Easy Riders

It’s jam-packed with bikers at Johnny’s Bar, a small saloon with 16 stools and a few tables located on the main street of this small farming town. There are more than 100 people sipping $3 plastic cups of Budweiser and Anchor Steam, and downing shots of Jack Daniels and Jose Cuervo. The place resembles a New York City subway at rush hour with just enough room to raise one’s elbows to drink.

Then Sonny Barger enters.

The crowd parts.

Barger, 58, the leader of the Hells Angels, is in town to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the “Battle of Hollister” when, on Independence Day 1947, some rowdy bikers tore up the place.

That’s how the term “outlaw bikers” was born and was the inspiration for the 1954 Marlon Brando movie “The Wild One.”

Many in this city of about 25,000 feared a repeat of 1947, when fistfights, drag racing and general rowdy behavior were common.

But the bikers aren’t so wild any more. Though there were a few fistfights, even the bikers had to admit this was a mellow weekend. Still, there are some outlaws.

Barger, who formed the Oakland chapter of the Hells Angels 40 years ago, symbolizes the tiny minority of bikers who are referred to as 1%ers, the outlaw element of motorcyclists.

Barger is not a physically imposing man. He stands about 5-foot-10, weighs maybe 170 pounds. On his throat, covering a hole from an operation 14 years ago to remove a cancerous larynx, is a patch that he pushes on to speak.

He enters the bar without any of his fellow Hells Angels. Men twice his weight back away. Women stare.

“Everybody gets out of Sonny’s way when he walks in a room,” says Rose Coots, who is with her boyfriend. “I know I do.”

“Mr. Barger, may I take your picture?” asks a middle-aged woman.

“We’re praying for you Sonny,” says a younger woman.

“He’s an American hero,” says a young man.

A Hollister police officer, standing toward the rear of the bar, slowly shakes his head.

“Hero,” says the officer, who does not want his name used. “That guy is nothing but a criminal. Do you know how many years he’s done in prison?”

A total of 13 years, on a variety of charges including conspiracy to blow up a rival’s headquarters. It was all a part of growing up, says Barger.

Perhaps the most obvious change since the 1947 incident is the reaction when the police show up.

Back then when the Boozefighters, a club of World War II veterans lead by “Wino” Willie Forkner, took over San Benito Street, they weren’t particularly worried about the authorities. When a police car responded to complaints of rowdy behavior in front of Johnny’s, the car was surrounded by the Boozefighters, lifted a few feet off the ground, then dropped. The policeman, recall residents and Boozefighters, fled the scene.

After two fights involving Hells Angels and others this weekend in front of Johnny’s, the outlaw bikers quickly fled before the police, who had less than a block to travel, arrived.

For the most part, the celebration, which included concerts and hill-climbing races, went smoothly, Hollister officials said. More than 53,000 people came to town, according to Hollister’s public information office, and fewer than 50 minor arrests were made, most for driving under the influence.

“Wino would have thought this was tame,” said Blade, who identified himself only as president of the Boozefighters chapter in the Los Angeles area. (Forkner died two weeks ago of heart disease.)

Most of those who came to Hollister appeared to have a fine time. “I think it’s great” was a response offered by dozens of bikers and local residents.

“I’d rather have 50,000 bikers than 50,000 construction workers or lawyers here,” said Bill Millar, who owns a brew pub on San Benito Street, Hollister’s main drag.

*

The main activity for bikers was driving up and down San Benito Street, parking and admiring other bikes, many of them customized and worth more than $30,000. They shopped at sidewalk stalls selling motorcycle seats, leather goods and jewelry.

A striking example of how much time has passed since 1947 sat in a wheelchair across the street from Johnny’s. Jim Hickman, 73, who now has to breathe through a tube in his nose because of bad lungs, was here in 1947 too. An original Boozefighter, he spoke of the old days and of Wino Willie.

“Wino was really a kind-hearted big softy who would kill anyone who messed with his friends,” Hickman said.

