HOW TO GET "THE BOOK"
Ever since the post on Mundo Mendoza's book, I've gotten email asking how to get it. It was supposed to be on the convicts and cops website but it's not up there yet. I just got this update from the site operator and I'm passing it on.
Mundo Mendoza's CD book, "Mexican Mafia: From Altar Boy to Hitman" is available for $19.50 + $2.50 for shipping & handling. Orders can be made by sending a cashier's check or money order for $22.00 made out to Ken Whitley & Associates, PO Box 2623, Corona, CA 92878-2623. Allow 2-3 weeks for delivery. Orders can also be made through Pay Pal by going to http://www.convictsandcops.com/ under products. Web site orders will be available in a few days
Happy reading.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
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121 comments:
Thanks for the update. Even though it's not posted yet, I just ordered mine from their web site after e-mailing Sgt. Whitley.
What an informative site...fascinating stuff.
I'm new to LA, just moved from Chicago. They say Chi is one of the big gang cities, but I gotta say--it's got nothing on LA. I can't believe how thick the gang activity is here, and I live in East Hollywood/Los Feliz (not exactly "the hood," right)?
The Armenian Mafia/AP, White Fence, and MS all have obvious presences in this area.
I know this site tends to focus more on prison gang activity, but I had a couple questions about the local gangs, if anyone can help--just trying to be better informed about the street where I live.
What do the "VT" and "LS" tags mean on the side of White Fence graffiti?
Is Armenian Power a real gang, or just a bunch of kids? I know there is a real Armenian Mafia-type organization, but as far as I can tell it seems to be distinct from AP. True?
Does WF pay taxes? Does that make them affiliated with EME? Is MS the only tax free gang around?
Yeah, I know, if you don't know, you don't need to know. But, I think it's worth learning about the place where you live...thanks.
One other observation--I saw a much earlier comment by the site host suggesting that poverty in the U.S. is less aggregious than it is elsewhere--based on Dutch guests who observed how un "hood"-ish the hood looks in LA.
I would respectfully disagree...and add that the roughest areas of LA do look strangely resort-like compared to the roughest areas of, say, Chicago. Call me a sucker (you're not too far off) but when you're from a place without palm trees, anyplace with palm trees looks like a tropical paradise to our uninformed eyes. That plus the suburban-ish nature of LA itself adds a lot more greenery to the ghetto than most of us are used to. It's deceptive.
Does WF pay taxes? Does that make them affiliated with EME? Is MS the only tax free gang around?
Yes, WF does pay taxes and so does MS-13.
You are probally confussing "VT" for some forme of "V" which stands for Varrio. The "LS" stands for Locos. Varrio West Side White Fence Locos. The orignal WS WF LS branched off the East Side in the early 70s, around 72. The first spot was in Echo Park off of Alvarado. This was the White Fence Tinies. The Locos branched of to East Hollywood around 77/78
LS atands for loco's chicago scene is very different from here in the west, varrio comes first
I am interested in hearing your feedback (positive, negative or otherwise) about Mundo's book. Those of you who have read it should have some opinions about what you've read.
Please share.
Peace ......
Tijuana Jailer
Why doesn't he (Mundo) talk about ALL his hits and just some of them? He seems to hint about his involvement in some; and talks freely about his participation in others.
Are the ones he speaks of already ajudicated? And, since there is not statute of limitations on 187 p.c., is that why he's careful on the others?
"And, since there is not statute of limitations on 187 p.c., is that why he's careful on the others? "
PRECISELY !!
I just received the Mundo CD. The photos are excellent! Will start reading this evening and give feedback.
I just received the Mundo CD. The photos are excellent! Will start reading this evening and give feedback
The feedback is appreciated, but you know what we'd appreciate even more? If you cut and pasted the book into the comment section here.
I wouldn't do it all at once because then we could copy and paste it to something else and wouldn't need you anymore, but if you only give us a chapter at a time, we'd be your captive audience for as many chapters as the book has, depending on how you wish to spread it out.
The ART of War-punishments should be given once and swiftly so as to not create resentment amongst the troops towards you, but rewards should be given one drop at a time so the troops can truly savor them and look to you for...
Thanks for the idea ......
[Text beginning on Page 18:]
PART ONE: THE BEGINNING YEARS
Chapter I
Twelve years earlier another group of gang members were meeting in northern California. They formed a much deadlier group. In the beginning it was just a branch of street gangs from Los Angeles who were incarcerated together at the Deuel Vocational Institute in Tracy. D.V.I. was then considered the last stop for California's most incorrigible and violent inmates, or wards, as they were dubbed by the California Youth Authority.
In those days the street gangs would perpetuate their barrio conflicts from the neighborhoods on the outside to the CYA institutions and other jail facilities. Vengeance was swiftly meted out to gang members who had wronged a rival on the outside and, as in the free world, the stronger would prevail over the weaker foe.
The main difference was that once inside there was literally nowhere to run and, as the famous Motown song continued, “... nowhere to hide”.
The California Youth Authority inmate community included street gang toughs from the Mexican-American barrios of Los Angeles. The majority of these gangsters hailed from the eastside. These incorrigible teenagers strongly identified with their fellow imprisoned gang confederates, or "homeboys", as they affectionately called each other. Thus, the term “homeboy” was used well before any rap song was even invented.
In their quest to learn about themselves culturally, inmates serving extended sentences became intimately acquainted with their ancestors. The Chicano gang member specifically claimed his roots back to the warlike Indian tribes of centuries gone by.
The ancient Toltec and Aztec Indians were among the favorites and the Yaquis and Apaches of the not-so-distant past are likewise a source of pride and inspiration for these contemporary street warriors. Like their popular role models, the street gang member is extremely clannish, preferring to settle most disputes with violence.
It is from these closely-knit and proud cultures, from which the present day Mexicano was borne, that we hear the ever frequent use of sobriquets such as "Geronimo," "Mangas Colorado," "Cuchillo," "Crazy Horse," "Chato" and countless others.
During the 1920's, as thousands of Mexican families streamed into the United States to fill the need for railroad and farm labor, there were about 100,000 Mexicans living in California. By 1930, this number had nearly quadrupled with approximately three-fourths of them residing in the southern part of the state.
Among these early immigrants was a wave of Mexican-American families from El Paso, Texas, who had begun to settle in Los Angeles. Riding the crest of the great Mexican migratory waves to California beginning in the early twentieth century, these people were known as Pachucos.
Like their Indian ancestors they were clannish and did not readily conform to American society. They had their own manner of behavior, dress, walk and talk that made them distinctive. They were also called Zootsuiters by the American press because of the baggy Zootsuit pants the men wore.
Eventually, they influenced the local youth as they became fascinated by the uniqueness of the Pachuco. What was especially attractive to them was that not only were they a breed apart from the general Mexican population but they offered a distinctiveness to those that agreed with the rebellious spirit that existed in the local barrios.
This was during a period of time in which Mexicans experienced a high degree of racial discrimination and social alienation.
As the Mexican population grew in the Los Angeles area, barrios sprouted everywhere. Neighborhoods adopted names such as Dog Town, Mateo Street, White Fence, among others, and geographical boundaries delineated and separated each mini-nation.
In defense of their territorial turfs, inevitable feuds ensued between neighborhoods and the men would fight to protect and maintain the sanctity of their barrio. Victorious homeboys basked in the glory of having prevailed in street combat.
The more aggressive gang members went about the serious business of establishing violent reputations. Along with the reps came the celebrity status. A completely abnormal social value system was established.
People passed away and time marched forward but the barrios and their territorial boundaries remained while new gangs sprouted in previously unclaimed sections of East Los Angeles and throughout the city. The barrios became increasingly more regimented as the "vatos locos" - the crazy dudes - formed deadlier gangs to defend their home turfs.
In addition to the deranged values, these gangs possessed the characteristics of a closely-knit family. The unity and intense pride instilled within them a fervent sense of community, companionship, protectiveness and even love. The hardcore members were willing to die for each other.
Throughout the city traditional rivalries handed down from one generation to another pitted Varrio Nuevo against White Fence, Wilmas versus San Pedro, Norwalk against Canta Ranas, Clover versus The Avenues, San Fernando and Pacoima, Hoyo Maravilla versus White Fence, etc.
The Indian nicknames of the 18th and 19th centuries were once again heard, this time in the barrios, and generated the same fear and respect they once commanded amongst the old tribes. There was Indio from Hoyo Mara, for example, Crow from Big Hazard, Caballo from Varrio Nuevo, Geronimo from Primera Flats, and Topo from Hoyo Soto, as well as the more contemporary handles such as Sailor Boy from Varrio Nuevo, Shotgun from Hoyo Soto, Robot from Big Hazard and Kilroy from White Fence.
******
The year was 1957. At the Deuel Vocational Institution (DVI) in Tracy, California, Luis "Huero Buff" Flores introduced an idea that would unite the street gangs once and for all. Huero Flores proposed a prison supergang, one in which the leaders of the street gangs represented inside could join hands as allies and "carnales" - brothers – a more appealing alternative to perpetuating their bloody gang warfare into the prison system.
Cognizant of the many egos he had to contend with, Flores suggested a purely democratic system in which everyone was equal and no single member could give orders to another.
Their common goal would be to organize the barrios, at least to the point that they would not tangle while incarcerated, control the heroin trafficking within the institution, and, upon release to the free world, organize a deadly
cartel for the purpose of continuing in the narcotics business and other lucrative criminal activities. The idea was extremely attractive then and there were plenty of aspiring gangsters who shared Flores' dream.
Flores' brainstorm was received enthusiastically thus giving birth to the gang of gangs - La Mafia Mexicana. In obvious imitation of their Italian namesake, the name Mexican Mafia was chosen with calculation for the purpose of generating fear among the inmate population and to proudly proclaim their superiority.
They were an amalgamation of Los Angeles' mightiest street gangs rolled up into one supreme gang. This unholy alliance allowed otherwise feuding gangs to bury their hatchets and combine their street talents and savvy for mutual criminal pursuits within the institution.
Thanks for the idea ......
