Cass Pennant

Cass Pennant: (Narrating-directly to audience) Abandoned when I was six weeks old. The leader of one of the most notorious football hooligan firms by the age of twenty, jailed for four years just years later and shot three times and I am still alive to tell the tale. My name’s Cass.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) As ya can tell, my life hasn’t exactly been plain sailing. Being the only black boy in my home town of Slade Green, I experienced racism day after day. In fact I was beaten constantly, sometimes by random passers-by. My real parents threw me into care just weeks after I was born. Even to this day I do not know who they are, or their reasons for abandoning me. But, Doll Chambers bless her heart and her husband Cecil, decided to foster me, a black baby from Dr Barnado’s orphanage.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) It was at the age of ten when I started suffering the full consequences of being the only black boy in the Slade Green. I only had one wish, and that was to look like everyone else. Every morning, I awoke, dreading another day at school. The violence started as soon as I stepped out the house. The lady I called Mum, Doll, would make me my favourite breakfast, but I always left it lying on the table. I had to make sure I was early so I could escape the brutal beating from the boys who would wait for me on the bridge.

(Sound of knife and folks clattering)

Doll Chambers: Come on son, you’re gonna’ be late again! Come eat ya breakie?

Cass Pennant: I ain’t hungry.

Doll Chambers: You’re never hungry in the morning. I do worry about you son.

Cass Pennant: I’ll be late, I’ve got to go.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) However, I wasn’t always that lucky; more often than not they would be there, waiting. It came part of my daily routine.  The bullying wasn’t just because of my skin colour. There was a problem with my name as well. I was given the name Carol when I was at Dr Barnado’s. That was another reason why I was tormented daily. Imagine if you were growing up on the outskirts of London with the name Carol! Then, one day, I found myself watching a boxing match, Cassius Clay vs. Henry Cooper. Clay was the best fighter I had ever seen. That’s how I adopted the name Cass.

(Sound of bath filling up)

Doll Chambers: Violence isn’t going to get you anywhere Carol.

Cass Pennant: Stop f**king calling me Carol!

Doll Chambers: (Angrily) Don’t you dare talk to your mother like that!

Cass Pennant: It’s a girl’s name! Why can’t you call me Cass? That’s what my mates call me.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) And that’s how it happened. At the age of 16, my old man, Cecil decided to take me to see his beloved football team, West Ham. His pre-match rituals involved a double helping of cash (pie and mash), and a few pints in the Boleyn pub in Upton Park. I remember it like it was yesterday. From outside, I could hear the wonderful noise of West Ham fans in full voice. However, as soon as I walked in the pub, everything changed.

(Football chants followed by an awkward silence)

West Ham Fan: Who the hell is this Pat Boom (Coon) that you’ve brought into the pub?

Cecil: Easy mate, he’s just a kid.

West Ham Fan: (Rudely) Country’s gone to pot if you ask me.

Cecil: Don’t worry son, ignore him.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) The whole place went quiet. I could feel everyone’s eyes staring at me, almost like I was an alien. But no matter how bad it got, my Dad was always there to pat me on the back and reassure me I would be alright.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) Two years later, I returned to Upton Park to see West Ham with a couple of mates. Wolverhampton Wanderers at home. A 3-3 draw meant both teams had to take a share of the points. We were walking back to the train station after the match, when we decided to take a short cut down a back road. In the distance we could see a blur of figures accompanied by the noise of intimidating chants. We walked a little closer, and discovered the Wolverhampton fans had bumped into West ham after the game. I promised my Mum I would not get in any more trouble, and walked off in the opposite direction. We turned the corner, and saw another group of men, who looked familiar.

Hooligan 1: Oi are you Wolves scum?

Cass Pennant: No no, look at our shirts! We’re West Ham. They’ve brought a proper naughty firm mate.

Hooligan 2: In that case follow us or p*ss off home!

