Studs

By Marlvis Kennedy

Long before Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold embarked on what is now known as the Columbine High School massacre that left 12 students and 1 teacher dead there was Mark Anthony Houston we called him Studs.

Studs, is a True story that took place in the 70's, it's about an incident that happened on October 5th1979, on the campus of the University of South Carolina at the Bates social club. On this night our lead character (Studs) shoots and kills two people and wounds five others.

Studs, is organized by year. From 1972 when I moved to South Carolina until 1979 when this incident takes place. This story chronicles my life and the life of the lead character (Studs)along with many of the classmates that we grew up with in the 70's. It takes a close look at black on black racism, and deals with growing up as a black male in the 70's without a father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 8, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452080611

Marlvis Kennedy

He Graduated from Eau Claire high School in Columbia South Carolina in 1977; he also obtained an Associates degree in Electronics Engineering From Midlands Technical College in 1979. His father was in the US Army so he spent most of his life traveling to different places. He was born in Nurnberg Germany in 1960. In 1983 he joined the United States Airforce Most of his life he has been able to entertain by telling stories and he also enjoys writing short stories. Even though this is his first book, he is very pleased with its content and would hope that you would be as well.

Book preview

© 2010 Marlvis (Butch) Kennedy. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 9/3/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4520-0312-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-8061-1 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

October 6, 1979

1972

1973

1974

1975

1976

1977

1978

1979

Epilogue

Authors View

About the Author

DO YOU REMEMBER THE SEVENTIES? Days of the platform shoes, bellbottom pants, designer jeans, converse all-star tennis shoes, and the afro? If you were cool you wore the pick in the back of your afro. Most of us wore the one with the fist, for black power. The way we walked, talked and dressed defined us. We would greet each other by saying things like what’s happening? Gimmie five, or can you dig it? Our music was real, we had real singers and musicians like the Ojays, Marvin Gaye, Al Green, the Ohio Players, Earth Wind and Fire, the Isley Brothers the list goes on and on. This was real music! Oh you don’t know nothin about that.

Some of the dances we did like the bump and the rollercoaster not to mention the slow dances or slow grinds like I used to call them, you should have been arrested for doing that in public. The story your about to read is true, this story takes place in the 70’s. The thing I mostly remember about that time was not just the music, or the way we walked, talked and dressed. It’s the people and one in particular. His name was Mark Anthony Houston we called him Studs.

October 6, 1979

IT WAS AROUND 10 O’CLOCK in the morning; I was just waking up and still vividly remembering the dream I just had. It was about the night before; I was DJaying at the Teen Club on Fort Jackson in Columbia so I got home early. I was reliving my mixes from the night before in my sleep, remembering how much fun everyone was having. What a party it was, I always enjoyed working at the Teen Club the kids there knew how to have a good time. It didn’t matter what I played. Good Times by Chic, while I mixed in Rappers Delight by the Sugar Hill Gang than Michael Jacksons Don’t stop till you get enough.

The party was jamming; from I got my mind made up by Instant Funk, to Aint no stopping us now by McFadden and Whitehead. But when I played Disco Nights by GQ and Ring My Bell by Anita Ward everybody went crazy, it was all in the mix.

The dance floor was packed and Mr. Boogie was rocking the house like only he can, hit, after hit, after hit.

I remember this day so well because for the first time in 19 years I was getting a room to myself. My older brother Dexter had just joined the army. So I decided to repaint my room. I remember sluggishly getting out of bed and using the bathroom, than brushing my teeth. Then I went into the Den and turned on the radio and set it to only play in my room I didn’t want to disturb anyone or wake up my mother or sister.

I turned it to the Big DM 101.3 FM and listened to my man Tucson the Capricorn while I stirred my paint and laid some drop cloths around the room. As I started painting the room I remembered that it wasn’t long ago that my brother and I had painted this room together.

We painted it red and black and we had a blue light in our room and fishnets on the ceiling. Yes it seemed like just yesterday I thought to myself.

As I began to paint I started to remember. It was the summer of 1972 when we moved to Columbia SC. I was 12 years old and in the 7th grade. I was thinking back to the day we drove here from my grandmother’s house in Turbeville SC. I still remember the first time I walked into this house. I will never forget opening the door as my mom and dad told us this was our room. I remember running to my bed and jumping on it, I was so happy to be out of the county and into the city.

When I looked out the window I could see there were kids my age playing football in the street. I had a big smile on my face it was great to be home. I couldn’t wait to go outside and play football, I asked my mom if it was ok and before she could say no I was half way out the door. As soon as I walked over the guys started to introduce themselves and welcomed me to the neighborhood. Even though most of them were white it didn’t bother me I was used to that.

I was a military brat my dad was in the Army so it wasn’t a big deal to me. I remember one of the guys had the same name that I do his name was Butch Caywood. We got along great, I ended up playing on his team and after the first play he asked me if I would like to join the Eau Claire High School baby B football team. He told me he thought I would be one of the fastest guys on the team and he liked how I would catch and run with the ball. I loved playing football.