Orale homeboy! thank you for taking it into consideration and doing it... you a firme vato for that
(you a firme vato for that)
Now you sound like a used car salesman, homes. But I can handle being a "firme vato".
Later ...........
Now you sound like a used car salesman, homes
Sabes que homie, I do sell used cars on the side. Since my hood is mostly raza and my jale is mostly professionals, i function as a liason of sorts. The professionals get good mexican food and the opportunity to sell all their old shit including cars and the raza gets alot of good merchandise cheap. Most of the stuff sells itself.
q-vo
its the used car salesman again asking for chapter 2.
Yeah... Post Chapter 2... I'm curious to see what the vato has to say, but at the same time, refuse to support the rata with sales. Post the whole thing, matter fact, if you burn me a few copies, I'll pay you.
Initially, from 1957 to 1959, there were approximately two dozen Mexican Mafia members at D.V.I. and they wasted no time in establishing their reputation of terror. They began robbing inmates of their possessions - prison ducats, canteen goods, and drugs - while making examples of those that would dare oppose their demands.
It was just a game to them at that time and they were enjoying themselves. As Luis “Huero” Flores later related to me, "It was a kid's trip then, just a branch of our homeboys from East L.A. If I felt like killing somebody, I would. If I didn't, I wouldn't. We were just having fun then. The power we enjoyed was intoxicating”.
As the Mexican Mafia grew and new ideas were introduced, egos would oftentimes clash and disagreements would inevitably arise. One major objection expressed by several Mexican Mafia members in the beginning was with regard to the term Mafia.
They felt that instead of being original and unique it would instead be confused or appear more synonymous with the Italians' Mafia. Many of the original members wanted to change the name entirely.
In order to placate these members, Rudy "Cheyenne" Cadena, one of the most influential Mexican Mafia members after Flores' transfer to San Quentin in 1958, suggested that the term EME be incorporated along with Mafia, thereby allowing the members to identify themselves as being either from the "Mafia Mexicana", "EME Mexicana", or both. This proved to be acceptable by all the carnales and the introduction of the term EME was added to their vocabulary.
The term EME thus accomplished two things: First, it created a satisfactory compromise eliminating the bickering regarding name identification and, secondly, EME became a term that was thereafter utilized as a code name which prison guards were then unfamiliar with EME (pronounced "EH-meh") is the Spanish phonetic pronunciation of the letter "m" and, having the desired Hispanic flavor, was subsequently coined exclusively by members of the Mexican Mafia throughout the California prison system. EME was used interchangeably with the term Mafia or by itself. Example: Mundo is from the EME.
In 1961, Cheyenne was transferred to San Quentin. Officials at D.V.I., alarmed at the uncontrollable escalation of violence there, decided to relocate their most incorrigible inmates to San Quentin. The idea was to deter and discourage their violent activities by intermingling them with hardened adult convicts. The attempt backfired.
San Quentin immediately experienced what was then an unprecedented wave of assaults and murders. These occurred, not coincidentally, shortly after the arrival of the D.V.I. misfits.
The San Quentin Big Yard soon became a reunion site for most of these D.V.I. "graduates". Intent on carving their special niche and establishing themselves with the prison population, Eddie "Potato Nose" Loera and Jesus "Liro" Pedroza, both charter EME carnales, introduced themselves to the yard in dramatic fashion.
For no apparent reason Liro pounced on an unsuspecting inmate and proceeded to stab his victim repeatedly with a prison-made shank as scores of shocked convicts looked on.
Robert "Bobby Loco" Lopez (same exact true name and nickname of my street gang victim in 1969) staggered aimlessly across the upper yard. He then spun around slowly and crumpled onto the asphalt. Bobby Loco stared into the clear blue sky as his life's blood oozed from his convulsing body.
A few days later Liro teamed up with Potato Nose and stabbed yet another convict to death, again with no apparent motive. These hits were committed for no reason other than to make a statement to the general population at San Quentin on the EME's behalf.
In that same period other EME hits were committed by Alfredo "Cuate" Jimenez, who murdered a convict on the lower yard, and by Mike "Hatchet" Ison who stabbed his prey to death in the prison gym.
Acha was also known as "Ice Man" and "Hatchet Mike" because of the coldblooded manner in which he would execute his victims. Making an intended target feel at ease,
Acha would smooth talk his prey while escorting him to a blind spot – a location in the prison where guards could not observe – and there the victim would meet his demise.
In 1962, Doroteo "Sleepy" Betancourt was convicted of stabbing a prison guard to death at D.V.I. with another future EME soldier, David “Moose” Bazure. It was this caliber of Chicano convict that the EME sought for recruitment into their deadly cartel. Sleepy and Moose became members shortly after being transferred to San Quentin following the murder trial and sporting fresh life sentences.
In the early-1960's, a volatile period in the California prison system, EME's membership swelled to well over thirty hardcore members who were willing and eager to kill for the gang at the drop of a hat. Still, they were no more than a large gang of prison terrorists. That is, until the idea of implementing a more organized and permanent system was conceived.
Led by "Huero" Flores and "Cheyenne" Cadena, they introduced a system for the Mexican Mafia that would forever change their future. Among the pioneers who shared in this new structure were Alejandro "Hondo" Lechuga, Mike "Acha" Ison, Gabriel "Little Sluggo" Castañeda, Benjamin "Topo" Peters, Joe "Colorado" Arias and Ricardo "Richie" Ruiz. Richie had been Cheyenne's crime partner on the streets.
They were instrumental in what is the present day Mexican Mafia. EME, the more acceptable condensed code name for the gang, adopted "Huero" Flores' and "Cheyenne's" system in which every member would be required to be sponsored by at least one other member.
Each soldado was to take a death oath. They were pledging their allegiance to the organization for life and the only way out of the organization was to be executed. The basic rules were spelled out: A carnal always came first, even before one's own family.
A member was never to attack nor threaten another brother and if a personal conflict arose between two members they were required to avoid each other. In the event that a hit assignment or any other task was entrusted jointly to two members who didn't see eye to eye, they were admonished to never, under penalty of death, allow their personal differences to interfere with their assignment or with EME business.
Existence of the Mexican Mafia was never to be acknowledged to the authorities. EME would recruit only those possessing qualities such as fearlessness, aggressiveness and ruthlessness. The emphasis would always be on quality as opposed to quantity. EME would not tolerate doubt or hesitation and one was never to show fear or weakness.
Members were required to risk and even sacrifice their own lives, if necessary, to assist another carnal or to perform a "suicide" hit. It was agreed upon that violation of just about any rule would be punishable by swift and certain death.
There was a definite appeal for EME members, hardened by life sentences and having done several years in the C.Y.A. and state prison system, to dedicate their lives to making a determined career out of crime. It was the “special forces” of the gang underworld.
In the EME’s early history, initiation not only required sponsorship by at least one member within the prison system, but a unanimous vote was also necessary to confirm one’s membership. One “thumbs down” (dissenting) vote translated into no membership.
An EME soldado had to be ready and willing to kill for the organization and if there ever arose an occasion that a new member's aggressiveness was in doubt, he would be required to undergo a test to prove his worthiness. This would usually entail that he carry out a hit for the EME to demonstrate his ongoing loyalty and courage.
Although joining the Mexican Mafia represented a much more profound and binding commitment than the allegiance to a street gang, EME members maintained close ties with their outside "homeboys". In the barrio, upon learning of one of theirs becoming a Mafioso, homeboys interpreted leaving the 'hood for the EME as a graduation to the big time rather than an abandonment of the street gang.
Indeed, EME members would explain to their fellow homeboys that they were still supportive of the barrio but had a much deeper obligation to the Mexican Mafia.
Once a made member, the EME became the first priority. As representatives of their respective gangs, they become role models for the youngsters to emulate. The neighborhoods became a fertile source from which to "raise" future aspiring soldados and amicable ties were maintained and encouraged by the EME.
Did "Mundo" write all this or did someone else co-author? I'm not understanding if these guys actually articulate like this guy writes.
thanks for posting this...its just gets better and better...like this licoln im selling...
I'm enjoying this so far even though still confused about turning dedo for no explainable reason, yet.
And to the blogger who asked about a co-author or ghostwriter I can only state the old dicho "keep underestimating us and soon we will have passed you by". Sometimes only a formal education is a detriment!
(Did "Mundo" write all this or did someone else co-author? I'm not understanding if these guys actually articulate like this guy writes)
Mundo wrote this, alright, and without any assistance! He also authored other material which was used by the L.A. Sheriff's Office in their training.
Additionally, Mundo wrote a piece for the California Youth Authority which required NO corrections or editing. It was published in the same exact form that is was received!
Mr. Don Quixote is correct in stating that we should not "underestimate" the intelligence of Chicano gangsters.
This particular one (Mundo Mendoza) made a "unilateral" and complete turnaround. Like Arthur "Conejo" Blajos, he became a born-again Christian.
He turned in the Kern County Jail, offered to work undercover and did so for over a year! He was in great standing with his carnales and was the ONLY carnal with contact with ALL EME brothers including fugitives: Alejandro "Hondo" Lechuga in Juarez, Mexico; Joe Morgan (who was running from the law on a drug possession charge and fugitive warrant); Alfredo "Alfie" Sosa, hiding in Tijuana on several murder warrants in Cali + several other EME fugitives.
He was trusted to the hilt, DQ, and his reason for turning is unique indeed. It's in his book in detail.
Peace ........
Tijuana Jailer
(EXCERPT)
Eventually we climbed out of the deep ghetto to a relatively poor but cleaner section of town and in 1952 settled in East Los Angeles.
In the early 1950's the Korean conflict in Asia revived the war fever and in the Chicano barrios throughout the Southwestern United States many saw this as an opportunity to escape the depressive conditions of poverty and racial discrimination. It also allowed them to demonstrate that they could fight just as fierce in the rugged terrain of Korea as in the dark alleys of East L.A. and El Paso.
It was ironic that they would be fighting for a democracy they had not had the pleasure of experiencing until called to support the war effort. During the Second World War, for example, Mexican-Americans made up one-tenth of Los Angeles' population and in ten lists printed in local newspapers and chosen at random, about one-fifth of the names on the casualty lists and the same proportion on the list of awards were the names of men of Mexican ancestry.
