There were five members of Chapter 69 were expelled from the Club.  There would be no vote and no appeal.  The accusers knew an accusation of drug abuse was the only way to discredit their opposition.  Wino did not condone drug use and they knew he would support kicking out druggies.  It almost worked. If they had been dealing with anyone else they might have succeeded.  However, people knew these guys.  They had partied with them, counted on them to fix their bikes for nothing and developed real friendship.

The move shocked the club. It was as if an atom bomb had exploded.  Everyone was in disbelief.  The members wanted a meeting to decide the issue once and for all. For many members there was no question, their support for the expelled members was rock solid.  For others, it was an opportunity to settle scores or advance themselves.

The club met on the first Wednesday of the month.  The expelled members were denied entry.  The Officers quickly made it clear that this meeting was a sham.  The allegations of drug use rang hollow.  They might not have understood the motives behind the charges but they knew something stunk.  The meeting grew heated. It was soon clear, the decision was not to be debated.  They were out, period.  Those who disagreed were told to leave.   Imagine the surprise when twenty members rose as one and walked out. 


This group would become the Texas 25.  Half the club was gone. The expelled members were allowed in two at a time, they collected what personal property they were allowed, and left.  The Friday after the meeting, Joe B was allowed to remove his property from the shop he and Scooter leased from the Club, carefully supervised by the police.  He took as much as he could load in a pick-up.  That evening, they would be allowed to bring more vehicles and load the remaining property.  Those who supported the expelled members gathered to plan the trip.  No one rode their motorcycles.  All vehicles were inspected, licensed and insured. All drivers had valid licenses.  No one had any illegal items of any description, no weapons of any kind.  They were ready for the worst case. There had been police at the meeting.  Their willingness to assist in a civil matter only too clear.  They did not want to risk arrest by cops friendly to.  As they arrived at the clubhouse, the cops were there  making no secret of their identity or motives.   WDCC was born that night. We Don’t Call Cops is not just a catchy phrase.  It signifies so much more.  It is a pledge to each and every brother.  It stands for honest treatment and a fair chance to settle problems.  Brothers do not call outsiders to settle disputes with brothers.  Those who do are beneath contempt.  That Friday night, Scooter drove the forklift seven miles from Bessie St. to the new shop on 25th St..  He crossed railroad tracks, snuck around the edges of downtown and evaded the cops leading a parade of trucks and cars.  His leather driving cap bouncing with every bump in the road.  It was a sight to see.   The shop on 25th St. became the new clubhouse.   Scooter wasted no time in clearing out the mountain of crap filling the new clubhouse.  Saturday morning, everyone available pitched in.  The forklift made the job much easier and more fun. He was able to move the cars parked inside.  In one weekend, the building was empty. In no time at all, a clubhouse appeared.  Those twenty-five guys took the heart of the club with them.  A terrible miscalculation had been made.  The men who walked were a surprise.  They had no idea how many of these members were loyal to the club established by Wino almost fifty years earlier.