239 is?” Fogel asked, knowing the answer he gave up without waiting, “24,000 years.”

“Well we won’t be around for that,” said Schoelkopf, “and maybe this will hasten our departure from this planet if they’re not located and retrieved.”

Besides being a lifeguard and adventurer Joel Fogel was a stringer for the New York Times and within a few days of the phone calls between the Air Force sergeant at Dover, Bob Scholekopf and Joel Fogel, the New York Times ran a front page story “Air Force Lost Two Nukes -Thunderball For Real,” a story that was subsequently picked up by the Washington Post, Time and Newsweek magazines and Life and Look as well as all of the network radio and TV stations, including KYW TV 3 who put their crack investigative team on the story since they were already in the vicinity.

Before the week was about, by Labor Day weekend, to ensure the public’s safety, every lifeguard stand at the Jersey Shore from Manasquan to Cape May Point was equipped with a portable Geiger counter with instructions to check and monitor any debris that washed ashore for signs of radiation.

So now, the Ocean City Police boardwalk squad had noise decibel meters while the lifeguards were checking for radiation, and public safety was being maintained. 

Act II Episode 7 - Nucky Takes the Judge to Waretown

Act III – Episode 7–  Nucky takes the Judge to Forked River and Waretown 

For one of the first times in his life Judge Helfant didn’t know what to do. Should he go see Stumpy Orman? Should he go to Hap Farley through Mister Kirkman? Or should he go right to the top and arrange for a sit down with Angelo Bruno himself?

Since KYW TV 3 was in Philly, maybe Bruno could push some union buttons or put a call into the station’s owners.

Instead, Helfant decided to call Nucky for some sage advice. Nucky Johnson answered the phone at his Absecon cottege he shared with his wife and long time girl friend. Nucky’s first wife and love of his life had died suddenly only a few years into their marriage, and Nucky stayed single until he was about to go to prison when he married his girl friend so she could visit him while he was incarcerated in federal prison for income tax evasion.

After four years in the joint Nucky got out and decided to retire rather than contest Hap Farley for the job of being boss of Atlantic City again. But Nucky retained his honor and his reputation and even though he was just an ordinary citizen walking down the boardwalk, everyone recognized him dressed nattily in suit and tie and pink carnation in his lapel, and total strangers would come up to him and thank him for some good deed or another he did when he had the power to move mountains.

Nucky also retained his position high among the ranks of the local Republican Party and was given a seat at the head table with all the Big Wiggs at all official functions, so it was natural for Judge Helfant to call on Nucky for advice.

Old now, and not getting around much anymore, Nucky instructed Helfant to pick him up at his front door at 5 pm on Saturday morning, and Helfant was precise in arriving at the appointed time.

Nucky walked out the front door unassisted but with the help of a cane – a dark wood, knot ridden Irish schelleigh, and Helfant opened and closed the passenger door at the curb and hurried around to get in and get going, where ever it was they were going.

“Head north on the Parkway,” was Nucky’s only instructions, as Helfant, turning off the radio, began relaying the roots of his problem with David Brenner and KYW TV3 investigative unit breaking into his office chambers and finding no records of the Midnight Court called him on the phone and threatened him. While they could have arrested Brenner, the mayor decided to let him off the hook if he would lay off the story, and Brenner walked with no promises. The story could bury him, Helfant said.

Nucky was silent as he took all the information and then told Helfant to get off the Parkway and onto Route 9 North at Forked River.

Helfant knew that there was absolutely nothing in Forked River, a barren Piney town where a lot of bodies were buried deep in the woods, and he began to wonder if this was all a set up to kill him, but didn’t verbalize the thought.

“What should I do, Nuck?” Helfant asked, but Nucky remained silent and turned on the radio, “The Budweiser Beachcomer Show.”

After mulling things over, and feeling Helfant get tense, Nucky told the Judge that they were going to visit the Albert brothers at their cabin at Waretown, near Forked River. 

Although practically nobody knew it, Nucky Johnson was a Piney at heart, born near Bass River where they were driving past at that moment and only moved to Mays Landing, the county seat, when Nucky’s father was elected sheriff.