Another original Boozefighter, Ed “Red” Dahlgren, 76, still rides his Harley to work in Santa Fe Springs, where he is a foreman at a warehouse. Red, who wears a knife on his belt and recently bought a 1997 Harley, recalled how he became the first person jailed back in 1947.

“I was pretty wasted. I got a little rowdy with the pigs. And the pigs took me in. Then the Boozefighters came to the jail, and they were gonna bust me out like back in the Wild West. But I talked them out of it. I needed to sleep it off anyway.”

At a backyard barbecue held at the home of a Boozefighter called “Huck,” the bikers enjoyed an expansive buffet, complete with grilled fresh salmon, tri-tip, pasta and salads. When someone commented that it seemed odd that the wild ones were eating bow-tie pasta with fresh herbs, a Boozefighter from Texas called “Rebel” said: “We’re wild, not barbaric.”

Local merchants, from bar owners to food vendors to lemonade stand entrepreneurs, loved the event.

“I’m gonna save the money and use it to go to college,” said 8-year-old Denece Lujan as she poured a 50-cent cup of kiwi-strawberry iced tea for a parched customer. Denece made more then $200 over the weekend, she said.

But iced tea sales were nothing compared to beer. Everywhere along San Benito Street pedestrians were seen drinking brews from red plastic cups.

“Even in my wildest dreams I didn’t expect this much business,” said Charisse Tyson, the owner of Johnny’s Bar, who estimated that her profits were 20 times higher than normal.

Merced County Sheriff Cmdr. Bill Blake, who brought in 14 of his officers to help out, said police were letting a lot of things slide simply because they lacked the personnel to enforce every law.

When the Hells Angels arrived, they didn’t mingle with outsiders and refused to talk to the media.

Barger, however, finally agreed to answer questions--but in an alley surrounded by three bodyguard types with biceps as big as thighs and by his twentysomething girlfriend Noel “B.” The movie “The Wild One” had a major impact on his life, he said, but it was the Lee Marvin character whom he idolized, not Brando’s.

“My life was inspired by that line that Marvin said: ‘If Frog Face don’t like it, he can hit me back.’ ”

Barger denied he controls the Hells Angels, who federal authorities contend is nothing more than an organized-crime outfit with close ties to the Mafia.

Not surprisingly, Barger did not have a glowing report about the police at the Hollister event.

“The cops want trouble,” said Barger.

Merced County Sheriff Det. Michael Parish chose his words carefully to respond to Barger’s comment.

“We’re showing the bikers respect, he should respect us,” Parish said.

Most of those in town had high praise for the police.

*

As each evening wore on, the police were concerned more with crowd control than with occasional fistfights and were more worried about local youths causing trouble rather than bikers.

“The locals are the biggest problem here,” said Salinas Officer Fay Patterson, who praised the attitude of the bikers and predicted that this would become an annual event.

Local teenagers and young adults, eager to see the bikes coming down the street, edged closer. At times, the scene resembled a bull fight as pedestrians maneuvered within inches of passing Harleys, almost getting gored by the handlebars.

Despite a few fights and some drunken behavior, the celebration left most with an overall impression of a good, easygoing time.

“It’s just as mellow as I thought it would be,” said Shell Karlsson, an electrical engineer who drove his Kawasaki up from the exclusive community of Hillsborough.

It was too mellow for a few, though.

Felipe Galvan stood in the middle of San Benito Street on Saturday night wearing a frown. He was not pleased.

The 23-year-old resident of the neighboring town of Morgan Hill was hoping to see a little more action.

“It would have been nice to have seen some riots,” he said. “A lot of people around here thought there would not be anything but trouble, and it’s kind of disappointing.”

A Salinas policeman overheard the comments and muttered, “What an idiot.”

As he was leaving the downtown area, Sonny Barger turned to a reporter and gave him some advice.

“Try to stay out of trouble. It’s a peaceful event.”