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Boomer
Boomer
Boomer
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Boomer

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Boomer and three friends, Chuck Manoyan, Slicker Mauers, and Babe Brearton want to escape the 1929 Great Depression, so they head west in a used sedan only to discover the predicament is everywhere. The account begins as Boomer Ryan and his pals experience a series of adventures and misadventures throughout Texas, Arizona, California and Nevada.
Homesick and broke they are essentially honest men from good homes who sometimes find themselves among dishonest people who enjoy making life miserable for others. Hey work at odd jobs, discover their car stolen, are arrested for vagrancy and face a small town kangaroo court.
Tired after a hard day’s work, Boomer and one of friend Chuck hitch-hike a ride only to find them unjustly arrested for a crime (car theft) they did not commit. The actual thief, a local resident is not arrested, but Boomer Ryan and his companion Chuck Manoyan without benefit of an attorney, are convicted and sent to state prison.
After several oppressive months in prison Ryan and Manoyan are freed and return home. They work as cab drivers and several odd jobs while working their way through college. Ryan begins a distinguishing career as an aeronautical engineer while Manoyan graduates form law school, and successfully pursues a political career. Ryan accepts an invitation to study rocket science in Germany
The advent of WW II changes things; Ryan and Manoyan change also. They expand their careers; look for marriage and a home. One misgiving secret will haunt Ryan perpetually; he suspects his cousin may be a murderer, but he eventually resolves the dilemma he faces.

Library of Congress
Copyright 2012
LanguageEnglish
PublisherBookBaby
Release dateJul 22, 2013
ISBN9781483503523
Boomer

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    Book preview

    Boomer - Joseph E. Riley

    9781483503523

    BOOMER

    CHAPTER 1

    Making his way along the debris strewn dock, Boomer Ryan shuffled in closer and shouted to his friend Jake , Back, step back, Jake! That's it. You got 'em now. Watch out! In the gut, Chuck--in the gut. Watch his left--watch the hook--watch it! Damn!

    The Port of Galveston served as host to ships, mostly freighters, from all over the World especially from the Far East and Europe.

    Fist fighting among sailors and dock workers was a sometimes profitable means of recreation for bettors and for everyone else who fought or watched; it was one way to beat boredom. This hot humid day in summer of 1932 was no exception.

    The Swede sent a blinding left jab to the head followed swiftly and powerfully by an uppercut that propelled a chunk of Manoyan's front tooth through the air while sweat, spraying from his spinning head, showered his friend Slicker Mauers and several spectators who had moved in close to follow the bare knuckle action.

    Round over! A stevedore acting as the referee rapped several times, on an empty oil drum wielding a broken broom handle

    Brearton dumped a pail of water on Manoyan's head as Ryan sopped up the excess with a dingy rag before he squeezed his cut lip with a handkerchief. The bleeding stopped. Boomer Ryan, Slicker Mauers and Babe Brearton helped their semi-conscious friend, whose legs hung limp like a rag doll, onto a packing crate. The intense summer sun and heat aggravated Manoyan's weakened condition and his nausea already fed by the acrid smell of creosote, oil and grease ground by time into deep fibers of wooden planking serving as a wharf.

    That thun-ob-a bitch's killin' me, Manoyan lisped through his missing tooth. My arms are tho damn tired I can't keep 'em up. I can't take it no more. Heeth's built like an ox. Lithen ta me--can't even talk straight. Trow in da damn towel! Trow it in--I'm gettin' killed out dere!

    Come on! You're doin' great, Jake, Boomer lied. He's a second -rater. Ain't half the man you are. Only three more minutes and we got ourselves ten bucks.

    Yeah, but I don't know how ta fight.

    Just do what we tell ya, and you'll be okay. You're fast, Ryan countered, and you can out box and out run him.

    Run--yeah, thath's what I wanna do. Run!

    Just a few minutes more, Jake. A coupla minutes and you're all done, Mauers said.

    Can I hab some water, Babe?

    No, it'll make ya sick. There's the bell, Ryan shouted above the raucous milling crowd. Get in there and give him hell! Keep your hands up and chin down--and keep those damn feet movin'! Go!"

    The Swedes are already countin' their money, Mauers whispered when Manoyan dragged himself to meet his opponent. Jake can't fight worth a damn. What happens when he loses?