Nucky said that he remained friends with the Albert brothers, and visited them on the Saturday before he went to prison, and visited them again on the first Saturday when he got out of the joint, but he hadn’t been to see them in quite awhile.

The judge had never heard of the Albert brothers before and he wondered if they were some kind of hit men and asked Nucky what kind of racket they were in, but Nucky just told him to “wait and see.”

At Nucky’s instructions the judge pulled of Route 9 and went a mile or so down a winding dirt, or rather a white sugar sand road to a little cabin surrounded by a half dozen cars and old pick up trucks, a few people sitting around a fire pit outside.

“Just relax, listen and enjoy yourself for the next hour,” Nucky instructed Helfant, “and I’ll tell you what to do on the way home.”

In the light of the fire pit Helfant could see two wood outhouses out back, and could hear music coming from the open windows of the little house, fiddle and banjo music that got louder as they walked closer, and then suddenly stop when they opened the door and walked in, Nucky hobbling in first and Helftant right behind.

Inside Helfant glanced around at about ten old men, eight of them with some sort of instrument, washboard, spoons or a metal pan used as a drum, and they were all silently looking at them standing at the door.

  “Nucky!” the standup bass player said, putting his instrument down and shaking Nucky’s hand and giving him a hug. “It’s soooo good to see you. Been years!”

“This here’s Judge Helfant,” Nucky said, “and Judge, this here’s the Albert brothers and their friends, who come here every Saturday night to jam.”

“And they’re glad to see us because whenever someone new comes in they all stop playing and have a shot of the good suff,” Nucky said, sitting down in a chair next to a small table on which there was a big brown jug and a dozen little sewing thimbles that somebody was filling up with the moonshine from the jug.

Then they started playing again, old Piney blue grass songs so old nobody knew who wrote them, songs about the devil and the crossroads and the same themes the old bluesmen and mountain pickers sing about, and every time somebody came by and joined in they would stop and have a thimble of the clear white stuff that went down too easy. While Nucky had three or four, the judge only had the first one and then laid off, and had to help Nucky out when they decided to leave and give up their seats to some new comers with their axes and picks to play.

They were half way home before the judge asked Nucky once again.

“What shall I do Nuck?”

Nucky Johnson looked straight ahead, and didn’t answer right away, but eventually he said, “Nothing.”

“You do nothing.”

“Don’t talk about it, don’t call Stumpy, Hap or Ang, or you will set forces into motion that you can’t control. Don’t do anything, even if the story airs on TV, by the day after Labor Day everybody will forget about it. So don’t do nothin’ is my advice.”

And then all went quiet for the rest of the ride home until Nucky put on the radio as they headed home and could see across the bay the bright lights of Atlantic City that looked like a string of diamonds and pearls on the horizon.

Act III Episode 6 - The Ocean City Noise Ordinance Kicks In

Act III Episode 6 - The Ocean City Noise Ordinance Kicks In

The Ocean City Noise Ordinance, officially allocated Public Ordinance 08201965, a euphemism for the law against music on the beach and boardwalk went into effect at twelve noon on the Friday before Labor Day weekend, and was to be strictly enforced.

Some of the federal emergency public safety anti-riot funds were used to purchase, from Edmunds Scientific, a dozen electronic noise meters that registered decibel counts that were gagged by a needle reading, and distributed to the policeman paroling the boardwalk, mainly untrained summer police, wanna be cops college kids, though they did pack a 38 special, which gave them some authority.

Some of the cops walked the boardwalk patrol in pairs, while some were walking their beat alone, so the two together kept an eye on each other, and the ones walking alone could be a little looser, like the one who first approached Shriver’s Pavilion. He had his noise meter on kept an eye on it and even with three acoustic guitars playing together with a bongo and it didn’t read in the red until he was about twenty yards away, and recognized one of the guitarists, his college roommate.

They just laughed at each other, at the whole situation, and the cop let his mate check out and play the decibel measuring noise meter. They quickly figured out how it works and what the level of noise was at certain distances, and so, about a half hour later, when two more serious cops came along, they just stopped playing all together when they got around 20 yards away, so they didn’t set the meter off and the cops just kept walking and as soon as they 20 yards away started playing again.

