Hells Angels. - Hells angel: the life and times of Sonny Barger and the Hells Angels Motorcycle Club

I knew all along that if I told my story straight up, just as it happened and without any apologies, the bike riders and citizens who love freedom and the open road would rise up and support my book and make it a bestseller. And thats what happened. Within the first few months of the hardcover release, Hells Angel became a bestseller in the United States, the United Kingdom, Canada, and Germany. Translations are on the way in Italy, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Japan, and even Turkey and Estonia. Like my Harley Road King, the book really took off.

People all over the world have visited my website, www.sonnybarger.com, and posted their personal messages of support. They seem to have understood my central message: freedom aint cheap, dont be a rat, and sometimes you have to literally fight to be free. And readers finally got the real story of the Hells Angels after decades of law enforcement garbage theyve been spoon-fed through the media and crappy tell-all books and articles. This was a chance to clear up all the lies and distortions.

Most writers/authors sign books and do press interviews in just the big cities like New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, and maybe Denver and San Francisco. Thats about it. Well, I knew that wasnt gonna cut it with my people.

After the kick off release of the book in New York City with a signing and a party that included the New York City chapter, the Sonny Barger 2000 Route 66 Tour started in Chicago and wound its way across the United States to the sunny shores of California. I wanted to sign books in real American places like Springfield (both Illinois and Missouri), St. Louis, Tulsa, Oklahoma City, Amarillo, and so forth. After Amarillo, we hit the West, my territory, spanning regions like New Mexico, Arizona, veering off to Vegas and finally, California and the West Coast.

In addition to bookstores, we had signings in bike shops and Harley-Davidson dealerships all along the way. The bike shops became the answer, the place to really reach the die-hards. I guess they felt more comfortable around a grease pit or a showroom full of Harleys than a bookstore. If we drew three hundred people at a bookstore, a bike shop might draw more like six hundred to eight hundred people.

After the Route 66 Tour, I shot off into all four corners of the United States, including Denver, Minneapolis, Cleveland, Buffalo, Rochester, Portland, Seattle, and lots of towns in the Northeast. I signed thousands of books at major motorcycle events such as the Black Hills Rally at Sturgis, South Dakota, the Four Corners Rally near Durango, Colorado, Biketoberfest in Daytona Beach, the New England Bike Spectacular in Boston, the Hollister Independence Rally in California, and even the Bulldog Bash in Strafordshire, England (my first time over there). The club also got involved, as many local Hells Angels chapters jumped in and sponsored signings in their areas.

At my homecoming signing in Oakland, thirty Oakland Hells Angels rode with me to the signing at a local Harley dealership. That day I signed almost nine hundred books at an annual grand event with live music, custom motorcycles on display, and girls in bikinis washing bikes. The cops rode up and down the street, jealously checking up on us. We were partying. A typical Hells Angel signing event.

As of this writing, the last leg of my spring tour includes HAMC-sponsored signings in Phoenix and Anaheim. Then its off to the Laughlin River Run in Nevada, followed by a couple more bike shop appearances in Washington and Idaho (sponsored by our Washington Nomads chapter). After that, Ill fly to Oslo and Copenhagen, then back for more HAMC-sponsored signings in Laconia, New Hampshire, Cape Cod, and San Diego.

You get the picture. Im on the move and the road doesnt end, and Im just where I want to be. Ten months after I bought my Harley-Davidson Road King, I have put on more than 40,000 miles, not counting air travel. Each signing seems to have its own story.

I brought at least two club members to ride with me at all times. While on the Route 66 Tour, from Chicago down through St. Louis and Kansas City, there were more than forty club members riding with me. It was big fun. I told the publishers not to reserve any fancy hotel rooms. All we needed was gasoline and a place to sleep. We were packing light and would just pull into a motel (scaring the shit out of the clerk), party a little around our bikes (which were usually right outside our doors), and catch a little shut-eye before heading out the next morning.

When we pulled into the St. Louis bookstore parking lot, we were a little early. The lady from the bookstore glanced at her watch and pointed across the street toward a tavern, Hit the bar across the street, Mr. Barger. Im buying. With forty thirsty Hells Angels from Chicago and Minneapolis riding with me, boy, I wondered if she knew what she was getting into. We behaved.

When we pulled into Docs Harley-Davidson dealership in St. Louis, the manager gave us free T-shirts and, although we were originally only scheduled for an hour, we signed more than five hundred books. They eventually ran out.

After getting off my bike in Albuquerque, a Hells Angel ran up and grabbed me.

Hey brother, how are you doin?

I was a little tired, just off the road, but I was okay with him, even though I didnt know the guy. I saw that he was wearing a death head patch, but the bottom rocker said International. That seemed pretty strange. At first I thought it may have been an Australian patch, but no, I was mistaken. I became suspicious, so I asked the guy, Hey man, do they let you wear that International patch over there?

He just shrugged his shoulders.

I told him, Well, we dont, and I want to talk to you about it when I get done signing.

I walked inside the bookstore and there were already about three hundred people in line, waiting to get their books signed. I sat down and signed two books when this guy with the strange patch walked by me again. One of the members tapped me on the shoulder.

Hey Sonny, look at that.

The guy was wearing a death head copied from the movie poster Hells Angels Forever . The design on the poster wasnt a real death head; we altered it slightly so it would be just a little bit different from an authentic HAMC patch. I jumped up from the table and approached the guy wearing the phony death head.

Excuse me a minute, I said, and a member and I took him aside. Who the fuck are you? Whats going on? I asked him.

I live here in Albuquerque, he said.

Give me that patch, I told him.

Why? he answered back.

Wrong answer.

We took the jacket off him, as well as his T-shirt that said Oakland on it, gave him another shirt to wear, and sent him packing and regretting his stupidity. I assured the people in line (some looked a little startled) that things were cool. Sorry for the delay. Everythings taken care of. Dont worry.

Then I sat down and resumed signing books.

Also in Albuquerque, my bodyguard, Joby from the Cave Creek Hells Angels, got arrested for carrying his gun. The signing in Albuquerque was in a bookstore that was part of a mall complex that had a lot more than just a bookstore. There was also a liquor store and a restaurant that served liquor. Well, Albuquerque is sort of like Arizona; you can carry a gun out in the open, but you cant take it inside any establishment that sells liquor. (That and a bank.) Anyway, bookstore, liquor store, hell, we didnt know. Joby ended up getting arrested for possession of a firearm. We ponied up five hundred bucks for a lawyer, and the case was eventually dismissed. The judge said, You can carry a weapon, just dont carry it in Albuquerque. Man, they love us in Albuquerque.