Once upon a time when I was a street kid living on the streets of the Great City of Angels; hanging about Santa Monica Boulevard at a quaint 24 hour outdoor restaurant called Okie Dogs on the corner of Fountain and Santa Monica Boulevard.
It was a rainy and messy night not too much traffic, the kids were still out trying desperately to hustle up a few measly bucks for their motels, drugs, and next meal. Mostly their next drug fix. At that time in life I was not much of a druggy, I smoked some herb once in a while, but mostly liked my Southern Comfort and Mountain Dew.
This night was like any other rainy night the street kids (mostly male on Santa Monica Boulevard) rolled in and out of Okie Dogs with its long orange picnic tables and benches, completely covered by ivy and other plants shading and concealing the outdoor patio and store front. Okie Dogs had on the east-end a hut like video game room slash shelter, over head was wavy tin ruff, and on the side was on open view of the sky. This place gave us shelter from the elements and this place was the only place the 'Kids' could hangout without being interrupted, disturbed and use the bathroom without incident. And it was a great place for a cheap wholesome meal for the price; two kids could share one Okie Dog, fries and drink(s).
The boys (young men) on Santa Monica Boulevard were mostly druggies, drug dealers, crystal-meth-heads, male prostitutes, and we were all hustlers of some kind or another. Most of us were homeless transients from as far away as Tallahassee, Florida or New York City. We were black, white, brown, rich, poor everything in-between. But most of all we were there for each other, we understood one another, because we knew the story of why each of us were there in the first place. Our stories, however, different were the same. We were gay for pay, gay, drag queens, queens, queers, bi, straight and gender benders. I fell some where in there between a Queen and Gender Bender or Pretty Boy! We all were friends, we could trust each other to point. We had our own clicks.
We were the Boys of Summer, the Boys of Santa Monica Boulevard and we could not be stopped, we had to survive and that is what we all had in common.
The years have past, the faces have changed but there will always be the Boys of Santa Monica Boulevard where dirty old men can find a Pretty Face to treat to dinner at the French Quarter, and where gay-porn stars made and discovered.
But, that night was different somehow. That night would be a scar on everyone of us for the rest of our lives. This night would haunt us for the rest of our lives no matter how far we left The Boulevard behind us. No matter what!
At about 11:30m p.m. two kids come running into the Okie Dogs they were gassed out, sweating, hyped up and shouting a story, a warning if you will about the raid at the Earl Flynn Estate (that's another story for another time).
Apparently, the cops had just rode up in white vans and patty wagons in full on militia garb. Guns out, high beam flash lights and shouting, "Do not move or you will be shot! Stay where you are! Hands up and lay down!" The kids were lined up and searched and arrested while the helicopters hovered above with there high beam lights.
The criminal charges for some kids were drug possession, for others trespassing and/or breaking and entering. No matter 30-40 kids were going to jail that rainy night.
At 1:00 a.m. the same evening the helicopter flew over turning the night into day with the brightest light I have ever seen! Then the the blue lights, white vans and paddy wagons surrounded The Dog! We were like cornered rats! No where to hide, with no where to go! Trapped! To make a long story short we (about) 60-80 boys and a few girls were rounded up at the Okie Dog and other hang outs. That means they hit Winchell's Donuts, also.
What we eventually all learned is that we all had the same charges: "Soliciting To The Act of Prostitution, and Loitering". This is where you say, "what the fuck!" Because that's what we all said. How, why, where, when, and no way! I was eating with my dude and my best friend. Some kids were playing video games, some others' were eating, hanging out, and chatting each other up. It was raining still and no one was out but the street kids. We were the ones that had no other place to go. Trapped! Arrested and charge with false charges!
Those of us who were not native to California were promised by the Judge and Prosecution that all charges would be dropped if we accepted the free Greyhound ticket home. I said yes, "I'll take it and I wasn't Prostituting your Honor." Yet that change has stuck with me ever since. It shows up in back ground checks, arrest records and general Google Searches. Talk about haunting! I was 18 years old, I was a kid, I had no idea that hanging on the boulevard would haunt me for rest of my life for a crime I did not commit. That the 100 kids arrested that rainy night did not commit. And I am sure the Great City of Los Angeles will deny everything I said by turning it around on me by stating, "who you gonna believe a convicted criminal or us?" Sickening, if you think about to take advantage of the ignorance and fear of a bunch of teenagers.
However, ignorant I was, or should I say, we were to the law; these charge(s) should have gone away like the Judge and Prosecution had promised ; lying to a bunch of homeless and vulnerable teenagers is pathetic and demonstrative.
Moreover, I picked up the ticket and sold it. They did not know that. I signed for it that they did know. I never had any further contact with LAPD or the LA Sheriffs' department either. I went on to a kept boy; I dined with Hollywood elites, partied with rock stars, and spent my Saturdays shopping everywhere, from Carmel to San Fran. The City of Angels had a way to roll out the red carpet for a sweet pretty boy with cheeks a tan.
So, if you are one of those people that rely on the accuracy of Back Ground Checks you are an idiot. You will never know the basic facts, truths, and events to the real story. You would have never known until now that I have told you (some 30 years later). Truth is out! No matter how or where we got our money; we earned it, we paid for it with our souls, and sanity yet we remained dignified. But, that night was a guilt free night, the rain was washing away our improprieties, and indiscretions. Regardless of our actions any other night, that night was just kids hanging out trying to keep warm in very ugly storm. Our actions did not equal the heinous and warranted charges.
I learned the hard way that those that one trust the most will deceive you and hurt you the most. That is saying a lot from a survivor of violent and sexual child abuse. That is when I decided to be a paralegal, to study the law in any form whatsoever. So that way I would not be so naive, and ignorant to have to put up with this bullshit ever again. Ah! But, this is only part one of a four part series.
