The story below is Butterfly, Chapter One of Olongapo, a crime novel I hope to soon publish.
Butterfly originally
appeared in American Crime Magazine.
Butterfly
By Paul Davis
I
lived in what we considered a tough neighborhood in South Philadelphia when I
was a teenager in the 1960s. I ran with a tough crowd on the mean streets of
South Philly, but I would later discover that Olongapo in the early 1970s was a
truly tough town.
I
recall an old Navy chief telling me and other young sailors on the USS Kitty
Hawk about the notorious port city as the aircraft carrier sailed towards the
Philippines in November of 1970. The chief, who had been around the world while
serving many years in the U.S. Navy, told us that Olongapo was the wildest
place he had ever seen.
“Once
you walk across the bridge over Shit River into Olongapo, you’ll be corrupted
quickly by sexy bar girls, cheap booze, available drugs, and all sorts of
crime,” the old chief said with a mischievous grin.
During
the Vietnam War, Olongapo, the city located next to the massive U.S. Navy Base
at Subic Bay in the Philippines, was like Dodge City, Las Vegas, and Sodom and
Gomorrah all rolled into one. The U.S. Navy’s Seventh Fleet ships
that operated off the coast of Vietnam during the war were frequent visitors to
Subic Bay, as the naval base provided repairs and replenishment to the warships.
As
the pent-up American sailors left the ships and swarmed into Olongapo, the
city’s shadier elements were waiting. Sailors walked out of the naval base’s
gate and crossed over the small bridge above the Olongapo River, called
“Shit River” by the Americans due to its muddy brown color and pungent smell.
Despite the filth and pollution, several small children on boats were willing
to slip into the river and dive for the coins the sailors tossed from the
bridge into the water.
On
the other side of the bridge was Olongapo’s main street, Magsaysay Drive.
Known as the “Strip,” there was a seemingly endless line of bars,
restaurants and hotels all lit up in colorful neon lights. The street was noisy
and crowded with passing American sailors and Marines, street vendors,
drug dealers, pickpockets, thieves, con artists, armed robbers and
innocent-looking young shoeshine boys who were known to hold a razor against a
sailor’s heel until he handed over his wallet.
Also
on the crowded street were scores of young, attractive Filipinas enticing
sailors to come into their bar with blown kisses, swaying hips, pushed out
breasts, and shaking derrieres. Occasionally a girl would use strong-arm
tactics, such as grabbing a young sailor by the arm and yanking him into the
bar and announcing loudly that she had a “Cherry Boy” virgin.
Crossing
Magsaysay Drive was often a case of bravery or foolhardiness, as one could be
hit by one of the ubiquitous “jeepneys,” Olongapo’s colorfully decorated
minibuses that were converted from American jeeps abandoned after World War II.
The
American dollar was like gold in the early 1970s, and one could spend a wild
night in Olongapo drinking, eating, dancing, and staying in a hotel room with a
local beauty for only about $20.
I
was 18 years old when I first visited Olongapo in 1970. I was a cocky,
street-smart South Philly kid, as well as a lean and muscular amateur
middleweight boxer, so I was not intimidated by the barrage of sights, sounds
and smells of this strange town like so many other young sailors who first
experience it. I was also not fazed when a bar girl grabbed my arm outside of a
bar and yanked me towards the bar’s entrance.
“You
so young and handsome,” the pretty Filipina said as she tugged my arm.
“You Cherry Boy?” I pulled my arm loose from her grip and replied, “Not
hardly.”
Thankfully,
I had good friends on the aircraft carrier who had visited Olongapo during the
Kitty Hawk’s previous combat cruise, and they warned me about the dangers and
pitfalls, as well as the delights, of the notorious city. As an aspiring
crime writer, Olongapo sounded like just the place for me.
All
American servicemen were duly warned of the dangers when visiting Olongapo’s
bars and other establishments. One rule pounded into the sailors by the older
sailors was not to “Butterfly” in individual bars. To butterfly was to
associate with two bar girls, called “Hostesses,” in any one bar. The bar girls
were protective of their claimed sailors and the money they earned from the
sailors buying them whisky (actually Coke) and champagne (actually
7-Up). The price of a drink for the girls was only about a buck, so the
sailors didn’t mind paying this apparent scam. But the bar girls resented
another bar girl poaching on their moneymakers.
When
a sailor would butterfly, whether on his own initiative or by the encouragement
of another bar girl, the aggrieved bar girl would often fly into a rage and
attack the other bar girl, and sometimes the offending sailor.
