Sammy
Sammy took the name from his Ukrainian name, Mykhailo Semenenko, which he didn’t like anyway. He pretended he was actually Puerto Rican and since be lived farther east, near the River, where most of them were starting to live and populate, he had to change his nationality for all intents and purposes. We had many like that on the
Sammy decorated himself in a bandana, which most Puerto Ricans could be seen in as they’d jitterbug around the neighborhood, and even had a mask which he’d put on his head to look tough or strange, I don’t know which.
But Sammy’s father was a gung-ho Ukrainian when he'd get together with other Ukies but had strangely married to a Puerto Rican woman who gave birth to Sammy -- the usual mixed routine on the Lower East Side. And the father was a tough guy in the neighborhood and, of course, Sammy tried to emulate his father by being tough also.
One time Sammy had words with Dmytro, who was pretty much a tough guy himself.
“Hey, Semen,” said Dmytro to Sammy, who was packing his drums away after rehearsal, and using the derogatory English name which wouldn’t mean anything to a Ukrainian. “I know you don’t play a horn but you still blow!”
The drums went crashing as Sammy ran up to Dmytro. “I’ll kick your ass, you stupid Ukie!”
But Dmytro stood his ground. “You and who else, you stupid fake Spic?”
They glared at each other. “Maricon!” Faggot! spat Sammy, and flicked a push button knife and held it before Dmytro, who just evilly smiled and pulled out a .45 Lugar gun from his horn case, which he got from his dad’s military souvenirs.
I could see Sammy’s lips had grown dry as he just turned and went back to packing his drum case…
I went home, Woulda been nice to touch and hold a Lugar, I thought, sure woulda been nicer….
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