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) I knew I shouldn’t have followed them, but never being able to walk away from a good scrap, I did. This was the moment that changed my whole life.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) Now, I had been in fights before, but this was different.  You could feel the pure hatred in the air. Grown men determined to prove a point to the opposition through violence. However, after the violence had finished, members of West Ham United’s hooligan firm, the ICF, shook my hand. For the first time in my life I felt accepted. It was the months and years that followed that my life was completely transformed. I no longer experienced constant racist abuse. I had earned respect. In fact I became the leading figure in West Ham’s hooligan firm who travelled around the country visiting football grounds. Unfortunately it wasn’t the game that we remembered. All we remembered was our weekly fix of football violence that every ‘ooligan lived for.

(Sound of cameras taking pictures)

Margaret Thatcher: I wish we could get those responsible, and give them stiff sentences to prevent anyone else from ruining the wonderful game.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) Then Thatcher came into office. She promised to crack down on football hooliganism. She wanted to put an end to our ‘little games’. It was only weeks after that I found myself making one of the biggest jaffa’s [cake] (mistakes) I have ever made in my life.  Me and the ICF boys didn’t think we were getting enough recognition for the ‘work’ we was doing at the weekend. We completely forgot that what we were doing was actually illegal. We agreed to appear on national television to talk about football hooliganism. Even though we remained nameless, our faces were being beamed into every living room in England. It wasn’t until I arrived home that night, I realised how much of a mug I had been.

(Sound of key unlocking door)

Cass Pennant: Alright Mum, did you see me on the Television?

Doll Chambers: Yes I did! The whole of England did! What was you thinking!

Cass Pennant: Give me a break mum, I got paid good bee’s (money) for that!

Doll Chambers: You’ve gotta break out of this stupid habit or you’ll be locked up Cass!

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) Then came the big one, Leeds United Away. This was the game that would separate the men from the kids. The perfect opportunity to prove to the footballing world that we were the top firm in England. Me and the boys met outside the pub to prepare for the fight of our lives…

Cass Pennant: This is the one lads. No going back now. We go for the top boys first, and the rest will crumble. This has got to be clean, and quick. If anyone of us gets caught, we all go down.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) Old Bill somehow knew about our plans. They were waiting for us after the attack. Being six foot, and the only black man in the firm, it wasn’t hard for them to find me. I was arrested, and sentenced to 4 years,

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) Anyone who says they liked prison is lying. It was terrifying, even for me.  I had a lot of free time to think about what I had done. I decided to write an autobiography to keep my brain active. I always fancied myself as an author in school.  On my day of release, I returned to the main office to receive my belongings. I had 6 notepads in my hand which I had used to write my autobiography. Like everything in my life, taking the books out of the prison would not be as easy as I first thought.

Cass Pennant: Cass Pennant…

Police Attendant: Here you go, Carol Pennant. Excuse me, what’s that you’ve got there?

Cass Pennant: Just a few things I’ve just been writing

Police Attendant: Prison rules state you cannot take anything out of here that you did not have when you entered

Cass Pennant: Come on mate, that’s my future.

Police Attendant: What future is there for a pathetic football hooligan like you?

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) Luckily for me, someone from the prison read what I had written, and managed to get the books back to me. I hoped to try to publish them in the future. I decided my days in the ICF were over, and managed to get a job as a bouncer at a local club. I met a girl, Elaine, who later became my wife. We even had a child together. However, my past as a football ‘ooligan never seemed to disappear. I had made many enemies in my time, who wanted revenge. When word got around that I was working as a bouncer I was literally a sitting duck. On a cold November night, my life took another dramatic turn…

Cass Pennant: Alright lads, we expecting another full house here then?

Bouncer 1: Cass, behind you!

Arsenal Hooligan: Oi! black West Ham b*stard! (Sound of three gunshots)

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) Shot three times in the chest. The doctors said I should ‘ave  been brown bread (dead) but I believe the love from my wife Elaine helped me to pull through. The shooting hadn’t just affected me physically. I suffered many mental problems. I continuously had visions of my attacker pointing a gun at me. It was driving me insane. I had to do something about it and when one of my old mates phoned me to tell me he knew who my attacker was, something inside made me wanna kill him to put an end to the torture.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) I had tracked my attacker, an Arsenal fan down to a pub in North London. I had got hold of a gun, and made the short journey from the East End. I entered the pub and immediately recognized my target. The boys followed me in, all armed with weapons. I pointed the gun at the mug’s head…

Cass Pennant: You alright mate? You look a bit scared.

