1973 - The Neighbors

I was an observer during the drug-years. I was close to the edge of that culture and, to the concern of many, it was the inside edge. As I've mentioned previously there were drug years that are far behind me. But even then I was disciplined enough to know "bad" from "evil."

1973 – The Neighbors

“Thunk…thunk…thunk” It was a hollow sound that was clearly reminiscent of someone bouncing a watermelon on a sidewalk. Even though Yes’ “Closer to the Edge” was on the stereo at a fairly high volume the sound cut right through the music. I sat back and took a hit off the joint passed to me by my roommate. As I held my breath my roommate said, “Uh, man, did you hear that?” With a puzzled look and held breath I glanced in his direction and squeezed out, “Yeah.”

Bill and I arose together and strode to the window in our little second-floor North Park apartment that overlooked our stairway & the steps and front yard of our downstairs neighbor’s little rental house. We didn’t socialize with this pair, named Jim and Howie, very much as they were not in our circle of friends or anyone with whom either of really cared to socialize. They were mostly dirty and unkempt working on their Harleys on the middle of the living room rug and dealing their choice of drugs throughout the nights and sleeping most days. Our limited interaction included a conversation regarding their drug of choice, speed, and the fact that they were mainliners…they preferred to inject their drug of choice. We made it clear we were not interested in traveling this path but as long as they caused us no trouble we would stay good neighbors. They pretty much kept to themselves and were quiet, if unconventional, neighbors. Sometime after that in attempt to be neighborly we invited Jim and his roommate to dinner. They showed up exactly in-time and ate pretty much without comment with Howie leaving immediately after finishing without ever speaking. After Howie left Jim excused himself to the bathroom immediately off the living room. I thought nothing of it and began to remove dishes from the living room into the kitchen when I noticed Jim had not closed the door completely. If he had been near the commode he would not have been visible but from his position in front of the sink it was clear that he was tying off his arm for what could only be an injection of some substance… probably a distinctly illegal substance because, as far as I knew, Jim was not diabetic and I don’t believe insulin was “cooked” in a spoon. He had the gall to shoot up in my apartment! I snapped and slammed the door open yelling “What the hell is going on here!?!!” Ignoring the fact that he was a good 6-foot tall and with a normally unpleasant disposition I grabbed him by the collar and jerked him towards our apartment door. When he made token resistance I made a grab at his pants as my hand tangled in his disgusting shirt as he tried to turn around in response to my exclamation. I have no idea how I did it but I virtually picked up Jim who was a good 8-inches taller than me and 75 pounds heaver. He felt weightless in my hands as I tossed him toward the door. I pulled the door open and thrust him through almost causing his fall down the stairs. “Stay the fuck out of here!” I yelled at his retreating back.

Now, a couple of weeks later, Bill and I stared down at Jim and Howie’s front porch at the sight unfolding before us. The thunk…thunk sound had been the sound made by Howie’s head bumping against the concrete stairs as Jim dragged Howie out of the front door by his feet. As we watched Jim retrieved the garden hose and turned the water on which he directed toward Howie’s face. We were not interested in getting involved but as we watched water pour onto Howie’s face a blue line crept up his bare chest and we realized he was drowning. Jim stood above him with eyes at half-mast, hose held loosely in his hand. He paid no attention to his friend except to keep the water directed onto his face. Bill and I sprinted for the stairs. As we hit the door we saw that Chris & Kat, our “up-front” neighbors had arrived with their dates from last night and were trying to talk to Jim. Jim was barely there mentally and did not respond. As we reached the bottom of the stairs Christine grabbed the hose and directed the spray away from Howie who was now lying on his back with eyes staring up and a substantial amount of vomit and spit covering his untrimmed, bearded face. Kat crouched near Howie’s head. The color of blue deepened as Bill and I arrived in the circle of people now gathered around Howie. Jim had casually left the group to retrieve two trays of ice which he threw into the front yard ignoring us and the gathered crowd. “What the hell?” I asked. Kat’s date said junkies and the like often kept their stash already divided into desired amounts and then mix them with water and freeze this into ice cubes for easy use. As Jim had probably noticed when Chris said she was going in to call emergency. I assumed that Jim, knowing cops would soon be on the scene decided to get rid of the evidence. Kat looked up, seeing me for the first time. “Oh, good,” she said, “Larry’s here. He used to work in a hospital. He’ll know what to do.” She stood to make room for me. Everyone moved back one step. I had no idea what I was supposed to do but it suddenly looked like it was going to be up to me to make that determination. They all stood in a circle and watched.

I looked down at Howie. He clearly needed mouth-to-mouth. I was clearly not going to get my mouth anywhere near his disgusting orifice. Sorry Howie, but you would be dead before I resorted to this tactic. I rolled him onto his side and asked Bill to elevate his feet at bit. As soon as his feet came off the ground water spilled lazily out of his mouth. I began pounding on his back saying “Come on, buddy, come on…come on…” Howie coughed. Water spewed from his still blue mouth. He coughed again and fell back flat, color returning immediately. His eyes immediately closed and he took one deeply labored breath and his breathing stopped again, as we watched a blue line started up his chest almost like someone was invisibly painting him a deep blue. I pulled him back onto his side and began pounding again. “Come on you bastard, come on.” A cough. More water sprayed from his lips and he began to breathe, the wet breaths bubbling out of foamed lips. We heard sirens approaching and relaxed knowing help was on the way. As we heard them come to a screeching stop in the alley behind the house Howie again fell back giving a weak cough and once more stopped breathing. The blue line began its journey up his chest. I again flipped him on his side and began pounding on his back as strange footsteps approached. I urgently wanted to leave as I was uncomfortably aware that I was probably reeking of marijuana and didn’t want to run into any representatives of the law community. Looking out of hooded eyes I noticed sharply-creased kaki pant legs standing next to me and another pair across from me. These were not the legs of an ambulance driver…they were going to be the legs of a San Diego police officer as soon as I looked up.

The legs across from me bent and the officer dropped into a crouch that reflected my own stance over Howie. I looked up. Hey! Alright! It was Hal! My stench was forgotten as I said “Hal, how’re you doing?” “Larry!” the officer replied. Hal and I had been in the Navy together. He had gotten out just a few months before me so it had been well over a year and a half since we spoken. “Larry! How are you?” He laughed. We shook hands over Howie’s prone body.

“What’s the story here?” Hal asked. “I think we may have an overdose here I think,” was my reply. “He’s stopped breathing a couple of times but I think he’s more stable now.” Howie lay unconscious between us now breathing easily. EMT’s arrived and a gurney was lowered. Howie was lifted aboard. As they tightened the last strap across his chest he shook his head and opened his eyes. “What the fuck!” He tried to sit up. “What the hell is going on!?!!” he shouted while trying to free an arm. Hal’s partner grabbed at Howie’s arm and held it tight while the gurney was lifted to full height. They disappeared around the corner as they headed for the ambulance. Hal left shortly thereafter saying we needed to get together some time…of course, we didn’t.

As a footnote this incident was never mentioned by either Jim or Howie. I guess they weren’t very happy. I continue to wait on Howie for a “thank-you for saving my life.”

I’m not holding my breath.