    We bet the whole bundle, and I'll fight their best boxer, Ryan boasted.

    How about money? What do we use for money? Brearton asked. If Jake loses, we're dead broke, maybe even dead.

    We run like hell. Like we did in El Paso, Mauers added. Cheez I was scared that day. Almost wet my drawers.

    Whataya mean, almost? Ryan teased.

    So I did--so what?

    Aw, knock it off you guys! Brearton shouted. What in hell're we gonna do about it now? Chuck's gettin' killed.

    Look at those mean ugly faces! Those square-heads'll beat the crap out of us and dump us in the Gulf, Ryan replied. We can't run and we can't fight them all off. That's why I gotta fight. The Galveston police ain't gonna help us any.

    You said that right! We're only a bunch a bums to them. Likely they'll nail us for vagrancy and toss our asses in a drunk tank with a bunch of crazies, Brearton hollered above a deep throated harbor boat whistle blast. He elbowed his way through the crowd to watch the action.

    Manoyan, sweating, puffing and groaning, was taking a dreadful beating. Finally, the Swede let out a furious barrage of combination head and body punches to Manoyan who sunk helplessly unconscious in slow motion landing in a heap on oil sodden planks.

    Several sailors from the docked freighter held up the Swede's hand.The first mate walked over to Manoyan's three friends barking. Pay up!

    Ryan doled out their last few bucks. Here ya go. He held back for a moment and challenged the first mate, Wanna make it double or nothin'?

    You Yanks don't know when to call it quits. Wait'll I ask my crew.

    The first mate spoke in Swedish to his men. "They say we fight.

    Who wants to fight Winzig?"

    Which is Winzig, mate? Mauers asked.

    Tall guy--with the beard--next to the gangplank. He pointed to a giant size, barrel-chested, mean looking tattooed sailor who took off his shirt revealing his chest and upper arms bulging with muscles big enough to make a gorilla envious. A fire-belching dragon tattoo covered most of his upper right arm. See ‘im? He's from Hamburg. Winzig means tiny in English.

    Ryan looked and gulped, but hid his panic well as he stripped off his own shirt bragging again, I'll take him. He blessed himself and mumbled a prayer. Mother of God, please stay with me on this one.

    You're out of your mind, Boomer, Brearton said. The damn Kraut'll knock your brains out and feed 'em to the sea gulls.

    Hell, maybe not! He may be big, but he's gotta be over forty and probably moves slow. If I can take it to him on the inside with a few solid punches, I'll win. If I can't, then you guys run like hell and get out of here before they find out we got no more dough.

    Clear the dock, the Swedish mate hollered as he lumbered to the center. Clear the dock! It's double or nothin' for three rounds--three minutes each round. Bare knuckles. All punches above the belt or forfeit the fight. Winner takes all.

    Stevedores who were loading and unloading ships got word quickly about the fight. The word promised witness to a potential manslaughter. They stood around making side bets and figuring odds. Ryan, carrot red wavy hair, although a little over six feet and weighing a trim 175 pounds, looked out-classed and out-weighed by forty pounds, his muscles, neither large nor bulging like a weight lifter, were strong steel-like straps hiding latent power. Brimming with bravado, he was fast, reflexes sharp, eyesight keen, young and tough at twenty he basked in his prime. It wouldn't be his first fist fight or his last.

    A Galveston dock foreman served as referee. Ready? Boomer Ryan from Troy, New York--U.S.A. against Tiny Holzhauer from Hamburg, Germany. Take your places. When ya hear the bell, he pointed to the oil drum, come out and fight!

    Holzhauer moved quickly before his opponent was set and he caught Ryan with a sharp left hook to the head. Startled at the man's power, Boomer backed up and thought I can’t let this guy in close, or he’ll murder me. He punches like he’s got rocks in his fists. I better dance around a little to feel him out.

    Come on, Tiny, a Swedish crewman yelled, put him away so we can go ta lunch.

    Another hollered, Tiny, don't hit too hard, or you'll kill the skinny Amerikaner.

    Come out, Boomer--come out--don't let him catch you in a corner, Brearton cautioned.