The reason for this is that those who enlisted often chose the most dangerous branches of the service such as the Marines, paratroopers and Rangers. These same men returned from Korea, as they had from previous wars, to their hometowns only to encounter the same miserable living conditions they had temporarily forgotten and left behind.
The familiar world of street gangs, drugs, hustlers, poor housing, lack of jobs and discrimination welcomed them home and were evidence that nothing had changed. The oldies-but-goodies and blues era reflected the somber mood of the Chicano. Groups such as the Platters, the Chantels, the Emeralds; singers such as Rosie and the Originals, B.B. King and Bobby Blue Bland were among hundreds of musical figures whose love ballads and songs of loneliness and broken hearts captured the sentimental hearts and appealed to the romantic nature of Chicano teenagers providing another form of escape from their despondent reality.
(FAST FORWARD TO ANOTHER EXCERPT)
At the Classification Committee I was confronted by my old buddy Lt. Duncan, Mr. Neto, the head counselor, and other staff members. This particular appearance was also the pinnacle of defiance for me. I strolled deliberately into the committee room with my blue bandana tied around my head. Long before the Bloods and Crips became notorious for their blue and red colors, L.A. Chicano gang members wore the notorious “blue”, especially behind bars. I was flaunting my colors for the sake of my favorite lieutenant.
Mr. Neto began by congratulating me for my outstanding and conforming behavior. He said I was a "prime example for others in the Adjustment Center to emulate" (emphasis was added).
The fancy adjectives were pure bullshit and everyone in the room knew it. It was their way of incorporating positive language into the official record. It never ceased to amaze how these people could, with the stroke of a pen, depict me as one of Christ's apostles rather than castigate me for the disciplinary reports I had amassed.
On the other hand, if they had it in for you, they had the power to vilify and paint one as the slimiest creature in existence. But today was my day. I was savoring every moment and delighting at the helpless look on Duncan's face.
Fuming silently, Lt. Duncan was like a smoldering volcano on the brink of erupting. The flush on his hardened face only confirmed to me that he had been totally opposed to any favorable recommendations on my behalf but powerless to prevent it. Not only had he been outvoted, he was outranked. Word had come down from Sacramento to get me out of their hair.
I was enjoying the charade. Mr. Neto informed me that the committee was not only recommending to the parole board that I be released on parole but to the general population as well. Duncan was shifting uncomfortably. I noticed he was fiddling nervously with his pen as Mr. Neto continued.
"Mr. Mendoza, what do you plan to do upon your eventual release? Do you have a job lined up?
This would be my last opportunity. I looked straight at Duncan as I carefully considered my reply to Mr. Neto’s question.
"Yes sir, I plan to work for a large corporation. I'm gonna work for Murder, Incorporated".
That set him off.
"Look, you son-of-a-bitch. If you ever come back to DVI I'm personally making sure they throw away the key!"
With that he stormed out of the committee room and I could see the trace of a smile on Mr. Neto's face. It was no big secret that Duncan and I hated each other's guts. This was the final scene in our longstanding feud. I had enjoyed the satisfaction of firing the last salvo.
I am really enjoying Mundo's history of the Chicano gangster development in LA. It's undoubtedly a classic primer on how Mundo correctly describes this culture "a completely abnormal social value system was established" It could be his "Doctoral Thesis" at a major university.
I would like to expound on his dialectic by relating one of my own experiences when I was a proud member of this "abnormal society" it may clarify to some how it came into being.
At about the age of 17 or 18 and being, as is called by some, "State Raised" and in good standing with all my fellow torcidos, and varrio homeboys, I was on the "outs" and hooked up a good jale with some of the old Lincon Hts. Dagos who had a messenger service business in downtown LA.
This job required us to deliver messages and packages on bicycles all around the downtown area, but it was not as it seemed, as I and a couple other camaradas, (all of us had done time together in YTS, and one of these vatos is a well known carnal,the other would have been but got religion just in time!), did special deliveries for these Dagos who I had known all my life. We delivered bets and money to various customers who did business with this book and also Heroin and Pills of various sorts to special customers. We got paid cash besides our "minimum wage check" that the other guys received. We camaradas had been tested over and over on the streets and in lockup and we knew no weakness was in any of us.
We used to eat at a Pastrami stand on 4th and Los Angeles St. all the time, and there was a middle aged, light skinned, Chanate who was a real happy, nice guy who always treated us right. Well one Friday Payday, as we were walking to the "Grand Central Market" for shrimp and fries, we see this big commotion at Third and Main St. and when we get closer we see this light skinned chanate we know getting mugged by this big black Mayate. Our friend was on the ground and holding onto this big fucking niggers leg and screaming, please don't take my check sir, please don't take my money!! And this big Chanate is just walking and dragging this guy down the sidewalk, every once in a while he would stop and give the poor old vato a "patada" in the face. It was pitiful and there were a hundred people around just watching. We were looking too but fuck it, one of vatos (who now has religion but was a vicious,heartless mother fucker in his day)says "This is fucked up,what do you guys think? We both say let's get that fucking nigger" and off we go accross the street, the big black mayate didn't see us coming and I picked up a newspaper rack on the street and I blindsided the dude in the head and he staggered back but didn't fall,I look to my crime partners and they both had knives out and were moving in on this Vato. I thought I was all Chingon in those days and I saw a lot of shit go down but I remember a the time thinking "fuck man there going to kill this mayate and we'll all get busted! Sure enough,both of them started shanking this vato and he starts screaming and falls against the bldg. and I can see in my camaradas eyes that not only are they going to stick him a hundred times, but they are looking at me like "come on vato pull your shit out and start sticking". The way we were raised I had no choice and I stuck him a couple of times in his ass before we heard the Juda coming and we took off running. Later we were reliving the scene and I was questioned about why I stuck this mayate in the ass instead of the heart.
That was the movida in play "show no sign of weakness or compassion"
Footnote: Later we heard from our friend (the old light skinned dude)that the mayate who we shanked lived but was busted for strongarm robbery and got ten years due to his extensive and brutal record of violent robberies. We never paid for another Pastrami, but this was an example of what "Mundo" refers to as a "learned abnormal social value system"
Despite the loss of precious freedom there was also a sense of security. Juvie provided many of the things I received at home such as food, clean clothing, a roof over my head and even family. The only big difference was that my brothers wore butch haircuts, khaki pants, blue denim shirts and brown hightop boots. More importantly, our parents didn't beat us here.
I was now a member of a society in which we were all in the same boat sharing a mutual predicament. It felt good to belong. If they could take it, so could I. Never in my wildest dreams did I suspect that I was on the road to becoming a “state-raised” criminal.
I was transferred to D-Company, the camp unit, and awaited transfer to a forestry camp. Although I was scared to death at the prospect of doing time, there was also an inexplicable feeling of excitement. This was a new and unknown challenge for me and I would meet it head on like the difficult algebra problems I had learned to master at Stevenson Junior High.
(EXCERPT)
During this period I remembered what my stepfather had advised me during one of our rare moments of intimacy: "Son, if you're going to do something - whatever it is - do it right". He repeated this sagacious wisdom on many occasions and I recall laughing at his broken English.
It was late in November that I sought out an older ward at Juvenile Hall. His name was Eddie Romero and he was known in the neighborhood as Bugsy from the King Kobras gang. Bugsy had attended Stevenson and he remembered me from school. I asked him to explain the movidas - the inmate rules. He appeared flattered.
Bugsy related to me the importance of sticking with other Chicanos at all times and emphasized that socializing with blacks or whites was considered taboo. He advised that if anybody tried to push me around I was supposed to respond immediately with violence.
According to my tutor, an ass whipping would still prove that I was no coward.
I was told never to tolerate even verbal or physical taunts or challenges. Survival was the reason for observing these movidas and he admonished that it could be somewhat more difficult for me since I did not belong to a street gang. I had no established credentials or homeboys to fall back on for support.
He warned that I should never show weakness because by so doing I would leave myself vulnerable to either homosexual or exploitive advances. I would then become a "stoneout", or reject, and fellow Chicano inmates would not consider me one of their own. Neither would I be accepted by the general inmate society. In other words, I would become a “nobody”.
This indoctrination session lasted about a half hour and when Bugsy finished I shook his hand profusely and thanked him sincerely for spelling out the do’s and don'ts. He succeeded in leaving a very sobering impression that afternoon.
The admonitions which replayed themselves in my mind were: "Don't show weakness", "stick with your own race", "respond immediately with violence", and "if you become a stoneout, no one will recognize you". I was ghastly afraid of being a “nobody”.
(FASSST FORWARD - EXCERPT)
PART TWO: STATE RAISED
Chapter V
Journey Through C.Y.A.
In May-1965, I was transferred to the Paso Robles School for Boys in the notorious "green hornet", the name given years prior to the California Youth Authority's transportation bus. A one-tiered vehicle, it was modified with reinforced armor and probably purchased from one of the larger bus lines.
Most of us were first timers and everyone seemed to be enjoying the ride. The inmates laughed and exchanged war stories. They boasted about daring street exploits such as armed robberies, bloody gang victories and other macho criminal accomplishments. No one dared display outward signs of weakness nor admit their stomachs were churning with genuine fear and nervousness.
Everyone had on their mask - their front. The telltale sign, nevertheless - one that I would observe many times in future journeys to the unknown - became apparent once someone mentioned that our destination was within view. Efforts at remaining indifferent would suddenly become transparent.
The brave conversations ceased and we strained to get a better look as we approached the institution. The quietness spoke volumes. The apprehension I beheld in the eyes of those kids betrayed them immediately.
It only confirmed in my mind that they too felt what I did: apprehension. Silent bonds were established in those moments as each inmate became preoccupied with thoughts of how they were going to act and what type of scowl to wear into Paso.
As the bus pulled into the sallyport - the receiving dock - an electronically controlled gate slid open. We drove up to another gate and waited. The first gate then closed behind us and the second began to roll open, welcoming us to a campus-looking facility.
