King 2 Not a lot to go on


            On Saturday, June 20, 1812, Rev. Hooper Cummings, of Newark, came to Paterson to preach at a Presbyterian church on the north end of town. He and his wife, Sarah, had been married about two months and decided to combine business with pleasure, vowing to see the legendary falls before they returned to Newark by mid‑week. During services, the next day, a bird "as black as a raven" flew into the church through an open window. After flying around the interior of the church three times, it alighted on the high pulpit above the minister. The bird let out an ominous croak, then flew back out.

            On Monday, June 22, the rev and Mrs. Cummings climbed the hundred steps to the solid ledge overlooking the falls and the cataract of white froth ensuing from its top. Both remarked on the marvels of nature. Both stationed themselves at the brink of the brow where thousands had stood before. When they had looked for a while, the reverend suggested they go and turned towards the path ‑‑ then he heard the scream.

            A young man grabbed the reverend from leaping after his fallen wife, leading the man down the stairs to the foot of the falls. Here the reverend broke free and ran towards the surging waters of the basin. The young man tackled him.

            The search for Sarah continued through the day and night, and the next morning searchers found her body stuck on rocks 42 feet down the chasm from the top. After they recovered the body, the reverend took her back with him to Newark. Many of the older Dutch settlers claimed her death was no accident, believing the reverend had pushed her over the falls. Songs to this effect sprang up, and were sang by kids in the streets pointed to the formerly healthy tree that overhung the chasm, which turned twisted and withered after the murder.

 

 

            Central Processing had to drag up the box from the basement, where old rusted filing cabinets held most of the records prior to the move to the new station house on Broadway.

            The box smelled foul from two decades of mildew and roach spray, and contained a relatively thick file, several audio tapes, and a reel of inch thick video tape from a stone age technology no longer used by the department. The paper work contained numerous cross references to the quite extensive Puck Fetterland juvenile activities file.

            According the summary sheet, Zarra had been arrested by Totowa Police in late November, 1967, and held as a suspect in an armed robbery. Charges were eventually dropped, although a stipulation of the agreement required him to maintain contact with a probation officer.

            The court, apparently, wanted to make certain that Zarra broke off his association with Fetterland.

            There were gaps in information in both files, because Fetterland had not yet seemed important enough a figure in the local crime scene to maintain surveillance.

            "He was just a pain in the ass," Wilson said during one of several interviews in his cell.

            Wilson talked freely because he knew he had nothing to gain by keeping silent. He also knew that the investigation of the Fetterland’s death would unveil a long relationship with the crime boss and a significant benefit from those underworld activities. He hadn’t actually pulled the trigger that killed Fetterland. His crimes had more to do with drug trafficking, official misconduct and corruption. While his long career as a police officer had come to an end, he hoped by cooperating, he might get a reduced sentence, or protective custody when sent to jail.

            "Puck Fetterland was one of those boys constantly in trouble," Wilson said. "If we got a call from the Lakeview Avenue section of town, we could almost be certain it had something to do with him."

            Fetterland was a street urchin, a product of a split family. His mother was a local prostitute; his father, one of the characters who gave downtown some of its color, a part-time tour guide for The Great Falls, who tended to stick his curious nose into local history without getting himself too deeply in trouble with the local hoods.

            "His old man had a reputation in the faggot crowd," Wilson said. "They said he molested kids. But we never got a complaint about it. The old man lived in a loft on Main Avenue -- Zarra apparently lived with him for a time."

            "Zarra?" the detective said, looking startled.

            "He didn't know anything about the old man's sexual preference. In fact, he didn't seem to know much about Puck either. From what I gather, the old man took Zarra after the court gave him probation."

            "A strange coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

            Wilson shrugged. "Maybe the old man felt guilty."

            "About what?"

            "About helping to ruin his own son. Maybe he figured he'd make up for it by saving Zarra. They lived together for a few years before the old man moved out of town.”

 

**********

 

 

 

 

            Wilson knew almost nothing about Zarra's upbringing. But the records room had a taped interview with a young Puck Fetterland that provided some clue.