Even
before I set foot in Olongapo, I heard the much-repeated cautionary tale about
an American sailor who committed the offense and paid a dear price. The bar
girl he had been seeing was so mad when he flirted with another bar girl that
she attacked the girl on the dance floor. To the consternation of the bar’s
manager and the utter delight of the American sailors, the two girls pulled
hair, and kicked and punched each other.
The
Filipino manager and his waiters pulled the two girls apart. The offended girl
then went to her purse and pulled out her Batangas knife, a weapon
more commonly known as a “Butterfly” knife. The knife had two handles with the
sharp blade concealed in the groves of the handles. When flashed, flipped and
fanned by someone who knew what they are doing, the butterfly knife was a most
scary and deadly thing.
This
bar girl knew how to use the butterfly knife and she charged the butterflying
sailor and slit his throat as he sat in a chair. He died on the way to the base
hospital.
On
my first visit to Olongapo in early December of 1970, I went into one of the
bars with some shipmates and met a pretty girl who sat with me as I bought her
drinks. I had fun drinking and dancing with her, and we ended up in a hotel
room for the night. I returned to the ship the following morning and we soon
shoved off for our first “Yankee Station” line period in the Gulf of Tonkin in
the South China Sea off the coast of Vietnam.
We
spent Christmas on Yankee Station, but we pulled back into Subic Bay on
December 31st, New Year's Eve. Not everyone was glad to see us.
The American sailors stationed on the base and on smaller ships hated when
an aircraft carrier pulled into port. With the carrier’s 4, 700 men going
ashore with money in their pockets and eager for action, the city’s inhabitants
went all out to receive them.
In
a case of reverse butterflying, two sailors stationed on the base at Subic Bay
resented the Kitty Hawk’s sailors taking over the city on that first night in
port. One base sailor was truly angry, as his regular girl at the bar ignored
him and cuddled up to a young Kitty Hawk sailor. The base sailor got drunk
along with his pal and when the girl went to the restroom, the two base sailors
pounced on the Kitty Hawk sailor. They beat him to the floor and one of the two
assailants broke a bottle of beer over his head.
The
Kitty Hawk sailor was beaten unconscious before other sailors and the Filipino
waiters could break it up. The Philippine police and the U.S. Navy Shore Patrol
rushed into the bar and took hold of the two base sailors. The Kitty Hawk
sailor was gravely injured, and he was taken by two Shore Patrol petty officers
to the base hospital. The two base sailors were released by the Philippine
police into the custody of two other Shore Patrol petty officers and a junior
officer. The Shore Patrol petty officers handcuffed the pair and escorted them
to the base, where they were charged with aggravated assault and attempted
murder by civilian Naval Investigative Service (NIS) special agents.
The
story of the assault on the Kitty Hawk sailor spread quickly all over Olongapo.
I heard the story from another sailor as I sat in the Starlight bar
with two of my shipmates from the Kitty Hawk’s Communications Radio (CR)
Division. Dino Ingemi was a solid six-footer with thinning dark hair. He was an
outgoing and funny guy from the Bronx, and everyone in the division liked him.
Mike Hunt was also a popular guy. He was a brawny, laid-back Californian whose
light brown hair, ski nose and easygoing manner belied his background as an
outlaw biker prior to enlisting in the Navy to avoid being drafted into the
Army. Both Ingemi and Hunt were Olongapo veterans, having visited the wild city
the year before during Kitty Hawk’s previous combat cruise.
As I was half-Italian on my
mother’s side and I grew up in a predominantly Italian American South
Philadelphia neighborhood, I called Dino Ingemi my paisan.
"Just another fun night in
Olongapo, Paul," my paison said. "That
kind of shit won't happen here at the Starlight."
The
Filipino band at the Starlight had everyone jumping and
dancing to their renditions of popular American songs of the time. The Filipino
musicians were incredible mimics, sounding like Sly and the Family Stone with
one song, the Four Tops with another, and then went on to sound eerily like the
Beatles in yet another number.
We
were all dressed in “civies,” as sailors called civilian clothes, and I was
wearing a short-sleeved tan and black Italian knit shirt and black slacks. I
was something of a clotheshorse, and I differed from most of the other sailors,
who were usually clad simply in tie-dyed t-shirts and jeans. Thankfully,
the then-chief of naval operations, Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, the enlisted man’s
hero, allowed sailors to go ashore in civies rather than in uniform.
