Street Battles A Mother's intuition protects a son from harm, Jocko who was a small blond kid, lived with his mom on Wellington Street in Pointe St.Charles. He attended many Golden Glove contest along with his friends either at the Griffintown Boy's Club situated on Ottawa Street or the 79th. Battery in Pointe St.Charles. A tall man, named Collette who lived just around the corner from Jocko, was helping at the gym when he saw Jocko shadow boxing. He wanted to teach him a lesson I guess, so he called Jocko over, and asked if he would like to spar with another boxer, and he replied sure. He did not tell him that the boxer was a golden glove champion. Jocko was a bundle of nerves, with his dukes ready to go, he faced the young boy of same age and weight. The fight lasted three rounds, and Jocko gained a tremendous amount of respect as he not only kept Michael away from him, but threw enough punches to gain a victory, even if it was just a sparring match. It was this match that pushed Jocko into getting the sanction form, and asking his mom to sign so that he could join Cliff Sowery's stable. In Cliff Sowery, Jocko would have the best trainer in the area, a disciplinarian, a Father figure he missed so much and although he would have done extremely well competing in the Golden Gloves, his biggest opponent would be his mom. Considering that his mom was not well, spoke French only, let alone read the English sanction form Jocko brought home from the boxing club. Her insight on this matter was certainly influence by an Angel. A Mother knows best, and it did not matter that she could not read the sanction form, Mothers have that sixth sense, that ability to decide between right and wrong when her child is involved. Jocko, honoured is mom decision, even though he could have gotten the sanction form signed by a friend. One of his buddies at the time Marcel Bellefeuile who represented Canada in the Olympics, wanted Jocko to get involved, and together challenge the world, but it was not to be. There world of organized boxing was replaced by the occasional scrap at the corner store, the battle's in the school yard, the gang fight along the Lachine Canal bank, the street confrontation question of do you speak French or English? and even a possible new club headed by Billy Linkutis with Jocko as one of the fighters. Life continued for Jocko, and on this beautiful day, Jocko who liked school to a certain degree, was escorted to St.Charles Catholic school, a French school on Centre street, by his mom, and just before entering the school yard, Jocko's mom decided to buy him some candies, and then leave him at the gate. That was fine and dandy, and Jocko walked straight over to the fence splitting the French school from the English school, and watched as the English kids played in the yard. He was not liked by the French kids because he associated more with the English kids, and even Jocko wondered why he was at this school rather than St.Gabriel's next door. Before the bell rang, Jocko was standing with his back next to a wall, beside the school yard door. He wondered if he should skip school today, when three French boy's came over to him, and started teasing him, calling him names. He asked that they leave him alone, but they insisted on calling him names, and now began pushing at him, daring him to defend himself. It did not take long, and before you knew it, the French boy's were in for the scrap of their young lives, as Jocko pounded some since into their heads. It was only a matter of minutes before these three little boys backed off realizing, that the curly headed blond kid with a baseball cap could take care of himself. Unfortunately, the schoolyard scuffle cost Jocko a visit to the principle's office. The principle's office became Jocko's second classroom, because more often than not, Jocko would be sent down to the principle's office for punishment, and of course the strap across his rear end. It got so out of hand, that at one point the principle told Jocko, to just yell out, as he hit the wooden cabinet. Jocko could never figure out why, he was so chippy, and unruly around teachers not to mention puzzling the truant officers who had to pursue this little jackrabbit of a kid. The system at St.Charles for students with an attitude meant that, you stood outside the classroom door, until a priest walking the corridors would pass, and he would deliver you to the principle's office. On this occasion the priest grabbed Jocko's ear, and the little blond kid was not too happy. You see, if nobody saw Jocko being delivered to the Principle's office, the method was fine, but the fact that other kids would see him being dragged by the ear, created an attitude, and in order to show his displeasure towards this priest, he stomped on his toe, and ran off, out from the school, through the yard, and down St.Patrick Street towards home, to his favourite hiding place to cool off. Back in the neighbourhood, Jocko decided to spend some time at the tireshop, the owner Mr. Paquette was his landlord, and Jocko would do all the errands for the employees at the shop, and get some coins. The owner who called Jocko "Poshton", saw Jocko's face, and asked what happened?, just a few scratches, sir, from a school yard fight. It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, when one of the workers asked, if Jocko would go to the corner store for a Pepsi, and a package of cigarette, sure thing, he replied. As he walked towards Barlock's, the corner store, he considered his predicament, first his mom tonight, she works late most nights and he knew by staying out a bit later, there is a good chance she would be too tired and in bed. Tomorrow morning is another matter, she would often walk Jocko to school, just to be with him, and he was very much aware that the principle's would have his spies looking for Jocko, especially the priest with a sore toe. Therefore, the plan was