Sleepers

Fat Mancho is seventy-two years old.

Sean Nokes was shot to death in a back booth in the Shamrock Pub on November 6,1979. His killers have yet to be apprehended.

Sean Nokes was thirty-seven years old at the time of his death.

Adam Styler was fired from the New York Police Department on February 22, 1982, brought up on corruption and murder charges. He pleaded guilty and was sentenced to a twelve-year prison term as part of a plea-bargain agreement. He served eight of those years in a maximum security prison. He was transfered to a minimum security facility only after a fourth attempt on his life left him paralyzed from the waist down. He was paroled in the spring of 1991 and now lives in a New Jersey suburb in a home for the disabled. Adam Styler is fifty years old.

Henry Addison resigned from his job as community outreach director working for the Mayor of the City of New York in the spring of 1981. He found work in a downtown investment banking firm. After six months of impressive earnings, he was in line for a promotion. On New Year's Day, 1982, his body was found in a marsh off a LaGuardia Airport runway. Autopsy reports indicated he was beaten and tortured to death.

His killer or killers have never been found.

Henry Addison was thirty-six years old.

Ralph Ferguson's wife filed for divorce soon after he testified at John and Tommy's trial, gaining custody of their only child. He quit his job and fled the state, fearful of being brought up on multiple charges of child endangerment and rape. He eventually settled in California and, under another name, opened a hardware business. A second marriage ended when his wife was informed of her husband's true identity and hidden past. The business closed after a fire gutted it in 1989. He now works as a shoe salesman in the San Francisco area. He lives alone, is heavily in debt and has trouble sleeping at night.

He was the man brought to me by King Be

Ralph Ferguson is forty-nine years old.

In the fall of 1982, a board of inquiry impaneled by the New York State Department of Juvenile Justice looked into allegations of abuse at the Wilkinson Home for Boys. They were confronted by a list of forty-seven witnesses, including the parents of three boys who died under the care of the institution and a dozen guards who were witness to a variety of assaults. In a report condemning all past and present directors of the Wilkinson Home for Boys, the board of inquiry called for a complete and total overhaul of the system and method of operations at the juvenile facility. A new warden was appointed and video cameras were installed on every block. Inmate privileges were extended and the hole was eliminated. Even the cells were freshly painted.

Edward Goldenberg 'Little Caesar' Robinson is serving a life sentence in a maximum security prison in upstate New York, convicted on charges of drug trafficking and murder in 1990. He will be eligible for parole in twenty-one years. He was never questioned in the murder of Henry Addison.

Edward Goldenberg 'Little Caesar' Robinson is fifty-one years old.

Gregory 'Marlboro' Wilson retired on a full pension and lives on a Pe

I am now forty years old, with a wife and two children. I love my wife and adore my son and daughter. My family has helped me escape from many of the pains of my past. But the haunting memories of childhood are always close at hand. My body is older than its years and my mind is filled more with horror than with the pleasures of life. The dreams I have are still vivid, the nightmares painful, the fears steady. The nighttime hours always carry a sense of dread.

I sometimes feel that the lucky Sleepers are the ones who died.

They no longer have to live with the memories.

They are free of the dreams.

Epilogue

Many's the road I have walked upon

Many's the hour between dusk and dawn

Many's the time

Many's the mile

I see it all now

Through the eyes of a child

Take It Where You Find it – Van Morrison

Rueben, a Puerto Rican kid with dark curly hair and tight gray slacks, the crease sharp enough to cut skin, was the favorite to win the contest and the fifty dollars first prize. He stood in a corner of the gym, his back to the three-piece band, chewing gum, sneaking puffs on a Viceroy, waiting for the disc jockey on stage to signal a start to the school-sponsored Chubby Checker King Twister competition.

'He looks good,' I said, staring over at Rueben. 'He looks ready to win.'

'He looks like he seen West Side Story a couple of times too many,' Joh

'He won't figure you to be any good, Shakes,' Michael said. 'Since he don't know you.'

'I don't figure you to be any good neither,' Tommy said, putting an arm around my shoulder. 'And I know you.'

'He's got you beat on the shoes,' John said. 'He's wearing those roach stompers. They're good twist shoes. They got a light look, but good soles.'

'Who are you, Tom McCa

'Who else is in this?' Michael asked. 'Outside of him.'

'Three Irish guys from 46th Street,' Tommy said.

'They any good?' I asked.

'I hear they're pretty stupid,' Tommy said.

'Now you need to go to college to do the twist?' Michael asked.

'They just signed on as a goof,' Tommy said. 'Make each other laugh. These guys couldn't get laid in a women's prison.'

'There's that goofy kid from the pizza place,' I said. 'I hear he signed up.'

'I know him,' John said. 'He's got all those zits and that black shit on his teeth. I make sure he never touches any of my slices.'

'Anybody else?' Michael asked.

'That black kid who spits when he talks,' Tommy said. 'The one whose father just got shot.'

'They might give it to him just for that,' I said. 'Start feelin' sorry for him.'

'Don't worry, Shakes,' Michael said. 'We see the vote goin' that way, we'll have somebody stab you.'

'Not too deep,' I said. 'I need this shirt for school.'

'Just deep enough to win,' Michael said.

The gym's overhead lights were turned off, the spotlights shining on the center of the floor. Eighty or more kids surrounded the circle, many of the boys and girls holding hands, some sneaking soft kisses in the dark.

'Will the twist contestants please enter the circle,' the disc jockey ordered from the stage, his jacket tight around his shoulders, his pants cuffed, white socks sagging below the ankles.

'Go get 'em, Shakes,' Tommy said, patting me on the back.

'Anybody gets close to us, we push,' John said 'Knock 'em off balance.'

'We'll be here waitin' for you, Shakes,' Michael said. 'Win or lose.'

'We can't let you go out there without a good luck kiss,' Carol Martinez said, easing her way through the crowd to join our group. She was wearing a white dress with black shoes and white lace stockings. Her long dark hair was done up in a pony tail.