So all was relatively quiet and cool at Ninth Street, but it was a totally different story down at 14^th Street, the surfer’s beach, where Pete Carroll and the Carroll Brothers slept on the beach practically every day, and jammed when they woke up because playing music was not just a job to them, it was something they really liked to do and did it as much as possible.

They usually just bring a couple acoustic guitars, small snare drum and a sax to the beach, but because the Noise Ordinance was going into effect, the Carroll Brothers decided to hold a peaceful, non-violent musical protest of sorts, and with the cooperation of their friends the Lifeguards, put a gasoline driven electric generator under the Lifeguard stand and hung a beach blanket drape around it so it couldn’t be seen from the boardwalk. The generator powered the amplifier and two Pioneer speakers were put on top of the Lifeguard stand roof, and the band set up around the stand, and they in turn were surrounded by a legion of fans, families and friends, wall to wall so the cops couldn’t get to them.

And so it was a little after noon, when those who were crashing on the beach were just awakening, that Pete Carroll fired up the generator, itself loud enough to set off the noise meter, plugged in his guitar and strummed a loud cord that could be heard at Ninth Street, five blocks away.

The two cops who were patrolling that area immediately called in for backup, and all twelve of the boardwalk cops heard the ten our on their walki talkies, and responded, as did almost all of the people walking the boards and the shopkeepers in that area.

Among the witnesses to what was about to happen were Bob Harbough in front of his grill, Freddie the Clown selling balloons, the Old Salt from the Smuggler’s Shop, and Jiggs, an old man in a white ten gallon cowboy hat with his name – JIGGS embroidered on it, whose daily routine was to sit on the bench in front of Bob’s and the College Grill and flirt with all the teenage girls in their bikinis, who all loved Jiggs.

They were all witnesses to the first time David Brenner was arrested for driving on the boardwalk when he first got to town, and now they were being serenaded by the Carroll Brothers, one of the house bands from Bay Shores.

They were shortly joined by Tido Mambo, who was concerned about his previous announcement that he would play and perform miracles at the Ninth Street beach the following Saturday, and Lawrence Magid, a young college student who hung out with the folkies and hippies at the Ninth Street Pavilion and the Purple Dragon.

As the dozen cops gathered at the top of the boardwalk stairs that led to the beach and consulted one another and with their captain on the radio, WOND radio newsman Mike Sherman arrived, parked illegally at the end of 14^th Street at the foot of the boardwalk, and after looking around at the scene – the cops in a huddle, the crowds on the boardwalk and beach, and the band playing loudly around the Lifeguard stand he jumped in the glass pay phone there, pumped in a dime and called his studio, ordering them to stand by for a live report from Ocean City’s 14^th Street Beach, where the city’s noise ordinance was being severely tested within minutes of going into effect.

 It wasn’t long before the KYW TV3 crew arrived in their white Chevy van with the cameraman protruding from the hole in the roof, getting it all on film. Driving real slow, Brenner drove over the curb and onto the sidewalk and inch by inch, nudging pedestrians out of the way, made it to the top and pulled off to the side next to Mike Sherman in the phone booth.

Sherman, whose view of the boardwalk and beach was now blocked by the KYW van, grabbed the Anchorage 7 for 1 t-shirt, handed him the phone and said, “hold this, and keep this line open, don’t hang up!,,” and then ran around the van to join Brenner, Freddie the Clown, Jiggs and the Old Salt among the throngs now converging on the 14^th Street beach, the Carroll Brothers music blaring in the background.

Each of the twelve cops had a noise meter and kept looking at it, and they all read the same – the needle was as far into the red as it could go and was bouncing against the wall. 

When his superior on the radio asked where the needle was on his decibel meter, the young cop looked and said, “It’s a Harvey Wall banger.”

Assistance was on the way, the riot squad was activated. While the boardwalk cops were like summer interns, the riot squad was made up of specially equipped, year ‘round police officers who were undergoing special training with federal authorities.  

They expected trouble and were on call, sitting around the fire station playing pool when they were called in, and arrived in their shinny new armored personnel carrier (APC) that was suitable for riot or combat conditions.

There were twelve officers on the riot squad, plus a Lieutenant who assumed command of the situation as soon as he arrived, commandeering Jigg’s bench as a Command Post.

