“Hyenas in the Night”

As I got to know more and more serious writers like Eddie(Resk), Little-Man, Reas, Pure, Rize, Wane, Kano, Nel-One and Eps Tc5, I hung out out less and less with my F.K. boys from 175th street. During my days with them, we had taken complete control of the 175th street lay-up. The yard just wasn’t a safe place for other graffiti writers.

Lucky writers were able to escape, running for their lives upon the sight of 15 upwards to 30 little hyenas and jackals, looking to cause trouble for anyone caught in the yard.

Unlucky ones got caught, humiliated and sometimes worst. Dint F.K. caught a writers putting up tagged up stickers in the train station and placed his own stickers across his mouth and over his eyes. We made him sit on the platform bench and watched, entertained at the the sight of commuters passing the guy, staring at him, either amused or confused.

We often stripped kids and made fun of their genitals. Somebody always decided to spraypaint the poor guy’s penis, testicles and sometimes even his anus. The kid was sent home naked.

The rude and arrogant who foolishishly felt invincible were left to find their way to the emergency room to either get snitched up or have a cast plastered over one of their limbs.

We were a savage bunch with little compassion or empathy for others. The fact that we were underground in the tunnels, away from the eyes of society gave us a perverse sense of justification for our actions. If you were doing graffiti inside the lay-up that meant you were breaking the law. If you were breaking the law that meant you must have been an outlaw. If you were an outlaw that meant you must have thought you were a bad motherfucker and these were just some of the things that came with the territory of being an outlaw or bad motherfucker as far as we were concerned.

One Sunday afternoon, three of our smallest members found us hanging out at “Jew” park on 175th street and Fort Washington Avenue. They announced that they had just gotten vamped by three members of a crew called M.S.K. The guys drom the Manhattan Subway Killers sents the little ones back with a message. “M.S.K. were taking over 175th Street lay-up.”

No less that 30 of us charged into the train station, jumping over the turnstiles and flooded into the tunnels. We were all efficient in getting around them like if they were the street. I learned how to run swiftly along the tracks, using the balls of my feet to land on every fourth track, without having to look down. We all rushed into the lay-up to find nothing but the tags and throw-ups left bhind by the M.S.K.’s.

We watched out for the crew daily, most of us strapped with knives and machetes, but their weren’t any evidence or signs that they had been around. We predicted that they would return the following Sunday. We would be ready.

M.S.K. came on the graffiti scene strong in 83 and 84. The prominent membere were Dia-One, Magnum, his girlfriend Shorty Shock, Two-New, K.C. and Sak. Because of Sak they were loosely associated with The Nasty Boys, T-Kid’s crew. M.S.K. bombed the insides and did a respectable amount of end to end productions on the one line. They were older kids in their late teens and came from the next neighborhood above Washington Heights, the Dykeman/Inwood area.

They had major beef with Jon-One, Flite, West-One and the First Class crew, all people I would later on in life become friends with. One time I went to an opening of a art show that featured Jon, Flite and West with some writers from my block, Skee-One and Mec. M.S.K. showed up and Two-New fought with Jon-One. Jon-One was unfairly outmatched by the obviously more powerful and aggressive Two-New who was said to have been recently discharged from the Marines. The fight was heartbreaking to watch. Even though I didn’t know Jon-One at the time, I could see that he was a sweet, friendly, peaceful guy. I remember feeling pissed off at the injustice of it all.

Sunday arrived and we waited for the M.S.K.’s inside the trains and sure as clockwork, the same three members arrived. All were much taller and bigger kids than most of us, especially one called Ram. It was too many of us and they cooperated. We relieved them of their graffiti supplies, jackets and sneakers and sent them back to Dykeman with a kick in each one of their ass’es. We went about our business, foolishly thinking it was over.

That week I was called over by Little Jose,the leader of the Playboys from my block. He coincidently was involved with Shorty Shock’s sister.

“I heard you and your little graffiti friends vamped some M.S.K.’s cats in the yard.”

I proudly confirmed.

“Y’all know they’re planning to come back and fuck all you niggas up.”

“They’re not fucking anybody up!”

“You’re just a bunch of little kids. What the fuck do you know. You just came out your house. I remember when you were a little punk. You’re still a little punk. Thoise guys are men!”