It was one of my favorite sports to play, so I told him that I would love to play. I remember Butch and I were very good friends my first year in Columbia, we lived in a sub division called North 21 Terrace. It was a nice middle class neighborhood and all the neighbors seemed very friendly. By this time I was in my own grove painting my room and reminiscing about my past when I herd the news come on the radio. I was used to the jingle that came on before the news begun.

So as usual I didn’t pay close attention to the news but when I herd the opening line, it immediately caught my attention. When I herd the female newscaster say No one knows why Mark Anthony Houston and that’s about all I can remember as soon as she said his name I knew it wasn’t good I remember her saying when it was over there were 2 dead and 5 wounded. T his took place at the Bates West Social Room on the University of South Carolina campus 1300 Whaley Street.

I knew the place well I had just DJayed there about a month before. I remember sitting on the edge of my bed, stunned I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, not Mark I said. Not Studs! My mind drifted back to when we were in the 8th grade when the teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up Mark stood up and said, I want to be a gangsta we all laughed at him I even remember wadding up paper and throwing it at him.

It wasn’t what he said at the time it was how he said it, with pride, the inflection in his voice, and the movements of his arms. He just laughed it off, hell we all laughed it off. I also remembered the riots at Eau Claire High School our senior year in 1977. It was like a there was a haze of smoke surrounding us, it was hard to see but I could make out a few faces. I remember the look on Marks face I couldn’t hear what he was saying but I could read his lips all he said was, fuck em up, fuck them mother fuckers up over and over, While we beat the hell out of every white kid that went to our school.

Not only because of the movie roots but because some of them had the nerve to jump on and beat up a black student the day before. Now I’m here imagining that night, visually seeing Mark with that chrome plated 32 caliber, pistol in his hand, running through the Bates Social Club shooting people at random, I can see him holding that gun sideways in his hands.

Shooting and killing Terrell G. Johnson, Patrick M. McGinty and wounding John L. Aiken, David L. Simmons, William T Langston, Michael K Lawyer and Randy McCray. It’s just like a movie it keeps playing in my mind over and over and it ends with a telephone conversation that Mark and I had many years earlier. When we were interrupted by his step-mother asking him to get off the phone I will never forget when he said that bitch makes me sick, I just want to kill her.

And that’s usually how it goes, these memories from the past first it’s the 8th grade and Mark Stands up saying I want to be a gangster, than the riots all hazy in the background as Mark stands above one kid kicking him and saying.. Fuck them all up than the shooting at USC that left 2 dead and 5 others wounded as he ran through the Bates Social club shooting people at random and finally the phone conversation.

Where he wishes he could kill his step-mother. Man I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I just shook my head as I got up from my bed and once again begin to paint my room.

1972

IT WAS JANUARY OF 1972, I had just turned 12. We were leaving Oklahoma and moving to South Carolina. Both my parents grew up in South Carolina and since my dad was in the army and we traveled so much they both seemed happy to be finally moving back home. What I remember most about the ride besides it being long and boring was that we towed my dad’s candy apple red mustang with our dog fluffy inside.

It was a very long trip it was over 1200 miles and took as a couple of days. I remember the day we arrived the exact minute we crossed to border into South Carolina. It was January 22 at 12 noon. I remember this for two reasons, 1because I was looking at the clock when we crossed the border, and 2 because that was the exact moment my grandfather passed away.

I remember being so happy to finally get to South Carolina because it seemed like we would never get here. Everything changed the minute we drove up into my Grandfathers driveway and got the news. We were all in shock, I couldn’t believe it. I thought he would live forever, what I remembered most about him was his smile, his kindness and the many times he would tell me how much he loved me and to be a good boy. I don’t know if that seems like much to many but to me, not many men have ever told me they loved me.

I think back and as far as I can remember I only herd it from my Grandfather and a couple of my uncle’s.

I remember dad drove us straight to the funeral home, Fleming and Delaine in Manning South Carolina. Mr. Fleming allowed us to view his body I remember my mom’s expression as she passed out at the site of her father laying lifeless on that gurney. I could see the tears rolling down her face as my dad held her up.

I remember walking up to him; he looked so peaceful I remember touching his face, it felt so cold and hard.

My sister Denise just stood there she didn’t get very close at all but my brother Dexter was right beside me. Neither of us said a word I remember looking at him and noticed a tear rolling down the side of his cheek. After that Mr. Fleming covered his body up and took him inside the funeral home. Joseph Emerson Wheeler was his name and the little I knew about him at the time I was blown away when I learned the rest.

My grandfather was a very strong and a proud man he spent his life working hard and providing for his family. He always stressed the importance of education and studying hard. I couldn’t believe it when I found out that he could barely read and couldn’t write his own name, he signed his name with an X. So many memories ran through my head that day, I remember the summers we spent in this little country town called New Zion.

I remember some of the lessons he taught me at an early age. I remembered working on the farm as a youngster helping my grandfather with his tobacco crops, I handed the tobacco to my cousin while she strung it on a stick. Than I got to take that stick and hang it in the smoke house until the tobacco was ready to take to the market in Manning to sell. I remember picking okra’s with my cousin Blue and Shirley they would always yell at me because I’d miss some of the biggest okra’s.