    Boomer moved gingerly rolling with a couple more light jabs but he shook them off as he tried to outwit his opponent. Wonder if he’s got a glass jaw? He always drops his guard after he throws a left jab. Maybe I can sneak one in on him.

    Three minutes passed and the oil drum signaled the end of round one.

    Mauers splashed some water on Ryan's head. Ya got a little cut over your right eye, Boomer, but it's stopped bleedin'. Ya all right?

    I'm fine. His eyes roll back, and his guard drops for a second right after he throws a jab. If I can get a couple of good ones to his kisser, I think he'll drop.

    Want the jaw buster? Brearton asked.

    Not right now. It's too soon. Let me find out if he can take a punch first.

    Don't get too cloath! Manoyan mumbled through swollen lips.

    Round two began. The opponents exchanged blows, but the German fighter, not accustomed to Texas summer heat, was tiring. Ryan, taking a chance, ducked a couple of glancing blows then quickly moved in close and sent a couple of skyrockets to Holzhauer's chin. He felt those all right. Boomer thought but he’s tough. I gave him everything from my toes up. I need some help.

    The round ended. How ya doin' Boomer? Mauers asked.

    Okay. He's still droppin' his guard all the time, but when I land a punch it's like hittin' a bull elephant. He doesn't budge.

    Help's on the way. Brearton slipped Boomer the roll of pennies.

    Pennies from heaven? Ryan asked as he curled his fingers around the roll. What if the damn roll breaks?

    Won't break! I got it double wrapped and taped, and besides, I said a prayer to Saint Anthony. He'll take care of you.

    You believe in Saint Anthony?

    Yeah, I believe in lotsa Saints.

    Ten seconds into the third and last round Holzhauer, losing his speed to humidity and heat, dropped his guard. Boomer waited for the right moment.

    Now! Brearton hollered. Now, Boomer!

    Ryan let go with a one-two combination followed by a lightning fast right cross coming from the depths of his soul. The powerhouse punch caught his opponent squarely on the chin. An unmistakable snap of bone cracking could be heard above the spectator's cheering. His fractured lower jaw had jammed into his skull as Holzhauer went limp and crashed heavily to the dock. The fight was over. Brearton rushed out to recover the roll of pennies before questions could be asked.

    Nice goin', Mauers shouted giving Ryan a bear hug while Brearton slipped the roll of pennies into his own pocket.

    We eat tonight! Ryan whispered.

    Look at thoth Swedes. Can't believe it. All of 'em standin' wit their mouths wide open, Jake Manoyan added, in spite of his pain, as jumped in joy.

    The hell with them, Jake, Mauers said. "Grab the dough, and let's get the hell out of here before they want a rematch.

    They walked the wharf to their car. Babe Brearton asked, How much we got?

    Ryan counted their winnings. There's eight left from money we earned loading cargo--plus our fight winnings--that makes it thirty two bucks. Now we can get some gas for the car.

    That's the most we've had since we started out two months ago," Brearton replied.

    Hath it been two months already? Jake asked.

    Yeah, two months and two days since the four of us left Troy in an old car and started to bum our way around the country.

    This car's like a home away from home. Let's celebrate tonight and get a good meal at the diner, Mauers said. I could use a juicy steak. A complete steak dinner's only a buck and a half.

    I'm starvin' too, Manoyan said, but how'm I gonna chew a steak. Look--mouth's all swollen up, and my busted tooth trobs like hell.

    Ya did great today, Jake, even though ya lost, Babe Brearton commented. We'll get some oil of cloves at the drug store, and tell ya what, I'll even eat the steak for ya.

    Ryan patted Manoyan's shoulder. Never mind him, Jake, you can order a Salisbury steak. You've earned it.

    Whath in hell's that?

    What--Salisbury steak?

    Yeath.

    It's real sirloin steak ground up to look like hamburger.

    With peaths, mashed potatas and graby? Sure, if that's what you want.

    And thum desserth?

    You got it!

    I'll take it!

    Ryan gave each of his companions a five dollar bill. Put this in your wallets, so cops can't accuse you of vagrancy. The other twelve bucks'll go in the kitty for gas and food. Who wants to be treasurer?

    You got the money; you be treasurer, Brearton said and they all agreed.

