... What's It All About ...
( Red Rag Crew )



























Folks wonder, I reckon they are looking for something real that they can believe in, count on - or just
how serious Hells Twenty One and it's people are.  For myself and a few others, it's quite clear, you
have to be able to lay in on the line with people that aren't your blood family. So how do you do that,
and it's not big ol' hugs and back slaps either. I've found that out the hard way at times. Instead, it's one
word practiced and worked at day in and day out;   "Integrity" - big word, and it takes in all the other
words bikers like; respect, loyalty, trust, honor, honesty & service to name a few. Integrity means
"adherence to a code of values". A good club has rules and a set of codes and values. It means you
don't do dumb, stupid or foolish things that would endanger or jeopardize the club, it's members, and the
patch. I always felt when I heard of a group that was "blood in blood out",  were setting themselves up
for failure.  It seems always to produce rats and people who turn or sell out. I remember once we had a
rat who was the last person in the world you'd think was one.

People pick up bad habits, cops pickup on people who have bad habits and work them, pick at them
and get them to flip.  Cops always got something better to offer. But they can't offer a person anything
who has "Integrity".   Blood in and Blood out is risky. A lot of mafia guys who are dead were believers in
Coste  Nostra, very few are around living a decent old age now. The concept is valiant for sure, but not
very substantial for long term. It's a short sighted and emotional venture.  In most cases when push
comes to shove, a lot of people will betray your organization. One day, people are so damn committed,
love brotherhood, turf, blah blah.  The next day, spilling their guts, be it in a local jail or long term
institution. So how do you prevent it?

Easy, get "right" on your side, then work on it every fucking day with your members or organization,
earn it, grind it out, forget all about you so much. Respect, trust, loyalty ain't a given. Show what you're
about. How do you stick by a fuck up; a fuck up shouldn't have a patch and it's up to club leaders to
ensure that a fuck up doesn't have a patch. A fuck up is usually out for only himself. Most club members
I've known are individualist who want to be around and connected with others like him; that's what we
called a pack. In the pack, each man has strengths and talents and you need able to depend on each
other. Few are leaders, most are followers, both are important if you are to have a strong organization.  
A leader has to be wise to protect the group. He has to let people be themselves, be individuals and still
keep the rules and integrity of the club. If he does it right the club will grow with good people. Back in
the day, it was a lot more fun in a club, but as time went on, it became more serious. You've heard me
say, "do your own damn killing". Years ago, to be honest, I don't think any of us understood where all
this outlaw stuff was going.  I don't think even Sonny realized the magnitude it would reach. We just like
the feeling of a club that was a tight pack or group that had each others back. One thing for sure I can
tell you, the Dozen didn't want much to do with mainstream society except for our immediate family's or
very close friends. A few citizens were respectful and kindly towards us and we treated  them very much
the same, however most of mainstream society we felt were pretty fucked up and not people you
wanted to trust.  We found it easy to keep to ourselves and this made us a powerful unit. I found out a
long time ago, love or fear are why people do things in life
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One thing they never had much interest at all  was investigating a dead biker. They projected "that's
one less biker" and let it go as that. That was alright with us as there was a universal code between us
and them. Taking care of business was taking care of it quietly. Not so today, huge difference. Pulling a
patch will get your locked up for strong arm robbery, beating, even touching someone can put you in an
easy 3-5, trafficking drugs can be life and on and on, more laws, more control, a little unsettling.  So it's
back to the drawing board and the new way to keep an edge is turning it around and make law
enforcement, courts, and the system work their ass off for us.  RICO is up and running so we have to be
smarter, it's not a mystery. I maintain trafficking drugs will work against us. So get rid of it in the clubs.
You never get to really keep drug money, eventually you get caught and go away and so does the
money. Here's how it's done in todays'  world, happened recently a couple times, very sad. A member
gets jumped, beat to a pulp, or maybe unfortunately dies. Because your club has"integrity" is respected
and liked by a lot of people, your chapter upon  forming went to the city counsel, law enforcement, court
system, etc. in your area and made it clear, stated who, what you are, and how you worked. You expect
them to know about you, no hidden agendas. You may get a little crazy and wild sometimes, even get
busted, but your not criminals or being a criminal organization. But you are serious people and it's
serious  if people fuck up: things will be reckoned with, and you will take care of business quietly. Now if
a brother goes down, your chapter  from the club with it's officers and few others  pay a strong visit on
your scoots in force  to, City Hall or the law enforcement office, be Federal or State. You have a sitdown
and draw up how fast you expect law enforcement to act and take care of the problem. You insist they
have a go between  themselves and your people to keep up to speed all that's being done. Then you
put your legal team on it and tie up the asshole or assholes who are involved in your problem, you shut
them down so they can't work, function, bury them legal, so they can't breathe. Then you go public,
state your present position, that you will stand down and give law enforcement the opportunity to act. If
they get him or them, you insist again they are prosecuted to the max and go away for a long time or
until people on the inside make sure  they go away for a longer time. If none of this happens by law
enforcement, then you must do it yourself, period. And public sentiments will always be on your side.

