Postscript of Beebop’s Life
After I made a page on the activities of Beebop of the Roman Lords in Brownsville, along with a picture courtesy of his grand daughter, (click here to read more about that) I received another email, this time from Beebop’s daughter. She shared more about who Beebop was as a person, warts and all. She gave permission to share her memories of her Dad:
My dad was there most of my life till I was about 16 years old. As a child growing up in Brownsville, Livonia Avenue, I recall always playing in the streets and hanging out with my dad at several bodegas and pool rooms. I remember so much of my dad in the streets, he would take me along on some runs, not exactly sure of what he was doing, just loved hanging out with my dad, he would hustle anything to make money so he didn’t have to work.
When I was in my teens he told me he was born in San Juan Puerto Rico and came to live in NYC with his parents when he was a young teen, they lived in the brownstones of Bklyn. He never spoke of his upbringing, but from what I do know, he was the youngest of 8 children and was very close to his parents whom were very loving and supportive. His dad and him went every place together, I think now it’s more of a protection thing than anything. I remember being told one day at a family function that my grandfather was coming across the Junius Street bridge and was jumped and assaulted by several gang members and my dad knew who was responsible and retaliated. He was extremely protective over his family and close friends.
He was very well respected by many neighborhood merchants and the locals. He had many enemies, there were times he came home injured from stab wounds from fights he got into. My dad never was afraid of anyone or anything. I was afraid for him and his life. My dad was in and out of jail a lot but that didn’t stop him. He was very notorious and thought he was invincible. My dad almost lost his life coming home one night, bleeding profusely from 13 stab wounds. After being rushed to the Kings County Hospital he was in serious condition but made it. I then realized as a young teen that my mother and I had to move and get away for our own protection, after leaving and feeling safe my dad decided to go to Puerto Rico to stay with his dad who was alone and ill. My dad was a great cook and very organized when it came to taking care of the home, he lived in Puerto Rico until he reached the age of 57 and died in 1997 from alcoholism. I have to honestly say I have a lot of great memories but some pretty awful ones because of his drinking. I’m not proud of the wrong things my father did but I can say he was a family man, he loved me very much and his relatives and helped the elderly and looked out for his neighbors and close friends. He’s gone now and all I have are memories and stories that I share with my three daughter’s now 24,30,32 and I have two twin grandson’s and a granddaughter on the way which he would’ve just done anything for.