For a time we lived on Twenty Third street a block below Santa Monica Blvd. It was a small street with front porches and lawns. Kind of a little community where all the neighbors knew each other. We would sit out on the porch in the summer evenings, neighbors would stop for a short chat, then head home to supper.
There were kids my age too and we all became good friends, good enough to cause trouble together. We one time had a game of hide and seek that lasted about two weeks. Each day we would resume hiding or searching exactly where we left off the night before and continue the game. In the summer time, when it was daylight well into the evening we would stay out as long as we could. My mom would stick her head out the front door and bellow for me to come home. I would ignore her calls until she used my full name, all three names, then I knew I was getting close to being in deep shit. It was truly a great time.
Now on the Southwest corner of Twenty Third Street and Santa Monica Blvd. a new building was being built. It was a four story brick thing, destined to be a medical center.
Back in those days construction sites were generally un-fenced and open after working hours and on week ends. There were no such things as security guards back then. So of course we were all over that building during it's construction.
There were a lot of close calls with injury and death immanent, but all in all it was a fun place to hang out. We never destroyed anything but we hung off the rafters and shinnied up and down the interior on the construction ladders and such.
After the brick outside walls were built the workers quickly built the floors so they could frame up the inside. That is when it really got to be fun. There was a lot of making out with the neighborhood girls and hide and seek games would abound.
One day the workmen started to do the roof area. On the back side they set up a short derrick and pulley system to haul up heavy equipment and materials. Of course, after they left, we went up to investigate. The pulley and derrick was at the back of the building as the materials were stacked below in what would become the building's parking lot.
On the roof we found the rope for the derrick coiled and several very long four by twelve boards. The rope was really cool as it was more of a hawser. It was about one and a half inches in diameter like a mooring line for a large ship. There had to be something we could do with these totally cool materials.
Ideas flew around the roof and were discarded as dumb or too elaborate.
Then I said, "Why don't we hang a hangman's noose over Santa Monica Blvd.?"
There were a few eyes lighting up and voices of approval. Then somebody said, "But how are we gonna tie a hangman's noose? I sure don't know how."
I said, "I do, My dad taught me."
Though I had never tied one in a rope that huge. My dad had shown me how to tie many knots, he had learned when he was in the Navy during WWII.
So I set about tying this huge knot. One guy said that he had seen on TV that a hangman's noose was supposed to have thirteen coils on it and he wanted it to be accurate.
So with the knot tied, it was really big, we decided we could attach it to one or two of the really long four by twelve boards. Then hang it off the roof over Santa Monica Blvd. So we lashed two boards together and I tied the noose on one end.
Just then one of us asked, "Shouldn't we hang some sort of sign on the noose?"
"Cool idea," I said, "What should it say?"
"How about fuck you?" someone said.
"Nah, gotta be cooler than that." I said.
Then John Scachanose (Just called Scach by everybody) said, "How about, Cuba Si Castro No, that should really blow some minds."
Now you should understand none of us were at all politically motivated. In fact we couldn't give two shits about what was happening in Cuba or anywhere else for that matter. It was 1958 and we were all about thirteen years old and Castro and Cuba were big in the news.
But hell it sounded cool to me, nothing better than keeping the adult world as clueless as possible. It was 1958 and we were all about thirteen years old and mischief was our middle name. I said, "That's a good idea, they'll think it is some protest or something." It was also a good way to keep the blame away from us.
So we found a nice rectangular piece of cardboard and somebody got some paint from their garage and a couple of brushes. We painted the cardboard white on both sides when it was dry we painted, "CUBA SI CASTRO NO!," on both sides. We found a length of bailing wire and attached the sign to the bottom of the noose. Then we shoved the two four by twelve boards out over the edge of the roof and out over Santa Monica Blvd. We weighed down the end on the roof with a wheelbarrow full of bricks Then we hauled ass out of there.
The next day I went to the corner to get my papers for my paper route. There on the front page of the Santa Monica Evening Outlook was a picture of the noose and the sign with the headline, "Anti Castro Protest in Santa Monica." I just started laughing. Scatch had a route too and he was grinning from ear to ear.
Later when I got back from my route my dad was in his usual easy chair reading the paper. He dropped the paper enough so his eyes were peering over it and said, "I know you guys play in that building, I don't suppose you know anything about this?" his finger tapping the picture on the front page. "No," I lied. He put the paper back up and said, "Uh huh, I didn't think so." Nothing more was said. I think he was just guessing, but as long as the cops weren't at the door, he really didn't want to know.