The Dirty Half Dozen

Written by Tom Fowler

The “Dirty Half Dozen” was a club of six recent graduates from Oklahoma City’s John Marshall High School during the spring of 1968. The group had consisted of twin brothers Joe and Wayne Clark, their girlfriends, Bethany Knight and Sherry Fogle, Gary McEver, and Gary’s ex-girlfriend, Tonya Muse. After Gary and Tonya’s breakup a few months earlier, Tonya hadn’t been around as much. The gang moved on unofficially as the “Dirty Five”.

With the exception of Tonya, who was still a club member, but inactive because of the awkwardness of the break up, the crew met at a drug store soda fountain to discuss a plan for distracting their forlorn chum, Gary, who had been mildly depressed because of his breakup with Tonya.

Joe, who was going away to the University of Nebraska with hopes of joining the swim team, was the first to speak. “Wayne, would you put down that newspaper and listen for a minute? What’s gotten into you lately, all you seem to care about is the election.”

Wayne set down his newspaper. “Sorry, but there’s a lot going on this week. Kennedy could really make history and I don’t want to miss any of it. I’m not going to be able to sleep until it turns nine o’clock, when the results should be in for the primary. … What can I do for you?”

“We need your help to pull a prank on Gary.”

“What do you have in mind?” Bethany asked.

“I want to steal his car,” Joe said, a mischievous grin spreading out across his face.

“You want to what?” the other three asked in unison.

“One of us will hotwire his Corvair. It’ll be a gas. We’ll move it a few blocks over and park it on the street somewhere. He’s not going to be able to think about Tonya while he tries to figure out what happened to his car. Trust me, it’ll be good for him.”

Bethany held her hands in front of her face. “I hope we don’t get too dirty, I’ve got that new recipe I’ve been working on for weeks almost figured out, and I couldn’t stand to get grease into the mix. If that happens, I’ll never be a famous chef!”

“How are we going to do it?” Sherry asked, looking at her watch. “We have to come up with something quick because I have to get to work. I hate not being able to stay with you. … You know my boss – he hasn’t given me a day off in three summers – it’s nine to five, like clockwork, every single day.”

“Ouch, I don’t envy you,” Bethany said.

“Focus, guys. We are going to play to our strengths. When we pull our stunt, we will all be doing exactly what he would expect us to be doing — all of us, except one. When it comes time for Gary to figure out which one of us pulled the prank, he’ll have to guess who is lying to him.”

After intense discussion, it was decided that one of them would “borrow” Gary’s car without telling him. Gary would have to guess who the friendly thief was before it was returned.

Tuesday, June 4, 1968.

A sullen Gary spent the morning and early afternoon of June 4 listening to records and filling the wastebasket with letters he’d never send to his former sweetheart, Tonya. During lunch he skimmed a story about the California presidential primary, paying close attention to the article because it featured Senator Robert Kennedy, his favorite candidate. School had only been out a week, but it seemed like forever.

After taking a nap and watching Dialing for Dollars, Gary walked out the front door and noticed his 1964 model Chevrolet Corvair was missing. Gary loved the sporty looking, air-cooled rear engine compact. He loved the high gas mileage even more. With gasoline selling at 25 cents a gallon, he appreciated the low maintenance costs.

Gary knew his friends in the Dirty Half Dozen club too well – they must had taken his Corvair. It was very simple for even a novice to hot wire a car and drive off in it. As he walked back into his house, the phone rang. It was Joe.

“Something the matter, Gary?” chuckled Joe.

Gary also chuckled, “I think you know.”

“Were you going out tonight?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter now.”

“Tell you what … we’ll come to your place tomorrow morning. We’ll see if you can figure out which one of us took your car. If you’re a superior sleuth and you can tell us who the culprit is, we’ll buy you breakfast.”

Gary grinned and replied, “OK, fair enough. See you around nine o’clock.”

The next morning, the crew arrived at Gary’s home. Joe, bright red and sunburned, had tears in his eyes. Gary asked, “What happened to you?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“No.”

Wayne said, “Bobby Kennedy was shot early this morning.”

“What!”

Quietly, Wayne, continued, “It happened at 12:15 a.m. California time – 2:15 a.m. our time. He was shot in the kitchen of the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, just after delivering a short victory speech. It’s a head wound but he’s still alive. A foreigner named Sirhan Sirhan is in custody. They say he is a Palestinian refugee.”

The words hung in the early morning Oklahoma heat. The gang stood in silence on Gary’s front porch.

Bethany asked, quietly, “You still want to figure out who took your car? … This doesn’t seem like fun anymore.” All of the club members were admirers of the charismatic Robert Kennedy.

Gary thought a moment. He replied, sadly, “Yes, let’s do it. Let’s go inside and get our minds off this. I’ll turn the television on and we’ll follow along. I haven’t had breakfast because one of you is going to buy it for me.”

His friends managed feeble grins.

The morning news was doing extended coverage of the Kennedy shooting and Gary had the television turned up loud from the den. They heard the newsman recapping the story say that upon Senator Kennedy’s arrival at Central Receiving Hospital, he had not been breathing. After a cardiac massage and a shot of adrenaline, his condition rapidly stabilized, and he was then moved to Good Samaritan Hospital. This news greatly improved the crew’s spirit.

Gary said, “My car was in the driveway at 4:30 p.m. and I noticed it was gone at 6:00 p.m. … One of you took it between those hours.”

“So far, so good,” said Sherry.

“OK, Sherry, what were you doing yesterday during that time?”

Sherry replied, “Duh, I was at work. Aren’t I always at work?”

“How about you, Wayne?”

“I was home, I ate dinner and watched TV.”

“Yeah, what were you watching?”

“I was watching the California election returns … I was pleased to see Bobby win.” Thoughtfully, he continued, “I hope he recovers.”

“I hope so, too,” Gary answered, quietly. The television reporter was discussing Robert Kennedy’s prestigious entourage. Among those being interviewed and wishing the injured senator well were Rafer Johnson, George Plimpton, Jess Unruh and Roosevelt Grier.

After listening for another few moments, Gary resumed his questioning. Looking at Bethany Knight, he asked, “Bethany?”

“I was home. I took a nap then helped mom with supper.”

“Did you have the television on?

“Yes, we watched Roy Snodgrass win $300 on Dialing for Dollars.”

Gary said nothing. The media was now reporting that Sirhan Sirhan, in answering the question of why he did it, replied; “I did it for my country.”

Gary composed himself enough to look over at Joe and say, “Well?”

Joe said, “I was at the Village pool swimming.”

Gary considered their answers for a few moments, and then said, “So all of you were conveniently doing things you love to do when my car disappeared?”

His friends all smiled and chuckled.

But, as Gary looked over at the guilty one, it was his turn to laugh and ask, “Where are we going for breakfast?