            Fetterland had been arrested for shoplifting at a local candy store near the Clifton border. Normally the department didn't do extensive investigations on such petty crimes, but Fetterland had become a one-person crime wave, and such a master of theft few officers believed he could have committed them all on his own.

            "You're were seen with another kid near Crooks and Vernon Avenues," the interviewing office named Martin said.

            "So what?" Fetterland asked his voice so cocky another cop might have belted him for lack of respect. But it would have done little to alter the attitude. At sixteen years old, Fetterland had already slipped over the edge of respectability. He wouldn't be climbing back to the socially acceptable side. His mug shot from back then showed a slight, arrogant tilt of the head and a smirk testifying to his lack of fear. He had been busted so often, he had grown bored with it.

            "So who was he?" Martin snapped. "And accomplice?"

            "That fool?" Fetterland laughed. "Don't make me laugh. He was just somebody I met."

            "Come off it, Puck," the officer said. "You're hardly the kind that makes friends."

            "I didn't say he was a friend, I said he was somebody."

            "That you happened to stop and talk to for a half hour."

            "Yeah."

            "Just like that."

            "Hey man, don't lean on me about it. He was going in the store, I was coming out. I was just curious about him that's all."

            "What was he doing there?"

            "Buying shit, what else."

            "Don't give me sass, boy," Martin said. "Just answer the questions."

            "He said he was on an errand for his uncle," Fetterland said.

            "An errand?"

            "That's how he put it. He had to get coffee or something."

            "And you'd never seen him before."

            "Sure I'd seen him before. He was always going in that joint, and running back out carrying a paper bag full of shit. He always made me wonder what he was up to."

            "You mean as far as stealing merchandise?"

            "I thought he might be," Fetterland admitted. "That's why I stopped and asked him that time. I was just curious. That's all."

            "And was he?"

            "Man, that's the last thing on earth he'd be doing."

            "I don't understand."

            "He was a straight arrow, man. He wouldn't steal anything, even if you told him he wouldn't get in no trouble for it."

            "So what did he think about you're talking to him?" Martin asked.

            "Not much, I guess," Fetterland said. "We were sort of nodding acquaintances for a while, and I suppose he was as curious about me as I was about him."

            "Did he say that?"

            "Not in so many words. But he stared at me when I come out, and when I asked what he was staring at, he shrugged and asked me my name."

            "And you just stopped and talked to him, holding stolen goods as you were. Weren't you concern the store keeper would nab you?"

            "I could give two shits about that creep," Fetterland growled. "Even if he was bright enough to know I'd stolen anything -- and he wasn't bright -- he didn't have balls enough to do anything about it."

            "So what did you say to this -- Maxwell Zarra when you stopped?

            "I asked him what the fuck he was looking at."

            "What did he say?"

            "He said, `Nothing much.' and I said, `Am I suppose to take that as some kind of insult?'

            "Sounds like a good way to start a conversation. Was he afraid when you said that?"

            "Nah, that's the creepy part about that kid, he didn't seem afraid of me or nothin', when he should have been."

            "Why should he have been afraid of you?"

            "Because of where I came from and where he came from."

            "I don't understand."

            "He's a house boy, living in a big old place up at the top of the hill."

            "How do you know that?"

            "He told me. He pointed right up at the place and said he lived up there with his family, and that he was supposed to get back there with coffee for his uncles at the boat store."

            "And that made him soft in your eyes."

            "Well, he certainly wasn't sleeping on the street like I was, and he didn't have no marks on his face and hands to say he had to fight or anything."

            "So you wondered why he wasn't afraid?"

            "Wondered nothing, it pissed me off. I let it get around that some wimpy little house boy could stare me down, I'd be dead meat inside a week."

            "Did you want to beat him up?"

            "I wanted to do something like that."

            "Why didn't you?"

            "I don't know."

            "What else did you say to you?"

            "He said I stank."

            "What?"

            "He said I needed a bath."

            "Did you?"

            "Of course I did. You try sleeping under cars for weeks at a time and you'd stink, too."

            "Did that get you mad?"

            "Sure it did."

            "Then what?"

            "He asked me if I wanted to come home and have a bath at his house."

            "What did you say to that?"

