Randy McCall Story #2- “They’re Messin’ with The Babes” (Completed)


We were sitting on the front porch of Crab’s house on Christopher Ave. When I say “we,” I mean Crab McCall, Weasel, and I think Scott Frit…well, let’s just say Scott…if I remember correctly. When, suddenly, Randy McCall, Crabs brother, comes running from the back of the house and around the corner…out of breath. “They’re messin’ with the Babes!” Now, “The Babes” is Randy’s pet name for his girlfriend at the time, Margie Kreiner…or “Little Margie,” as she was called by everyone else in the neighborhood. Margie was a beautiful girl. But she was a good girl…relatively speaking. Most of the girls I grew up with in Hamilton were pretty tough. At least, the girls who weren’t afraid to hang out with Hamilton guys were tough, by necessity. So, there was a certain distinction between “Hamilton” girls, and all other girls.


Well, the next thing that Randy did was to hand out weapons. On the porch, there was a plastic trash can that was a perfect size for “the weapons.” One typical weapon was a small (child’s) baseball bat with aluminum gutter spikes (7 or 8 inch nails) driven through the barrel and head of the bat. There were sticks, bats, nun-chucks, steel pipes, and anything that was terrifying, but hopefully, not lethal. None of us wanted to kill anyone, I don’t think, anyway. I ended up with a bat (without spikes) and I carried my own 6-inch Buck knife that was sharp enough to shave with. I guess there were 4 or 5 of us, including Randy. We went running over to the rear parking lot that was shared by 2 bars: The “Green Scene” and the “Glenmore Tavern.” Randy had indicated he and “The Babes” had been drinking at the Green Scene.


We get to the parking lot and there are 2 HUGE men there, talking to “The Babes.” It didn’t take very long for the lines to form. These guys were so big, they had to be NFL linemen! I don’t remember much once the fighting started. I hit one of the guys with the bat I had. He blocked it with his arm. Someone else must’ve hit him after that. I remember finding myself on the deck (gravel driveway-type surface) with a Buck knife in my hand. I remember thinking I would’ve been better off using either the bat, or the knife…but not both. I remember looking over at the other giant surrounded by 3 of my friends…all swinging away. But I don’t remember anything after that?


The good news is that I didn’t wake up in the hospital…or jail. And as far as I know, neither did any of my buddies. It’s kinda weird, I think. I don’t remember ever discussing the incident with anyone. And Margie came around less and less after that. Of course, that’s the summer that Pagan flakes were in abundance. In fact, that’s the summer that Randy smoked an entire ounce of those things BY HIMSELF in one evening! That night he saw God and was never the same. In some ways he was better. But in some ways, he was not better. He was hard to understand…to tell where he was coming from…most of the time. But he was fun to be around. The rest of that summer and the following fall (it must’ve been 1978) we were good buddies. People even began to mistake me for Randy when I was alone. This could be a good thing. But, usually it was not a good thing. I guess, not everyone cared to try to understand where Randy was coming from, or why he did the things he did…