Arsenal Hooligan: Please Cass, kill me and you’ll be straight back in prison again!

Cass Pennant: Get on your knees and beg.

West Ham Hooligan: What you waiting for Cass, take the pr*cks head off!

Arsenal Hooligan: Please Cass, Please!

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) But I didn’t pull the trigger. Standing in that pub made me realise that all the sh*t I’d been through was caused by me. I wanted to see my child grow up. I felt like I was responsible to guide him on the right path in life, like my mother had tried to do with me. I’ve spent my spare time finishing my autobiography which I released in 2002. I’ve also published many other books as well as setting up my own publishing company.

Cass Pennant: (Narrating) In my life, I had experienced more violence than you would ever want in one thousand lifetimes. I had been beaten, stabbed and shot, but I handed out my fair share as well. I have learnt there are better things to enjoy in life rather than kicking someone’s loaf’a bread (head) in over a football match. This has been the story of a reformed hooligan, me, Carol Pennant.

Dylan’s music career was in decline by the mid 1970’s. Going electric had lost him much of his folk and acoustic fan base and his overt Gospel influences further alienated many of his fans. Hurricane was a tremendous return to pure anger and protest.

The song was inspired by a true story, based on the sorry fate of US boxer, Rubin Carter, nicknamed Hurricane. Carter was one of two men arrested for killing three people, and severely wounding a fourth  (a man was blinded in one eye) during a robbery at an American grill-diner in 1966.  Many at the time, felt that Hurricane and alleged accomplice, John Artis, were framed, and that the evidence and eyewitness testimonies against them were flawed, etc.

Hurricane-Carter maintained his innocence and his stance made a profound impression on Dylan, who met with him in prison.

Dylan exaggerates Hurricane’s status and chances of attaining the world championship in boxing. Though he had been in the ascendant, many boxing pundits did not see him competing for champion status. Even so, his conviction obviously ruined his sporting career.

No witnesses identified Carter as being at the scene of the shootings, but described two armed black men approaching the bar, and a white getaway car that seemed similar to Carter’s own car. A survivor of the attack said Carter didn’t look like one of the attackers, and a gun found in Carter’s car did not match the calibre of the murder weapon. No fingerprints were taken at the crime scene and other forensic procedures were also neglected and / or botched.

Initially, Carter and Artis were released after a few hours of questioning, only to be re-arrested months later as they had been implicated in the case by the testimony of a man called Alfred Bello, arrested near the New Jersey Diner on the night of the murders for robbery. His presentation of evidence was probably an attempt to reduce his own pending conviction. Bello identified Carter and Artis as the killers, and this evidence led to the first trial and conviction for the men. Carter’s life as a boxer was ruined on the basis of it. 

Despite much focus on the evidence inconsistencies the suspects were convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment, narrowly avoiding the death sentence.

Protests, and the chief prosecution witnesses, including, Bello, recanting their claims, led to calls for a retrial. Carter drew a great deal of celebrity support and his case became a modest media sensation. Dylan’s song was released and heavyweight champion boxer, Mohammed Ali also offered public support for Carter. The 1976 retrial was a bitter one, with Rollo’s evidence heavily challenged by the defence, but with several people from the 1967 defence defecting to the prosecution side to claim that Carter had talked them into offering him a false alibi for the night of the murders. The convictions were upheld to considerable public outrage. An appeal was issued for Carter’s name to be cleared and in 1985, after serving 18 years (and ten years after Dylan’s spirited song was released), Rubin Carter was finally granted his freedom. He now works for prison reform bodies and as an aid to victims of wrongful arrests and convictions.

Dylan’s song, a single of eight minutes and thirty-three seconds, identifies the witnesses, and makes Bello in particular into a rather shady character. Carter’s arrest is just a routine shake-down of a black driver by a white racist cop – as Dylan observes, black people go out knowing that the New Jersey police will target them as a matter of routine.

Dylan highlights the one-eyed survivor of the shootings pointing out that Carter was not his attacker. The police had only the assertion that the attackers were black and big men, looking like they ought to be in boxing. Dylan emphasises the police fixing deals with the white men responsible for other crimes in order to get a conviction on Carter (Dylan largely ignores fellow innocent victim, Artis).