            "I told him to get the fuck away from me."

            "But you didn't try to beat him up."

            "No."

            "Why not?"

            "I don't know why not."

            "What happened after that?"

            "I asked him if he could get me any money."

            "And his response?"

            "He said he didn't have any, and I told him he was full of shit. Him living up in that house like that. All rich folks had money."

            "What did he say to that?"

            "He said his family wasn't rich. They built boats and stuff. To me that was rich, and I said I would have to come and take a look for myself sometime -- meaning to visit him at night when no one was looking so I could cart off a thing or two."

            "He must have loved that."

            "He didn't get my meaning. He said I should come over any time I want, provided I washed up some first. He seemed to think his uncles would like me better if I washed my face and wore clean clothes. I told him to fuck off."

            "Did he get angry?"

            "No. He asked me why my mother let me sleep on the street. Didn't she ever make me take a bath? I told him my mother didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do."

            "Did he ask where she lived?"

            "Sure, and I pointed out her apartment above the bar."

            "Did he find that odd?"

            "No, but he asked about my old man and why he didn't make me do things the way his uncles made him do what he was supposed to do. I told him my old man split from my mother a long time ago, and couldn't have made me do nothing, even if he hadn't.

            "`That faggot wouldn't lay a hand on me or I'd break it off at the wrist,' I said."

            "`Then who do live with?'

            "`Who says I have to live with anybody?'

            "`You're a kid. You've got to live with somebody somewhere.'

            "`Well I don't.' I said. The whole conversation was giving me the creeps. Then he starts asking me how I eat and who mends my clothes and where I went to school."

            "What did you tell him?"

            "I told him he asked too many questions. But then, he got all excited because he had spent too much time talking to me. He said he uncle wanted him straight back. He waved at me and then ran off like a little dog."

                                                                  ************

            Christopher Martin had retired from the police department a dozen years before I looked him up. He had opted for an early retirement package, and with the exception of his nearly completely gray head of hair, seemed too young for the shelf.

            He sat across from me at his kitchen table eyeing the photographs I had provided him, his large fingers lingering at the edge of the contemporary mug shot of Zarra.

            Martin's six foot six size and his experience on the tough streets of Paterson had left him with plenty of employment opportunities in various security and private investigative firms, some of which he dabbled in part time, but for the most part, spent his days reading detective novels.

            "I know it seems a little strange, but I get a kick out of taking them apart," he said. "You'd be amazed how little most of these writers know about detective work."

            Wambaugh, he noted, was a delightful exception, and he had that writer's complete collection in hard bound signed copies.

            Martin had no trouble in remembering Zarra and Fetterland.

            "They played a big part in my life for a while," he said. "But I'm not sure how much I can tell you, since no one knew much about either one of them."

            Martin said Fetterland was a particularly disturbing character in those days.

            "He was nothing but trouble," Martin said. "If a store got broken into or a man got mugged anywhere near the Farmer's Market, you can rest assured Fetterland had a hand in it. Even at 16, he had hardened into quite a criminal, and I spent a lot of time collecting reports about him. Most of it was useless in court, but interesting reading none the less. I've pondered putting it into a novel. I just don't think any reader would be convinced anyone was so evil as Fetterland was."

            "What about Zarra?"

            Martin's eyes brightened. "He's just as interesting, but in a whole different way."

            "How so?"

            "How he could have survived the streets the way he did and be as naive as he was."

            "Naive?"

            "To a fault," Martin said. "A bigger mystery is how the two of them hooked up the way they did. I saw them as a matched set, one evil, one good, although good and evil were relative terms."

            I mentioned the taped interview I had listened to about their meeting, drawing a nod from Martin as if he recalled every word of it without having heard the recording in two or more decades.

            "Do you know what happened to them after that?" I asked.

            "Some of it," Martin said. "Reports claim they ran into each other from time to time in various parts of the city. From what I could tell, they didn't do anything more than nod at each other during those times.”

The next significant encounter happened around June, 1967, Martin said. One of the storekeepers saw the two boys down near Walbash Avenue. Zarra was walking up towards his house when Fetterland popped out from under a car.

