HOSTAGE!

Back in the summer of 1979 I was just out of high school. I was young and very restless and wanted to see the world. I took a job as a carnival worker for about five months, which gave me the opportunity to travel from one coast to the other. If I didn’t get to see the world, at least I would get to see this country. After returning to the East Coast, I settled in with a friend of mine in a trailer he owned and bought a motorcycle. Settled in is probably a poor choice of words. I was anything but settled. The crowd I started hanging around with were a bunch of hard partying street toughs whose only goals seemed to be to get high and get laid. At the time I seemed to fit right in. The only thing we all had in common was we were all very young and very restless.

My friend Roger who owned the trailer was not really a bad guy. He just seemed to know every bad guy in town. One of his associates was a guy named Jeff. Jeff was one of those guys who had more tattoos than teeth. He no doubt spent a good portion of his life locked up. Perhaps that was a good thing. Jeff had a huge attitude problem and his attitude seemed to enter the room about five minutes before him. He was only about two years older than me, but seemed to be so much worldlier in many ways, at least I thought so at the time. For some reason or another he took an almost immediate liking to me and we became buddies. This was certainly not something that could be viewed as a good career move on my part, but it seemed like the thing to do in the mind of one eighteen-year-old guy. Besides, women seemed to love him and he always seemed to have girls around. That was something I never quite figured out.

As the seventies came to a close, the three of us, Roger, Jeff and myself became somewhat inseparable. Three young men out of control would be an accurate description. At this time, I was a young man trying to find myself and was somewhat captivated by the seemingly worldly Jeff and his effect on women. Jeff was into things like drugs, Cocaine being his favorite. Since Roger and I were hanging out with him so often, we soon followed suit. This was the late seventies, after all. This resulted in three young men getting very high and very broke. We always seemed to be looking for money any way we could. Roger was the only one of us who had a steady job but his generosity had a definite limit. Jeff was way too cool for work and I was hoping to hang out on what I had saved from my carnie days until I went off to school the following year.

As the seventies turned into the eighties Jeff’s habits only seemed to escalate. Roger and I were right there with him, though not as bad. In order to bring in badly needed cash, Jeff turned to petty theft. This was something he was not unfamiliar with, but it was new to us. I have to say, I was a bit of a bad boy growing up but was never in a whole lot of trouble. In other words, I had never been locked up. I was Jeff’s partner in crime, literally. I have to admit I got a certain thrill from our relatively minor crimes, and like I said, we needed the money. It seemed though, that no matter what we stole and fenced, it was never enough. The money never lasted more than a few days. Having three people with a growing coke habit didn’t help the situation. I knew Jeff would come up with something, he always did. So, I guess what he came up with should not have surprised me in the least.

It was a Tuesday night if I recall. The three of us were sitting in the smallish kitchen of Roger’s trailer listening to ‘Whos Next’ on the stereo. Jeff spoke in a very serious tone.

“Let’s rob a bank.” He said frankly.

Roger and I glanced at each other in disbelief. Don’t they give time for that sort of thing, I thought? I could tell by Jeff’s expression that he was dead serious.

“I’ve been thinking about this.” He started, “It’s our only way out.”

He then picked up a brown paper bag from in the corner. He pulled out the contents one by one and laid them on the table. In the bag were two handguns. Each landed on the wooden kitchen table with a resounding thud. I could see the steel barrels glisten under the light of the bare bulb over the table as ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ played in the background.

I picked up one of the guns. It was a 38-caliber revolver. It felt heavy in my hand. I gripped the wooden handle and pointed the gun towards the door. Jeff let out a chuckle as Roger just looked on as if in a trance. The gun felt good, real good.

“What do you say Son?” Jeff was staring at me with one of his famous stares that seemed to go right through you.

I hesitated for a moment. Then I took a deep breath.

“I’m in.” The words just sort of came out of my mouth like someone else spoke them for me.

Roger just stared at me. I can’t imagine what was going through his mind. Then again maybe I can.

“You?” Jeff asked.

“Yea, I’m in too.” Roger said rather feebly.

The next couple of days we spent planning our heist. It was decided we would do this Friday morning. The bank would have extra cash on hand to handle the large number of people there to cash their paychecks. Roger would drive the getaway car. Jeff and myself would do the actual robbery. We chose a local bank that was near a major road so we would be able to exit the area swiftly. That time of the day should not be bad traffic wise.

That Thursday night, Jeff slept over in the trailer with Roger and myself. The reasoning was it would be easier for us to get going in the morning, but I think he did not want Roger and I talking to each other about it too much. After all, we might change our minds. We spent most of the evening drinking beer and playing cards. There was really not much conversation about it, all things considered. It was almost hard to believe we were three guys who would be bank robbers the next morning.

We went to bed that night, but not to sleep. I know I could barely sleep. I’m sure Roger felt the same.

The next morning finally arrived. I was tired but woke up fast when Jeff handed me my gun and ski mask. We all piled into Jeff’s old green Chevelle. Roger was at the wheel. I was extremely nervous as I fingered the handle on the 38, which I had put inside the ski mask. Nervous but excited like never before.

We arrived at the bank and my heart was racing a mile a minute. I could feel the surge of adrenaline flowing through my veins. Jeff told Roger one last time to circle the block once and then wait in front of the bank with the engine idling. Jeff and I then stepped out of the car. As soon as we closed the car doors we put on our ski masks and ran inside the bank.

“Don’t anyone move. This is a stick-up!” Jeff shouted loudly.

There was a murmur in the crowd. I could see the guard was an older gentleman who was barely awake in the corner.

Jeff started giving directions to the customers, ordering people here and there. All of a sudden the alarm went off.

“Fuck!” Jeff shouted.

The old security guard pointed his gun in Jeff’s direction.

“Don’t you move, Kid. I sounded the alarm. The police will be here any minute.” He said sternly.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Jeff said loudly.

All of a sudden Jeff grabbed a nearby customer and held her in front of him. She was a pretty girl in her thirties with short blonde hair. He then pointed the gun at her head. I instinctively found another young woman, a black haired beauty in her early twenties and did the same thing.

“Now what?” I asked Jeff.

“We just have to get the fuck out of here.” He answered.

Jeff backed out slowly towards the exit with his gun held to the head of his captive the whole time. Again, I repeated Jeff’s actions. The guard had his gun pointed in our direction the whole time as the alarm blared in the background.

We got outside just as Roger rounded the corner. We quickly opened the back door of the Chevelle and pushed the girls in the back seat with us.

“What the fuck happened?” Roger asked.

“Just get the fuck out of here.” Jeff shouted.

“You’re not going to hurt us?” One of the girls asked almost tearfully.

“Shut the fuck up!” Jeff shouted.

“Did you get the money?” Roger asked.

“Fuck!” Was all Jeff could say.

I sat in the back seat pondering the situation as I removed my ski mask. I had one hand on the gun as I fondled the mask in my other hand. No money, and now we have two hostages. Don’t they give time for this sort of thing? Oh yes, they certainly do.

“Head out to the Parkway. Southbound.” Jeff said with a sense of authority.

Jeff tried to remain calm, but I could tell he was a nervous wreck. One of the girls was starting to sob.

“What’s that way?” I could not help but ask.

“My aunt has a shore house in Point Pleasant. It’s empty this time of year.” He answered.

Jeff directed Roger as we got off the Garden State Parkway at exit 98. He ordered Roger to stop when we got into town.

“Put the masks on the girls.