The iron behemoth slowly rumbled through the security gates into the Paso Robles inmate reception area. Congregated on the platform of the mess hall loading dock were a group of inmates clad in white. The chow hall workers cast hard glares at the arriving batch of fresh meat. Their mean looks communicated to us that we were yet unproven "fish". Acceptance into their world was withheld until each of us demonstrated our ability to meet their standards.
Opp's, mi dispensa! I wasn't trying to bogard the vato I thought he was through! I'll lay dead for awhile.
A la Madre!
........ A la Madre, homes.
[EXCERPT]
Eager to convert these previously untried ideas into action, I embarked upon my new career with the same zeal that a businessman would probably display working his way up the corporate ladder.
The value system I adopted at camp, juvenile hall, Norwalk and Paso gave special status to those who excelled in antisocial behavior. In the process of adapting to the criminal mentality in order to survive in their jungle, I was becoming one of them as I yielded to the enormous peer pressure. I not only succeeded in acquiring the respect and acceptance of my peers but I had become a “somebody”.
At this point, my life was still salvageable. I was then about four years from that fateful day in which I would kill a rival street gang member and become a lost soul.
As I journey to that critical juncture in 1969, only God knows what would have successfully interrupted my climb up the criminal corporate ladder. What is important to understand is that I was certainly not born a criminal. My evolvement was indeed a process nurtured by adverse circumstances and perpetuated ultimately by one’s beautiful gift from God: Free volition. I was definitely responsible for my actions and free to choose and decide how I was to proceed in life. Unfortunately, I chose the wrong avenue.
On August 10, 1965, Los Angeles was ablaze and the residents of Watts demonstrated their anger at ‘whitey’. I was paroled from Paso Robles amidst the frenzy and confusion generated from the riots. It felt as though I had been welcomed to hell.
[FASST FORWARD - EXCERPT]
Chapter VI
Preston And Tracy
Although I possessed a demented and insatiable mean streak during my confined teenage years, the CYA counselors were undeterred. I was their "project" and they were optimistic about my reformation. The more they attempted to tap into my "potential", the more determined I endeavored to prove them wrong. I exploited their efforts and manipulated them at every turn.
The Preston School of Industries was in Ione, California, a tiny rural town near Stockton. Preston was to the California Youth Authority what outmoded and sinister-looking San Quentin and Folsom prisons were to the California Department of Corrections.
Preston’s notorious reputation as a tough and violent institution gave the inmates a feeling of uniqueness and perverse pride. We belonged to a special class of prisoner, or so we liked to think, and were determined to live up to and maintain the reputation of the institution.
When I drove up in 1966 on the Green Hornet I could clearly see the old castle standing menacingly in the background. It was so close I could hear the cries of 19th century prisoners being flogged and beaten by their barbaric keepers. Although no longer in use, the red brick castle represented a constant and ominous reminder of the Old West's emphasis on punishment rather than rehabilitation. I was impressed.
[MONGOL - MANIA .. Continued]
Anonymous said...
Hey Mongols!! Know you know the truth! Dic has been telling you that the problem between you and th eme was dying down and he was taking care of it! You never believed he was paying did you? You heard the rumors all along but you didn't belive it! Well it is true, the world know about it and you thought that asshole was telling the truth! He is paying to save his own ass because he is doing dirty business and making money off you. Look in mirror and ask yourself! why do I allows a man who runs when shit happens to control me! I challenge anyone in your club to stand up and ask him what is going on? he paid for stepping on toes!! not because the eme wanted to tax you!! How much money has he shared with you? NOTHING! How much money did he collect taxing your own? How much did he share with you? NOTHING! Rumor has it he has shown bitches aot of money, thousands of dollars of your money in his safe to impress them. The vehicles he has, you paid for them. People around him know it! ow much did you get when he sold them? NOTHING! He lives off the hog! Yet when you guys pai those dues and you could not afford it! what id he say? Fuck you Me & my want the money!! When you guys go on runs, who pays for your room! That's right! you do! Who pays fo his? You! When your own, what does he give you? Thats right! NOTHING! Wake the FUCK UP! stop being afraid of him!! Your in danger of getting killed by people who used to be like familia for Him! He is a legend in his own mind! He braggs about what he does for you while making money off you guys!! Be men again!! The guys a bitch!
8:59 AM
Is this book available or are these "excerpts" previews of a book to be released????
[MONGOL - MANIA .. Continued]
Anonymous said...
Hey Mongols!! Know you know the truth! Dic has been telling you that the problem between you and th eme was dying down and he was taking care of it! You never believed he was paying did you? You heard the rumors all along but you didn't belive it! Well it is true, the world know about it and you thought that asshole was telling the truth! He is paying to save his own ass because he is doing dirty business and making money off you. Look in mirror and ask yourself! why do I allows a man who runs when shit happens to control me! I challenge anyone in your club to stand up and ask him what is going on? he paid for stepping on toes!! not because the eme wanted to tax you!! How much money has he shared with you? NOTHING! How much money did he collect taxing your own? How much did he share with you? NOTHING! Rumor has it he has shown bitches aot of money, thousands of dollars of your money in his safe to impress them. The vehicles he has, you paid for them. People around him know it! ow much did you get when he sold them? NOTHING! He lives off the hog! Yet when you guys pai those dues and you could not afford it! what id he say? Fuck you Me & my want the money!! When you guys go on runs, who pays for your room! That's right! you do! Who pays fo his? You! When your own, what does he give you? Thats right! NOTHING! Wake the FUCK UP! stop being afraid of him!! Your in danger of getting killed by people who used to be like familia for Him! He is a legend in his own mind! He braggs about what he does for you while making money off you guys!! Be men again!! The guys a bitch!
8:59 AM
what are you getting in exchange for the Eme taxes you pay? Same shit different tax collector
DIC IS THE LEADER OF THE MONGOLS!! HE DID DIRTY BUSINESS,BURNS HIS OWN PEOPLE,THEN TELLS THEM THE BIG HOMIES ARE ON THE WRONG,WHILE THE WHOLE TIME HE'S THE ONE LOOKIN OUT FOR HIMSELF!! SO IF THEIRS CONFLICT WITH SOME REAL HEAVY'S,HIS OWN CLUB WON'T SEE WHAT HE IS DOING!!!
((DIC IS THE LEADER OF THE MONGOLS!! HE DID DIRTY BUSINESS,BURNS HIS OWN PEOPLE,THEN TELLS THEM THE BIG HOMIES ARE ON THE WRONG,WHILE THE WHOLE TIME HE'S THE ONE LOOKIN OUT FOR HIMSELF!! SO IF THEIRS CONFLICT WITH SOME REAL HEAVY'S,HIS OWN CLUB WON'T SEE WHAT HE IS DOING!))
Sounds like a real Dick, if you ask me?
Mundo apparently thought going to preston was a badge of honor even though he had already spent time at YTS. At one time it was the only place north and south met up as youngsters and thus alot of shit kicked off. I'm wondering if any of you surenos who've been to both have a take on which was harder, YTS or Preston. By the way, what do they call YTS now?
"Mundo apparently thought going to preston was a badge of honor"
Remember, we're definitely talking about different time frames here.
In the 50's and 60's, only DVI was tougher than Preston (it was then the only institution housing CYA wards that had armed gun towers). DVI, being the last stop for CYA wards, housed both adult and CYA commitments. As in most CYA institutions, the vast majority of Mexican-American commitments were from the Los Angeles area.
They mixed nicely with their counterparts from northern California and had "Cliquas" (Chicano cliques) composed of hard core inmates who had their own "movidas" (rules).
YTS (Youth Training School) was initially a place where more "intelligent" CYA wards were housed in the hope that they would master a trade and parole successfully into an occupation on the outside.
Preston was the last stop before going to DVI and many wards who could not program at YTS were shipped to Preston. Preston had many Chicano hardcore cliques in each company and race riots were commonplace in the 50's and 60's.
Of course, the landscape today has drastically changed and you have different classifications at these institutions from 40 to 50 years ago!
The Department of Corrections has also changed significantly since the old days (50's thru early 1970's) when Folsom and San Quentin were considered the Big Yards and Soledad-Central and DVI were a notch below when talking about overall toughness.
There was no Pelican Bay or Corcoran, etc. even being considered for construction in those days ..........
Peace ....
Tijuana Jailer
Although the 50's and 60's had their share of pleitos, it would seem from the history lessons on our civil war, that the pintas experienced unprecendented levels of violence in the early seventies. I'm thinking YA wards are a few years behind CDC inmates regarding awareness of high power prison politics. So the 80's should have been pretty violent on the hill. I asked about people's experiences at both because YTS was a sureno institution and Preston had even numbers of surenos and nortenos sometimes, although alot of the time, the surenos outnumbered the nortenos. i was curious as to their experience in an all sureno institution.
different note:
Once, a shotcaller from YTS rolled up thinking he was going to call shots at preston only to end up pc'ed because the shotcaller already there didn't want any challengers to his authority. Another time, this Fresno vato with NF relatives yelled #$%^ bulldogs so later that night the bulldogs ran up to the cage staff sat in, covered the view with blankets and had their homies proceed to stab this vato like 38 times. He lived as he was too $%^&* evil to die, they say the good die young. I always enjoyed reading the placasos, carved into the desks and all over the institution, dating back to the fifties. I used daydream about how it was for those vatos back then. It was like a museum of chicano gang jargon and culture to read those old placasos and barrios. they used c/s (con safos) alot more back then as well as the word mister before a placaso. Damn, im reminiscing on being torcido , aint that a ?
ALRATO,
time to TCB
[It was like a museum of chicano gang jargon and culture to read those old placasos and barrios]
[EXCERPT FROM MUNDO'S BOOK]
The most famous placa writer I ever knew was James Morrow, known as “Little Huero” from Florencia. At Juvenile Hall he succeeded in driving counselors crazy by carving his moniker on their lunch boxes. He would also sit in the library and, book by book, patiently sign his name and street gang initials on the front and back covers with a black felt pen.
There was not a housing unit, bench, classroom, holding room or juvenile transportation vehicle that I came across without his familiar mark etched or inked in. When we did time in Preston together he would climb like a spider monkey to the very top of the gymnasium's roof to leave his autograph. He knew that there it would be preserved for the life of the building since no counselor in his right mind would dare climb such heights in search of graffiti.
