Rodney King - The Riot Within: My Journey from Rebellion to Redemption

Chapter 1
The World Wide Open

GROWING UP

Who wants to go fishing? Those were just the sweetest words to my seven-year-old ears, and had me out in Daddys car with my rod and tackle before he was finished asking. Gailen, my older brother by a year, loved catching dinner too, but not as much as me. Fishing was my favorite thing to do. Wave goodbye to Momma, and off we went. Daddy knew all the good spots, and it didnt matter what was biting: pickerel, blue gills, carp, suckers, trout... just bring it. That was pure heaven.

They used to call my daddy Kingfish, which I thought was a pretty cool nickname. He was the best fisherman around. He taught me a lot of tricks about catching fish, fresh- and saltwaterthe proper bait, lures, hooks, pound test, and everything.

Not far from where I was born, near my Grammy Rosettas home up in Northern California, were miles and miles of these open irrigation canals that wound in and around the Sacramento River. These canals were used to get water to the fieldcrops and melons in that area. Somehow fish would get into these waterways. It wasnt like shooting fish in a barrel, but it was close. We would drive up this dirt run called One Mile Road and do a lot of fishing up there during summer vacation.

Some days, though, the fish would not bite no matter what, like they just wanted to spite you. One time, we tried every spot and every bait, but after four hours, nothing. Kingfish was so fed up, he opened up a valve for the floodgate that divided one of those canals and drained off about a hundred yards of ditch, just like that.

Gailens and my jaws dropped, because suddenly we were looking out over a dozen fish just flopping around in the mud. Daddy laughed and yelled, Whatre you waiting for? Go get em! My brother and I never had so much fun, ankle deep in mud, grabbing mostly suckers and tossing them up on the bank for Dad to stuff into a canvas bag.

But thats not why that day is etched in my mind. It was because my leg got stuck at one point and made a funny suction sound when I tried to pull myself out of the ditch. I was laughing at first, but it felt like quicksand, pulling me down the more I struggled. I began to panic and started yelling for help because I was just a runt and had lost sight of Dad and Gailen. I went from shouting to screaming pretty fast, because when youre a kid, your imagination can get the best of you, and I started thinking about what would happen if I got sucked underground before anyone could get a fix on me. This big ole catfish was only about three feet away from me, stuck on the bank. Catfish are incredibly durable and can breathe for a bit out of water. He was staring me down with this sad look that said, Yer a goner, just like me.

All of a sudden I heard yelling, but it wasnt my dad, and it wasnt Gailen. Who is that? Whos there?! I screamed at the top of my lungs, really panicked. Yanking and yelling, yelling and yanking. I almost dislocated my leg at the knee trying to rip it out of that stinky mud with one mighty pull. But without anything to brace against, it was hopeless.

Next thing I heard was Hush up, boy! Cant you hear that farmer yelling? The whole valley must a heard you! Then Dads arm wrapped around my waist like a steel cable and pulled me out of that muck easy as a greased pole. He tucked me under his arm and carried me on a dead run to get away from that farmer who was gonna be real sore once he saw we emptied one of his ditches. I saw Gailen just ahead, jumping into the car. Daddy tossed me and the bag of fish in the back seat, and we lit out of there. All the time that farmer was howling away.

RUN, NIGGER!

Fishing was one of the ways we had fun in the water. But that was only when Dad felt like it. Swimming was by far the thing to do every day of the summer. Whether we were visiting my family up in Sacramento or at home in Altadena, me and my brothers would always end up at the local water hole. At home, the best swimming was near Devils Gate Dam, where wed splash around all day. Gailen, who was about six at the time, would lead us down there. Mom wasnt crazy about us going swimming and made us promise to keep an eye on our little brother, Juan, because he was still pretty young. There were always other kids down there, big and small, from all parts of Altadena and Pasadena. We were just keeping cool in the hot sun, messing around skipping stones and playing tag off this old, half-sunk wooden raft.

I was a pretty good swimmer and could stay in the water forever. One day I was just bobbing up and down, trying to touch bottom. I could actually get a good rhythm going and found that the further I popped up out of the water, the better my momentum to slice down and get my toes into that cold muck below. That was such a cool feeling, and there were only a few of us who could touch bottom at the deepest part.

As my head broke the surface for the umpteenth time, this object flew past my face, missing me by inches. My eyes were still closed, but from the sound of the ker-plunk it made when it hit the surface of the water, I was shocked to realize it mustve been a pretty decent-sized rock. I was about to yell, Quit it! when another one buzzed by, this time just over my head. I suddenly felt very exposed and helpless, and was never more frightened in my life. I surface dived and swam to the shore underwater almost the whole way, then clambered up the bank. There were stones flying everywhere, and I could hear yelling from my other brothers. As I sprinted up the path to get away, I could hear yelling from the other kids. Then I heard it for the first time in my life: Run, nigger!

What? But I did. I must have been on a dead run for a thousand yards before I dared look behind me. I figured Id see all the kids that were being pelted by rocks sprinting right behind me. I swore that if Gailen had been in on this sick game, then Mom and Dad were going to hear about it. Gailen was only a year older than me, but he was a lot bigger than me, and I got real angry as I imagined him laughing at me. I was confused when I finally stopped, because there werent any other kids in sight. I was tempted to go back, but the thought of rocks whizzin by my head kept me away.

It wasnt until I was heading back home that I ran into Gailen and Juan. They were both crying, particularly Juan, who was nearly hysterical. Gailen came right up to me, and I could see he was angry. Where did you go? Why did you take off on us? They wanted to kill us. That big redhead was gonna tie me up with a rope he had wrapped around a big rock, but Juan came right up to him and threw sand in his face. He was screaming he was gonna kill us, but we took off before his friends could catch us.

I didnt know what to say, and I felt so awful when I realized I had abandoned my brothers. Gailen told me how all the white kids ganged up on us without any warning. I had no idea what Gailen was talking about. Up until that point in my life, I had no real grasp of white kids, black kids, or blue kids. We were all just kids, as far as I could tell.

I can still see the look on Mommas face when Gailen told her what happened, and her expression when she looked at me after Gailen told her what I did. Her disapproving glance was only there for a second, but it cut right through my heart. Mom softened her look right away, but I had seen it, and it was devastating to me. I just wanted to roll up in a ball and die right there. Juan couldnt even look at me. I think he was embarrassed for me because his heart was so pure, he probably couldnt even process the idea of me leaving my brothers in a situation where they could get hurt.