We
sat at a table drinking bottles of San Miguel, the local beer, when I was
approached by Linda Divita, a slim, pretty girl who swayed around me to the
music and then pulled me up from my chair to dance with her. Linda had
long dark hair and long lovely legs beneath her short black dress. The low cut
of her dress afforded one the view of her mostly exposed small breasts.
Dino
Ingemi approved.
“She’s
got a great ass and cute little tits,” Ingemi said to me when we finally sat
back down. I nodded in agreement as Ingemi was smacked on the arm by Marlena
Abadiano, the pretty girl he had been seeing since he first visited Olongapo
the year before.
Dino
Ingemi was very social and made friends easily. He had become close with
the Starlight manager, Samuel Rosalita, during the previous
cruise. Rosalita joined us at our table and laughed and drank with us. He gave
me his business card and another card that read “Welcome to the Starlight:
Charming A-Go-Go dancers, Beautiful Ladies and Outstanding Combos.”
I
mentioned to Ingemi that Rosalita looked like the entertainer Sammy Davis Jr,
and Ingemi began to call him “Sammy,” much to the manager’s delight. Rosalita
chuckled and shook his head at everything Ingemi said.
I
had a fun night drinking and dancing with Linda that New Year's Eve at
the Starlight, and when the bar closed, I took her to a nearby
hotel. I was drunk and worried that the girl would steal my money when I fell
asleep, so when she was in the bathroom, I looked for a place to hide my slim
black leather wallet that held my Navy ID and my cash. I looked up at the light
fixture mounted on the ceiling six feet above me. Thinking I was clever, I
tossed my wallet up onto the glass fixture underneath the light bulb.
Linda
came out of the bathroom and threw her arms around me and laughed crazily. She
was loopy drunk, but she was wild, sexy and fun in bed with me right up until
the moment she passed out in my arms. In the morning, I could not wake her. I
knew she was alive, as she moaned and muttered, but she would not move from her
face down position on the bed. I found a handful of “Red Devils,” a
barbiturate, on the bedside table next to her purse. I didn’t know how many of
the pills she took, but I was concerned.
I
dressed her and left the room. Rosalita’s business card did not have a
telephone number on it, so I went to the front desk and I slipped five dollars
to one of the clerks and asked him to go and get the Starlight manager.
I
went back to the room and saw that Linda was still out. About a half hour
later, there was a knock on the door. Rosalita came in, accompanied by one of
his waiters and an older woman who was the Mama-San for the
bar. Rosalita thanked me for contacting him and then looked at Linda on the
bed. He cursed her in Tagalog. The two men lifted Linda and took her out of the
room. After they left, I looked up at the ceiling light and tried to retrieve
my wallet, but it was beyond my reach. I went down to the front desk and asked
the clerks for a ladder. They looked puzzled. I returned to my room with two
Filipinos and a ladder in tow. They stood in the doorway in amazement as I
climbed the ladder and retrieved my wallet.
I
gave each of the hotel clerks a five-dollar bill for their trouble as I was
leaving the hotel room. The two Filipinos took the money as they laughed
uncontrollably.
“Fuck
you,” I said to them, although I had to laugh along with them.
Back
at the carrier, I took a shower, ate lunch in the galley and then I took a nap
in my rack. When I awoke, I took another shower and changed into a black dress
shirt and light gray slacks. I met up with Hunt and Ingemi and we all headed
out to Olongapo and the Starlight. We took a table and Marlena
came over with Hunt’s girl Carmelina and sat with us. I was thankful that I
didn’t see Linda. Rosalita came over to the table with a waiter armed with a
tray of San Miguel beers.
Marlena
whispered into Ingemi’s ear, and he nodded. Marlena got up and left the table.
She returned to our table with a beautiful girl that she introduced to us as
her sister, Zeny Abadiano.
Zeny
had long, raven hair with bangs cut just above her dark, sultry eyes. She had a
pretty face and an alluring figure. At 5’ 11,’ I towered over her five-foot
stature when we danced. In addition to her being an exotic beauty, Zeny was
sexy, smart and funny. I was drawn to her immediately.
And
I forgot all about Linda.
After
the bar closed, Ingemi, Hunt and I took the girls to a nearby hotel. In my
hotel room, I took Zeny in my arms, unzipped her dress and let it fall to the
floor. I told her she was beautiful as I kissed her madly, and we fell across
the bed.
