The New Year started out very well for the Sons of Silence Nation. They took their celebration to Sarasota this year. Taking over the four-star rated Hyatt Hotel overlooking Lemon Bay, the Sons of Silence Nation and the Iron Horsemen came together with other invited clubs. The patches hailed from as far away as Germany, North Dakota, and Maine. With just about every state in between represented as well.
The event was scheduled to kick off on January 8th and end on the 9th. I arrived on the 7th, and the lobby was packed with brothers, their ole ladies and some kids already. I made my way around the grounds of the Hyatt only to find that black leather had invaded every crook and cranny of the place. We were everywhere! Out in the gardens behind the hotel was a group of conventioneers from HoverCraft… all out enjoying a luncheon, surrounded by bikers, bikers and more bikers. Some left their group and joined in conversation with the Sons and their guests, only to find that these guys were much like themselves; all here to enjoy the brotherhood of their Nation, their guests, and to enjoy some great Florida sun.
Many of the brothers spoke of leaving their homes in minus 30-degree weather, traveling through snow and ice storms and were damn glad to have such warmth and sunshine greet them for the weekend. In fact I overheard many asking how the job market was down here… wanting to stay over through March for Daytona. One of these guys is a very colorful man named Charley… He and his wife came down from Maine, and they were taking on the tourist role to the hilt. Charley went to the cabana gift shop and found a pair of surfer trunks that were flamed at the bottom…and complemented the biker lifestyle with reds, yellows and a nice black, to round out the color scheme. Charlie pulled them on and proceeded to make the rounds in his leather vest and surfer trunks. He good-naturedly took some heavy duty ribbing from his bros, posed for pictures, and made delicious comments to the ladies who admired his 50 something year old body. He wanted to show me his tattoo… but made me promise to follow directions before he would let me see it. Now considering it’s known location… I was a bit hesitant to agree… I mean his ole lady was there… I looked at her and she was grinning form ear-to-ear… and insisted that I agree: she wanted me to get a shot of the tattoo as well. OK… I agreed… so he pulls it out… I’m looking, but I had to get real close to read it… The directions were fading, I would guess from over use. In fact, I had to get right up there, grab the appendage and stretch it out to get an eyeball full of it… The directions said… “kiss it…” Man the things we journalists do for our trade! But I did get the shot.
All weekend long Sarasota greeted us with temperatures from the high 60’s (early morning, before sunrise,) to the mid eighties during the afternoons. The party went non-stop and the early morning temps were a blessing to many who needed a respite from the beating of the Florida heat.
The police presence was increased of course, but even the Chief of Police had to admit that this bunch of bikers were the best behaved he had ever heard of. At one point in the afternoon the cops had 6 marked police cars, 2 motorcycle cops, a K-9 unit, and several unmarked police cars parked out front of the Hyatt. I went to the “grassy knoll” and took out my piece and a long telephoto lens… I took pictures of them all. I just wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine… seeing how I have been stopped and photographed by their brothers in days gone by… Can you say RICO? This situation with the multi presence of cops lasted for about 4 hours before the chief checked out the hotel and it’s occupants for himself and decided this was overkill.
There were at least 3 officers in the lobby at all times, and often on Saturday we saw as many as eight or nine, but it was all friendly, the cops mixing in and having just as much fun with us as they could without getting themselves into trouble with their superiors.
It was just as the leaders of the Nation said, “We’re just here to get together with our brothers and friends, enjoying the warmth of the sun, your town and beaches, as well as the citizens of Sarasota.” There were no arrests or incidents that included any of the Sons of Silence or their guests during their stay in Sarasota.
Now with all that stuff out of the way, lets get on to the party details! By Saturday, the entire hotel had been taken over by bikers with just a few stray non-biker guests still at the hotel. The lobby bar was an open bar from 2 p.m. until around 6 p.m. on Friday and Saturday and when the bar became a cash bar again, there was always the hospitality room open with free drinks flowing 24 hours a day. There were non-alcohol beverages provided freely as well. Every one had anything they could ask for in the way of libations.
Outside the hotel in the back was an area that provided seating, shaded walks, and a fine view of the marina. It also had a very large, and well planned swimming area, with a kind of “private” hot tub hidden behind a rock formation with waterfalls. In the evening there were plenty of nude ladies taking advantage of the hot tub waters then jumping into the pool to cool the skin temps down a bit. It was all-natural and laid back, no idiots trying to cop a free feel, everyone being respectful to the ladies, and everyone having fun, except me, I was working. Again I sacrifice all for you Bandit, one would think I’d get paid for this… yeah right… like that stupid “raisin pie” of yester-year is gonna do it for me. Oh I forgot, I did say I’d do it for the damn raisins, didn’t I? OK so I am gonna quit bitchn and eat my pie.
When I first arrived in Sarasota, I found the Hyatt easily. I had to wait around for my host to find me so I could be introduced to the brothers and sisters. You see, Sin decided to test me, that’s right. Send in a strange chick with a camera and no press credentials, no introduction from the home office. Just throw her in the fire and see how she does. On top of that, send her in with a mission to get people to talk about their beloved JR, the icon and last president of the club. His life was cut short, and his deeds are a legend these days. I can only thank God I had my good and close friend Frog there to vouch for me. As it was I failed in the mission to get some taped stories about JR, those stories came late into the evening of a long day of shooting pictures, drinking lots of vodka, and shootin the shit while drunk. Sorry Bandit, you know how us blondes can get on vodka, surrounded by all that testosterone. The air around our heads can become super heated, causing every brain cell to disconnect from reason and just stumble around the bony enclave called a skull, losing all sight of responsibility, and striving to keep up with everyone around her in the race to intoxication.