to leave the house early, and walk over to the Canal bank until the coast is clear, and forget about school all together. This whole episode created another dilemma, truant officer would come searching for Jocko, and the first place on their agenda is home, but fortunately, no one is home, first because his mom works all day, and into the night and second it's rare that Jocko sticks around. But, it did happen that a truant officer eyed Jocko coming out from Carney's Park, and the chase was on, but this officer needed the hoofs of a Gazelle, for Jocko possessed speed to waste and knew the area like the back of his hand, he traced his way pass St.Patrick Street, through the yard's of Bridge Street, right a few feet down St.Agnes Lane, another right behind the shed's, lightly ruffling the rhubarb patch, and through a hole into Devaney's shed. Once inside the shed, he had the wheel barrow as a shield, and a lost truant officer needing oxygen. Talking about truant officers, in the same neighbourhood lived Leo Mell, a truant officer by profession, and well respected by all who lived in the area. Leo also organized minor sports for the community, and when this man spoke, we listen. A friend approached us one day, and informed us that Leo Mell wanted to speak not only to Jocko, but also Richard and that it was important, please go over to his house on St.Columban Street. Off they went, down Wellington Street to Leo's home wondering what now? Ringing the doorbell, they heard someone coming down the stairs, and opening the door was Leo Mell. We both said, you want to see us, Mr. Mell? Yes, and I have an interesting proposal for both of you, and please listen carefully, sure thing Mr.Mell, anything you say. We have two opening in Florida for apprentice Jockey's, and we recommend that both of you accept this offer. Jocko and Richard both looked at each other, what's an apprentice Jockey Mr.Mell?, it's young men being trained to become horse Jockey's at race tracks in the United States. What do you say, no Mr.Mell, we want to stay around here with our friends. Are your sure?, you guy's have the perfect built, solid wrist's and you have the toughness to succeed. No Mr.Mell, but thanks. Although Richard had a Father and Mom to confide in, Jocko only had his Mom, and she would reject any notion to leave home, let alone travel to Florida. What a mistake! When your small in stature, you tend to be picked on, which was the case with Jocko but he had a safety valve beyond most young kids. He had an adrenalin surge far greater than most kids, and just like a wild animal caught in a corner, if you want to capture this guy, you better be ready for the consequences. Jocko did not look for scraps, they just followed him around, like one Saturday morning while standing at the door of the corner store, the milk truck pulls up, and a young boy senior to Jocko, walks towards the store entrance, and whacks Jocko's friend Andrew's leg with his metal carrier of twelve quart bottles. Andrew yells some nasty's towards the young man who turns on Andrew, but Andrew could not fight his way out of a wet paper bag, so Jocko grabs the milkman by his shoulder, turns him around, and before he could lift a hand, he was heading back towards the side of the truck with a bloody nose. Now the driver of the milk truck jumps from his truck, and heads towards a much younger boy than his helper laying on the sidewalk, and to his surprise, he receives a few blows to the stomach, before Jocko and his sore legged buddy hustle towards St.Agnes Lane. Jocko headed home, and cried that morning, feeling so sorry about what he had just done, he felt good that he protected his friend Andrew, but felt bad. Would Jocko be so tough, if he had a normal childhood. Jocko was not even six years old when his Dad passed away, what about his mom, who worked so hard to pay the weekly rent, she came home late each day never paying attention to the little blond kid sleeping on his cot in the corner. He was on his own, even though he had two sisters and two brothers, they were long gone. He enjoyed being the only man in the house, and whenever he had a chance he would bring home food. There was a day when he was eleven years old, he was playing ball at the park when it started raining, they decided to leave the park and head home, when they approached a truck in the parking lot across from the Arawana Club, one of his buddies Jackie tossed aside the tarpaulin at the back of the truck, and inside was a load of meats, buckets of lard, among other delicious adult stuff, we boosted Mickey onto the truck, so that he could pass down some of the products, of which Jocko got a roll of bologna, what a prize, enough for a month of sandwiches. Jocko ran towards home, up the backstairs, and pitched the roll of bologna threw the broken window into the house, and left immediately towards Farm Street as if nothing happened. That night he felt great, because when he did get home, his mom had taken a piece of bologna but never asked how it got there. Jocko lived in an area that was mostly Irish, Polish, Ukrainians, English, and French of course. When you walked outside your area towards St.Henri for instance, there was a good chance, if a kid coming from the opposite end did not like your face, he would ask you, do you speak French or English? It's your call at this point, and Jocko had an advantage, being slightly bilingual at this stage of his life, and depending on the size of the opponent, he could say either/or, but in most cases he would avoid any confrontation with another English boy, why? Who know's? One Wednesday evening while hanging out on Bridge Street, we could hear Rick Punkusky yelling down from St.Patrick Street, waving to come his way. At the time, Bill Linkutis, Moe Miller, Tim Clahane, Devaney, and Jocko all started running towards Rick, come on he kept yelling, these guy's pushed me against the fence he