The song captures Dylan’s genuine anger and passion superbly, and creates a chilling picture of corrupt racist cops rigging a case, and Dylan’s view is upheld in hindsight now that Hurricane Carter has finally been granted his freedom and the right to declare himself innocent.

The lyrics http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/bobdylan/hurricane.html

Arthur Chappell

As we pass through the 21st century, we find that equality is becoming the norm. There is still a little racism, sexism and homophobia about..

As a man I can fully accept that in days gone by we were not as gentlemanly as we claimed in our treatment of women – in fact we were awful and derogatory toward our opposing gender.

More and more woman are taking high profile positions within various fields – which can only be good. The entertainment industry, the last male bastion is now seeing more and more women.

However this is where we are seeing a resurgence of sexism. Women being sexist – sort of like revenge sexism. A variation of this can be seen with black American comedians making racist jokes about white people.

So yes – revenge sexism by women. There are quite a few examples of this. A small number of female comedians base their act on sexist jokes about men. If you live in the UK, you may have had the misfortune of seeing “Loose Woman” – it is an ensemble discussion show presented by bitter divorcees with the sex appeal of a pile of house bricks.

Usual topics discussed by the comedians and bitter divorcees are as follows – Men can’t multitask, Men never put down the toilet seat, Men spend so much time watching football and Men can’t sexually satisfy women.

As a man, I feel that I should respond to this sexism.

Men can’t multitask – Men don’t multitask, we delegate – That is where you come in ladies.

Men never put the toilet seat down – No, women never put the seat up, it is more hygienic for the seat to be up.

Men can’t sexually satisfy women – So? Never make the mistake that we care.

Men spend so much time watching football – This is real football and not that rubbish the Americans play…. A football match is 90minutes long, once a week. How long do women spend each week watching soaps and reality TV?

It would be naïve to ever believe that we can live in an equal and Utopian world, but a woman can’t complain about sexism and then be sexist herself – can she?

I hope this hasn’t offended anyone, if it has please refer to my response to Men can’t sexually satisfy women.

Look out for my next article – Nothing wrong with being a little bit racist

We should be proud to be called American and have that beautiful skin tone. I love my hair even if it knots up at times. Yes, its like wool but so is Jesus hair and I may use some Ebonics here and there but I’m still proud. Let the schools know that it is alright to celebrate this month and allow all the children to join in. I’m brown skinned and I’m proud of it. I was not born in the50’s or 60’s but I have some idea what other’s thought of us. I have experience racism and being pushed in back of the line. I cry when I watch Mississippi Burning but I don’t want any other race to suffer because of it. Black history is want I want to hear about this month and I want stand for nothing less. I’m proud of who I am and where I came from.

The children need to know how proud I am and when they return from school I’ll let them know, although they may look at me crazy. I will shout I’m proud and walk like it too. I’m an African American and not a nigger, negro, black or colored but African American and I want to celebrate it. Thanks for allowing me to be expressive . Good day!

The remark really pissed me off especially when he said it was because he didn’t like white-people.Which doesn’t really matter,although my thoughts were not as kind(Being to old and out of shape I had to bite my tongue to keep from making a remark about his particuler species.).Over fifty some odd years I’ve found that those who think they are not racist are usually the most racist of all.I could say that I’ve met Mexicans I didn’t like,some of whom were as useless as the proverbial tits on a bull.Others were the salt of the earth.

Not five minutes had passed when I was engaged in conversation with a Man(Hispanic) who was walking his beat giving out parking tickets.After he left I was glad I had ran into him when I did since it reminded me that not all people are assholes.That a poor attitude is not a result of race but likely of upbringing.Perhaps he had got a mudhole stomped in him by a white guy in the Pen’.Perhaps he got fired for leaning on a shovel when he should have been working.