    I'll put the kitty in the money clip and keep my own money in my billfold. Ryan concurred.

    Let's eat! Manoyan said as they approached their 1927 Whippet Six, sedan, now three years old, with wood spoke wheels, they had purchased before leaving New York. Who's got the car keys?

    I got one set. Brearton replied. Boomer you got the other?

    Boomer patted his trousers. Got 'em. You drive, Babe! I'm gonna nurse my wounds and relax.

    Sure, I'll drive, but someone else better steer. Where's the diner?

    It's not too far, Ryan replied. Hook a right as we get off the dock and follow the Beaumont sign. If you see a drug store, stop, and we'll get Jake some toothache drops.

    Beaumont? Manoyan held a hand to his face and yelled, I gotta wait 'til Beaumont?

    The Swede must've hurt ya bad. We don't go all the way to Beaumont, Ryan said. Diner's only a mile or two down the road. There's a gas station on the way where we can fill up, and I think I spotted a drug store when we came by this morning.

    Yeah, and I wanna watsh thup before we eat. I'm sweaty as hell, Manoyan lisped as he folded down the front seat back and climbed into the back seat with Ryan. Roll down all the windows and thee if we can catch thum cool air on da way.

    The Whippet six cylinder engine turned over on the first try. Top speed, nothing to write home about, the car could reach sixty miles per hour if the driver insisted, but the low geared engine gave it lots of pep for a quick pickup.

    We'll just about make it to a gas station. The fuel gauge says empty, Brearton warned as he pulled out.

    Mauers mopped his sweaty forehead and stuck his head out the window and commented, Breeze feels great.

    How'd ya like to be back at Lake Placid right about now? Ryan leaned his head against the back seat and teased. Cool breeze off Mirror Lake. Cool water for swimming. Cool nights for sleepin'

    "And broads too? Mauers asked.

    Lots of broads--Lake Placid's full of waitresses just waitin' for handsome guys like us. But, Boomer cautioned, Slicker you'll hafta stop chewin' those toothpicks all the time. You're gonna cut up some girl's lips when you kiss her.

    Yeah, but they also don't date guys with no jobs who are flat broke, Manoyan said pulling his pants pockets inside out.

    What the hell! We can always peddle apples on the street, Brearton replied.

    In July? Apples are out of season, Mauers corrected

    Apples my ass! Ryan countered. "We all agreed to work our way across the country and see the world--this is supposed to be our great adventure. We're supposed to be enjoyin' life and havin' fun. Look at Jake there! You havin' fun, Jake?

    Manoyan rubbed his swollen face, Oh, yeah, fun.

    Jake misses his mamma's cookin'--those eggs and spinach and shish kebob, Ryan said.

    Come to think of it, I could go for a plate of her eggs myself.

    If I could feel my mouff, it'd be waterin' like crazy, Manoyan added as he forced a tired smile.

    There's a drug store up ahead on the opposite side, Brearton said as he slowed and hand signaled a left turn. I'm pullin' over."

    'Better shut off the engine, Ryan suggested. Let me crawl over, Slicker, and see what I can get for Jake.

    No, Boomer--I'll go! It's too damn much trouble to crawl over the jump seat. Mauers said.

    Mauers returned in about ten minutes carrying a small white paper bag that he tossed in the back seat to Manoyan. The druggist said to take a piece of wax and ease it on the tooth's broken part. He says it should work in a few minutes.

    The medicinal odor of clove filled the car as Manoyan removed the bottle cap. Smells like a dentist's office. Well, here goeths, he said as he applied medicated wax to his broken tooth and the covered sharp edges. Feels better already and I can talk better too. Thanks, Slicker.

    It's okay, Jake. You earned it. Now for some gas and some food.

    Brearton resumed driving. Less than a mile down the road he read a sign aloud, Gas--six gallons for a dollar. That's for us, and right on time. Engine's startin' ta gasp.

    As Brearton pulled up to the pump, an attendant came out and inquired with a thick Texas accent, Regular or ethyl?

    Regular. Two dollars worth. The middle aged man asked, How's your oil?

    Don't know. Take a look! And, will ya see if ya can get the bugs off the windshield?

    You bet. The attendant cleaned the windshield and closed the hood after checking the oil. "Down

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