It was at Preston that I struck a deal with Little Huero. Anytime I left my mark, his would accompany mine and vice versa. MUNDO x VNE and HUERITO x F13 could be found side by side in some of the strangest places in the California Youth Authority. I think it was safe to assume we had somewhat of an identity problem in those days. We craved attention.
On a tour of the old Preston castle, which was no longer in use, bewildered counselors returned demanding to know how we succeeded to etch our monikers into the castle's limestone bricks. This would have required a daring escape in broad daylight directly under the main lookout tower and then return to the institution. We innocently claimed ignorance. It became a Preston unsolved mystery.
In 1966, Little Huero died of a heroin overdose. But his name lived on. It was not uncommon to ride buses bearing his inscribed trademark. In 1978, twelve years after Huero's death, I was being transported to the L.A. County Jail. His placa remained on an old brick wall directly across the jail, a reminder to all of us who loved this mischievous devil.
A scene I'll never forget occurred during a funeral procession for a slain Los Angeles police officer. Olympic Boulevard had been somberly transformed into a sea of black and white. Law enforcement agencies from neighboring counties and throughout the state paid their last respects to a fallen comrade.
Police cars and motorcycles proceeded en route to the cemetery as I watched at an intersection with several homeboys. It was there we observed a brilliantly polished L.A.P.D. cruiser approach displaying the familiar police logo, "To Protect and To Serve". Beneath it was an unforgettable inscription which read: "Little Huero de la Florence!"
During Fourth of July festivities I instigated a riot on the football field against black inmates. I kicked it off by squaring off with their leader in the equipment room. We met inside the gym and duked it out head to head while everyone waited outside the cage. He tried to wrestle me to the ground and I snatched an air pump hose and wrapped it around his neck.
From the equipment room I led him outside to display him to the inmate population. His eyes bulged and his mouth was gurgling as he attempted to remove the noose. As we emerged all hell broke loose. Jungle Jim, the counselor in charge of the goon squad, appeared with a tear gas rifle and fired into the melee which was going strong near the fifty yard line.
I was having fun making my victim's experience a miserable one when I felt the butt of Jungle Jim's rifle on the side of my face. As quickly as it began, the fun was over. My cheekbone remained swollen for weeks.
In February of 1967 I was transferred to the Deuel Vocational Institution near Tracy. DVI housed both youth and adult prisoners and was operated by the Department of Corrections. Armed gun towers encircled the rows of yellow buildings.
Caught up in a perpetual escalation of evil doings, there was only one way to go - straight ahead. To deviate from this "course of self-destruction", as a psychiatrist at San Quentin later warned I was headed, would mean that I was weakening. I could not show weakness in any form. The fun was just beginning.
DVI became another proving ground for me. I welcomed the challenge as I had the previous ones - with zeal and determination. There I was reunited with jailhouse associates I had known in Preston including several who would later join me as carnales in the Mexican Mafia.
As in Preston I became a frequent resident of the Adjustment Center and became overbearing in my attitude toward staff members. One night I decided to express my frustrations in dramatic fashion. I piled a stack of trash in front of my cell and set it ablaze.
Choking officers attempted to extinguish the fire and I began to "gas" them, dousing them with glasses of urine mixed with cleanser. Enraged, they stormed my cell and proceeded to beat me with flashlights. Twisting and turning in their grasps, I spit in their faces and kicked wildly. I was carried to a strip cell and placed on "assault status".
Assault status meant that, because of my assaultive behavior, I could not leave my cell without an escort, not even to shower, until my attitude improved.
They returned the following night to check on my condition. I screamed obscenities. I challenged and chided them by demeaning their machismo and insisting that last night had merely been a warm-up. Lt. Duncan did not appear very cordial. He sported a dark purple bruise on his forehead, a reminder of the previous night's violent encounter. He angrily ordered one of the guards to unlock my door. I squared off to begin punching.
They surprised me by rushing in using a mattress as a shield. Overwhelmed, I was thrown backwards and pinned against the wall. Then I was jumped and thrown to the floor where steel-toed boots came crashing down on my head, ribs and legs.
In the darkness of my cell I kicked, punched and bit the cursing shadowy figures. They were determined to teach me a lesson. Lt. Duncan maneuvered through the mass confusion and I felt his hands groping at my crotch. The painful scream resounded through the Adjustment Center hallway as Duncan squeezed my testicles tightly. Then I passed out.
sabes que homie,
i seen that placaso on a desk at preston, i think it had a 59 by it. they also used to write the year next to their placasos
Adjustment center=Tamarack=gang schooling
Mundo's tale is getting better and better,keep it coming! By the way as far as I can recall (and shit age is the great equalizer!) Here's how I remember it, YA,Fred C. Nelles 13, 14, 15 yrs of age,. Paso Robles 14, 15, 16, yrs old,. Prestone, 15, 16, 17, yrs old. YTS 17,18, 19, 20? years old. If you were really incorrigble at 16 or 17 they would send you to Tracy or even sometimes, like a vato I knew who was called "Pope" from "Valley Riverside Dr."to Soledad while still a juvenile. My route like many others including an old conocido "Robot" was LA Juvie many times, LA County "Junior Camp" 14 to 15 yrs. L.A. County "Senior Camp" 16, 17,18,yrs. old, YTS Youth Authority. Many guys at YTS had already been to Prestone earlier. This was in the early 60's. By the way, speaking of legendary placasos, I remember a vato named "Pony, Primera Flats" who had his placa everywhere, "PONY PF". So far "Mundo's" right on the mark.
[EXCERPT]
Every gang in Los Angeles contains separate "cliquas", or cliques, within the gang. In 1969, for example, the Varrio Nuevo members whose ages were over twenty-seven belonged to the Cutdowns. The Tinys ranged from twenty-two through twenty-six; the Midgets had those between sixteen and twenty-one; whereas the PeeWees - the newest clique at the time - spanned the age groups from twelve to fifteen years.
This subdividing takes place as members of a common age bracket within a neighborhood claimed by a street gang decide to emulate their older idols. Customarily, these youngsters obtain the blessings from the older fellow gang members - the "veteranos" - before selecting a name for their newly formed clique.
Because I was nineteen at the time I joined I should have been a Midget. But Big Huero Tadewosian -The Mad German was what I had affectionately dubbed him at D.V.I. - sponsored me for membership into the older Tinys.
New street gang recruits are normally sponsored and initiated into the ‘hood after certain procedures are satisfied. After a period of acquainting me with the other homeboys from the various cliques and indoctrinating me with regard to information about our adversaries, I was escorted to a dirt alley near the housing projects.
The four Tinys chosen to honor me with their pugilistic talents were Big Huero, Tutie, Bugs and Bucky. Before the jumping in ritual commenced I emptied my pockets of personal valuables and handed them to Little Ray from the Sharks, a clique almost extinct since their members were well over thirty, mostly married and long gone from the ‘hood. Little Ray was the chief observer.
Two of the Midgets were also in attendance. As I began to remove my wristwatch I saw the warning look on their faces. Peripherally I caught a glimpse of Tutie's cocked fist a split second before it slammed into my temple. That first solid blow nearly knocked me out. Stumbling and almost falling from the impact, I saw a bright flickering wave of light in front of my eyes. I knew then I had a hard head as Tutie's blow would have decked most.
I remembered the valuable pointers Big Huero had shared with me beforehand. He specifically cautioned me to remain on my feet at all costs because many new recruits became vulnerable to great bodily damage after hitting the ground. A prone body was exposed to dangerous kicks.
Recovering instantly, I caught Bugs squarely on the forehead and sent him crashing into a fence. The onlookers roared in approval as the hounds descended upon me from every conceivable angle. It seemed that for every punch I landed, I absorbed ten fists and kicks in return.
Using the fence to shield myself from behind I flailed away blindly at my attackers as blood obscured my vision. In what seemed like an eternity I could hear Little Ray repeatedly hollering "Ya estubo!" (It's finished). The onslaught mercifully ceased and one by one each Tiny shook my hand and complimented me for my aggressive resistance.
Relieved, I managed to hold my weary arms in the air like a victorious boxer after a hard earned bout. I was celebrating my newborn status as a champion amidst my new family. My brothers had baptized me with their cariños, their endearments, the Chicano way - al estilo Indio (Indian style)!
To my personal satisfaction, I noticed that Big Huero and Tutie sported cut lips, Bucky displayed a swelling bruise on his cheek and Bugs wore a perfect shiner around his left eye, a souvenir from me and evidence that some of my punches had reached home.
I was nineteen years into my existence and flirting with death. I was also venting my rage against everybody who had ever gotten in my face in my lifetime.
It was in May-1969 that I fought the ultimate battle in defense of the neighborhood's honor. Six of us were crammed inside my '53 Chevy as I drove with reckless abandon from the projects up Whittier Boulevard.
The blood was still streaming down my face from the ass-kicking I had received at the hands of our adversaries. My avenging homeboys and I were praying silently that our rivals would still be partying at the Euclid Teen Center.
I did not want to risk hitting one of my homeboys with a slicing backswing as they rushed past me. Instead, I proceeded to stab Fuzzy in the chest and stomach as he screamed in protest.
From the second floor I could hear the rumble of the fierce struggle that was underway. I decided to leave my wounded victim and raced upstairs to join the bigger battle.
"Que viva Varrio Nuevo!" I yelled.
We were outnumbered by at least two to one but when the guys from White Fence saw me emerge with the machete, they ran for the stairwell.
An eyewitness later testified in court that she saw a tall "white guy" swinging a machete wildly.
She pointed me out at the preliminary hearing. Possessed by demons, I became temporarily insane that night and was totally unconcerned for my personal safety.
But the rage and hostility I felt inside had suddenly transformed into a combination of controlled anger and an unusually vivid awareness of my immediate hostile surroundings. I felt complete disregard for life or limb as well as disdain for the consequences of my violent actions. I was making my bones for the barrio.
