The Four Corner Hustlers founded by Mr. Walter Wheat of Chicago’s Pulaski Road of the Westside is currently the largest of seven remaining tribes included inside of the Almighty Vice Lord Nation.
Tea Mack is a universal representative for the Four Corner Hustlers and his Four Corner Hustlers Chronicles column will be a regular feature on Gorilla Convict.
Vice Lords’ Picnic
First Avenue and Roosevelt Road, across the street from Loyola Hospital, was where Middle-Meadow Forest Preserve in Maywood was located.
Fourth of July of 1996, the “Meadows” became a crime scene after the 4’s murdered Six-Four Mafia Vice Lord E-Double.
It was Four Corner Hustler Lil’ Cease’s birthday barbecue at the Meadows and numerous high-ranking 4’s from all over the Chicagoland area attended. Lil’ Cease wasn’t juiced-up, but his uncle Bo-Weed, who controlled a large portion of the Westside for the 4’s, was. Therefore, he was liked and respected by many in the mob.
This 1996 Fourth of July fell in the middle of a blistering summer, but the heat exchanged between the 4’s and the Mafia Vice Lords proved to be much worse.
As one whip after another full of 4’s pulled into the park to celebrate the solidarity of being a Four Corner Hustler, in the name of Lil’ Cease’s birthday the atmosphere was filled with a sense of dignity for what we’d all taken our oaths to uphold and defend even under the threat of death.
“Mafia’s in the Park!” Coo-Coo, who was chief over the Maywood 4’s, yelled out to all the 4’s that stood security for the barbecue. About twenty 4’s after identifying the opposition marched towards the parking area where the Bowling Ball Green Chevy Caprice and Pearl White minivan, both known to belong to the Mafia, were suspiciously blocking the traffic from flowing in or out of the park.
“Jo, that’s Nose bitch-ass on the passenger side. I don’t know them other niggas. He was in the car last night when we let them niggas have it at the gas station,” Big-Booty Otis said, as he upped iron in anticipation of Nose ‘n ‘em trying to get some get back.
Bubba, seeing Otis up, followed suit and also reached for his three-eighty Clock and slid a bullet into the chamber. Then the Mafias made their move.
Simultaneously the four doors of the Caprice and back door of the minivan opened.
“Y’all grab them kids and get down,” Bubba yelled back to the barbecue pit area where everybody else was in attendance for Lil’ Cease’s party.
From the back of the minivan, Nose was handed an assault rifle with attached tripod. As if they’d rehearsed it all. He stood in a mini-crouched position with one of his legs slightly extended forward with the tripod balanced on it with the rifle mounted.
“Shoot me, you bitch-ass nigga. What the fuck you aiming at them for? You hoe-ass nigga. You think I’m playing?” Big-Booty Otis yelled out, aimed and started blowing rounds at Nose and the minivan.
Nose overwhelmed with excitement and in a hurry to unload the extended drum that protruded from the rifle on all those attending Lil’ Cease’s birthday barbecue had made a critical mistake. Instead of simply firing the rifle at his targets, Nose tried to load a round when it was already loaded when it was handed to him, thus causing the rifle to jam. Now he was in the park full of 4’s, under fire, and truly in trouble.
At this time I’d been frequently burning up I-94 East, going back and forth from the crib to Detroit and for this Fourth of July. I’d just pulled off the Seventeenth Street exit in Maywood and cruised over to one of our decks or territories on Thirteenth. There I was stopped by a few of the Shorty 4 who reminded me of Lil’ Cease’s barbecue, so I let ’em jump in and we twisted something and bounced to the park.
Since it was so many Vice Lords on the Westside of Chicago, there wasn’t anybody but other tribes of Vice Lords strong enough to take any of us to war for whatever reason. Therefore, as far as I can remember, it’s always been 4’s banging against Mafias or Insane Vice Lords as they were formerly known as before King Troy made the change.
In Maywood 4’s weren’t only the strongest Street Organization, but we were the most aggressive and fastest growing mob. On top of that all of our decks were strategically positioned on the most lucrative strips known for hustling.
