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.