I have worked with blacks, mexicans,and whites who,if I had of had the say would have been sent down the road kicking rocks.Some were stupid,others lazy,or just useless.Yet they stayed because to fire them would have left the company open for some idiot to play the race-card.The town I have been living in for the last twelve or so years likes to paint itself as so benign as far as rce relations go.Yet before moving down here I read an article about a race riot here.When it seems a Buffaloe Soldier made the mistake of walking into the town’s Saloon like a white man or a mexican.Had them all ready to go clean that damned place out.Until the Alcady(I think that’s how you spell it.Don’t speak Spanish and have no desire to learn.)pointed out that that might not be the smartest thing they could do.

Which in a little over a hundred years was as close as they ever came to racial harmony.I mean down here if you see a car driving way too slow in the emergency lane you can bet it’s a mexican usually old,but not always.While it’s true most people preferr their own race for company this is not always true.Several years ago I was asked why I was setting with the mexicans and the blacks at the Labor Ready office here.When the option would have been to set and listen to the recently released Arian Brotherhood hood.He never could understand when I asked him what color his eyes were then called him a Judan,seeing they were brown.

Now that I think back on it I would imagine it was because he was as full of excrement as this other guy.

A true enemy wants you dead, 9/11 proved that, but we the people are not enemies, we have been lied to.  The truth is that we will never have true equality until we join hands as brothers and sisters and get it done.  There is no other way.  I hope after reading this, someone can change and show me the light, but it looks like the governments’ lies have become so deep rooted in our society that they have little to fear. They truly don’t believe that someday they will have to live by dreams of a few good men who wanted a government of and by the people.  Unfortunately it was these men and others who followed them who refused to put black America’s history in books, and tell the truth about slavery.  Maybe now you see why.  If this government ever apologized to the Irish Catholics who were slaves they would lose some of the power racism has given them.  You see the truth is stranger than fiction.  Slavery is not just a black issue, but a black African and White Irish Catholic issue.   If people start to realize that a lot of division and hatred was caused by these lies and that the evils of slavery cannot be blamed on any one race, but on the same nation we fought for freedom against, and the same slave company, then maybe we have a chance. 

I used Affirmative Action here as an example good or bad, as the cause of a certain thought process depending on what side of the issue you are on. It is the thought process the government is after.  They know the type of things people want or need so they are smart enough to use these things to forward their agenda and continue keeping the power out of the hands of the people.  They do this with through so many government programs. They give our Tax dollars to illegal and legal aliens who claim asylum or just sneak in from other countries.  Why would anyone in our government even think of paying for illegal alien’s education when we are paying the prices they are allowing us to pay for our education?  The only way that could happen is because it causes conflict, and conflict works to benefit the government.  No one to in our government is that much of an idiot as to believe paying for illegal alien’s education with our hard earned tax dollars is a good thing.  They know that this is action will be cause to fuel racism and racism guarantees the government will continue to be able do as they please and run your lives.  This is true my friends whether you are conservative or liberal, black or white, male or female, Native American or Hispanic, rich or poor.  The government lies to all of us and continues to hope that those who dare to tell the truth are considered the idiots, and conspiracy nuts.  Believe what you will, but I guarantee that the government really doesn’t have our best interest at heart; they have their best interest at heart. I don’t know about you but that is the way I see it, and I am mad as hell! 

     Before ending this article, I just want to plead with all of my brothers and sisters of all races and creeds that make up this great country, to take a moment and think about what I am saying here.  It doesn’t matter whether you are religious or not, or whether or not you believe in what I believe.  Take a moment and search your own heart to see if you can reach out and put past anger and hatred aside and grab my hand, and walk with me to Washington by way of voice, internet or the pen. Can you do whatever it takes for the idiots in charge to see that we will be fools no more, and we will stand as one for the needs of this country first, and once we are healed, the world.

This racial ‘trap’ is exploited daily, all over the world.  The Con man will always find a group of ‘his people’ and exploit them, rob them, and feel not a tinge of remorse.  Why should he?  ‘His People’ won’t rat on ‘one of their own.’

This factor has played a significant role in scams. 

Gender is another feature often used to gain dupes.

Many quite dishonest women have pushed themselves into feminist organizations or offered themselves to groups as a professional. They gather a great deal of money for their own use, and often, with Outsiders eyes scrutainizing, they are not sent to prison.  How would it look? 

The racially conscious person puts him or herself in the path of disaster.  He hires on complexion.  He finds one of ‘his own’ to transact business.  He is not judging on character his choice is based on color.  