On Friday, I was invited over the hosting chapter’s clubhouse for some excellent BBQ vittles, some well poured triple vodkas sprinkled with a blush of cranberry to give it the rosy look to match my sunburned forehead, and some excellent conversation with the early birds such as myself who were there enjoying the fine meal and the hospitality of the Sarasota Chapter. One of those birds was Magoo from North Dakota. He’s a big guy… and he carries his three little pups everywhere he goes in pockets sewn into his vest. If you looked at the man’s gigantic midline you would see two of his pups in the right side pocket and one in the left side pocket. These guys would go in restaurants, bars, anywhere Magoo was so were his puppies! I bought a bucket of Chicken to share with Magoo and some of my friends. Magoo’s portion went mostly to his little guys. They were polite; you would only see a little nose come out from time to time and a long pink tongue, and then the food would seem to disappear. It was a humorous sight really. AHH, but I need to get back to the hog roast at the clubhouse. I have been to many hog roasts over the years, but none of them could ever come close to matching the flavor of the hog that was served to me by this chapter of Sons from Sarasota. Let me tell ya… oh it was to die for. I only wish I could transfer to paper the extremely rowdy flavor that burst from that hog. Oh my god… We were in heaven.
I met up again with my host Frog at the clubhouse, (who by the way came down from Grand Forks North Dakota,) and from there he took me to the hotel that was arranged for me. It was a few blocks down the street from the Hyatt, which was just as well. I do need to get away from the party and decompress for a few hours. Other wise I turn into a mental ward candidate begging for mega doses of Thorizine. I got myself settled into the room then back again to the Hyatt, finding myself being introduced to the likes of Dago, (who is a biker musician backed up by his band “Criminal History.”) Dago was selling his CD, “Hero’s, Legends, Monkeys & Me,” in the lobby, he gave one to me, signed. Again I was humbled by another gentle giant of a man whose generosity and friendliness to me was above and beyond the call of duty. I met Lone Wolf, Paul, Jake, Charley… and so many more very friendly and happy people. I shot pool in the bar with Lone Wolf, who hardly lost a game all night, except when he got distracted by the blond who was adept at wiggling past him on strategic shots! I sucked down beer and vodka by the pool with Paul and discussed philosophy with him, went for a 2-hour boat ride on Lemon Bay with the National President, Terry, and all the friends that a party boat like that will hold.
Terry is a large man in both stature and reputation; he would have to be in order to step into the boots of JR, the previous president of the Sons. Terry was an excellent host during the boat ride, sharing his time with everyone who came around. His laughter, smile, and positive outlook infected all around him, he is a man worth knowing better, and I’d like to get to get the chance to talk with him again. He fascinates me.
One of the only downers that I heard anyone complain of was the elevator situation in the hotel. For about 2 hours on Friday all three elevators were down. Now in a hotel with 9 floors… that’s a real bummer. Lucky thing the hospitality room was only one flight up from the lobby or the management might have had a few thirsty bikers demanding the lobby bar be opened and opened right now! As it was, everyone took the problem good-naturedly and the stairwells saw more traffic in those two hours than I would think it had seen since the hotel was opened. They were narrow and forced many of us to squeeze past, rubbing butts to butts or bellies to tits…. Mmmm that was fun! Another problem with the elevators was that they would get stuck between floors. Not just once, but many times over the weekend. I talked with a friend of mine who is an elevator inspector and he told me that would happen generally when the elevators were overloaded with weight. I know he is right because I would see some of the elevators jammed with up to 17 people on them, and let me tell ya, a good deal of these guys were not light weight people. I was on one once with about 12 people, (and one guy who weighed over 300 pounds; his name is Tony.) Tony thought it was really funny to jump… causing the elevator to slip a few inches every time. Some of us there just prayed we would make it to the next floor so we could get out and walk down the rest of the way. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I couldn’t even move my camera away from my body; we were jammed in there that tight! I can’t even put a full face shield helmet over my face without hyperventilating, I’m sure my face was too white, my eyes too wide, and if I didn’t get outta there soon, I was gonna piss myself. God granted me a stop at the next floor, and I pushed and shoved my way out the door, jabbing people in the ribs… “Sorry, excuse me… coming through… gonna puke… let me out!” That last one got em outta the way real fast!
Well I have to tell ya, there were people from almost everywhere in that hotel on this weekend. I think I met most of them. Not one of them wore anything less then a smile on their faces the entire time. For as much free booze floating around that hotel, not voice was raised in anger, no hotel employee appeared overly stressed out or pissed off about something like you would see at most conventions of this size. The Sons are about respect for each other and for their name. None wanted to smear the name of their club, and “all behaved as gentlemen.” This quote my friends, came directly from the hotel management of the Hyatt and was taken by me from the Sarasota newspapers that reported on the event.
I don’t know if I’ll be invited to do this again next year, but I know I’m gonna press to be there. Thank you to my host Frog from the Lost Boys, (a Sons of Silence support group,) and his friends from the North Dakota Chapter of the Sons of Silence for all their assistance in insuring my comfort while there. Thanks also to The National President Terry, for his kind invitation to cover this stellar weekend of fun. My thanks and congratulations for showing all of their guests such gracious hospitality goes out to the hosting chapter of this year’s party: the Sons of Silence, Sarasota Chapter.
My deepest and fullest heartfelt respects to all the members of the Sons of Silence, the Iron Horsemen, and all the guests at this event for allowing me to be a part of your celebration of the New Year of 2005.
Mistress Marilyn
