Wecho’s cocked right

 



Wecho’s cocked right


   In most circumstances a family black sheep might be ignored or ostracized but for Greg his Uncle Al was a fascinating and loved figure. All of the five kids in John's family were raised on a dairy farm in Florence, part of Watts. When Al was small boy he was kicked in the face by a cow, losing an eye and suffering a disfigurement. This injury doomed him to abuse from his peers and a life on the fringes of sociey. While Al was highly intelligent he never reached the middle-class status of his siblings and often wiped his brow with the devil's kerchief. I cannot possibly scratch the surface of Al stories but he was a skilled street fighter and as one of his family said he walked around with his right hand cocked, ready to deck anyone who gave him any guff. His nickname was "Wecho" which is Mexican slang for a rambunctious and ornery kid. It literally means "rascal" and Al was every bit a wecho in his neighborhood and at his school. By the time I got to experience Al tobacco and beer had ravaged the man and his asthma almost crippled him. He drove beat up old cars, that he sometimes slept in and worked in factories around the southeast. Legend had it that he came to a 4th of July party on McNerney and when it came to affixing a pinwheel to the tree out front he pounded the nail into the wood with his fist. He was nice to the kids in the family and despite his rugged appearance he was liked and his humor was appreciated. At the end of his life he was living in the old neighborhood that had become a slum and was beaten up by a drunken relative of his girlfriend. His injuries proved fatal and his funeral was held appropriately at St. Aloyisius in Watts.




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