Now let's say for example a member goes and kills his cheating wife's big dick lover and the guy's
friend, club or family are trying to kill him or get him (before the cops do). Like I said, you don't need
people in your organization who do dumb things. A smart member let's his ol' lady and her lover go fuck
another day and he gets to ride his sweet Harley. I guess he can go kill his ol' lady and keep his mouth
shut, bury her deep, "do your own damn killing". You do your own business and don't involve the club. I
support Sonny's simple but inspiring book, "Freedom". I read it most every day, even read it to my
children, real solid wisdom and it helps me stay right in my life. He lays down many good guide lines for
a club member. Time, mistakes, and common sense developed him into a great leader and very wise
person. He says in his book to what I'm getting at, "It's not a good idea to mess with another man's
woman ...

I've seen men get shot over women ... the no-no's, the line you don't cross ... mess with another man's
money, cheat at cards, steal his motorcycle. Those are hanging offenses. But messing with another
person's partner creates the worst tornadoes of all. Don't do it ( speaking I'm sure to club members and
don't tolerate it ... cut it out. We count on our friends to do their part to keep their family's problems out
of other's affairs. If a wife or ol' lady ( or a son or daughter ) ... is the source of trouble that affects you or
your organization, look to that person to control the situation... a good leader leads by example ... no
matter how valuable someone might be, if they can't keep it together ... they're not all that valuable ... on
the contrary, their liability."

So a smart member, a friend you may have to count on, may have to cut his ol' lady loose for the sake
of the club. Now if he can't figure it out for himself, he can ask leadership. If they say, kill the both of
them, now it's club business. No worries, people, they won't, (leadership is there to protect the whole of
the club) a member always has the responsibility to check himself so the club and the patch stay in tact.
Clean your own damn  kitchen.

"Fuck the people who steal our life, this biker shit has always been real as war to us."

Club business for us in the Dirty Dozen Motor Cycle Club of Arizona had to be smart even when we
were not doing everything exactly right - our mistakes, if we lived through it, taught us what to do and
most important, "When to do it." it's always when you do something, not how or why. At times, we were
challenged by other clubs and this one from California created a very serious time for us. They wanted
to set up in Old Arizona and we made a decision they weren't. They had rented a chicken fenced house
out in N.East Phoenix, which now would be the Cave Creek area. Then the homes were scattered,
miles apart, just desert and cactus. Bell Road was what I heard all day and we were going near there to
take care of business. Hog Jimmy, Burr, Lame Dennis, and I were puttin in from Mesa, to meet the
Phoenix people, Cheeta, Al, Bombo, to name a few. There would be 13 of us in all. Us Mesa guys
dropped a little acid before we left. We met the others somewhere north of Scottsdale. In those days,
the last main road was Camelback. It was a clear cool night, in the Fall, full moon and perfect night. We
all met there some time around 9:00, everyone was packin and packin heavy. We pulled out in a tight
pack only passing and seeing a few cars doing about 65MPH. We just kept going on this long lonely
road getting lost a couple of times, but Burr knew where we were at. He and Cheeta had set the
meeting in the afternoon. Finally, spotting the house, and no others for miles, there was no turning back
now. It was just us or them - not like inner city bangers in a neighborhood. Just a lonely farm house with
2 vans with California plates and about 15 choppers.  I was uneasy but not scared, acid always seemed
to give me an edge. It was quite a large house with a lot of psychedelic shit painted all over the walls.
Lots of heavy drugs and their patches were everywhere, guys handing me beer and LA type girls with
black eye make-up  running around stoned or on speed. Within a minute, Burr was getting in their
leaders face, motherfucking them, telling them they were not coming to stay and set up. Bombo was our
VP and when he gets mad, his stutter, that was always there, was gone. He meant business. I picked
out two scary guys at Burrs left to take out immediately, and I knew everyone of my brothers were doing
the same. The only one I was concerned about was lame Dennis who could be lame and go fucking
nuts before Burr and Bombo were done stating their position, at the time I knew the HA were watching
us and they didn't care particularly for this LA Club, so in our mind, we had to pony up. It meant a lot
that the HAMC liked us but we were doing this for ourselves because we were the strongest Club from
Oakland to Arizona anyway. I truly expected at any second the morning papers would read 10 dead in
biker shoot out. Acid always made me see more things clearly, anticipate, but sometimes it could fool
you, but I always could see evil and good. The one thing that kept me grounded and steady was we
were the Dirty Dozen of Arizona. I knew we were going to kill everyone we could, or die in that dirty
fucking home in the desert. I remember Burr telling everyone of those suckers what was going to be,
how it was, and what was going to happen. I knew without a doubt, he, as my leader, was ready to
fucking die right there and now. They were as fucked up as us, but not as tough as we were and Burr
was running the show. They knew we were serious and meant business. We were ready to get it on in
that shit hole house and they weren't. They blinked, startled shaking hands. Everyone wanted to party, I
was so pissed off at what they put us through, these fuckers had no idea what we were about and I
knew they had heavy 1%ers in their crew. It's just that we were more committed and serious about our
position.  I just got my ass against the wall, kept my hand on my weapon and stayed at the ready. Burr
and their leaders got some details worked out. A couple of the girls were turning out and their club was
getting pretty messed up. One girl was doing everyone in the living room but our group stayed out of it.

