The Mentor

By Steven Granson

DRIVE-BY SHOOTING IN HARLEM two dead one in critical condition

"Why, why would you want to do this? Haven't you been following the news, there have been gang related shootings and killings in that area. You can't get a taxi driver to go there ... even the police stay away from there, if they can.

"I mean it makes no sense now that you're retired, becoming a teacher, and if that's not bad enough doing it in Spanish Harlem. ... I mean Rick, it sounds to me you've lost your marbles," his long time business associate and friend said.

Laughing Rick said, "Paul, you may well be right, but somehow the idea of doing this is what turns me on and as for why the worst school, well where else can I make the most difference? I mean these are the kids that need the help ... need someone to show them the way, a hell of a lot more than the one's who were born on the right side of the tracks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491733936

Steven Granson

STEVEN GRANSON, AUTHOR OF REVERIES AND OBSERVATIONS OF AN OLD MAN AND ZANDO, LIVES WITH HIS WIFE SUSAN IN SOUTH FLORIDA.

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Copyright © 2014 Steven Granson.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-3392-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-3393-6 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 05/05/2014

CONTENTS

Prologue

Drive-By Shooting In Harlem

Two Dead One In Critical Condition

The Mentor

2

3

4

5

6

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8

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12

13

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BOOKS BY STEVEN GRANSON

Reveries and Observations of an Old Man

Some Call it Justice

Kirk Crane

Rick Curtis for President

Letting Go

There Comes a Time

For My Wife, Susan

PROLOGUE

Drive-By Shooting In Harlem

two dead one in critical condition

"Why, why would you want to do this? Haven’t you been following the news, there have been gang related drive-by shootings and killings in that area. You can’t get a taxi driver to go there… even the police stay away from there if they can.

I mean it makes no sense now that you’ve retired, becoming a teacher, and if that’s not bad enough doing it in Spanish Harlem… . I mean Rick, it sounds to me you’ve lost your marbles, his long time business associate and friend said.

Laughing Rick said, "Paul you may well be right, but somehow the idea of doing this is what turns me on—and as for why the worst school, well where else can I make the most difference? I mean these are the kids that need the help… need someone to show them the way, a hell of a lot more than the one’s who were born on the right side of the tracks.

Anyway this is an experiment. The only way the school board would go along with my proposal was if I agreed to do it at this school… . You won’t believe how few of the kids there actually graduate high school. Many are in reform school or dead before their senior year. I guess the board figured they have nothing to lose even if I screw up.

And knowing you, I suppose you’ll be doing this pro bono?

No, as a matter of fact, I’ll be getting a salary, he replied laughing. I have the union to thank for that, they wouldn’t agree to my coming aboard unless I was paid—they felt it would set a dangerous precedent otherwise.

And what about your safety? Are you going to bring a team of body guards to protect you from these juvenile delinquents. They may be kids, but they are dangerous ones. What then? Suppose some of them decide they don’t care for your help, no matter how well intended. What then?

Then, my friend, I guess I’ll have a problem, he replied, smiling to himself as he recalled his early days and the world he’d started out in. How much worse could this be he thought… he was soon to find out.

In the morning before leaving to begin this newest adventure, Rick briefly paused to study his reflection in the full length mirrored wall to the side of the front door. Not bad, he said out loud, as he viewed his still trim figure just a shade under six feet. Not that much changed from when he was starting out a lifetime ago, he thought to himself. Except now his light brown hair was more grey than brown and there were lines in his face that hadn’t been there before. Still, overall he repeated to himself, not bad. Not bad at all for a man past sixty years of age.

THE MENTOR

The drive from his Mamaroneck ocean front home to the school in Harlem would have taken next to no time on the Major Deegan, if it hadn’t been for the heavy morning traffic, still he made it in under forty minutes.

It was raining. Somehow this seemed fitting. A rainy Monday in Spanish Harlem in early September to start the school year, what more could he ask for, he wryly thought, as he circled looking for a parking lot to put his car in. Naturally there weren’t any. Who could afford to pay for one in this area, he realized too late. This was not the place to park an $80,000 Mercedes on the street. If he still had it after today he’d hire a car service, he thought to himself.

Parking across from a bodega, he hesitated, as he saw some people inside the grocery looking out at him. Thinking this might not be a good spot to leave the car, he momentarily debated within himself, before deciding the hell with it, he was already running late. Exiting the car he waved to the people in the store and then proceeded to quickly half walk, half trot the two blocks to the school. Thankfully the rain had slowed to a drizzle. Only slightly drenched he opened the graffiti covered door and walked in.

The corridor was packed with kids, both big and small, light skinned and dark skinned, female and male, innocent looking and ominous looking.

One in particular caught his attention—he was huge. he was also holding a terrified looking much smaller boy by his shirt front and saying some thing to him he couldn’t quite make out.

Momentarily, Rick debated whether it was advisable to insert himself into the situation, but then seeing the smaller boy looking hopefully at him, he walked over and tapping the big kid on the shoulder asked where the principal’s office might be.

Letting go of the boy, he turned to glare at him, What? He grunted.

Smiling innocently at him, Rick repeated the question saying, This is my first day here, I was wondering if you could tell me where the principal’s office is?

