Rascals and Rogues column writer Ralph Horner continues his chronicles growing up in Cleveland neighborhoods in his newest series, Rumbles on E. 49th.

Growing up on East 49th Street in the 1950s,“the old neighborhood,” could be rough for a kid. In fact, according to a report on juvenile delinquency in the Jan. 8, 1955 Saturday Evening Post, crime and disorder committed by teenagers increased by a 45% between 1950 and 1955. Horner recalls what life on the streets of Goodrich-Kirtland Park was like back then.

This is the first of two stories on urban combat that happened to me when I was about eight years old. The second I was about 10. They are fairly innocent stories, in the big picture, but they are my first experiences in hand-to-hand warfare and attempting to defend oneself. The rest are like a smorgasbord of inner-city combat.

Scott Farkus, the bully in A Christmas StoryUrban Combat: A primer on how it was done
Unlike the rules and studied methods laid out in the science of pugilism, most of the fights I observed or participated in had no established rules as such.

The general idea was to hit your opponent with your fists, or any other object at hand, as hard, as frequently, and as rapidly as possible before he does the same to you. The object was to render the opponent incapacitated or demoralized as quickly as possible before he was able to inflict those states upon you.

Plainly speaking, that meant to beat the daylights out of him before he beats the daylights out of you. There was another method in common use in those days to obtain this, but I never used it or approved of it (I have observed, though, that it could be a more expedient manner of reaching the desired goal of incapacitating your opponent).

That method would be to apply a very swift and decisive kick to the opponent’s groin. No honor in that, but I have seen this done in the old neighborhood and it could be very effective. If the kicker could apply the kick accurately and with sufficient force it would render the recipient into a state of disinterest in continuing the fight—the recipient holding the affected area while writhing on the ground trying to but having difficulty trying to scream.

This scenario indicated that the fight was over. This method was often employed by two combatants who did not want fight in the first place—they just wanted to get it over with.

Most of my associates and I did not approve or use this method. To us, this method was unmanly and cowardly. He who fights the hardest and the fastest prevails. Amen! Tales of this behavior follow.

The Destruction of the Bully Richard Brown

My first venture into the world of urban combat was straight out of the 1983 movie, “A Christmas Story.” That movie, in my opinion, is the most “Cleveland” of any movie ever made that takes place in Cleveland.

Many Clevelanders love that movie and most folks can draw parallels from it to occurrences in their own lives. The similarities in that movie and my life are a little more profound. I will list them:

• We lived in the same type of old Cleveland neighborhood.
• Our battle occurred about the same time—in the 1940s.
• We went to the same type of old-fashioned school.
• We were about the same age.
• His name was Ralph; my name is Ralph.
• He had blond Hair; I had blond hair.
• His mother took him downtown to Higbee’s to see Santa; my mother took me downtown to the May Company to see Santa.
• His father had a 1939 Oldsmobile; my father had a 1939 Nash.
• He listened to Little Orphan Annie on the radio and had an Orphan Annie decoder pin; I listened to Sergeant Preston of the Yukon Mounties and I had the Frontier Town.
• He beat up Scott "Scut" Farkas; I beat up the neighborhood bully Richard Brown.

My incident with Richard Brown happened on East 66th Street as I was walking from my school, Dunham Elementary, to my Cub Scout meeting at the church on East 65th and Hough Avenue.

I was walking along feeling good and having pleasant thoughts about Cub Scouting and doing good deeds. I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see who it was. Oh my god, it’s Richard Brown! How could I be so unlucky to get caught by him with no teachers around? 

Richard Brown didn’t look like Scut Farkas but he was cut out of the same bullying cloth.  He didn’t have yellow eyes like Scott Farkas, but he had a scraggly yellow crew cut that looked like it could have used some Halo shampoo. He had the same nasty sneer as Scut Farkas. He had a rat-like face, but he made up for his lack of good looks through his pure meanness.

As we were walking, I could hear him behind me swearing at me and calling me names and poking me in the back. I started to cry because I knew what he was going to do to me.  My crying made him taunt me even more. Suddenly, I felt a searing pain on the back of my head. He had reached out and grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked it very hard. 

Now, according to Ralphie in “A Christmas Story,” his rage started as a small red glow in his brain and grew to the point where it came out in full force and resulted in a severe beating for Scut Farkas.

My rage did not start small and grow. It immediately exploded into a red-hot hurricane of anger and retribution. It was judgment day for Richard Brown, and I was his judge and jury.

I pummeled him to the tree lawn and was on top of him in a flash. I rained blows on his face and head all the while cursing and screaming at him—just like Ralphie in the movie. My destruction of Richard Brown did not end when an adult pulled me off him, as happened in the movie. It ended when I kind of got the idea that I had better let him up before I killed him. 

I let him get up and he was the one who was crying now. I told him that he had better get out of here or I was going to give him some more.  He skulked off bloody and battered and I continued to my Cub Scout meeting.

I was feeling even better than I did before because I had done a good deed, a very good deed.  Richard Brown was no longer the school bully. I wondered if I could get a scout badge for demolishing Richard Brown, I felt so good that I felt like skipping. I couldn’t though. How would it look if one tough hombre like me was seen skipping. Richard Brown was vanquished, and I did it! I was no longer just a meek and mild-mannered little kid. In my mind, at that time, I was one bad ass cub scout!