A
couple of hours later, I heard a pounding on the door. I jumped up and
retrieved my pocketknife from under the pillow. I heard Linda on the other side
of the door.
“Paul!
Paul! Open up!” I heard her holler. “I want to talk to you!”
Zeny
pulled the sheet over her head and giggled. “Oh, you think this is
funny?” I told Linda to go away.
“Paul,
open up. I want to talk to you!” Linda said in a screeching and blood-curdling
voice. Of course, I didn’t open the door. I then heard what I presumed were
hotel employees arguing with Linda in Tagalog, and thankfully the voices
outside the door finally ceased.
“So,
you think a crazy, drugged girl coming to the room was funny,” I said to Zeny
as I took her once again in my arms.
I
was awakened in the morning by a pounding on the door. Not again, I thought.
But then I heard Ingemi’s voice. I hollered out to Ingemi that I would be ready
in a half hour. I took a shower with Zeny and afterwards I sat in a chair, and
she stood in front of me nude and dried my hair with a towel. She took my
pocket comb and combed my short, dark brown hair, carefully
parting it on the left side. I pulled her wonderfully luscious body towards me
and hugged her.
I
met Ingemi and Hunt outside of the hotel and we grabbed a jeepney and headed
back to the ship.
Later
that evening, Ingemi and I returned to the Starlight.
Zeny
and Marlena were waiting for us and the four of us took a table. Rosalita waved
to us and motioned to a waiter, who quickly came over with San Miguel beers.
While we were drinking at the table, Linda suddenly appeared by my side. Zeny
grabbed my arm and snuggled up close to me. Linda was clearly angry and
deranged.
“You
butterfly, you motherfucker!”
“Get
the fuck out of here,” I replied calmly, tilting my head slightly to the right
while trying to sound like a South Philly half-a-hoodlum.
“I
get you good, motherfucker,” Linda said with a snarl.
Rosalita
rushed over to the table and spoke harshly in Tagalog to Linda. She spat on the
table and walked away. Rosalita apologized and left us. Zeny and Marlena were
unfazed, and Ingemi was laughing uncontrollably. Linda sat at a nearby table
with some poor sailor and began cursing me loudly in English and Tagalog.
“She
crazy,” Zeny said, kissing me to further anger Linda.
Linda
then began to fling lit cigarettes at us. Then she threw a beer bottle that hit
our table. Ingemi, who was no longer laughing, got up and walked over to
Rosalita. Rosalita listened briefly to Ingemi and then marched over to Linda,
and he must have told her in no uncertain terms to cut it out.
We
resumed drinking, dancing, and having fun and I tried to ignore Linda. A while
later I got up to go to the men’s room, which was on the other side of a wall
that separated the bar from the rest rooms, the kitchen, and storerooms. When I
came out of the men’s room, I encountered Linda in my path.
“You
butterfly me, you son a bitch,” Linda hissed. “I kill you.”
From
behind her back, Linda produced a Butterfly knife and began to twirl it in
front of me. As she flashed and fanned the knife in a menacing fashion, I threw
a short right punch that hit her square in the face. She went down, her nose
and teeth bloody, and she lay motionless on the floor.
Rosalita
and two waiters rushed in, and my immediate thought was that I would have to
fight them all. But Rosalita cursed Linda, who lay unconscious. The two waiters
picked up Linda and took her away.
Rosalita
apologized profusely to me, and I walked back to the table and told everyone
what happened.
From
then on, whenever the carrier visited Subic Bay, I went to the Starlight and
stayed with Zeny.
I
never again saw Linda, and no one ever said what had become of her.
And
I never asked.
© 2022 Paul Davis
Note: You
can read other chapters via the below links:
Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction:
'Salvatore Lorino'
Paul
Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: The Old Huk
Paul
Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: Join The Navy And See Olongapo
Paul
Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Boots On The Ground'
Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The
30-Day Detail'
Paul
Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Cat Street'
Paul
Davis On Crime: Chapter 12: On Yankee Station
Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The
Cherry Boy'
Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The
Hit'
Paul Davis On
Crime: My Crime Fiction: Welcome To Japan, Davis-San
Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction:
'Murder By Fire'
Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction:
'Admiral McCain'
Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Hit
The Head'
Paul Davis On
Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'A Night At The Americano'
Paul Davis On
Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Missing Muster'
Paul Davis On
Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Barracks Thief'
Paul Davis On
Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The City of Bizarre Happenings'
Paul Davis On
Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The Refrigerator Thieves'
Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Go Forth, Goforth'
