During the 1950's the motion picture industry recognized the American adolescent as a source of new revenue. Up to that time the movies were oriented toward adults; musicals, mysteries or comedies that appealed to various audiences. The predominant Hollywood, adolescent fare became drag race and "Rumble Movies" where one gang would clash with another. Someone would get "killed" or hurt badly, and the whole situation would get resolved usually within an hour and a half. Needless to say we were influenced by these movies. "Rebel Without a Cause" was the primary influence of the era.
We Carthage "men" carried the pride of the community along with our exploits, or so we thought. "Carthage" rumbled occasionally with Lebanon, Gainesboro and most of all Gordonsville.
On a balmy Saturday night in 1956, Dooty Ballinger and Slop Bucket Turner and I were crossing Main Street in front of the Smith County Courthouse when a carload of Gordonsville rowdy's passed in front of us and uttered the phrase, "Son of a Bitch."
Whether or not it was meant for us was not the question: This behavior was not permitted on the "North side of the river"! The perpetrators were confronted at the entrance of the movie theater and admonished concerning their careless language. I did the talking with back-up, that was questionable in the extreme, by Dooty and Slop Bucket.
Each group, they being surprised by our bravado and we, also being surprised by our bravado went our own way. We three ‘Knights from north of the river’ were swaggering around, otherwise known as cruising, feeling our oats were individuality but silently wondering just what would happen next.
The Gordonsville group was chafing at being so blatantly confronted, and at about 11:00 PM at the Rock City Truck Stop, ten miles west of Carthage we were confronted by the Gordonsville contingent which had grown considerably in number and had a Golden Gloves Champion in-the-fore! (Golden Gloves was an organization which promoted amateur boxing. None of us knew the new guy and only found out later of his boxing expertise.)
Since I had made the original overtures I was encouraged to watch my "ass" by the front-man of the Gordonsville contingent of thugs. To which I asserted that whosoever was thusly inclined could do a much better job while kissing it! Other conversations ensued, but I do not recall the content. We Knights of Carthage retired to a table near the pin-ball machine and nursed our big orange sodas and greasy burgers while covertly watching the Gordonsville thugs.
Upon our attempted exit from said truck stop we were challenged by the Gordonsville contingent with the Golden Glove Champion in the van! Having had a few seconds to reflect upon the potential, forthcoming circumstances I decided that it was time for someone else to take the lead, and Dooty Ballinger was evidently willing to do so. Dooty was bigger than I and one year older, so I figured he knew what he was doing.
The Golden Gloves Champion stepped out in front of the Gordonsville group. Dooty attempted to match his practiced fighting stance and prepared to deliver a telling blow. The Golden Gloves Champion was too fast for Dooty and landed two quick left jabs to Dooty's nose. Dooty took two more fists to the kisser and went down. I and my compatriots advised Dooty to retain the prone position, partially beneath the rear bumper of a Buick. Dooty did so, and just then a waitress came forth with the news that "The cops have been called and they are on their way"! Carthage was about ten miles away, and we could have settled some more hash, however all present made hasty retreats without anyone else becoming involved with fisticuffs.
The Rock City Truck Stop was shrouded in a cloud of dust and flying gravel. We Champions were glad to be out of those circumstances without any significant loss of blood. Our loss of dignity was quickly forgotten, and Dooty’s nose was none the worse for wear.
On a Wednesday evening not far thereafter the Carthage contingent decided to pay a not-so-social visit to the Gordonsville contingent. The Carthage contingent was made up of the usual stalwarts, but on this occasion there were two additional persons of the very large persuasion by the last name of Bowman. It just so happened that these boys relished animated physical contact. These gentlemen were included in order to handle the Golden Glove Champion encountered previously should he be in attendance. And in any case they were included in order to teach the Gordonsville thugs a lesson.
There were a few “sucker-punches” thrown: the Golden Gloves Ringer was not there. No one was eager to engage the Bowman Boys in any extended rhetoric or physical contests.
The Gordonsville bunch was "out-thugged" this time, and since real blood was spilled the fights between towns ceased; Somewhat reminiscent of the Hollywood version. Hindsight also reveals that most of both gangs discovered "girls" soon thereafter and enthusiasm for running in gangs and engaging in fisticuffs waned! Those who maintained a propensity for physical violence usually spent at least thirty days in a restricted environment.
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One final altercation may be worth mentioning here though the writer was not involved. Gainesboro, Tennessee is in the foothills of the Cumberland Mountains of Middle Tennessee. The country is rough and so are lots of the people. There are many contingencies in being accepted by the local populace of this and other very rural areas. Outsiders are not accepted, and Carthage boys were welcome least of all.
Sonny Apple and Tyrone Pointer continued to attempt to visit girls in Gainesboro, and Sonny's car was well known in the area. One late summer evening Sonny and Tyrone ("Runt") said goodnight to their dates and began their drive back to Carthage. A Gainesboro vehicle passed them and stayed in front and in sight for the next few miles. Sonny and Runt were descending a long hill to a narrow bridge when they spotted the Gainesboro vehicle athwart the bridge.
Two Gainesboro thugs were getting out when Sonny and Runt pulled up. They quickly saw what was afoot. The Gainesboro ruffians wanted to make sure that there was no misunderstandings and admonished Sonny and Tyrone not to come to Gainesboro again. For various reasons Sonny and Runt were not amenable to the suggestion.
Sonny had on a new shirt of which his mother was particularly proud, and he proceeded to remove it before the fisticuffs commenced. However, the Gainesboro toughs seized upon his momentary entrapment and proceeded to box his and Tyrone's ears and to reduce his shirt to tatters. When sufficient blows were struck the way was once again clear and Sonny and Tyrone were allowed to exit. Sonny never told his mother what had happened to his shirt. In fact she was forced to request the information from Sonny's former Gainesboro, girlfriend. But I don't think Mrs. Apple ever found out the truth for sure.
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