As our antagonists scurried for cover via a rear stairway, I caught up with one who was wielding a pipe and battling with my homeboy Ralph. I swung the machete and caught him flush on the forehead. His body slumped to the ground like a heavy sack.
I remember swinging until I felt he was no longer a threat to us. While he was down I slashed at his prone body again...and again...and again. The L.A. medical examiner later testified that his head had been nearly detached from his body. He would never again be a threat to anyone. Robert "Bobby Loco" Lopez expired at the scene.
As I retreated toward the staircase I felt compelled to look back. I shot a parting glance toward the crumpled body and became transfixed. His body was twitching involuntarily on the second floor.
There was a victory party that night at Tutie's home in Pico Rivera. We were congratulated by the homeboys for holding up the flag and swiftly retaliating against our adversaries. That was in 1969 and my head was as big as a watermelon as I had proven myself for the hood.
*****
When I arrived at the courthouse Mr. Nizinski informed me that the judge had agreed to accept a guilty plea to one count of Involuntary Manslaughter. He also promised I would be sentenced to one year in the county jail. I was euphoric. I had already served eight months so I would be but a few months from freedom and maybe much less after calculating time off for good behavior. The news was unexpected but definitely much welcomed.
My mom was in the spectator section alongside Pat, my unfaithful racehorse. I winked at them and gave the thumbs up signal as the court bailiff read aloud my case number and motioned for me to rise.
Donning my most pious expression I approached the bench with my head slightly bowed. The judge asked if I had anything to say on my behalf.
"No, your Honor," I responded.
He read the charges and commented on the circumstances of the offense while my attorney nodded his head at me reassuringly. The fix was in. The rest was a floorshow - a mere formality. But I detected a cutting edge in the judge's voice as he addressed me personally. He told me I was in great need of professional help and needed to be taught a lesson.
Judge William Ritzi then pronounced judgment. I was sentenced to what the law prescribed: six to fifteen at the California Department of Corrections. Shocked, I glanced over at my attorney who appeared uncomfortable. He shrugged as if he'd crapped out on a gambling table. I faced the judge.
"I have something to say," I flared. "Fuck your mother! Fuck your white mother!"
I was immediately pounced upon by two bailiffs. After wrestling me to the floor they dragged me from the courtroom. Undeterred, I continued to direct a barrage of obscenities at the ancestors of the red-faced judge.
Forgotten was my shocked mother who covered her mouth to stifle a sob. Forgotten was the life I had taken. Forgotten was the sorrowful look on the face of Mrs. Lopez when she confronted her son's killer. Any remorse I may have entertained was replaced with outrage at what I perceived to be a double cross by the judge and my attorney. I was on my way to the big house - the California state prison - with a big time attitude.
Sorry guys, I was just given a warning (early this morning) by some "suits" and told I was in violation of copyright laws and cannot post anymore of this book. I won't even ask how they got my information.
You're probably the only who bought the book...lol
Here's how I remember it, YA,Fred C. Nelles 13, 14, 15 yrs of age,. Paso Robles 14, 15, 16, yrs old,. Prestone, 15, 16, 17, yrs old. YTS 17,18, 19, 20? years old.
Preston wards couldn't walk the line until they turned 18. The mainline was 18-25 year olds. If someone 17 rolled up, they had to do their time in Tamarack until their 18th birthday. I believe the State could be sued for placing a minor in an adult setting. So preston was an adult institution. After Chad opened up, preston became a juvinle institution.
Guys in suits huh? I was wondering how long before copyright issues were raised. Guess I wont be posting here much longer.
[You're probably the only who bought the book...lol]
Actually, I ordered mine on September 20th, received it on October 9th and it was numbered #55/100 and signed.
It is copyrighted so I was wondering why no one ever said anything to the person who was posting excerpts. Whatever. That's his business, I suppose.
The reading is great and the details are graphic. I suppose only someone who's "been there and done that" can give such accounts.
*** it was numbered #55/100 and signed.***
Hey, I must be chopped liver. mine wasn't number OR signed!!
"Here's how I remember it, YA,Fred C. Nelles 13, 14, 15 yrs of age,. Paso Robles 14, 15, 16, yrs old,. Prestone, 15, 16, 17, yrs old. YTS 17,18, 19, 20? years old."
So is YTS still a "Training School"? What exactly is its classification? Do they separate north and south inmates there?
((TijuanaJailer said...
I am interested in hearing your feedback (positive, negative or otherwise) about Mundo's book. Those of you who have read it should have some opinions about what you've read.))
There are portions of Mundo's book that reads like a police report (like conducting a taped interview with Mundo) and there isn't much "depth". It's a "just-the-facts" account of who, what, where, when, how and sometimes why.
Then there are parts that are very original. His observations are unique, especially when they execute the NF brothers in Bakersfield. I can almost "feel" the victim's agony as Mundo places the gun on the pillow and fires into his victim's head.
For those of us who may disagree somewhat with people naming names on this Blog, Mundo takes the prize for naming names. He even has a list of 187's at the end of the book called: EME Prison Murders and EME Street Murders, which occurred up until his defection.
We may not like what he did: the good people don't like his criminal exploits and the bad people don't like the fact that he "turned". But, this guy surely takes us for a journey!
On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being highest, I'll go 8.5.
My two cents ........
Do they separate north and south inmates there
Northern Inmates are locked down away from southern inmates. They killed a teacher and dumped her body in dumpster in YTS a few years back. I think its also a 18-25 years of age facility. A hard place no doubt. I never been there and was wondering what southern institution was used for the scene in american me when JD rolls up and big happy don't like a white guy being taken in.
((Northern Inmates are locked down away from southern inmates.))
What a shame. It was hard enough in the past to "rehabilitate" but now, with this North-South thing, it's virtually impossible!
Youth Authority facilities have surely worsened dramatically from the time Mundo was in their system. There is no comparison and the violence is indeed "unprecedented".
On the other hand, the CDC violence was much worse in those days (60's and especially 70's) compared to the years since. This is undoubtedly due to the "validation system" in place which identifies and isolates the known prison gang members.
The prison gangs have surely done a number on the youngsters and breaking that yoke will be a monumental task.
A White guy goes into a bar after a hard day of work and buys a beer.
He holds the can out and shouts, "T-G-I-F."
The Mexican guy sitting next to him buys his beer and shouts, "S-P-I-T."
After the White guy finished his first beer, he buys another and yells
the same thing, " T-G-I-F."
So, the Mexican guy next to him buys another beer and yells, "S-P-I-T."
After his second beer the White guy buys another and shouts, "T-G-I-F," and
the Mexican guy next to him once again shouts, " S-P-I-T."
The bartender was wondering what in the hell they were both shouting about,
so he asks the White guy, "What in the hell is T-G-I-F?"
The White guy says "Thank God it's Friday."
Then the bartender turns to the Mexican guy and asks him, "Alright man,
what in the world does S-P-I-T mean?"
And the Mexican replies, " Stupid Pendejo it's Thursday."
"Suits made me stop".
What kind of bullshit is that? That is the biggest piece of BS I ever heard of. Theres no way in hell they can track you down and better yet, why would they?? This isn't Sony Music lawyers sueing MP3 users. Its a little CD book being posted on a blog.
I can download full albums,full blow versions of retail software packagess and movies that are still in theaters off the internet and you can't cut and past excerpts from a book? Either you are the biggest dumb ass in history for telling "suit" you were posting copyrighted material or you're just flat out lying.
(Either you are the biggest dumb ass in history for telling "suit" you were posting copyrighted material or you're just flat out lying.)
......... or maybe somebody scared him off. Who knows ... ? Who cares? We just move on .....
** Theres no way in hell they can track you down **
I know a guy who was suspended from Earthlink for a similar infraction. Not serious but serious enough to get suspended.
They can track you "if" the want to track you.
lol .... the dude got scared, that's what happened. Come on, homie, give us the rest of the story. I'll sell you a car at a discount price. lol ....
if you want to be a "firme vato", you will copy and paste the rest of the book. Don't leave us hanging, home squeeze!
orale pues!
In Earthlinks case, you have a username and password and pay monthly fees. This guy is posting unknown, no username, no email. So how did they find him? Come on, this isn't a hacker tring to take down the FBI website, its posting some excerpts from a CD, and guess what, its not copyright infringement if you name the source in terms of published books. If you post the entire book and try to make a profit than its copyright infringement. What jackass was doing was perfectly legal and since there was no publisher or stamp of copyright how is this even an issue of copyright infringement? IF it was copyrighted then how come theres no publisher? Why isn't it a book? Don't Bullshit a bullshitter, holmes.
were watching you too, look out the window, you see that dark crown victoria with tinted windows? thats us (men in black suits)making sure you don't try anything funny
"Don't Bullshit a bullshitter, holmes."
So, should we track this "bullshitter" down and hang him or what??? Why is another guy playing games on the Internet such a big deal and why are you getting all excited about this idiot?
If you beleive the nut, you are a gullible person - or not. If you don't believe him (you obviously do not) then you disbeleive the guy and maybe we should question whether we were even reading Mundo's book ..... or not????
Bottom line: who gives a shit?
*** So how did they find him? Come on, this isn't a hacker tring to take down the FBI website ***
Trucha, RJ, the "Men in Suits" are coming for you too. Only the ones coming after you won't be wearing black ..... they will be in white suits, loco.
I bet you believed in Santa Claus until you grew up and went to the pinta and got "schooled" by the NF, verdad home boy?
Where else were you going to learn that you shouldn't allow vatos to stick their dedos in your nalgas? Not on the streets of Fresno or Salinas.
But, you go to the Big House and learn the "in's and out's" and now you are ready to "represent".
Que Hubo !!!!
ay vato, alot of gente read this blog and you'd be surprised to find vatos from your hood on it. so keep net banging and im sure they'll all pat you on the backs for representing
(ay vato,)_
aye to you too, mija. Was that a moan, chapetita?
alot of gente read this blog and you'd be surprised to find vatos from your hood on it.
(I just learned to use a computer yesterday tambien so you can pat me on the huevitos for that)
so keep net banging
(lol .... si, mami, if you say so)
and im sure they'll all pat you on the backs for representing
(keep picking that fruit, princesa and keep the Albertsons stocked)
hey holmes, you mean Stater Bros, you know they don't get no Albertsons in the hood!