Each riot squad cop had a blue motorcycle helmet and rectangular Plexiglas shields, and fell into place as soon as they jumped out of the APC, and formed two lines of six and then fanned out into a wedge with two shields in front and moved like a Roman Phalanx onto the boardwalk, pushing the crowd out of the way in front of them and reported to the Lieutenant at the park bench Command Post (CP).

The Lieutenant wasted no time evaluating the situation and the potential for catastrophe and tried to make a few public announcements over a microphone that were drowned out by the band. So he ordered the riot squad to proceed onto the beach and arrest those four crackpots playing instruments at the Lifeguard stand and they did so, much to the dismay of the crowd, who began to cheer the band and hiss the cops and began throwing things at them.

The KYW TV camera only titillated the college kids who began chanting “The whole world is watching, the whole world is watching!”

The Carroll Brothers kept playing as the riot squad made their way through the beach crowd, trampling on blankets and knocking over beach chairs, they made no friends as made it to the Lifeguard stand and put hand cuffs on Pete Carroll and his here band mates and led them away behind the riot squad’s Phalanx. They were handcuffed with their hands in front of them, and allowed to keep their instruments, and were paraded across the boardwalk past KYW’s cameraman and Mike Sherman, reporting live over the radio from the pay phone.

Once they were inside the new paddy wagon van, the Carroll Brothers, even though encumbered by the handcuffs, began to play their instruments – “Sweet Georgia Brown” could be heard by the crowd, who followed the paddy wagon all the way to the 8^th Street police station. When they got to the police station, the crowd surged around the paddy wagon van and when they opened the door screamed, yelled and applauded wildly at their new heroes.

The riot squad remained at the 14^th Street boardwalk and were then ordered to return to the Lifeguard stand where a hippie had plugged his radio into the amplifier and the music was being broadcast. As the riot squad made their way back to the Lifeguard stand, the pot smoking hippie surfer who volunteered to man the gas generated electric amplifier, got some wires crossed and as he lit his pot pipe, started a fire that startled him and as he stumbled backwards and fell into the sand, the gasoline generator exploded launching the Lifeguard stand into the air and onto the riot squad Phalanx and created general chaos and mayhem.

Lynda in the Shore Memorial Emergency Room began receiving casualties shortly thereafter, first the pot smoking hippie who caused the explosion, and then some of the riot squad who were under the Lifeguard stand when it landed, though the injuries were light because of their shields and helmets kept the damage low.

 From the police station pay phone Pete Carroll called Norman Stern, the new Bay Shores manager, but Stern refused to pay the bail, set at $500, and when word of that reached the crowd filled alley passed a hat and in about fifteen minutes the Carroll Brothers were free, with a court date set for the following Thursday, before Labor Day weekend.

The end result was a publicity bonanza for both the Carroll Brothers and Bay Shores, as the incident at 14^th Street made front page newspaper headlines throughout the country, including the New York Times and Washington Post, news articles that prominently mentioned both the Carroll Brothers and Bay Shores and making them famous, publicity that couldn’t be bought at any price.

That night the Bay Shores was so packed that they were turning people away and there was a line at the door, but they wouldn’t let someone in unless someone left, as they had reached their 1600 person capacity, and there was a Bader’s Raider in uniform at the door to make sure the legal capacity was not exceeded.

Act III Episode 5 - The Federal Barbarian Task Force Meets

Act III Episode - The FBTF Meets

The Federal Barbarian Task Force - FBTF met in the Plate Room of the Flanders Hotel on the Ocean City boardwalk, and included representatives from Ocean City, Somers Point, the FBI Biker Gang Unit, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF), New Jersey State Police gang unit and the New Jersey National Guard.

The meeting was chaired by the FBI Biker Gang Unit representative, who reported that since the race riots in Watts the previous week, when many people were killed and the Army’s national guard called in to restore order, raised the level of concern on the potential for this to evolve into a similar incident.