We could have wasted every one of them and they wouldn't have known what hit them. For awhile, I felt
that was what was to happen and kept my eyes on Burr, Cheeta and Al. I knew they had a way to look
at you so you knew what to do. I only moved a little bit for an hour or so. Jimmy told me we're all going
to leave as a unit and no one is to stay like Lame Dennis, who was a party animal. Besides, he rode a
lame fucking sportster with a magneto and we wanted to be sure it started. I hated that bike and spent
more than once peggin him on a cold morning getting him running. At about 11:00, we saddled up and
split as a pack. Not a word was said and we parted at Shea Blvd. Us Mesa guys pulled oft the road at
Bell and a cop came by and talked with us for a little  bit. He saw all our weapons and never said a
word. As the four of us went through the outskirts of Scottsdale, I couldn't believe we were alive and
puttin with a beautiful fall moon. I looked over at Billy and just shook my head and smiled. He had some
big fuckin balls. This little deal was over but the beginning of a new and very difficult biker war. I can't
remember a lot of stuff from the 60's and 70's but days like this, you never forget.

People inquire a lot, are sincerely interested what is takes to be Hells 21, because they're sincere and
want to understand, they are told that it's not that hard, of course you got to have a few basic things,
like a brain  and common sense.  A lot of it is based around the 2nd Amendment of the US Constitution,
you have to be committed to HAMC leadership and Twenty One Counsel.  You have to love your family
and believe this Country gives  more freedom and opportunity then any other. You have to try and be a
good man and work at it.  You got to be legal (you  can be a felon). You got to treat people kindly and
with respect until they show you other wise. You can't do stupid things (there is a list). You got to make
effort to respect other clubs and get along. And some little things too, like you have to chew your food
and realize you are not perfect and will fuck up now and then.  Oh ya, there's another thing, you have to
shoot to kill, without reservation, anyone you know is intending to assault, attack, or trying to take your
life, or anyone's life, including another  member, your loved ones, or any innocent person for that
matter. This is why the 2nd Amendment is so important. It puts responsibility and accountability on your
discernment to be sure you know what the fuck you're doing. I want to tell you about taking a life, it will
be rough on you, but if you were in the right doing so, you will be able to sleep soundly at night. I
believe it is always the last resort, doing all you possibly can to avoid it. Taking a life (even your own) is
one of the most serious things done in life. You never use a gun to threaten or try to scare someone.
The best thing Hells Twenty One does for itself is using law enforcement and the courts to take care of
business. We offer them this willingly. Power in a patch is knowing no one can mess with you, including
law enforcement and the Government. Here it is in a nut shell: think about it, reason it out so you don't
make a mistake - Murder is not Self Defense and Self defense is not Murder. Pretty simple stuff.





















YOU CAN BE A FELON ...

In any good organization you have to have people you respect and can count on. It's not an all white
club but you better have your head screwed on straight. Take a long hike if you're on the needle, got a
serious nose  problem, or tweak and talk to lamp posts.  You got to work or have a good healthy
inheritance. Your monthly dues are set by Leadership; everyone is equal. It's your commitment,
devotion, loyalty that count.  Talents are another thing, some are leaders, some are soldiers, not how
much money you have.  You can have any scoot (better if two) as long as it's a Harley over 880cc. Hells
21 will help take care of you if you get sick, hurt, busted (cause you won't get busted for anything
stupid   ((that could  jeopardize the club)) or something we can't fix)

The patch will cost you dearly and each man will earn every fucking thread in it, be he big, little, smart
or not too, wealthy, poor, quick or slow, nice or not, that goddamn patch will mean everything to you
along with your family and dear ones. A person has to have something other then God, family and
country to live for.  Humility will make you a good patch holder and a stronger person. It allows you to
be respectful and work on integrity. A few may be lucky enough to make the Red & White but that's not
your goal, you are there to serve and support HAMC leadership. And I assure you, give you my word,
every Hells Angel member will respect and honor you back.  Some people may ask why is Hells 21 and
Tic so committed to Hells Angel leadership and give so much respect.  




