For example, at a particular University one of the maintenance men was arrested.  He asked another to ask one of the Law Students who was working in the Legal Aid Office to help him, specifying that he didn’t want any white boy or gal.   The only student willing to run to the police station to assist was a white one.  The black ones who were asked declined.  

The maintenance man not only spent two weeks in jail but lost his job. 

This could have been avoided if he had accepted the white student’s assistance.

An agency needed a specifially qualified person for a very important position.  The top six candidates were not black.  The 7th was and gained the post.  The work was beyond her, and she had to take a leave of absence. As the criterion the Board had used became notorious, the higher ranked candidates demanded very high perquisites before ‘filling in’.  The agency had no choice but to comply.

When one can chose among a very large pool of persons of one’s ethnicity, the selection is based on merit. When it is looking for the one or two ‘brothers’ one will usually find their downfall.

However, it seems that even today, we are still slipping in the filthy slime of racism. Little things, like that joke your boss said yesterday or the hedging questions of your latest client about the “mix” of a neighborhood. Or, the infamous, “I’m not a racist, but… [insert racist comment here]”. The problem with brushing aside things like, “I’m not a racist, but…” is that it remains ingrained as an acceptable practice. What we, as real estate professionals and as fellow residents of the Planet Earth, need to do is stand up and say, “No. No, it is not okay for you to do/not do/say those things.”How do we go about it? Well, there’s always the cold stare and the icy, “I beg your pardon?” There’s the, “That’s offensive and I don’t want to hear it or anything like it again.” And there’s even, “I’m sorry you feel that way. It doesn’t look like this business relationship is going to work out.“ Online, there’s commenting on blog posts that you feel cross the line. There’s reporting people on social networks who target others.

There’s your own blog and website, where you can make clear your stance. The virtual world – websites, blogs, etc. are a hotbed of statements that denigrate people of a specific race or ethnic origin. Put your opinion out there and challenge people who make statements that put people down because of their race. Keep in mind that your clients may do their homework online – do you want to be seen as supporting racism with your silence or denouncing it?It goes beyond “doing the right thing”. Remember, you’re protecting yourself too. Racism hurts everybody, whether they’re a member of the targeted race or not. If it’s okay to steer a Chinese person away from a certain condominium, then it’s okay to do the same thing to a woman, a Jew, a redhead, a person over 65, a family with children. The same narrow-minded, ignorant reasoning can be used to exclude just about anybody from the basic rights of home ownership.As Realtors, we need to be more aware of these subtle exclusions and be prepared to face them head-on. It has been said on-line that, “There is no place for racism in real estate”. I disagree. There is a very comfortable place for it in our line of work. Our job is to make that place disappear.

The lexicon defines ‘Racism’ as-Discriminatory or abusive behavior towards members of another race.As for this article,I will take this very definition to enunciate my hypothesis.Some of the citizenry on hearing sporadic occurrences of racism,get pushed in to delirium,and plunge in to selfish pride about how pious and ‘un’-racist they are.But are they really?Yes, sure we are not racists,we are Indians.We have inherited the regime of ‘All are equal’,which our selfless ancestors so diligently and incessantly worked for.For instance,if we ‘accidentally’ refer an inhabitant of eastern India as ‘Chinky’,it doesn’t make us racists,or ‘hypothetically’ if we advert someone who dwells in southern India as ‘Malli’ or ‘Yangad-Bangad’,it won’t make us racists as we have a constitution that says otherwise.

Even the profane language which we use to cite the scheduled castes nor the address of a ‘Bengali’ as ‘Macchi’,pronounce us as racists,as we are bound to joke,we are not brooding guilty,we are making humour.Our constant utterance to Muslims’ as ‘Katu*s’,is really humourous,isn’t it?I am erupting with laughter,aren’t you?Well I am sure the jokes about those belonging to the ‘Sikh’ community will make you laugh.What a secular country,what an amusing population.We bode our full respect to all religions.We are not racists,we are clowns,we elicit humour.I urge you in strongest words to refute and reprimand anyone and everyone who says we,the Indians are racists,and patronage those who appreciate our humour.