The Watts riots began when a white police officer pulled over and arrested a black man for drunk driving in a particularly bad part of town, and the violator’s mother appeared on the scene as her son was being handcuffed and placed in the back of the police cruiser. The policeman made a mistake by turning his back on the mother and the crowd as he put the young man in the back of his patrol car, and before the week was out dozens of people were killed, rioters were shooting fireman with rifles and the mayor refused to negotiate with hooligans or black ministers so the Army was called in to put out the fires.

Since Ocean City patrolman William Warren was black, and the Hells Angel who he ticketed for speeding had threatened to return on a Labor Day run with the rest of the gang and ransack Ocean City, this potential incident was being placed in the same federal category as Watts, Harlem and the South Side of Chicago, so federal emergency public safety funds were being made available, and both Ocean City and Somers Point were being furnished new Paddy Wagons, mobile communication command centers, riot gear and special trainers to give special instruction to the Riot Squads of both towns.

The FBI guy also announced that the Attorney General and President were taking special interest in this issue, and were being briefed on this situation, and may want to add his input before the meeting was over.

Ocean City Public Safety Commissioner D. Allen Stretch then said that this situation was under control, but new information was being developed daily and the chief of the OCPD Criminal Intelligence division, which was monitoring the hippies and suspected drug dealings at Shriver’s Pavilion, had some things to report.

The Chief said that since the seeding ticket Patrolman Warren issued in mid-May to one Ralph Hubert Barger – born October 8, 1938, of Oakland, California, has gone unpaid a warrant has been issued for his arrest. The problem, the chief noted, is that Ralph Hubert “Sonny” Barger was then and was in May incarcerated in a state prison for a minor offense, so a second warrant had been issued for UNSUB – unknown subject who had used Barger’s drivers license while he is in prison.

All eyes in the room shifted to Officer Warren, who was blushing read, and slipped down in his seat as the chief continued his report.

“Since Officer Warren was responsible for the ticket, and apparently didn’t compare the photo on the license with the person he issued the ticket to, he will be responsible for visiting Mr. Barger in jail and attempt to determine the identity of the person who impersonated him in Ocean City in the course of committing a crime and arresting him.”

Another federal officer sitting behind Warren tapped him on the shoulder and said he would assist him.

The officer from the ATF was given the floor, and he said that a new, young police officer from Somers Point, William Bader, the son of Lt. Bader, who was sitting nearby, was in training and would shortly be sent to Ohio to join the other undercover ATF agent who had infiltrated a one percenter biker club and first reported on the threat from the Hells Angels who had been ticketed and kicked out of Ocean City, to return on a Labor Day run with the rest of the gang and run rampage over the town, as they had done other places. His mission was to wait in Ohio for the Hells Angels to come through and try to join them as they headed for Ocean City, giving the FBTF an inside perspective of what they were up against.

The representative from New Jersey Governor Hughes’ office then reported that the New Jersey State Police were fully engaged in this effort, and will have many of their officers stationed nearby, their gang unit will be on the Ocean City boardwalk and the 300 man State Police academy cadets will be bused in and have a visible presence on the streets and boardwalk. In addition, the NJ National Guard has been put on alert status and will have 200 men ready for action throughout the weekend and 2,000 men on reserve at Fort Dix ready to be deployed with a two hours notice.

The FBI guy was then called to a phone that was set up on a desk, and after listening intently for a few moments announced that “the President of the United States has something to say to us,” and flicking a switch on the phone speakers crackled and a shallow sounding voice came on line.

“Ah appreciate all the hard work you boys have been doing to stem the tide of this serious threat to our communities, but we must take this seriously, and nip it in the bud so it doesn’t get out of control like the situation in Californ- i – a did last week. Now I’m depending on you guys to get to the bottom of this, and I have approved the governor’s request for assistance from the US Army and New Jersey National Guard, if it is necessary. And if the Army can’t do it, then I’m going to draft them angels and send them to Nam to kick those Congs in the arse, ‘cause they must be bad mother fuckers.”

Then the line went dead as the President apparently hung up, and the FBI guy, shuffling around and a little embarrassed by LBJ’s remarks, said sheepishly that, “The president has been very upset by the situation in Watts and all of the publicity over the motorcycle gangs, and he’s focused on doing whatever it takes to make this problem go away.”

