So what's yer name, kid? Real name, I mean--first an' last. I gotta keep accurate records or the city gets on me back, but I ain't gonna share 'em wit no one.

Ernest Brogan.

Ya gots a nickname? How'd ya get it?

Rider. Wanted a bicycle real bad when I was a kid, and Rider sounded hell of a lot better than Bicycle. Pardon my language…

Know how old ya are? When's yer birthday? The boys all likes to chip in an' make ya feel special. By which I mean, they likes any excuse for a party.

I’m ‘round 16. Birthday is in January. Tenth if I remember correctly.

Now describe yer appearance for me. Try an' be detailed. My mem'ry ain't what it useta be, an' if I hears about a vicious killer on the loose, I wanna be able to check my records an' make the connection.

Got a hell of a lot of red hair. Curse of the Irish, I tell ya. My eyes are just gray. Ain’t nothing special about ‘em. I’d say I was around six foot. Maybe a little taller but who knows. Also I’m real skinny. Another curse of the Irish. Kay, maybe not the Irish, but curse of my family definitely. Alla them were real skinny too, and tall folks.

Got any odder job 'sides sellin' papes? Legal or illegal, I ain't gonna squeal on ya.

Not right now, but I’m looking, so if ya know anybody.

All right, time for the big one. What kinda person are ya, kid? How d'you treat odders? How d'you treat yerself? We gets all kinds here, so be honest--I just wanna know what to expect.

Well ya see, I like to think I’m a pretty nice guy. A bit short tempered, but hey who isn’t? I’ll admit, it’s gotten me into some trouble now and again but I tend to keep my nose clean, so you don’t gotta worry about fights or nothing like that. I’m a real loyal guy. I stick up for my friends, and my family especially. I ain’t no squealer, so I ain’t gonna run and tell secrets and stuff like that, so you can really tell me anything.

Got any hobbies? Whaddaya do wit yer spare time?

Is smoking a hobby? How bout selling papes? No? Well then I ain’t got none of these hobbies.

How 'bout vices or bad habits? Smokin', drinkin', gamblin'? I want 'cha to promise to keep 'em outside the house.

Smoking. My sister’s been trying to get me to cut it out for years, says it makes it hard for her to breathe, but I haven’t been able to kick the habit yet.

Got any fam'ly or friends 'round here? Or enemies, for that matter? Tell me who ya knows in the area.

I got a sister, named Nellie. She’s been sleeping at the girls’ lodging house. I take care of her mostly. Pay for her lodging. She’s deaf, and don’t talk good, so I gotta take care of her for everything. She’s all I got in the way of family. We’re pretty new around these parts, so I don’t really know nobody else.

An' maybe a special someone? I got a special set o' rules when it comes to that sorta t'ing.

*Laughs* Nah.

Fin'ly, every boy's favorite question... *chuckles darkly* What can ya tell me 'bout yer past? Where'd ya grow up, what brought ya here, an' what happened in between?

Now that’s a tricky one. I lived pretty normal for a while. Mama worked in a textile factory. Pap worked in a lumber mill. When I was little, near three, my Mom had my sister Nellie. We were factory kids. Staying with my mama in the factory most days. When I was round four or five, the foreman would give me a couple pennies a day to crawl under the machines for loose parts. It was easy work. Didn’t know how dangerous it was til much later. It was around this time that we realized my sister Nellie was deaf. She never responded to noises. Not even in the noisy factory.

When I was six and Nellie was three, our Mama said she was going to have another baby. We were all excited, trying to figure out whether it was gonna be a boy or a girl. But the baby died when it was born. Mama died the next day too, so it was just me Pap, and Nellie. But we got by. Pap wouldn’t let me work after Mama died. Said that cause Nellie was deaf and dumb, she couldn’t lean nothing and had to be taken care of. He provided well enough, anyway. But lumber’s a dangerous business, you know? It was really only a matter of time before it got to Pap. They said he died real quick, and didn’t feel any pain.

I was eight then. I sold buttons on the street for a while in Brooklyn, which brought in enough for food, but it couldn’t get us a place to live. But you know us Irish, we’re real lucky. I sold buttons to this man one day. His name was Willard Scott. He was asking about us, me and Nellie. Asking why we sold buttons, and where our parents were. Then he found out that Nellie was deaf. He started talking bout this school his sister went to. The New York School For the Deaf. It was this school some big shot started, where they could teach deaf kids reading and writing, and how to talk with their hands. He gave us the address, and told us that maybe, just maybe if we were lucky, they’d let us stay at the school, and they’d teach Nellie. We were lucky.

They let us stay at the school for two years. They taught Nellie and me something called sign language, where we could talk with out hands. Also taught Nellie how to read and write. Taught me a little too. But pretty soon that had to come to an end. Round ’92 or so, they decided they was gonna become a military school, to give the deafies discipline, but that meant they couldn’t have girls at the school no more, so Nellie had to leave, and since I wasn’t deaf, I couldn’t stay neither.

I was ten then, and had learned that selling things in the street just didn’t pay. So I got around to picking pockets, stealing food when I had to. For a good three years that managed to pay the bills, for a cheap room in a seedy boarding house in the Bronx. But I ended up getting caught. They took Nellie and me to the Refuge.

We ended up staying there for a good three years, but then Warden Snyder got arrested, and someone decided that it was time for me and my sister to be let go. I realized that I needed to make an honest living, so I got Nellie a spot in the girls’ lodging house, where I could keep an eye on her, and make sure she stayed out of trouble. I started selling newspapers, and had Nellie helped me. We’ve been here ever since.

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Profile By: Mallory/Ryder

E-mail Address: mallfacee@aol.com