It was a rainy and messy night not too much traffic, the kids were still out trying desperately to hustle up a few measly bucks for their motels, drugs, and next meal. Mostly their next drug fix. At that time in life I was not much of a druggy, I smoked some herb once in a while, but mostly liked my Southern Comfort and Mountain Dew.
This night was like any other rainy night the street kids (mostly male on Santa Monica Boulevard) rolled in and out of Okie Dogs with its long orange picnic tables and benches, completely covered by ivy and other plants shading and concealing the outdoor patio and store front. Okie Dogs had on the east-end a hut like video game room slash shelter, over head was wavy tin ruff, and on the side was on open view of the sky. This place gave us shelter from the elements and this place was the only place the 'Kids' could hangout without being interrupted, disturbed and use the bathroom without incident. And it was a great place for a cheap wholesome meal for the price; two kids could share one Okie Dog, fries and drink(s).
The boys (young men) on Santa Monica Boulevard were mostly druggies, drug dealers, crystal-meth-heads, male prostitutes, and we were all hustlers of some kind or another. Most of us were homeless transients from as far away as Tallahassee, Florida or New York City. We were black, white, brown, rich, poor everything in-between. But most of all we were there for each other, we understood one another, because we knew the story of why each of us were there in the first place. Our stories, however, different were the same. We were gay for pay, gay, drag queens, queens, queers, bi, straight and gender benders. I fell some where in there between a Queen and Gender Bender or Pretty Boy! We all were friends, we could trust each other to point. We had our own clicks.
We were the Boys of Summer, the Boys of Santa Monica Boulevard and we could not be stopped, we had to survive and that is what we all had in common.
The years have past, the faces have changed but there will always be the Boys of Santa Monica Boulevard where dirty old men can find a Pretty Face to treat to dinner at the French Quarter, and where gay-porn stars made and discovered.
But, that night was different somehow. That night would be a scar on everyone of us for the rest of our lives. This night would haunt us for the rest of our lives no matter how far we left The Boulevard behind us. No matter what!
At about 11:30m p.m. two kids come running into the Okie Dogs they were gassed out, sweating, hyped up and shouting a story, a warning if you will about the raid at the Earl Flynn Estate (that's another story for another time).
Apparently, the cops had just rode up in white vans and patty wagons in full on militia garb. Guns out, high beam flash lights and shouting, "Do not move or you will be shot! Stay where you are! Hands up and lay down!" The kids were lined up and searched and arrested while the helicopters hovered above with there high beam lights.
The criminal charges for some kids were drug possession, for others trespassing and/or breaking and entering. No matter 30-40 kids were going to jail that rainy night.
At 1:00 a.m. the same evening the helicopter flew over turning the night into day with the brightest light I have ever seen! Then the the blue lights, white vans and paddy wagons surrounded The Dog! We were like cornered rats! No where to hide, with no where to go! Trapped! To make a long story short we (about) 60-80 boys and a few girls were rounded up at the Okie Dog and other hang outs. That means they hit Winchell's Donuts, also.
What we eventually all learned is that we all had the same charges: "Soliciting To The Act of Prostitution, and Loitering". This is where you say, "what the fuck!" Because that's what we all said. How, why, where, when, and no way! I was eating with my dude and my best friend. Some kids were playing video games, some others' were eating, hanging out, and chatting each other up. It was raining still and no one was out but the street kids. We were the ones that had no other place to go. Trapped! Arrested and charge with false charges!
Those of us who were not native to California were promised by the Judge and Prosecution that all charges would be dropped if we accepted the free Greyhound ticket home. I said yes, "I'll take it and I wasn't Prostituting your Honor." Yet that change has stuck with me ever since. It shows up in back ground checks, arrest records and general Google Searches. Talk about haunting! I was 18 years old, I was a kid, I had no idea that hanging on the boulevard would haunt me for rest of my life for a crime I did not commit. That the 100 kids arrested that rainy night did not commit. And I am sure the Great City of Los Angeles will deny everything I said by turning it around on me by stating, "who you gonna believe a convicted criminal or us?" Sickening, if you think about to take advantage of the ignorance and fear of a bunch of teenagers.
However, ignorant I was, or should I say, we were to the law; these charge(s) should have gone away like the Judge and Prosecution had promised ; lying to a bunch of homeless and vulnerable teenagers is pathetic and demonstrative.
Moreover, I picked up the ticket and sold it. They did not know that. I signed for it that they did know. I never had any further contact with LAPD or the LA Sheriffs' department either. I went on to a kept boy; I dined with Hollywood elites, partied with rock stars, and spent my Saturdays shopping everywhere, from Carmel to San Fran. The City of Angels had a way to roll out the red carpet for a sweet pretty boy with cheeks a tan.
So, if you are one of those people that rely on the accuracy of Back Ground Checks you are an idiot. You will never know the basic facts, truths, and events to the real story. You would have never known until now that I have told you (some 30 years later). Truth is out! No matter how or where we got our money; we earned it, we paid for it with our souls, and sanity yet we remained dignified. But, that night was a guilt free night, the rain was washing away our improprieties, and indiscretions. Regardless of our actions any other night, that night was just kids hanging out trying to keep warm in very ugly storm. Our actions did not equal the heinous and warranted charges.
I learned the hard way that those that one trust the most will deceive you and hurt you the most. That is saying a lot from a survivor of violent and sexual child abuse. That is when I decided to be a paralegal, to study the law in any form whatsoever. So that way I would not be so naive, and ignorant to have to put up with this bullshit ever again. Ah! But, this is only part one of a four part series.
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