What you want with him? He asked curious, forgetting about the boy, at least for the moment.

I’m a teacher. I was told to report to him for my assignment, he said continuing to smile.

Looking Rick up and down, with a dubious look on his face, as if he had just said something amusing, he muttered, You a teacher… I’ll be damned. Then he simply pointed saying, That way. With that he turned to resume dealing with the small boy, only to find he was no longer there. Turning back to Rick he gave him a look that possibly said, Maybe I’ll bust you up instead, or maybe not. In any event Rick wasn’t going to wait around to find out.

Walking past the smashed in lockers, the fallen plaster and the graffiti, Rick could almost feel the sense of hopelessness that pervaded throughout.

Opening the scarred door to the principal’s office and walking in, he saw to his astonishment a barred off prison like-section, only in this instance it would seem the good guys were behind the bars. A frail looking elderly woman, looked up from the book she’d been reading and after studying him for a while nervously said, Are you the new teacher that volunteered to come here? Making it sound as if he might be demented.

Yes, I guess I am. Rick responded attempting to sound more positive than he was feeling at that moment.

Mr. Fallon, the principal is expecting you, she finally said after looking him up and down, I guess it will be all right for you to come in.

With that he heard a buzz and watched as the iron gate slid open, much like a prison cell door, to allow him to come in.

Mr. Fallon, bald headed and grossly overweight, barely looked up when Rick entered his office. So you’re the person who came up with this harebrained idea. May I ask how much experience you’ve had working with these type of kids?" He asked.

Momentarily Rick thought to ask him exactly what type of kids they were, but then decided against it—anyways he kind of suspected he knew where the principal was coming from, so he simply replied, Not much… actually none.

That’s what I thought, the principal sarcastically retorted. "Let me tell you, I’ve been stuck in this sewer for the last four years; which is exactly four years too long. Every once in a while some bleeding heart liberal, like you, has shown up with some pie in the sky idea how to turn things around. Without exception everyone of them fell flat on their face. If you think you have the answers let me tell you, Mister you’re in for a rude awakening.

"At the end of this term, I will be retiring with a nice little pension, and putting behind me what it’s been like dealing with these animals.

"Personally, I have no interest in what you have in mind to do, nor do I have any intention of supporting you in anyway. I want you to be clear on that. What the board has ordered me to do regarding you, I’ll do and no more.

You will have fifteen of the worst of the kids, if you want to call them that, hoodlums is more like it, if you want my opinion, and you’ll have them for the full day, as the board mandated. All I can say Mr. Porter, if you were to take my advice, you would turn around and forget about all your fool notions before it’s too late.

Leaving the principal’s office, after listening to his less than encouraging words, Rick found himself dwelling on the ominous sound of the statement ‘before it’s too late,’ and wondering what exactly he meant by that. Too late for what? Was the thought bouncing around his head.

2

He was late. Class was scheduled to begin fifteen minutes earlier. Taking a deep breath, Rick opened the door to the classroom, to start his adventure, not knowing what to expect.

What he hadn’t anticipated was someone calling out, Whatcha talking about no ways we’s as low as a Spik.

He had walked into the middle of something, for the next thing he heard was, Watch ya mouth, you mother fucker, no one’s lower than a nigger, someone in the rear of the room shouted. And just like that the situation turned explosive. As Rick stood there transfixed, he saw here and there knives come out, as the blacks and Puerto Ricans started moving towards each other. Just when it looked like blood was going to be spilled Rick heard a voice call out, Cool it, and everything came to a standstill.

It was the big kid he had come across in the corridor. The one thing that registered on Rick at that moment was that no one in this classroom, whether black or Spanish, was about to cross this kid. More than just his size there was an air of authority in his voice that came through loud and clear.

Just like that everything calmed down. The knives disappeared and Rick, trying not to show how shaken he was feeling, walked to the front of the room and sat down behind the desk, having witnessed something he would not soon forget, though at that moment he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

Looking directly at the big kid Rick mumbled a heartfelt thanks, only to have him briefly stare at him before turning away, as if to say, ‘this had nothing to do with you.’

Then just as he had, it seemed everyone else in the room, turned their back to him. It was as if he wasn’t there, which at that moment Rick wished he wasn’t. He hadn’t been prepared for anything like this.

Well Rick, he thought, maybe the principal was right—maybe this whole thing is a mistake. Still, I’m here there’s no backing out now.

Sitting there viewing the kids he’d volunteered to work with, Rick couldn’t control the sinking feeling growing within him. The few girls weren’t too bad, other than their obvious desire to appear sexual by the way they were dressed, but the boys were something else with their dreadlocks and corncob hairstyles, their pants down about their hips and a seemingly perpetual sneer, as they covertly sneaked looks at him—several with tattoos on their arms and studs through their ear and nose.

Attired in a dark black business suit, with a white on white dress shirt, and light gray silk tie, Rick couldn’t help feeling somewhat out of place, as he sat wondering whether or not to just pick himself up and walk away.

In all the movies of this sort he’d ever seen at this point the teacher, who just happens to be an ex-marine, with bulging muscles, proficient in all forms of hand to hand combat, turns to the class in general and the monster kid in particular and challenges one and all. After which, having vanquished those who stood up to him, he calmly goes on about his business, having