Ocean City Mayor Waldman spoke up for the first time, saying that he appreciates all the work the various agencies and departments were putting into this effort to protect his city, and thanked Mr. Kirkman, who wasn’t present, for use of the Plate Room for this meeting, and that a new operations base was being set up on the second floor of Shriver’s Candy Store on the Boardwalk at Ninth Street, where the observation post that kept track of the hippies and drug deals at Shriver’s Pavilion would be used as a Command Post for the Federal Barbarian Task Force until the day after Labor Day.

It was then agreed to meet there on the Thursday before the beginning of Labor Day weekend and all operations would be run from there at that time.

The FBI guy then took a glass of wine from a tray held by Mr. Kirkman’s private waitress and valet in her black French maid uniform and he once again emphasized the need for complete secrecy and that there would be no press releases, leaks to the media or any discussion of their operations with anyone outside of the FBTF.

The Flanders hotel waitress would, later that night, tell her lifeguard boyfriend that “the Barbarians are coming,” and before the next day was out, it was common knowledge on the beach and boardwalk that the Hells Angels and some Barbarian Bikers were coming to Ocean City an ransack the town on a Labor Day run, and the news flashed through the grapevine and was making the rounds at the Point by evening. 

Act III Episode 4 - Joe and the Nomads Get a Gig

Act III – Episode 4  – Joe and the Nomads Get a Gig

After enlisting Stephane to sing with them for their second Tony Marts audition, Joe and the Nomads went looking for a keyboard player, first to Shriver’s Pavilion on the Ocean City boardwalk, but they didn’t expect to find one there since it was a scene dominated totally by guitars. So they scoped it out for a little while, then grabbed a slice of pizza at Mack & Manco’s counter and ate as they walked to 8^th Street to the Purple Dragon Coffee House.

You could see the big roaring Purple Dragon head jutting out above the front door that looked like it belonged on a Thanksgiving parade float, but as legend would have it, was from the bow of a Spanish treasure ship that ran aground at Anchorage Point during a Noreaster’ a hundred years before the Dutch and English Quakers arrived and settled in. It was made of old hard wood and refashioned paper mache, and painted purple, of course.

The large purple dragon’s head jutting out over the sidewalk would have been an issue for the building inspector, but since the building was owned by D. Allen Stretch, the city commissioner responsible for public works and safety, it got a pass.

Inside the Dragon there was half the afternoon lunch crowd there usually is because all of the folkies and most of the hippies were camping at the second annual Philadelphia Folk Festival at the Wilson farm outside Philly. While most of Philly was heading down the pikes or Expressway to the Shore, the folkies and hippies were going in the other direction, leaving a lot of empty seats at Shriver’s Pavilion and the Purple Dragon.

Still drinking their Pennsylvania Dutch Birch Beer from the boardwalk, they sat at a table in the back, where a folkie was playing guitar on the small stage. Not just a stage for singers and guitarist, the Purple Dragon soap box was also open to poets and story tellers, and so it was after a guitarist John Buloshi would trash was finished, Pittsburgh Paul took the stage, and after a moment of stage fright, he straightened up and began reading from a white piece of paper – “The Sheriff of Reality.”

The Sheriff of Reality

By Pittsburg Paul

I am

The Sheriff of Reality

So watch out Bad Guys

For I am

Everywhere.

I'll step upon

Your Shadow

And walk upon

Your Dreams

Until you think

Your carrying

The world upon

Your shoulders.

Thus spoke

The Sheriff of Reality

Wither I come

And wither I go

No one knows

Not even I

Thus spoke

The Sheriff of Reality

Cold steel

Pressed upon

Your back

Thus spoke

The Sheriff of Reality

Give me

The Goods

And I don't

Mean the money

Thus spoke

The Sheriff of Reality

Thundering I come

And thundering I go

And the world

Will never

be the same

Thus Spoke

The Sheriff of Reality

After a few lines he put the paper down and really got into it, reciting off the top of his head, and a tinkling of the piano keys against the wall grabbed everyone’s attention for a split moment – it was Tido Mambo chiming in, and then the Nomad’s percussionist began tapping his bongos and dragging Paul’s poem into the realm of music.

