Reggie what you doing with that bag on your head

 

Reggie what you doing with that bag on your head





Just a story of a dumb ass criminal that circulated among the fellas over the years. It involves a former NBA player who made some very bad choices and squandered his talent and money. Reggie "Bad Boy" Harding was one of the very first kids to jump from high school directly into the NBA where he played for the Detroit Pistons in the mid-1960's. At 7-feet tall with superior athleticism he was one of the best centers in the league that featured Wilt, Bill Russell, Walt Bellamy and Nate Thurman. Yet, Reggie was a bad seed and could not stay away from drugs and his criminal friends in Detroit. Because of his extraordinay height he got away with rapes and robberies that should have put him away for life.He ended up back in a ghetto with a heroin habit and a bad reputation by the late 60's. Harding ended up doing two years in the pententiary and when released he walked into a gas station in his neighborhood he had robbed twice before with a shopping bag on his head with two holes cut in it for eyes. The clerk seeing a 7-foot man enter with wearing a paper bag "disguise" said "Reggie what you doing with that bag on your head?" The larcenous "Bad Boy" answered cluelessly "It's not me!" The guy could not read and probably would be considered mentally challenged by today's standards. He was passed through school because of his basketball talents. College was out of the question but the Pistons drafted him in 1963 after he played with some semi-pro teams to stay in shape during a time when the pros had to give players the chance to get an education. He stayed in the league for four years but was suspended for one and never stopped being a criminal. Several times he pulled guns out of his equipment bag and threatened teammates and even a GM.  By 1972 and prison behind him he spent most of his time hanging around the streets drinking out of a paper bag and doing any drugs he could get his hands on. A street argument in east-side Detroit escalated and he was shot twice in the head and killed. 




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Paul Knowlton's White Lotus

Image
 Paul Knowlton's White Lotus \      It is ironic that this post is titled something that means nothing to the protagonist. Paul, Zeke, "the Prince," "Senor Suerte" or the Snail (I never called him that.) My old pal just created a memorable vacation on the island of Oahu where the mean old world was a far off nightmare and the closest thing to stress was choosing which kind of massage you would request. Paul was the second friend in my life and we grew up about a block away from each other. We were Catholic boys and loved sports that created a bond lasting seventy years. This connection continued from grammar school to High School, to Community College to University. We were roomates from 1968 to 1972 and our families had a solid respect for one another. Paul grew up in a family of nine kids at a tract house in South Gate when the common man lived the American dream. Then again with 11 mouths to feed the American dream can only stretch so far. It is a cliche but ...
Read more

alright mother

Image
  alright mother- “You can find poetry in your everyday life, your memory, in what people say on the bus, in the news, or just what’s in your heart.” —Carol Ann Duffy  Greg was always delighted by a story told by his mother in law about a "sortie" dinner party attended by a Doctor "Putty" Putnam who had been forced to attend an opera by his wife. When asked by a clueless guest if he enjoyed the opera, his response was  "fuck you!" When I was visiting Bear Cove and sitting next to the matriarch Greg goaded her into telling the tale. But a rum n' coke had loosened "Minnie's" tongue and when she got to Putty's answer she blurted a rather hard FUCK YOU!  Roy, hearing his bride curse thusly said across the table "Alright mother!"
Read more

Athletic Club Flower shop

Image
  Athletic Club Flower shop      This phrase is actually the telephone greeting at Greg's uncle Johnny Tassano's flower shop at 808 W. 8th street near Flower street in downtown L.A. Greg loved the place and culled many a story and line from his experiences at a place he worked and visited fondly. Even when he wasn't employed he drove around with cousin Kent (Kevin Smith) and they had a ball observing the absurdities of modern living in the Southland. The phone was answered by different employees and each had a unique turn of "Athletic Club...flowershopppp" There was owner John Tassano, right-hand man Ronald P. Lord, "Speed," a delivery man, and Carmen who cut flowers and told odd anecdotes such as the origin of pizza. I believe Greg and Kevin could go on for weeks about the people they met on their deliveries as they set forth across the city of the angels to spread floral joy. This might include places to eat, fascinating neighborhoods, cemeteries, lone...
Read more