DOPE CITY
I had bever even seen a marijuana cigarette . . .
In the last years at home before I went into the service we drank lots of beer. Even at sixteen I attended very few parties where there wasn’t a huge keg of beer in a tub of ice. And we always made sure it was empty before we left the party. But beer was the extent of our wild parties. We never saw any drugs.
Those were the good old days.
Then in June of 1960, I left to spend four-years in the Navy. I couldn't believe what I found when I returned.
One night and old drinking buddy took me to a so-called "pot party" in a big old house on the outskirts of town. The place was packed with young people, and every room was dark except for a small lamp with a cloth thrown over it to diffuse the light; plus, the air was choked with marijuana smoke. I must have looked like a wide-eyed little kid because I had never even seen a marijuana cigarette, let alone attend a pot party. My friend just laughed. “That’s the way it is now,” he said. "Dope City."
It was after midnight when we left the party, and the air was nippy, but my friend said he needed to make one quick stop on our way home. It was in a rundown group of single story apartments in an older section of town. And as we walked along the dark concrete walkway I noticed that all of the windows had been completely covered with cardboard to prevent anyone from looking inside. I was a little nervous.
After my friend knocked, the door cracked open just a little and, seeing who we were, someone let us inside. In the dim light, all I could see was that she was a bony young woman with a narrow face and shiny mop of black hair who appeared to be intoxicated. She was dressed in a white slip and bra. It reminded me of how my mother used to walk around the house in her bra and slip. My friend handed her several bills and she handed him a small bag. “Let’s go,” he said. And as I looked up, the woman gave me a drunken smile. “How about you baby . . . need a little Antifreeze?" I waved her off and we left.
It was astonishing. In just four years, my peaceful little hometown had become Dope City—a haven for drug dealers and addicts. I left a few weeks later and never returned.
In the last years at home before I went into the service we drank lots of beer. Even at sixteen I attended very few parties where there wasn’t a huge keg of beer in a tub of ice. And we always made sure it was empty before we left the party. But beer was the extent of our wild parties. We never saw any drugs.
Those were the good old days.
Then in June of 1960, I left to spend four-years in the Navy. I couldn't believe what I found when I returned.
One night and old drinking buddy took me to a so-called "pot party" in a big old house on the outskirts of town. The place was packed with young people, and every room was dark except for a small lamp with a cloth thrown over it to diffuse the light; plus, the air was choked with marijuana smoke. I must have looked like a wide-eyed little kid because I had never even seen a marijuana cigarette, let alone attend a pot party. My friend just laughed. “That’s the way it is now,” he said. "Dope City."
It was after midnight when we left the party, and the air was nippy, but my friend said he needed to make one quick stop on our way home. It was in a rundown group of single story apartments in an older section of town. And as we walked along the dark concrete walkway I noticed that all of the windows had been completely covered with cardboard to prevent anyone from looking inside. I was a little nervous.
After my friend knocked, the door cracked open just a little and, seeing who we were, someone let us inside. In the dim light, all I could see was that she was a bony young woman with a narrow face and shiny mop of black hair who appeared to be intoxicated. She was dressed in a white slip and bra. It reminded me of how my mother used to walk around the house in her bra and slip. My friend handed her several bills and she handed him a small bag. “Let’s go,” he said. And as I looked up, the woman gave me a drunken smile. “How about you baby . . . need a little Antifreeze?" I waved her off and we left.
It was astonishing. In just four years, my peaceful little hometown had become Dope City—a haven for drug dealers and addicts. I left a few weeks later and never returned.