When Pittsburgh Paul was done and walked off stage with an extended applause and a smile on his face, Joe asked Tido to stay where he was and sat down on a stool on the stage and began playing his acoustic guitar, a Ventures surfing tune that everyone knew, and the bongos and Tido on keys rounded out the sound. After an extended jam, Joe knew Tido was in another league, but asked him to join the Nomads at the Tony Marts audition.

Tido was honest about it, “I already have a band,” he said, “and I’ve already been fired by Tony three times in one week – not the record,” he pointed out.

But he did want to go back to Tony Marts and since it was a Monday and his band was off that night, Tido agreed to join the Nomads for the audition, and asked them to stop by the Anchorage two hours early so they could practice a little before going on.

So later that afternoon the Nomads VW bus pulled up in front of the Anchorage Tavern and the three Nomads and Stephanie went in and to the back of the bar where Tido was sitting at the Tom Thumb piano, with his hair pulled up and hidden under a yellow silk Egyptian turban that Sam The Sham and the Pharaohs had given him after they jammed to "Woolly Bully" into the early morning at the Dunes the previous week. Stevie and the Nomads got it – since Tido had been unceremoniously fired and kicked out of Tony Marts by the bouncers three times, he had to go back in disguise so he wouldn’t be recognized.

Stevie and the Nomads all ordered Cokes from Buck the bartender even though he would have served them despite none of them, except Tido, was over 21. They didn’t want to drink before their audition, introduced Stephanie to Tido and then ran though the two songs Stevie wrote but mainly stuck to the popular standards that they knew Tony was looking for.

Then they all packed into the VW bus and Joe drove the few blocks down Bay Avenue and pulled up to Tony Marts front door to unload the equipment they would need.

Tony wasn’t in the house yet, Joe noticed as he looked up into the corner seat at the little elevated bar in the corner where Tony always sat, his seat was empty, that bar wasn’t open yet, but a few of the others were, and manned by popular bartenders like Doobie Duberson, Harry Goldberg, Sonny McCullough and Dick Squires.

Joe had arranged to go on first, and they were a half hour early, so after plugging in his guitar and testing the microphones, he sat down in the corner on a keg of beer next to a tall, thin black guy picking at an electric guitar that wasn’t plugged in, staring intently at his fingers as they plucked the guitar.

When he was done the tall, thin black dude looked up at Joe sitting there next to him and smiled, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m Joe, with the Nomads,” Walsh said, reaching out his hand, “we’re auditioning tonight.”

The guy shook Joe’s hand but didn’t say anything, just smiled.

“Hey, you got a pick I could borrow?” Joe asked, “I’m fresh out.”

The guy hands Joe the guitar pick he had in his hands and Joe thanked him and then added, “We got an extra guitar slot if you want to sit in on any of our set, feel free.”

“You with Joey Dee and the Starliters?” Joe asked, and the guy just nodded yes.

“Wow, that must be really neat! But I guess you get tired of playing the Twist and Peperment Twist so much.”

The guy just smiled and picked up another pick from his guitar case and started stairing at his fingers as he plucked the unplugged guitar, and Joe went back to the stage with his pick.

They were all in place on the main stage a few minutes before they were to go on when out of the corner of his eye Joe saw Mr. Marotta come in the front door, sit down in his spot at the corner of the bar and light his cigar.

It was Show Time in the Showplace of the World.

The three Nomads kicked in with the power trio set, while Tido just played softly to fill in the sound and not call attention to himself, while Stevie stood back against the wall and wasn’t introduced until the third song, a popular number before they did Stevie’s two originals, that they knew would make Tony winch.

But they didn’t get the hook or get unplugged because Stevie was really strong and Tony liked her immediately, and during her second song, the tall, thin black guy who played with the Skyliters plugged in and stood in the back but added a dynamic third guitar that blew everybody away, except Tony. Tony just didn’t get it, and appeared perplexed, as the crowd, as it filtered in, were suddenly paying attention to a no nothing new band nobody ever heard of before and at the end of the song everybody was applauding, cheering and whistling, including the bartenders and bouncers, so Tony couldn’t give them the hook as the crowd clearly liked it.

Before the Nomad’s set was over the Starliter’s guitarist unplugged his guitar and unobtrusely left the back of the stage to go over to the other stage where his band was getting ready to play.

