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The student body was 8o％ Jewish。 I didn't know from Jews。 My father called them 〃Pork Dodgers。〃 My Lutheran pastor called them plicit in the famous Jesus Christ homicide。
Fifteen percent of the kids hailed from Hancock Park。 Their parents preferred J。B。 to prestigious prep schools。 My guess： they wanted their kids to pete with Jews so they'd grow up tough and kick ass in business。
The final ponent： Gentile riffraff and a few Negro kids who escaped restrictive housing laws and certain death at Mount Vermin。
There's J。B。； '59。 I storm Camelot on my steeda two…wheel taco wagon。
I'm tall。 My dog shits on my living…room floor。 I pick my nose with gusto。 I stick pencils in my ears and excavate wax in full view of other kids。
I'm afraid of all living things。 I pull crazy…man stunts to attract attention and deter kid predators。 My psycho act is now in its third or fourth school year。 The performance lines are starting to blur。 I can't tell when I'm putting people on and when I'm not。
It's '59。 Performance Art has not been conceptualized。 I'm prescient and avant…garde and unaware that I just got lucky。 Art requires an audience。 Camelots play out on stageslarge and small。 I hit the one place that would tolerate and occasionally laud my amped…up and wholly pathetic act。
I didn't know it going in。 J。B。 was regimented and rule…bound。
A dress and appearance code was strictly enforced。 Jeans； Capri pants； and T…shirts were banned。 Boys kept their hair neatly trimmedunder threat of swats on the ass。 Girls wore oxford shoes and maintained low hemlines。
The boys' vice…principal ran J。B。 His name was John Hunt。 He was a short； blustery man。 He had bloodshot eyes and ruptured veins and strutted like a low…rent Il Duce。
Hunt stressed hard work； hard play； and physical reprisals for fuckups。 He addressed Boy's League assemblies and got borderline bawdy。 He said shit like 〃You're young men now； soon you'll discover that broads should be broad where they ought to be broad；〃 and 〃I know you're studying hormones in science class。 You know how you make a hormone？ Don't pay her。〃
Hunt dispensed swats with a space…age paddle。 Air shot through holes on the downswing。 He made you drop trou。 The aftermath exceeded the impact。 The welts； blood dots； and sting lingered loooooong。
Hunt had a teacher/goon named Arthur Shapero。 Hunt was 56〃。 Shapero was 64。 He looked like Lurch and Renfield from 〃Dracula〃。 I kept waiting for him to say； 〃Master； I e！〃
Shapero hulked around the lunch court。 Hunt kept him on a long choke chain。 He ran the Space Cadets； Space Legion； and Solaronskiddie cops empowered to cite other kids for littering and dress…code infractions。
The little shits abused their power。 Hunt and Shapero backed them up。 It was minidrama worthy of a mini…Camelotand as futile as JFK's attempts to suppress Fidel Castro。
You couldn't quash the exuberance oftheJ。B。 rank…and…file kid。 You could infiltrate his imagination and hope your lessons took。 The J。B。 rank…and…file teacher knew this。 He knew he was up against a big ego and a spongelike mind eager to soak up the latest and greatest knowledgeif it was sold in a boredom…proof package。 He learned to digress off his basic curriculum and work in topical angles。 He never played down to his kid audience。
I had my act。 The teachers had theirs。 We shared the same audience。
I infiltrated it as aJ。B。 student。 I stood apart from it as a grandstanding leper afraid of his peers。
It's fall I hitJ。B。 I scope out the turf and rule out assimilation。 I'm a stranger in a strange fucking land。 Ike is still in the White House。 I don't know from Camelot。 I don't know that I'm about to embark on my first and most formative season of discourse。
With：
Little sharpsters with hungry eyes and paperbound copies of 〃Exodus〃 in their hip pockets。 Jokesters who said； 〃Did you know Abraham Lincoln was Jewish？ He was shot in the temple。〃 Twelve…year…olds who'd read more books than I had and could recite baseball stats back to the time the Nazis ran Mom and Dad out of Poland。 Hancock Park surfers who dry…surfed the main building on slick…soled penny loafers。 Girls with stunning big features die…cast for sex appeal generations back in the shtetl。 Girls bred breathtakingly blonde and raised refined by the back nine at Wilshire C。C。 Kids with their own acts。 Kids who could spiel； spritz； run shtick； and perform without hocking their soles。
I settled in。
I listened。 I learned。 I performed。
I 〃observed〃。
Formal learning came easy。 I read fast and retained well。 My father did my math homework and supplied me with crib sheets。 I gave oral reports on real books and books that I concocted extemporaneously。 I hipped a few kids to my ruse and watched them howl。 No teacher ever busted me for book…report fraud。
J。B。 had some 〃très〃 hip teachers。 Lepska Verzeano was Henry Miller's ex。 I asked my father what this meant。 He waggled his eyebrows at me。
Walt Macintosh killed Reds in Korea。 His gun barrel melted during a Red death charge。 He doped out the '60 campaign and held a classroom election。 The Jewish kids backed JFK。 The Hancock Park kids backed Nixon。 I backed Tricky Dickbecause my father said that JFK took his orders from Rome。
Laurence Nelson got me hooked on classical music。 Beethoven wrote the sound track for myJ。B。 years。
I fell for an English teacher named Margaret Pieschel。 The kids called her Miss 〃Pie…Shell。〃 She was dark…haired and slender。 She had bad acne。 The J。B。 boys considered her a dog。 I sensed her inner torment and caught her sex vibe full on。 It was Beethovian。 I stared at her and tried to zap her telepathically。 I tried to tell her； I know who you are。 I looked at her and knew what it was like to love a lonely woman to death。
J。B。 teachers were classifiable and divisible by two。 Call them the Quick and the Dead。
The Quick contingent swung hip。 They dug the Peace Corps； cool jazz； and Mort Sahl。 The Dead contingent swung limpas in elderly and sincere and content to rest on J。B。's hot rep。 The Deads were a needle stuck in the groove of a looooong…play record。 The Quicks faced a Camelotian dilemma： whether to toil for chump change in the L。A。 school system or strike out and try to make it in the real world。
J。B。 kids were classifiable and divisible by two。 Call them the Naked and the Dead。
The Dead contingent swung squareas in no spiel； spritz； shtick； or performance capability and no sexy angst。 The Deads did not know from discourse。 The Deads accepted J。B。's social stratificationregardless of their status。 The Naked contingent swung hungryas in voluble； argumentative； hormonally unhinged； and hip to the fact that the world rocked to a Rat Pack beat and lots of people got fucked in the ass。 The Nakeds faced a Camelotian dilemma： whether to accede to the realities of social stratification and capitulate to appearances as eveiything and deny your own hunger and seek contentment in conformity and tone down your spiel； spritz； shtick； and performance capability and rework it to suit a mainstream audience…or go iconoclastic all the way and fuck this overweening adolescent urge to BELONG。
The Nakeds formed the