How I became a Cigarette smuggler (almost)

In the mid-seventies I channeled some of my obsession from chess to the martial arts. Over the past few years I had made a conscious decision to break out of my overwhelming shyness and fear. The acting in high school hadn't panned out. In high school I had been in three plays and a musical but the shyness persisted.

In 1974 I was going to Lorain Community College and they offered a course in karate. Since I was under twenty-one, I had to take three gym classes. I had already taken the bowling class and I figured the current Zeitgeist demanded karate. Bruce Lee movies and the Kung Fu TV series were very popular. I enjoyed the classes immensely and began to have an appreciation for physical training.

I had been a chess player since my youth and never into sports. My lone excursion into school sports was when on a whim I tried out for the middle school football team. I joined the team and went to practice before I realized I had never actually seen a football game. The coach had to explain everything to me and stated to me privately that I obviously had diminished mental abilities.

During the second practice he told me that I would be a tackle and should take my place. I gave him the deer in the headlights look and he pointed where I should stand. I did what I could but without any reference points I was in trouble. I did my best but my skinny frame and lack of knowledge took their toll. I was knocked around and beginning to feel like death on a stick.

After a week the coach pulled me into his office before practice.

Coach: Can you tell me what you are doing here?

Me: To be honest I really want to try to do this. I figure if I can get a handle on this sports thing it will make my entire school experience more enjoyable. Let me assure you I'm no dilettante.

Coach: Dile who?

Me: Dilettante. Look I just want a fair shake.

Coach: OK, it's your ass.

That practice I was made a running back. The play started and the ball was thrown at me. I caught it and saw a mob of young men running at me with blood in their eyes. I figured that since I was smaller I could outrun them and took off. I did great for about ten yards and then realized what conditioning is all about. I was tackled and every one of them piled on top of me.

I had never been claustrophobic before but the feeling of terror struck me; this and the smell of twenty sweaty football players. While laying there I wondered if their physical weight was a metaphor for peer pressure. They slowly got off me and I hobbled off the field. I was being sent a message but was too dim-witted to notice.

The next night we had our first game. We were near the end of the game when the coach hit me on the shoulder and said, "You're in." I was excited and rushed to my position. The ball was snapped, the quarterback passed the ball and it was fumbled. The coach called a time out and took me out of the game. He sat down next to me and said, "I have to put you in one play each game and that's what I'll do. Don't expect any more than that ever. If you quit, no one will think less of you." I wondered if it was possible for him to think less of me.

I stayed on for another week but I was treated horribly. I wasn't treated with the hate I expected but with indifference. I handed in my uniform and the coach pulled me aside and shook my hand. I looked in his eyes and knew what was coming. I had seen it on TV a thousand times. He would tell me what a fantastic effort I put forth and even though I really didn't make the team he was proud of me for trying.

He said, "You are one worthless son of a bitch. I hope you don't make the mistake of trying out for some other sport. "

I thanked him for his advice and walked out of the locker room. Perhaps he wasn't glad I had tried but I was. I learned a lot on that field.

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The karate had been going better than I expected. I was a few years into Tang Soo Do and I could feel the difference in my body and attitude. I had never been this physically fit before and it was intoxicating. I could jump in the air, kick and stop just at the point of contact. I felt incredibly powerful and understood what all the jocks knew all along.

I tested for my red belt and passed easily. Breaking boards was very satisfying in the test but I found the Kata (or forms) to be what I loved. Kata are almost like choreographed dances and take a lot of practice to execute well. I would spend hours trying to perfect them.

Tournaments became a staple of my karate years. A group of us would go to different tournaments where we would compete. I would fight and do all right but would do my best with the Kata. My friend Asa would get trophies for fighting. He showed me how to soak your sleeves at the drinking fountain so when you punched they would snap loudly. Sometimes the snap would make the judges think you made a point, even if you hadn't.  During the Kata the snap was quite impressive.

After a tournament in Detroit my buddy Mike and I were approached by a good looking guy in a nice suit who asked if we had a minute. He reminded me a little of George Hamilton and he seemed very well educated. We changed and he took us to lunch at the Brown Derby. It was obvious he had money and flashed it around. I've always been into wristwatches and his Rolex was real.

After a nice steak dinner and a few drinks he told us what it was all about. He owned a boat that brought cigarettes and cigars in from Cuba. He hired guys to work on the boat as they brought them in. He wanted guys who could handle themselves. The pay was a thousand a week and all the girls we wanted. He looked at me and asked, "You do like girls, don't you?" I nodded and wondered if I was on Candid Camera. He explained that there was never any trouble and the guys on the boat were for insurance.

He gave us his card which only had his name and phone number on it. He was very friendly and said that if we were ever interested we should call that number. If we weren't interested no big deal, just enjoy the meal. My friend was excited but scared. He would love to do it but being a middle-class Ohio boy didn't seem to fit with the job.

I on the other hand seriously considered it. What an adventure!! I pictured Hemingway and knew that if the only thing I could ever write about was an alcoholic father, an agoraphobic mother and triplet brothers I'd never get anywhere.

For a week I thought about it. There were never any moral implications. There was so much to think about. I had never really traveled. I had been more than thirty miles from my house only three times in my life, once for a karate tournament, once for a chess tournament and once with the Boy Scouts to Greenfield Village.

I sat down and did what I'd been doing, I wrote. I wrote about things that had happened and were happening. I wrote about little things and tried to express them in ways that only I knew. When I got done I knew the answer. I didn't have to go to Florida and run guns, drugs or tobacco. There are worlds within worlds and if I couldn't find them in my own life then I wasn't much of a writer. I didn't have to run with the bulls to find stories; I just had to stay aware.

I called the number. An answering machine came on with no message, just a beep. I said my first name and reminded them of the tournament. I thanked him for the meal and wished him well in the future. I felt oddly relieved and knew everything had changed.