Casey at the Bottle

Casey was my hero. He was a young wild man two years my senior. Casey fought back, teased teachers, mocked convention and did as he pleased. My older brother always had Casey stories to tell.

Casey was a top Golden Gloves fighter. We youngsters would stand in line to take a beating. Toughen your knuckles on our stupid heads. He was lightening in a bottle, if you dodged a few blows, slipped a jab or blocked a hook you felt like you'd won the match. He was no bully but god forgive young thugs with bad manners. I saw him put down a group of rude boys at a carnival, bim-bam-bap over in ten seconds.

His special brand of humor kept him in perpetual detention in high school. If you got detention you'd say, "I'm hanging with Casey this afternoon."

Even in high school Casey was in the drink. We'd go down to the tracks in Dotson and find Uncle Bill the wino. Uncle Bill would buy you anything for a six pack or pint of white port. Casey was already drinking Bull Dog malt liquor; it was strong, cheap and nasty. To get it down you had to punch holes in the top and bottom of the little 8 oz cans and suck it down in one swallow. Four or five of these would have you drunk and puking. All of us would be miserable but Casey would empty his stomach and keep drinking.

After high school we all lost track of Casey as we went off to college and other youthful adventures. Casey got drafted, sent to Vietnam and won a bunch of metals.

Casey stayed in Kansas City got work, married and fathered some kids. He never moderated his drinking. The marriage failed, jobs dissappeared and the kids missed their affable loving father. He ended up on the streets. If you saw him downtown it was the old proud Casey, thin, wiry and strong; always clean shaven and alert. I'd always invite him to lunch. He'd drink beers and pick at his food. "I've got a bad stomach." He said. We'd talk about the old days, the neighborhood, our family's and we would laugh.

He died on the streets, homeless and alone. His heart gave out. He was 43.

Casey is still a hero. I think I live in his old family house.