Little Jose’s comments stunned, but I knew that he was very unaware of what I had become or the damage my boys were capable of doing. I behaved myself on my block. Elsewhere, I was a very different person.

“Little Jose, trust me and this is word on my mothers...those motherfucker aren’t fucking any of us up.”

“You’re fucking delusional. Your little punk friends have no win, but you can’t say I didn’t tell you.”

I went back to 175th street to report what M.S.K. had planned. We knew that they hung out at night in the school yard of Junior High School 52 at Dykeman and Broadway. We weren’t going to wait for them to come to us. We were going to them that night. We all went home to get as many weapons as we could get our hands on. Because we all were walking to Dykeman, everything had to be concealed. Bats, chains and the obvious would not do. I snuck out my cousin’s 357 magnum. Some of the others had guns as well. I spoke to them.

“If we have to shoot any of them, we got to shoot them in the knees. Cripple those motherfuckers. We can’t shoot to kill. I don’t want to do life. Fuck that shit! Okay?”

Fortunately, all agreed with my logic. We all left 175th street and headed uptown. Washington Heights had a lot of little crews from different blocks that were all friendly with one another. We left 175th street with about 30 kids and every other block, we picked up 5 or 10 more kids from crews like Wild Creation and City Boys. By the time we arrived on Dykeman street, their were no less than 70 of us. All excited, ready to kill. We entered the school yard of J.H.S. 52 and sure enough there were Dia-One, Magnum, Shorty Shock and Two-New sitting on a ledge like ducks, smoking blunts and drinking 40’s. I was the only one who knew what they looked like and confirmed that it was indeed them. Shorty Shock knew who I was from Little Jose on my block. She appealed to me to squash the beef.

“Nah ma, I can’t do that. But don’t worry, we ain’t going to do anything to you. But your boyfriend there...”

Magnum looked terrified as I spoke.

“...is getting fucked up tonight.”

We closed in on them. Dia-One pleaded.

“Wait, wait up!”

Disco told us to chill a minute to hear him out. I didn’t like all this talking stuff. It was bullshit to me to give Dia-One a chance to talk his way out of this.

“Fuck that shit, Disco. What are you doing?”

“Chill!”

Dia-One suggested that Two-New fight any one of us. To me that defeated the purpose of showing up the way we did. Two-New was a man with a five o’clock shadow and built like a body-builder. I was sure that he could fuck any one of us up. Only a few of us actually had a chance. One of them being me. I didn’t want the fight but before I could protest, Disco agreed. I sucked in my breath, think how I was going to approach the fight. Two-New was short and stocky like me. I would have a hard time body slamming him because the leverage wasn’t to my advantage. He could surely punch harder than me. I decided the only way I would win was to do something drastic like trying to bite his face off. Disco nodded to me to take the fight. I passed Disco my gat.

Two-New and I squared off, but a kid named Razo intervened.

“Let me get this, Psycho.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Nah, let me get this one.”

Razo was a skinny but wirey kid who was known for his break dancing. He was very swift and agile. He almost always had a pleasant demeanor about him and wasn’t known for fighting. I think this concerned most of us. I know it did me. But I was happy to let Razo to take on the fight. The second I saw he was having a hard time, I intended to put one in Two-New’s ass.

Two-New and Razo faced off. Two-New looked overconfident. Razo looked intensely focused on what he was doing. I turned my head for a second to tell Zook and Dint to get ready to attack. I heard the slam and the “ooohs and ahhhs.” I looked and Two-New was on his back. Razo had body slammed him. Two-New’s own boy’s were shocked. Razo allowed him to get back up. In less than a minute, Two-New found himself on his back again. Even Shorty Shock laughed. He got up and charged Razo. Razo just went low and scooped him and slammed him right on his back again. Two-New gave up.

“You got that! You got that, money!”

Razo allowed him to get up.

“Squash the beef!”

Dia and Magnum congratulated Razo, Disco, Zook and I on our victory and we all shook hands. We retreated into the night. We all knew our places in the graffiti food chain. Yeah, we were all pretty much toys, but we demanded respect and knew how to take it when necessary.

Posted on October 16, 2007 at 09:51 AM   |   Previous Entry   |   Next Entry   |   Entry List   |   Email Entry   |    Digg

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