            This sudden appearance apparently startled Zarra, and the storekeeper thought for a moment the two of them were going to have a fight.

            "`Don't you say nothing to nobody?' Fetterland asked, half his thin body still stuck under the body of the car. He wore a torn t-shirt thickly stained with grease. He had a wrench in one hand, and his knuckles bled a little from his labors.

            The storekeeper told Martin that Zarra stood funny, one foot planted behind him on an angle, with his hands slightly raised, not in boxing position, but a little looser, as if prepared to wrestle.

            Martin was unaware of Zarra's martial arts training at the time or he would have recognized the description.

            " `You scared of me or something?' Fetterland asked.

            "Fetterland -- although slight in statute -- could pose an intimidating figure when he wanted to. He was like a rat, most vicious when cornered. But he had a mean streak that caused him to take advantage of frightened people. He obviously misread Zarra's mood.

            “You startled me, that's all,” Zarra told him.

            “You scare easy,” Fetterland said, working his way free of the car so he could stand.

            Fetterland had small, mean eyes.

            “There are kids who'd like to beat me up,” Zarra told him. “But I'm not scared of them.”

            “You mean they like picking on you?” Fetterland asked.

            He kept licking his lips as if he was hungry.

            “They like to try. Usually I don't let them.”

            “What do you do, run away?”

            “Sometimes, Other times I make them go away.” Zarra said. “What are you doing under there anyway, fixing your car?”

            “This isn't my car. I wouldn't be caught dead in no station wagon.”

            “Then what are you fixing it for?”

            “I'm not fixing anything, I taking it apart.”

            “What for?”

            “For money, stupid. The parts shops on Straight Street pay good hard cash for spare parts.”

            “You mean you're stripping the car?”

            “Not all of it. Most of it isn't worth shit. I'm just getting what will sell.”

            “Aren't you afraid of getting caught?”

            “Na! The cops around here are all too stupid, and anyone walking along is going to think like you did, that I'm just fixing something. That's why I pick on old clunkers like this. If this was a new Nova or any Corvette, you bet I'd be in jail. But nobody steals parts from cars like these. And even I wouldn't do it, if I couldn't trade some of this stuff for parts on my own car.”

            “Then you have your own car?”

            “Sure I do. What do you take me for, a slug?”

            “And you fix it up?”

            “Man, I'm building it myself, one part at a time. It's a sweet machine, too, a 1960 Chevy Impala Supersport.”

            “1960? Isn't that kind of old?”

            “Sure it's old. It's a classic. That's the whole point. But it's a lot better than most new cars on the road.”

            “Not my Uncle Charlie's car.”

            “Oh? What's he driving, a Rambler?”

            “Uncle Charlie's got himself a GTO.”

            Fetterland’s frown testified to his disbelief.

            “You ain't got no goat, “he said.

            “I said my uncle did.”

            “A new one?”

            “Still got the sticker in the window.”

            “Does he let you drive it?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Then why aren't you driving it now?”

            “I don't have my license yet.”

            “What do you need a license for? I don't have one.” Fetterland said, looking even more incredulous.  “You know what I think? I think you're scared of me. I think you don't even have an Uncle Charlie, and if you, he doesn't have no GTO, and he isn't waiting to let you drive, neither.”

            “I do to have an uncle Charlie and he is going to let me drive!”

            “Prove it.”

            “How?”

            “Take me with you. Let me see you driving this brand new GTO.”

            “I don't know if I can.”

            “I thought you was full of shit.”

            “I'm not! I'll tell you what. You wait right there and I'll drive by and wave.”

            “You will? You're not bull shitting me, are you? I'm not gonna find myself standing around her for an hour and have you not show up, am I?”

            “I'll be here.”

            “You'd better be.”

            Martin did not know if Zarra ever showed up.

            “We never got a report about it at that time,” he said. “But Zarra's uncle did have a GTO. If figured prominently in the charges filed against Zarra later on. It was the getaway car from the armed robbery. By the way, you didn't tell me why you're so interested.”

            “We're investigating new charges against him.”

            “Against Zarra?”

            “That's right.”

            “For what?”

            “Murder,” I said.

 

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