Chapter 3

Uh-oh, the local breweries now knew of Hernandez’s foray into their territory, and they had thugs present to “discourage” him, and not too gently. We had hardly entered the saloon with me carrying the case of free samples when we were approached by two burly and belligerent thugs who announced in a very loud voice that, “NO GREASERS ARE ALLOWED!”

Hernandez nodded to me, and I set the case of beer down on the bar. The bartender immediately read the label and snatched it down behind the bar. I turned to the two men and said, “Come, Gentlemen, this is a free country, and you cannot deny this gentlemen entrance to a public facility.”

“Get your ass out of here, you Greaser-lover. Free country only applies to good Americans.” With that statement, he pushed my shoulder to encourage me to move. That was what I was waiting for.

I had my club on a simple hook so it was easy to lift from my belt and get it into action. I poked the man who had pushed me in the solar plexus hard enough to have considerable effect. He bent over and I clipped him on the back of the head just hard enough to knock him unconscious. He fell at my feet, and I stepped back a couple of steps to be sure I had maneuvering room.

The other thug had pulled a knife and tried to stab me in the gut. Fortunately, I was just out of reach. That effort to kill me was just too much, so I hit him over his left ear very hard with the ball on the end of my club. As hard as I swung and the extra 18 inches of reach provided by the handle made the strike on the thug’s head a death blow.

I turned to Hernandez and said, “Sorry, Boss, but I could not help myself when he tried to kill me. At least, the other one is still alive.”

“Do not worry about it, Orville. I could see the position that you were in, and I am glad that you took care of the situation so efficiently. Thank you.

“Mr. Orthant, I am sorry to have this take place in your establishment. If you wish, my employee and I will leave and come back another day.”

“Hell, no, Mr. Hernandez! I want to thank you both for ridding me of two troublemakers that I was too cowardly to take care of myself. They were the only reason that I was still buying from that brewery, and now I am free to deal with anybody I want to. Speaking of that, how quickly can you make delivery on 48 cases of your Mexicali Delight? Of course, I am joking, but I cannot help thinking that beer is just too good to be legal!

“If that beer sells as well as I expect it to, I will be increasing my order in the very near future.”

We all laughed at that, and the negotiation started for the 48 cases to be delivered tomorrow. The price was set at 96¢ per case of 24 bottles, and the bartender winced at the price, but he agreed to it, and we all shared a beer from bottles from the sample case. I only drank half of mine, but the swamper finished it off, and the look on his face was something to see.

The owner agreed to dispose of the body, and the other thug was chased out of the saloon by the swamper waving a mop. We left to visit our next saloon with my boss carrying a big smile.

The next place was another saloon which did not offer Mexican beer. The owner/bartender was such a disagreeable person that Hernandez left in a hurry without leaving the sample case of Mexicali Delight. That was going to be the owner’s loss. He was acting that way because he was prejudiced against anyone of Mexican heritage. This place was scratched off our list until it had a new owner.

The place we visited next was very nearly a repeat of the first saloon we visited that morning. This time, there were three thugs there to greet us, and the owner/bartender was hiding behind the bar. One of the thugs said, “We heard about you. Get out before there is trouble.”

Hernandez said, “We are not leaving until I talk to Mr. Andrews, the owner. Now, step out of the way before there is trouble for you.”

I could tell that I needed to have both hands free, so I set the case of beer on the bar. The bartender appeared long enough to grab it and set it on the floor behind the bar.

Hardly had I set down the case of beer when one of the men said, “No Greaser is going to talk to me like that.” He reached for a pocket pistol that was in a holster at his waist. He was right handed and his pistol was on his right side. The result was that he had to fumble a bit as he went for his gun.

My guns were much more conveniently located, so I was able to draw my gun first. Sure, the gun was a .31 caliber Colt, but the range was no more than 10 feet. Therefore, I could take no chances if I were to fulfill my obligations to my employer. I fired so quickly that I did not have time to aim, and the bullet entered the thugs left side below his ribcage.

My feeling is that a bullet is a bullet once it enters a person’s body, so I shifted my attention to the other thugs. They both had raised their empty hands in surrender, so I did not feel justified in shooting either of them. The thug that I had shot was lying on the floor moaning and carrying on, and blood was gushing from his side. I did not know what I had hit to make so much blood flow, but it was making a mess.

I said to the two other thugs, “Take your friend to a doctor right away if you expect him to live much longer. I will not shoot either one of you if you do that.”

We spent the rest of the day visiting various saloons. Some places signed up for Mexicali Delight beer and others did not. We were on our way home that afternoon when I broached the subject to Hernandez that had bothered me all day. “Boss, what are you going to do to keep those saloons as customers? It looks to me like the ones who ordered beer from you today will be visited by thugs tomorrow who will smash up the saloons if they continue to buy from you. In fact, I suspect that most of them will refuse to pay for the beer that you deliver to them.

“They will not have a choice if you do not send in your own men to protect the saloons that accept beer from you. There is simply too much money involved for the other breweries to back off. I cannot protect more than one saloon at a time, and, even then, the thugs will move in as soon as I leave.”

“Yes, Orville, I see you point. What would you have me do?”

“As I see it, you need to call on each brewery to sell them on the idea that you are not competitors because of the higher cost of your beer. Sure, a local brewery will loose some sales to you, but not very much. Surely, if they improved the quality of their beer to bring it up to yours, there would be no reason to fight.

“How many breweries are there in the Los Angeles area? If I counted right, I think that there are four. I cannot see how you can win a war with four organizations, especially if they get together. Boss, you are one hell of a good salesman. I think that you should give my idea a try. Tomorrow, I should have my bracers, so I can do an even better job of protecting you.

“Give me a day or two to learn how to use the bracers, and I should be able to keep you safe from two or three attackers. Any more than that, and I could be in trouble.”

“Okay, I will give your idea a try. I like the prospect if your idea works out. There is one thing for sure, I cannot possibly supply all of the beer consumed in Los Angeles simply because the beer has to be transported in from so far away. All of us can make a lot of money in the beer business if they will just stop fighting me. Take two days to practice with your club and bracers, and I will give your idea a try.

“What kind of help do you need to practice?”

“I need a sparring partner to work with me and to play the part of the thug. Do you have someone who is good with a club and smart enough not to get carried away and try to kill me?”

“Yes, I think so. I will have a little talk with Hector Alvarez, the captain of my regular bodyguards. Surely he will know of somebody to work with you. Wait at your home for him tomorrow. He will send someone around to spar with you.”