My grandfather would always laugh and say that I must need glasses if I couldn’t see that big ole okra.

What I remembered most is when he would take what we picked to Manning to sell and he would take all us kids with him. He gave us money for our hard work and allowed us to spend it on whatever we wanted. We mostly brought candy but he would always buy us ice- cream.

It was not how we expected our arrival in South Carolina, but before we knew it all our relatives were a the house and everyone was bringing over food for us to eat. I learned so much about my grandfather, he was one of the first members of the NAACP in his area and because of that most white men in Manning wouldn’t buy his produce, so sometimes Uncle Freeze (his brother) or Uncle Israel (his brother in-law) would sell it for him. As the days passed, family members arrived from all over, my Uncle John Wesley came from Baltimore, Maryland.

My Aunt Wheen, Uncle John Oscar, and Uncle Tommy all came from New York. My mother had lots of brothers and sisters. My Uncle JC was in Sumter SC and My Aunt Eula lived in New Zion with my grandparents. This was a real hard time for our family but we were strong. The next few days were like a blur, with people coming in and out and spending all day visiting. I spent most of that time with my cousins Blue and Shirley they both lived in New Zion with our grandparents.

The hardest thing about living in New Zion was that there was nothing to do. This was farming country and there was nothing nearby except the school. I hated the fact that the house didn’t even have indoor plumbing so we had to go to the out house outside to use the bathroom. We also took baths in tubs or had to wash-off as they called it. I really missed being able to get in the shower or just take a bath. Mom took us all to Manning to get us new clothes for the funeral.

It was hard to see my mom in so much pain and know that there was nothing we could do to make her feel better. Finally it was the day of the funeral, I remember the limo’s coming to pick us up and take us to the church. All the kids where in 1 limo, Dexter, Shirley, Blue, Denise and I all rode together. I remember the ride to the church, it seemed like it took forever. We drove slowly; as we got closer to the church I began to notice all the cars around the church and all the people.

There were hundreds of people standing outside the church. Once we parked I looked around and noticed that there were people everywhere, I never knew there were so many people in such a small town. As we entered the church right down the middle of the isle under the podium was my Grandfathers casket. It was open and I could see him inside as we were seated in the second row we just looked at the coffin.

Than Uncle John Wesley came in and asked us if we wanted to view the body. I remember standing next to him. My uncle was a big man just like my grandfather he was about 6’6" and weighed around 300 pounds I watched him as he touched his father. I listened as he tried to scratch a piece of lint off from granddads upper lip. It sounded like he was using sand paper, my uncle told us not to be afraid to touch him so I did, this time he felt colder and harder.

I didn’t touch him long but I remember looking up at my uncle and seeing a tear slide down his cheek. I had never seen my uncle cry, I knew he wasn’t afraid of anything, he was my hero. He never made a sound just stood there looking down at his father. I walked closer to my uncle and laid my head against him, he put his arm around me and hugged me a little and said lets go back and sit down. It wasn’t long after that when they opened the doors of the church and allowed people to come in and take a seat and view the body.

I had never seen so many people before all the seats were filled and people were standing all around the church and there were more people outside. I had a lot to learn about my grandfather and as the music began and the choir began to sing I remembered some of the time I spent with him. One of my most vivid memories was when I was very young, so young that at the time I didn’t understand what was going on but as I got older I realized what took place.

It was late one night and we were awakened by what sounded like an explosion. I remember sticking my head out the door and my grandfather looked out the front window, he quickly grabbed his rifle and had my aunt and grandmother do the same. They were all staked out in different parts of the house, they made all us kids go back to the room. When I herd someone yell ‘Emerson Wheeler… Joseph Emerson Wheeler I hail you’. We all herd the door open and I was nosy so I opened the door even though all my cousins told me not to I walked out of the room and to the front door.

What I saw till this day still gives me the chills. It was the KKK of course I didn’t know it at the time but the explosion we herd was they had lit a cross in my Grandfathers yard. I looked at my Grandfather as he had his rifle pointed towards the man in the white suit with the mask. Get off my land he yelled or I will blow your head off. The man just laughed and said Wheeler, now boy if you would stop with your mess we wouldn’t have to come over here and do this My grandfather never put down his rifle he just pointed at the man doing the talking. That’s when I opened the door and went to my grandfather I grabbed hold of his leg and held on tight. That’s some little boy ya got there Emerson he said I’d hate to see anything happen to him that’s when I said leave my grandfather alone, he didn’t do anything to you the man just laughed and said it would be so sad to see anything happen to this family of yours.

I remember at that moment I was wishing my grandfather would shoot this person. I never had hate in my heart before but I really didn’t like this man. That’s when my grandfather said I’m gonna give you to the count of 3 to get off my land than I’m gonna start shootin and you will be the first This man looked at the others with him and my grandfather began his count 1, 2. The man looked at my grandfather