Ending with the Ventures surf songs that kept people’s attention and got the dance floor going, the Nomads ended their half hour audition as Joey Dee and the Skyliters began playing “The Peperment Twist” across the room.

The Starliters front man Little Joey Dee was a Jersey Guy, that is a North Jersey Guy in the Frank Sinatra-Frankie Valle mold, and married to the mob, and had a squeaky voice that has been heard over every radio in the country, but on this night it was the Starliter’s guitarist who was getting all the attention, much to the dismay of Joey Dee.

“Who is that guy?” everyone wanted to know.

A few years out of the Army, James Jimi Hendrix was still looking for himself and a good paying job in music, and had already left Little Richard and jammed with his idol Muddy Waters when he hooked up with Joey Dee and the Starliters through Leroy Brown, his old drill sergeant from Fort Dix.

While the whole room was twisting the night away, and Tido Mambo sneaked out a side door, Joe was still pumping with excitement and was smiling as he approached Mister Marotta at the bar.

“How’d we do Mister Mart?” Joe asked.

Tony took the cigar out of his mouth and smiled, “You’se guys did good. You got a job, three sets a night on the back stage through next Thursday,” he said knowing that Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels were coming in Friday to play the Labor Day weekend. The Nomads were just going to fill in for a few nights, but it was a gig, and while  it was too late to include them in the newspaper print ads, they would have their name on the Tony Marts Marque – along with Joey Dee and the Starliters, the Fall Guys and a few bands like the Nomads who just came down the pike looking for action. 

Joe was due to be at Kent State, Ohio on Thursday for freshman orientation, but he would miss that in order to play a paying gig at Tony Marts, and wouldn’t make it to Ohio until Tuesday, he day after Labor Day, and he would be forever disoriented for missing freshman orientation.

And they were going to have to play without Todo Mambo or Jimi Hendrix and Stevie could only sit in to sing a few sets, but Joe was confident they could hold their own and after scrounging around Shrivers Pavilion and the Purple Dragon for more players to fill out the band for the three night gig, Walsh just sat down with Tony and explained it to him.

“We’re a Power Trio,” Joe said, “and even though we’re only three guys, we try harder.”

So Tony let them play, and even got to like some of their original songs because the crowd liked them too, and just let it go, like water off a duck’s back, he was just resigned to the fact that, as he put it, “The Hawks were the last of the gentlemen.”

“After the Hawks, the animals took over,” he lamented, taking a puff of his cigar and a sip of his drink. 

On the other side of the room Joey Dee and the Skyliters were rockin' the house, as everybody was up twisting to the "Peppermint Twist," the song that made them famous two years previous. They played the Peppermint Lounge in New York City, and their song made that place famous, so they became the house band there, but were now milking that song for whatever they could get. And then to close the set they did an extended version of the Isley Brothers' "Shout!" that had the college kids going crazy and lying down on the dance floor and bars and shaking on their backs - the ultimate Twist and Shout! 

"Shout, shout, let it all hang out.

These are the things I can do without

Come on, I'm talking to you, come on

Shout! 

In violent times 

You shouldn't have to sell your soul 

in black and white 

They really ought to know

Those one track minds 

That took you for a working boy

Kiss them goodbye

You shouldn't have to jump for joy

They gave you life

and in return you gave them Hell 

As cold as ice

I hope we live to tell the tale 

I hope we live to tel the tale 

And when you've taken down your guard 

If I could change your mind

I'd really love to break your heart 

I'd really love to break your heart 

Come on, I'm talking to you come on 

But you really have to hear it with Hendrix on guitar. 

After his successful audition Joe Walsh talked to Tony about some gig details and then stuck around to see the Joey Dee and the Skyliters, but was attracted, as was everyone else in the house, to the guy in the back with the guitar, the tall, skinny black dude in the Afro. Joe zoomed in on the guitarists fingers and watched for a few minutes in awe and thought how the quiet guy talked with his guitar. 

Joe then searched his pockets and took out the guitar pick the guy with the left handed strat had given him and looked at it as if it had something magical about it, and he kissed it.

Jimi Hendrix with Joey Dee and the Starliters-1965