(ay vato,)_
aye to you too, mija. Was that a moan, chapetita?
(chale, your ruca's not under my desk today, its only a typo)
alot of gente read this blog and you'd be surprised to find vatos from your hood on it.
(I just learned to use a computer yesterday tambien so you can pat me on the huevitos for that)
(The methadone clinic finally got that grant for computers huh? orale pues, even tecatos deserve a second chance, including ones who admit to small balls mr.huevitos)
so keep net banging
(lol .... si, mami, if you say so)
(I know you probably don't know your jefito but listening to mami will get you nowhere with black steve from evergreen)
and im sure they'll all pat you on the backs for representing
(keep picking that fruit, princesa and keep the Albertsons stocked)
(I'll keep picking fruit and you keep hauling garbage with black steve from evergreen, maybe you make enough for a twenty bag today. Trucha though, I hear that shit makes vatos huevos shrink into huevitos)
Its a good thing you aren't smart or witty, that would have posed a challenge.
hey holmes, you mean Stater Bros, you know they don't get no Albertsons in the hood!
He don't know, he's a gava pretending to be raza
'Ay vatos' 'pat me on the huevitos' You both sound like bitches. A northern ho and a southern ho.
another nigga with small nuts
que onda con estos putos pidiendole a otros vatos un agasajo
He don't know, he's a gava pretending to be raza
The "Moaner" from Cesar Chavez country and the "little testicle" dude from L.A.
What a combo!!!
Wally, come for your people !!!
How about:
Moaner from San Jo 14
and
Bolitas from Maravilla 13
chingen su puta mnadres
The brother blew a fuse.
"Chingen" (have relations with)
"su" (your - plural here)
"puta" (lady of the night)
"mnadres" (mothers)
I think the mispelling "mn" thing on madres was a north-south Freudian slip? m=13
n=14
In street talk then: F___ your whore south-north mothers!
In street talk then: F___ your whore south-north mothers!
BRILLIANT !!!
In street talk then: F___ your whore south-north mothers!
BRILLIANT !!!
lame cops trying to instigate
Once again, it was back in the early 60,s but many vatos I knew well(dozens) did a stretch at Prestone when they were 16 and I think even 15 years old, and I never heard Prestone described as an adult institution, but like I stated before "age is the great equalizer". Also just a comment on the fact that "Tijuas" got the word to stop posting "Mundo's" story, hey maybe it was a request from a friend instead of a threat? I can dig that, his compa wants to make some lana and doesn't want it to be a freebee so all you chismosos better dig deep and help the cause, because you know what makes the world go round, que no?
To: Tijuana Jailer
Mundo's book was Very good. I viewed/read 319 pages of text on Microsoft Office Word and enjoyed every page. Very lengthy but volumes of information to accompany his personal accounts.
Highly recommended.
Steve Jaramillo
can you zip it up and send it to me?!!? :o)
can you zip it up and send it to me?!!? :o)
maybe he can unzip it and hand it to you.
Just completed Mundo's CD and my wife and I actually "fought" to read it on our lap top while we vacationed! Could not put it down and both of us came away from it surprised (that a gang member could express like this), shocked (at the brutal descriptions of gang "hits") and felt like we were given a definite "insider" view of what goes on in "that" world.
I am glad that this man changed his life but could not help but feel that he should be dead many times over - by the State, by his own members or by his adversaries. He is indeed a "walking dead man".
For anyone interested in the gang mentality, the prison mobsters modus operandi, or just gang violence in general, this is required reading.
JD + MD
P.S.- we don't zip copies for anyone so please do not ask. we paid for ours so what's fair is fair.
Black Steve from E/G ooops I mean Levagreen....Damn theres some real East Los gente on here...........
Fuck The World
WHITE FENCE NOMAS
"In addition to the deranged values, these gangs possessed the characteristics of a closely-knit family. The unity and intense pride instilled within them a fervent sense of community, companionship, protectiveness and even love. The hardcore members were willing to die for each other"
In the gang underbelly, you have many positive characterstics that attract the youth as "Mundo" describes above. Providing the correct substitute(s) to "divert" these young ones is the ongoing community dilemma.
The gang "value system" needs to be a thing of shame for the people in the barrio and not a system of false pride.
"The year was 1957. At the Deuel Vocational Institution (DVI) in Tracy, California, Luis "Huero Buff" Flores introduced an idea that would unite the street gangs once and for all. Huero Flores proposed a prison supergang, one in which the leaders of the street gangs represented inside could join hands as allies and "carnales" - brothers – a more appealing alternative to perpetuating their bloody gang warfare into the prison system."
The only problem with this scenario is that the evolvement of the EME and the street gangs was to take this activity in a direction that had nothing to do with "carnalismo".
When Mr. Flores conceived this "gang of gangs" idea, he simply extracted the best soldados from the incarcerated street gang members and embarked on a criminal journey that had a "take no prisoners" theme!
"Mundo's" description leads me to believe that Mr. Flores dream was a benevolent one - "uniting the street gangs" as an alternative to "taking their bloody gang warfare (feuds) into the prison system".
It is historically apparent that no ethnic solidarity was ever intended and the EME pursued its criminal course with only one thing in mind: to pilfer and plunder, to pillage the village and rape the wenches and ultimately, to conquer!
The ego of the EME member is only paralleled by the Aryan Brotherhood as these guys remarkably mirror each other. Maybe they've been hanging around each other too long!
Doctor K
"In the early-1960's, a volatile period in the California prison system ........ They were instrumental in what is the present day Mexican Mafia...EME
...Each soldado was to take a death oath."
This initiation (the "death oath") was not put in place until the "early-1960's", according to "Mundo", and this became the standard for the Big Four prison gangs (today dubbed the Big Five with the addition of the NLR) and even some of the street gangs have adopted this oath.
"Existence of the Mexican Mafia was never to be acknowledged to the authorities."
This is in effect to this day. Last night I viewed an episode of Law and Order in which a white prison gang member proudly admits to being a member of a prison gang and I had to laugh. Active prison gang members DO NOT make such admissions. It ain't healthy.
"The neighborhoods became a fertile source from which to "raise" future aspiring soldados and amicable ties were maintained and encouraged by the EME."
Can a brother get an "amen" to that? The neighborhoods will always be the "fertile source" for the EME to "raise" (sounds so paternal, doesn't it?) future aspiring (such aspirations!) soldiers.
Does the "Good Humor" ice cream truck still cruise the streets of L.A. these days? If so, do you notice how the young ones flock to greet the ice cream man?
Well, picture gang members flocking to the EME in a similar manner ..... craving that big popsicle from the Big Homie!
Doctor K
(Please don't get any ideas of shooting the ice cream man!!)
(The ego of the EME member is only paralleled by the Aryan Brotherhood as these guys remarkably mirror each other. Maybe they've been hanging around each other too long!)
You are absolutely correct, Doctor K. These guys cannot be deterred by prison, by lockup units nor anything else in our system as it exists EXCEPT, possibly, the death penalty.
And, I'm afraid, that won't really deter them from perpetuating their madness. It will succeed, if utilized, by eliminating some 'bad apples' from our society.
"Last night I viewed an episode of Law and Order in which a white prison gang member proudly admits to being a member of a prison gang and I had to laugh. Active prison gang members DO NOT make such admissions. It ain't healthy."
You're right, it doesn't happen like that in real life. That's why it's called television .... pure entertainment.
"The year was 1957. At the Deuel Vocational Institution (DVI) in Tracy, California, Luis "Huero Buff" Flores introduced an idea that would unite the street gangs once and for all. Huero Flores proposed a prison supergang, one in which the leaders of the street gangs represented inside could join hands as allies and "carnales" - brothers – a more appealing alternative to perpetuating their bloody gang warfare into the prison system."
What exactly are you quoting from?
Excellent book. By the way, I thought this CD was an "audio cd" but it turned out to be a CD that you can read from on one's CD-Rom. At any rate, It's a very thorough "journey", as Mundo calls it. Does anyone know if a movie is in the offing? Man, this story takes you everywhere -- the streets, youth incarcerations, state prison, EME killings and quite an impressive account.
Enjoyable .......
WILL MUNDO BE DOING ANY BOOK SIGNING ANYTIME SOON??? LOL,LOL
HEY MUNDO "GOD FORGIVES, THE EME DON'T" GREAT BOOK !!!!
"GOD FORGIVES, THE EME DON'T" GREAT BOOK !!!!
Can we get a "witness" to that? Excellent book ! I too look forward to a movie and I hope it's in line with the book.
Thanks Mundo and lay low.
I FINALY GET TO PUT IN MY TWO CENTS AT LEATS IN A TOPIC WHICH I FEEL I COULD PUT AT LEAST GOOD INFORMATION. Y.T.S IS FOR 18 TO 25 YRS. IT IS THE LAST STOP BEFFORE YOU HIT UP STATE FROM C.Y.A. IT HOUSES ALL THE FUCK UP SOUTH SIDERS ALL OTHER C.Y.A. DON'T WANT TO HOLD. THEY CHANGE Y.T.S TO HERMAN G. STARK. IT'S STILL PRETTY ROWDY BUT LESS SENSE THE LIFERS GOT REMOVED FROM ALL C.Y.A'S AFTER THE JURA GOT KILLED BY A WHITEBOY IN 96.
["GOD FORGIVES, THE EME DON'T" GREAT BOOK !!!!
Can we get a "witness" to that? Excellent book ! I too look forward to a movie and I hope it's in line with the book.]
Mundo sure had a head on his shoulders (very articulate) and he's fortunate and blessed to have escaped.
He was good looking too (sorry,, that's the woman in me talking). I hope his experiences are a witness to many!
Highland Park Lady
FIRME BOOK MUNDO,SOFTENS UP TOWARDS THE END BUT STILL GREAT READING.YOU MAKE NO MENTION OF ANY FEDERAL HEAVIES FROM THE 70'S EXCEPT CHAMP REYNOSA.HIS TOP DOG WAS BLACK BOBBY (CANTA RANAS)
WHO RECENTLY PASSED.HOPE A MOVIE IS IN THE MAKING SOON.
