" The Original WildOnes."

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     Boozefighter 60th Anniversary Party

By R.J. “Cowboy” Carter  

             Just in case you’ve never been there, the community of Hollister, California, lies about 50 miles south of San Jose. It’s normally a quiet quaint little farming burg that’s home to copious boutiques and delicious little mom-and-pop restaurants. I’d have to describe it as kind of like Mayberry with riot cops on all the street corners. But, while Hollister is just a dot on a road map to most folks, its sacred ground to all Boozefighters, it’s our Mecca, it’s our roots. Our club may have been conceived in South Los Angeles’s All American Bar in 1946 but I believe our club was actually born a year later in Hollister. The 1947 dust-up, which was later dubbed the “worst 40 hours” in the city’s history, was not only the inspiration for the 1953 cult classic movie “The Wild One” but, thanks to the Boozefighters role in the chaos, it’s known today as “The birthplace of the American Biker.” The town is so forever linked in history with the B.F.M.C. that even a portion of Wino Willie’s (our founder) ashes still remain enshrined inside legendary Johnny’s Bar and Grill for all to see.

Johnny’s is also the site where original wild one, Jim Cameron, made his historic ride right though the front door and up to the bar on his chopped Indian and ordered a shot of brown liquor. An escapade, which was later reenacted and made famous by Marlon Brando in “The Wild One” loosely based on the exploits of the Boozefighters M.C. in Hollister almost 60 years ago. 

 While the Hollister City Council’s 3-2 vote in February canceled this year’s rally and slashed the attendance from 200,000 plus to an estimated 5,000 bikers, they never came close to shutting down the large crowd of Boozefighters who arrived from all over the mid and western United States to celebrate our club’s 60^th Anniversary. Members of Charters attending the

event came from3,5,6, 8, 11,14,15,17,21,27,45,69,32,36, along with our brand-new Far East Chapter who received their Charter over the weekend. By noon on Friday, gate 4 at the Bolado Park Campground in Tres Pinos, Ca. (7 miles outside Hollister) was the busiest place in the County.

            Arriving Thursday around noon the first thing I noticed was how each Chapter had created their own individual Charter campsites, close to, but separate from the rest of the other Chapters, kind of a detached contact. It almost looked like some sort of reenactment of a Civil War encampment. Little tent cities of Boozefighters, all coming together from different parts of the country and combining to serve in the same army of brotherhood. All the Charter campsites also had their own history, and each warmly welcomed in anyone who happened by, to share their own great stories of the B.F.M.C. 

               Assistant West Coast Rep. “Readdy Freddy” of Charter # 11 was happy to cook for the large crowd all weekend serving both a delicious breakfast and dinner to the hungry hoard each day. Of course I always judge a campsite by the liters of liquor that are available on site for consumption, and with out a doubt I’d have to give the nod to Big Daddy’s place. The only thing that amazed me more than the amount of alcohol set out for drinking was how fast his gas-powered blender could grind it all into a delicious frozen concoction, that was so popular around the campgrounds. Saturday morning we even had a true B.F.M.C. biker style wedding. Hoots and hollers rang out from the peanut gallery as Locktite and Slingshot (Tony and Pat, Charter #6) were walked steadily down an aisle of motorcycles by another member of the B.F.M.C. who seemed to be toting a very large shotgun. National Vice-President Carl “Big Daddy” Spotts presided over the nuptials and afterwards Charter # 6 President “Dante” led the crowd in a short prayer for the newlyweds sealing the deal. The ceremony ended with a huge pack ride back to Johnny’s Bar for an impromptu reception. The hottest musical group to hit the circuit in decades, the Charlie Brechtel Band provided fantastic biker blues and rock both nights as not one, but two, police helicopters kept a watchful eye on all the festivities  from overhead.

           As dawn came Sunday morning I was sad to see our 60^th Anniversary party come to and end. So, as the rest of my Chapter was walking around looking like vampires shielding their eyes from the sun, I decided our 60^th just wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t ride my scooter right though the front door of Johnny’s Bar and order a drink in honor

(of the Original Wild Ones. Of course I got permission from the owners ahead of time.) The problem was I would have had to cut my Street Glide in half length-wise to get it through the door, so I quietly borrowed my son’s Street Bob from the motel parking lot to do the dirty deed. It was only 8:00 A.M. but by the time I reached Johnny’s all I saw inside was wall-to-wall people with cameras pointing at the front door, making it all to apparent that the word had somehow already leaked out. As I pointed my front tire towards the door I remembered how Jim Cameron once told me that he had just popped his old chopped Indian over the curb and rode right through the door so I figured how hard could it be? Five minutes later, I’m still outside with my son’s back tire melting into the gutter and the Street Bob’s back-end sliding up and down the sidewalk. Still focused on the damn front door, I hear a big hearty belly laugh coming from behind me as someone says, “need a little help Boozie??” Without turning around, I say “ya, sure, thanks,” and then, as if by magic, the back end of the Street Bob lifts up and I fly toward the door. I looked in the rear-view mirror to see the guy who had just helped out and in the reflection I saw a large barrel-chested man in a green and white boozefighter baseball shirt. He had a gray beard, large glasses and wore a little black leather cap with run pins all across the front.  When I turned around to thank him personally he was gone.

So, anyway, from there it was all clear sailing right up to the bar where I parked the bike, ordered a round of Kessler’s for the house and we all toasted the “Original Wild Ones”, especially “Wino” who always seems to be around when a brother needed help up and over the rough spots.

HAPPY 60^th ANNIVERSARY, BOOZEFIGHTERS UP!!!

ON THE EAST COAST

READ THE STORY HERE