The Mafias, with the second largest mob, would always either occupy territory exactly where ours would end or territories not too far from where we were located. And with our decks so closely positioned, the slightest misunderstanding or incident would retrigger a city-wide war that never really seemed to end.
Nose, while under fire and hearing bullets ricocheting off of the minivan, desperately tried to fire the jammed rifle one more time while backing up in an attempt to take cover. Then after seeing the other three Mafias who had also exited the Caprice quickly backpedaling while asking for the assault rifle, Nose turned to Curls, who was the driver, and handed him the rifle like it was a baton in a relay race and Curls tore-ass across the grass with the rifle in hand like he was exercising in the military. Nose and the other two Mafias followed suit with a park full of 4’s in pursuit.
The four Mafias who fled all managed to escape the pack of 4’s while abandoning their vehicles. But what wasn’t clear then was that the four Mafias who fled weren’t all occupants of the Caprice.
Only three had exited the Caprice. The other one was the driver of the minivan, but there was another Mafia. The one who had handed the rifle to Nose from the back of the minivan, Mafia E-Double.
All of the 4’s who had unsuccessfully chased the four Mafias were all back in the parking area and surrounding the Caprice and minivan, exhausted, huffing and puffing. Everybody gathered was amped and verbally expressing their anger with what the Mafias had tried to pull – when from the back door of the minivan out peeps Mafia E-Double.
“Look at this bitch!” Big Booty-Otis said, while quickly tearing through the other 4’s towards the minivan.
Like a deer frozen by a set of headlights, E-Double just stared in disbelief at the park full of 4’s that he was surrounded by. He was then snapped back to the immediate danger with the sight of an erratic Otis fast approaching him through the other 4’s that were also stuck in disbelief that there was actually a remaining Mafia in the park and trapped.
E-Double’s first reaction was to move backwards in the minivan, but the cargo area was sealed off from the operating area making his retreat useless.
Now like a hungry werewolf, Otis stood at the minivan’s door and when he stepped onto the bumper to get at E-Double he was frantically swung on with the only thing E-Double was able to get his hands on – a ridiculous little plastic strip that was used to fasten together large boxes. “Y’all get the fuck in there and bring that bitch out here,” Coo-Coo yelled out to the 4’s that were still frozen, but by this time E-Double had realized the uselessness of swinging his plastic weapon and made a desperate dash for the minivan’s door where he was immediately met by an onslaught of punches to the face and head from Big-Booty Otis.
“Don’t y’all let that nigga get away!” yelled Coo-Coo, who couldn’t resist the action even though he didn’t have to throw a punch in any situation. Coo-Coo outdid his name to the fullest, and seemed to live for moments like these where examples could be made of anybody that dared to challenge him and what he’d taken an oath to give his life for.” 4CH! – throughout the park his voice could be heard echoing over the commotion like the narration of a movie.
“Look at yo’ bitch-ass. You came up here to kill a 4, now look at you,” Coo-Coo yelled into E-Double’s face as he delivered one blow after another into his face, that knocked him in and out of consciousness.
Coo-Coo’s animated throw-down had given the park full of 4’s the spark that ignited them into a full-blown and deranged craze.
E-Double half-consciously managed to stumble to his feet, but instead of finding refuge there in the barbecue pit area he stood surrounded by a little over fifty 4’s. Then from the pack of 4’s, one struck! Exhausted from the punishment he received from Coo-Coo, E-Double just watched helplessly in slow-motion as a folding chair came crashing down across his head, knocking him to the ground. “Shorty-4” had kicked off one of the most vicious attacks in Maywood’s 4CH vs. 6/4 Mafia gang-banging history. For the next twenty minutes, E-Double was punished with anything that could be found in the park – baseball bats, tables, chairs, tree stumps, and even the barbecue grills.
After being knocked out cold with the folding chair, E-Double remained unconscious throughout the attack. But when the barbecue grills were turned onto his head while he laid there flopped across the grass, the sight of white-hot charcoal, smoking and sizzling on E-Double’s face and head, was enough to make even a few of his attackers cringe.
As the grass beneath E-Double’s bloody and lifeless body became soaked with his blood, sirens could be heard in the distance approaching the scene, but it was too little, too late.
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