YOU MAKE NO MENTION OF ANY FEDERAL HEAVIES FROM THE 70'S EXCEPT CHAMP REYNOSA.HIS TOP DOG WAS BLACK BOBBY (CANTA RANAS)
Black Bobby from CR was a relatively insignificant
"carnal" (in their status ladder) during and up to the time of Mundo's defection.
More prominent in the feds are/were: "Black" Segura from Clover and, of course, Joe Morgan (now deceased).
KMA
(kma)you are right that robert (black bob)was not known when mundo was up and coming in the early 60's and 70's he made his bones in late 78-79,and really became known in the 80's.we who did time with this firme carnal knew this.mundo mentions champs hit on trejo at lompoc,but doe'st mention who went down with him for the murder.black bob was benching 500lbs at lompoc back in 1980.no pendejo would dare cross this homie.so to say he was a insignificant carnal is a understatement.ask any homie who did federal time.......
LOL,LOL.... I LOVE IT WHEN GENTE WHO DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT THE UNDERWORLD GOT AN OPINION ABOUT WHO AND WHAT TAKES PLACE.
SILENT LOMPOC CLASS OF 1990 ;)
(kma) let me guess "known mafia assoc" you know better then that homie.btw the book is mas firme
the last 3 chapters were offline but gave reason for his flipping.
(mundo mentions champs hit on trejo at lompoc,but doe'st mention who went down with him for the murder)
Actually, Mundo does mention Black Bobby and Willie Bobo (another "big dude") from Redondo as the co-conspirators on the Japo Trejo hit. Mundo flipped in 77-78 and, at that particular time, Black Bobby was indeed an "insignificant" member on their "status ladder". This means Black Bobby was not yet a shot caller in the feds until AFTER the Japo hit.
(so to say he was a insignificant carnal is a understatement.ask any homie who did federal time.......)
All EME members are relatively "insignificant" until they establish their rep and Black Bobby was no exception.
You can really be considered insignificant when (like me) you don't "know shit about the underworld".
KMA (also known as Insignificant Who Don't Know Shit) ....
LMAO.... KMA (KISS MY ASS.)HEY HOMIE,YOU EVER HEAR FROM A HOMIE NAMED INDIO HOYO MARA?? BLACK RENE.
HE IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND,HE LOCKED UP THAT YOU KNOW?
kma
i guess the term "insignificant"
can be understood by many as "pee-on" i think what silent was in his way saying that any soldado who can take a life,and continue to survive la vida loca in the EME.for all those years.....shit that has to mean something que-no
any updates on boxer??
DKS.
QUE PASO KMA,GATO HAVE TU LENGUA??
DKS.
QUE PASO KMA TU ES FIVE-O QUE-NO
YOU KNOW YOU READ THEM 30 PAGES OF
DEBRIEFING NOTES.....GIVE US THE 411.
DKS.
in the end you allways get it exactly how you lived....some know the job is hard when they decide to take it...i wonder with all the finances collected by both groups eme-nuestra fama-why arent we even competing in the economic market?were still out here moving drugs and bullets...okay im waiting this is the cause? whio are they fooling..we step i oour back yard and love 2 step in it thats why the mexicano-chicano image is so fucked up thanks guys you havent amounted 2 shit..
((this might not be posted long my opinion seems to have hocus pocus dust and disapears real fast!))
Your post is important; your post will indeed survive and your feelings are shared (I'm sure) by others.
The solution is simple: Don't read the damn book! If you want his head on a platter, stand in line.
If you just wish to vent, we all understand.
He destroyed lives in "that world" and many feel he deserves the ultimate penalty for this. Under our current system, he survived capital punishment.
He then proceeded (as an undercover operative) to save many lives that LE could not have prevented without his assistance and most of these targets were (you guessed it) Mexican-American intended victims.
Does that make him a saint? I would say NOT but many are glad to have his "assistance".
Maybe we should worry more about discouraging youngsters from growing up to be another "Mundo" rather than bemoaning the victims that can no longer be returned to this world.
You can make a difference if your passion and zeal are redirected to this noble cause (working with or for Chicano youth).
Wow. Brings back memories. As a “white” youthful offender from Orange County (the poor part) I started my stint in J.H. at 15 for truancy. Incarcerated I learned from the locals J.D.’s how to burg, rob, steal, etc. None of what I experienced or was taught even came close to those scary bad asses I have been reading about here on this blog for the last couple hours (great stuff). A point I want to make was in OCJH the whites and the Mexicans were close. My best pal was one Johnny Rodriguez from “Delhi” in Santa Ana (Santana). We both had long hair (it was the style in 1975) and we became quite close. We were also both sent to McMillan in Santa An where we escaped (more like walked out the unlocked front door) and I spent a night in the Delhi gangs club house on the run. Scary as hell but since I was Johnny’s “guest” nothing more than taunts and threats came my way and I eventually just got stoned and drunk out of my mind with the homeys. The next day Johnny’s mother told Johnny to boot the white boy and off I went to my home in Fullerton. Johnny I heard OD’d on heroin the next year (16 years old…shame) and I went on a crime spree getting locked up, released and repeat until my eighteenth birthday (spent locked up in the hall). I almost got sent to CYA in Whittier and the stories I heard scared the shit out of me. I ended up going straight and save for one week-end never entered adult jail or prison. Met a great gal, found Christ and now am an earning tax paying family man/civilian. I am sure out of all the people who were incarcerated with a screwed up home life I am probably only one of the few to escape adult incarceration. Most of the Mexican gang members looked up to their older siblings and seemed to look forward to going to prison. That was the mentality then. Good role models could help a little I guess but it is the heart of the individual where change occurs most often. I also am a big fan of "American Me" and was always curious as to how much was fiction. Glad I could read about Mundo's account. Scary bad ass MF's!!!!!! Anyway, thanks all for sharing and if anybody has similar stories let’s here them!
FUCKIN OPPIE..... BET ANDY AND BARNIE FIFE KICKED YOUR ASS....
HELL EVEN AUNT BEE WAS PISSED.
GOOD TO HEAR YOU TURNED OUT A-OK
the other taxfree varrios are the maravillas in east la they are all taxfree zones
TO THE VATO WHO WROTE BOLITAS FROM MARAVILL 13 IS WRONG NONE OF THE MARAVILLAS ARE 13 THAT ONLY THE SUR GANGS WITCH ARE ALSO KNOWN AS SURATAS WE ARE NOT AFFILEATED WITH THE SURATAS OR EME PURO MARAVILLAS FUCK ALLSURATAS MY VARRIO ES LA ROCK MARA VILLA los TINY's MARAVILLA PROJECTS EAST LOS FUCK VNE,WF,&LA EME MARAVILLAS FOR LIFE
CAN YOU STILL CLAIM THE SOUTH IF YOUR NOT A GANG MEMBER BUT STILL HANG OUT OR IF YOU WERE BORN IN MEXICO BUT LIVED HERE SINCE THE AGE OF THREE AND NEVER LIVED IN MEXICO.CAN YOU BE A PAISA BY BIRTH BUT A SURENO BY HART
CAN YOU STILL CLAIM THE SOUTH IF YOUR NOT A GANG MEMBER BUT STILL HANG OUT OR IF YOU WERE BORN IN MEXICO BUT LIVED HERE SINCE THE AGE OF THREE AND NEVER LIVED IN MEXICO.CAN YOU BE A PAISA BY BIRTH BUT A SURENO BY HART
WHY IN THE FUCK DO YOU WANT TO BE A SURRATA AND PAY TAXES FUCK ALL SURRATAS AND NORTETEAS PURO MARAVILLAS TAXFREE!!!
HOW DEEP IS THE KING KOBRAS COLLABORATION IN THE EME?
ALL YOU MARAVILLAS SHOULD NOT BE TALKING SHIT OF THE MEXICAN MAFIA, THERE ALLWAYS GOING RUN SHIT.IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM SAY IT IN THERE FACE.
OH YEAH DONT BE COMPARING THEM WITH THE BIG EME THEY ROLL 50,OOO DEEP,IF YOU DONT BELIEVE ME LOOK IT UP.
CAN ANYBODY TELL ME WHAT HAPPEN TO VARRIO LOCO'S MONTEBELLO(VLS'M)IT WAS A VARRIO BACK IN THE 70'S AND 80'S AND IF SOUTH SIDE MONTEBELLO (SSM)STILL ACTIVE
CAN ANYBODY TELL ME WHAT HAPPEN TO VARRIO LOCO'S MONTEBELLO(VLS'M)IT WAS A VARRIO BACK IN THE 70'S AND 80'S AND IF SOUTH SIDE MONTEBELLO (SSM)STILL ACTIVE
I was in both Paso and Preston in the middle sixties. Preston was much more relaxed than was Paso.
Prestone castle was condemed but still stood. No one was allowed inside though, because the floors were all rotten and falling in.
And as one poster wrote, Preston before YTS. YTS was the actual last stop in YA before adult authority. I wonder what YA number mundo had. My first three digits: 733.
Thats some heavy reading loco.
Makes me want to cry for the Raza ...to truly see just how fucked spiritually and psychologically our people have become...in order to survive the inavasion of the Europeans on our homeland continent.
Another book i would love to read is one that details the origins of the La Vida Loca.
Like the style and artistic expression...like the origin of lowriders and of the clothing styles like kakhkis and bandannas and placasos and hand signs and all that.
It is a very RICH cultura. And it is not just strictly about criminals and criminal activity. That is the only one side of the story....which has become the stereotype.
my tios told me that only half white half mexicans (im of half white half mexicans descent)and chicans culb be eme is that true or noy
How come nobody mentioned the little fire that broke out the time of the Bakersfield murders, that took place in 1975? The only one that can answer that is Mundo himself and my brother.
I remember my brother sending me the San Quentin Reveiw newspaper, it was written by the inmates,it wrote about the happenings behind the prison walls.Folsom Prison also had a paper it was called The Folsom Observer,my brother sent me a few copies in the late 1970s,did anyone here of these papers?
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