said. What guy's, those French guy's he said pointing to a gang up ahead. Were outnumbered major league, as we catch up to them just off the Canal bank next to the sugar plant on Richardson Street. Rick is a fighter, Devaney can do some damage, Linkutis is five years our senior, and a south paw to boot. You can see that some of the guy's from St.Henri are willing, and others are just wishing we would go away. All the yelling created the shift workers from the sugar plant to peak out the window, and watch what was about to turn into a brawl along the Canal Bank. Let the games begin, because Rick was not about to let these guy's push him into a fence without some action, so he checks for the boy who did the shoving, and the rest pick a partner, as the workers in the sugar plant are now enjoying every minute of this battle, as a matter of fact they were making more noise than we were. Possibly some side bet's were being waged?. We got the edge almost immediately when Linkutis broke his opponent nose drawing first blood, Jocko nailed the second boy coming down the alley, while Rick floored his boy, and each time we would win a scrap another boy would run away. Meanwhile, another French boy was thrown into the Canal, by Devaney. Jocko had his second boy by the scuff of the neck, against a steel fence, when his buddy Moe Miller, behind decides to swing at the boy, missing him, and whacking Jocko on the back of the head. We got a tremendous round of applause from the Sugar Plant workers, as the St.Henri gang ran off with a few headaches, bleeding lips not to mention a few shiners. Just another night on the streets. The best fight Jocko ever encountered was not a street fight, or a sparring session in the gym, it was a battle behind the Arawana Club. There was a patch of asphalt, with just about enough light to walk about, but on this night, the best little scrap this side of Boston took place. Don't ask how many rounds it lasted, but it was long, and not a spectator in sight. Doug Carney a friend from griffintown and Jocko decided to put on the gloves. From Clahane's hallway Jocko picked up the set of boxing gloves which Doug used, and Jocko used the oversize working mitts with socks in them. We faced each other just outside the window of the Arawana Club, if patrons were looking, they certainly didn't leave this scrap, because it did not stop, and the longer we fought the harder we punched. Doug had a head of cement, and although he was red, Jocko was glowing, because Doug connected with some hard blows. We must have blasted each other for a good thirty to forty minutes non stop, when we called it quits. We returned the gloves, and walked over to the corner store without a peep, exhausted, and both drank two Pepsi's, that how thirsty we were. Not a word between us, just a look of satisfaction that we did not hurt each other. The funniest incident involving Jocko, Tim, Moe, Andrew, and Jackie came about, when Bill Linkutis wanted to produce our own boxing club, but we did not have a proper building, so we decided that we would use Moe Miller's backyard and build a boxing ring. Moe, and Tim had shovels, so they began digging the holes, Mrs. Miller's spots us working away, what in hell are you doing Moe, nothing ma, were just trying something new, we will make sure that the yard is back to normal later. Meanwhile Andrew, and Jackie are searching for wood, and by the time five o'clock came around we had wooden post in place, but they certainly were not round, but rather planks of wood of all dimensions, funny looking, but interesting. We need ropes to complete the ring. Andrew, say's I have an Idea, let's take the clothes lines from across the street, but, that's were you live, I know that, just don't take my mom's line, great idea. We all went home for dinner, and returned before darkness, and drew a plan, we get upon the roof, and cut the clothesline, one spotter, while others below, take the ropes towards Geary's backyard for the time being, and then together we take all the ropes into Moe's shed. Once our mission was completed, we headed for Hector's corner store for a pepsi, and sat on the front steps waiting for an accident to happen. The following day, after school, it was time to place the ropes around the ugliest looking ring post a boxing ring could ever have. The whole gang was present except Andrew, it did not take long, we had so many clotheslines, that we were able to place at least two lines per level, and we still had a few left. At this point we needed boxing gloves, In is hallway Tim Clahane had one pair of boxing gloves, and a pair of oversize workmen's glove, which we stuffed with sock's so that we could have a boxing match. Still no Andrew, and we felt kind of bad, after all it was is idea to take the clothesline. We decided to start our training program, Bill Linkutis would be the trainer, and Jocko would be the pugilist in training. Jocko takes the boxing gloves, while Bill puts on the oversize gloves and stuff's them with socks. From upstairs, Mrs. Miller's call Moe, come up here, I want to talk to you. Bill enters into the ring followed by Jocko, bill starts giving instruction, I'm a southpaw, so make sure that you move around the ring to your left, stay away from my left and powerful hand. Jab, jab, and jab some more, always keep your opponent away. Are you ready, sure let's go at it, wait a minute, what's wrong Jocko, your punching too hard, yeah what about this, and whacks jocko so hard that he lands against the rope, and the whole ring collapses. It took three friends to unravel Jocko from the ropes, leaving everybody in stitches, and the end of a boxing club. We never saw Andrew and Moe the rest of the day, but we did find out that when Andrew's neighbours came out the next day to hang up their laundry to dry, only his mom had her clothesline, and they approached her en-masse wondering why?.
Copyright © 2000 Jock Pichette |