"You'd honestly put your house and home on the line for somebody who's not even related."   to which
the friend replied, "That's where we differ, your Honor, We do."  (Excerpt from "FREEDOM")  ‘Tic says,
"stay firm, stay grounded and loyal to yourself and others you bond with and your life will work out just
fine."

Hells 21is a lot about putting club life back to what it was back in the day. (When it was born and being
written by original outlaw clubs) It was about scoots, fun, being loyal and keeping your word. How do
you accomplish this today in a fast, Internet world and lifestyle that's all about people's own agenda and
interest. Slow down, quit rushing, plan out your time around your scoot and brothers.  Keep your club
life in order, isolate from society who are not like us, pick your friends carefully, make sure they are
stand up men and women. Be calm, stay serious and alert, keep tight with your people and be different;  
I like the Amish and take lessens from them. They're peculiar and different, they stay pretty much to
themselves. Like the HAMC, they haven't changed all that much but have outlasted a lot of people.
Most of society cannot understand them but tolerate them and even respect them because they are
who they are and it is what it is, and they fit in to what is America.   Outlaws don't have to prove
themselves anymore, people pretty much know it's a mistake to mess with us. Hell, I  got so many
people going out of their way to be nice, it's quite humbling. It gives me a lot of hope in an "all about me"
society.

You have to remember we lived this 1%er club lifestyle seven days a week back in the day. In the
beginning, we didn't have weekly meetings because we were all together every day. We were in pack of
two or six, we went everywhere in our patches. If I went to work and rode my scoot, I took off my patch
when I arrived and put it back on when I left. Even cops would wave or nod to us. In the state of
Arizona, everyone knew we were the Dirty Dozen Motor Cycle Club. Years later, people would still tell
me the word was the "Dozen" are in Arizona, you'll see them when you get there. You'll be driving day or
night and out of nowhere they'll appear, buzz by you and be gone on their choppers. We rode so much
at night and there was a reason for it and it wasn't for criminal activities but because Arizona was so
damn hot and it was easier on us and our engines. A lot of runs were planned this way to saddle up at 8
or 9 at night and ride, less break downs, less traffic. A few deer and sheep now and then but unlike a
car, our pipes scared them away before we came too close. I don't ever remember anyone hitting a
deer, elk, or cow. We also got along with the Mexican clubs. They built"Low Riders", incredible cars
with beautiful paint jobs. We'd ride over to their areas and they admired our bikes and we'd drink beer
and check out their cars. There was never a problem. I think the problems came about because in the
bigger cities the kids had a lot of poverty and didn't have a lot to do but just hang out.  Really sad. They
just needed some old cars or bikes to work on and it's a shame because they're incredibly talented.
That's why I'm so against drugs cause it's easier to jam a needle in your arm or shove a line up your
nose, or suck smoke deep in your lungs, then turn a wrench or paint a frame and putt on a cold day.  
Like I said before - the bike shit has always  been as serious as war to us and if you want a part of it,
you have to pay the price.





































                                                                    
In old Arizona, most of us in the
Dirty Dozen MC packed every
day, it served as a warning not
to fuck with us. We all
understood, having grown up
with firearms, what that weapon
meant and was for. We had a
right to wear it, so we did, and
we didn't abuse that right.
Assholes for sure didn't mess
with us on the roads or
freeways like people do now
with their no brains driving
habits. They for sure didn't cut
us off or pass us on the right
lane. Perhaps that's also why in
many cases we had the upper
hand on law enforcement. They
had a lot of bad characters in
their organization then.
Mouse Over
Lame Dennis  (in background)  5'10, 180lbs of solid terror
Music by Steve Perry,
JOURNEY
and
Theme from  'Hanabal'
First, Tic said, "I always understood loyalty
and keeping your word to those who you
alined with, and my brothers in the Dozen
did also". When I said they, the HAMC were
always first , it goes back to alot of things
that happened in the past and many years
ago. Let me give yo an example. Back in the
day, Sonny and some of the boys found
themselves in front of a judge looking down
on them from his high bench, getting ready
for a hot and heavy conspiracy trial. All
throughout the pretrial, bail hearings, the
cops were boasting about how bad Sonny
was, that he was a flight risk. Then, peering
thought his spectacles, after it came up that
one of there friends had put his farm on the
line so that another friend could make bail,
the judge looked astonished. He asked,
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