Vagos on the set of the Morton Downey Show, Palm Springs, in 1989. From left, Little Joe, Terry’s son, Junkie Ed, Thirty-Seven, Hessian George, Sonny Bono, Terry, and David.
THE VAGOS HAD SURVIVED ANOTHER MAJOR law enforcement onslaught. The government continually grew more evil fangs and sharpened their growing ivory tusks with the fine stones of criminal technology and enhanced legislative powers, but their rat operators were always the weak link.
During the time Terry had been a member of the Vagos, all clubs underwent drastic demographic changes. Like the rest of America, these groups of asphalt nomads were aging; they were no longer twenty-year-old warriors straddling straight-pipe Harleys. Their short list of priorities had grown and no longer consisted of just owning a motorcycle and getting laid. Who cared about owning a home or even a car in the 1960s? By the time members hit their forties, their priorities had changed. Some wanted to own homes, cars, even TVs. They wanted more than just a six-pack and a new woman on Friday night. They wanted to ride across the country, stay in motels, and buy souvenirs. Times were changing again.
In 1998, Terry became aware of two members of other, smaller southern California clubs who had approached Richard to develop an organization to protect the rights of club members. Richard, a short, unassuming, unpretentious, mild-mannered motorcyclist with curly black hair and a salt-and-pepper beard, looked like a Jewish accountant. He didn’t fit the tough, tall, biker mold, but he had a soft spot for motorcycling, along with the balls to step into the treacherous arena of one-percenters.
“I told Richard this effort was beyond what he thought he was capable of,” said Pepper Massey, the executive director of NCOM for ten years. “But when Richard was determined, nothing would stop him.” Dealing with one chapter of one club was treacherous enough, but multiply that to twenty or thirty clubs, and the risk was tremendous.
At the forefront of the effort was James Bondo, a long-haired, light-hearted, outspoken member of the Monks MC from Azusa, California, and Quaff “Party” Dave, the president of the Quaffs MC.
“I was an MMA (Modified Motorcycle Association) rep in the mid-eighties,” Bondo said. “I was dealing with cop problems constantly. Club members were getting slaughtered on the streets. We were continually pulled over for no probable cause, just because we wore a patch.”
Bondo took on the job of sharing the notion of a confederation with clubs all over Southern California at runs, at parties at the Monk clubhouse, and at meetings with various clubs.
Dealing with one chapter of one club was treacherous enough, but multiply that to twenty or thirty clubs, and the risk was tremendous.
“It wasn’t always fun,” said Bondo, “but brothers were beginning to listen.”
“When Vagos and Hessians came to the table for the first time,” Pepper Massey said, “other clubs stepped up.”
“Jesse” James Bondo from the Monks MC was the first person to approach Terry about organizing the clubs into an alliance, which took some guts on Bondo’s part. Many club guys were intimidated by Terry’s swaggering and by his position within the Vagos, but Bondo’s passion for motorcycling and freedom superceded any club pushing and shoving. He approached Terry, whom he had known for a decade, at the monthly Costa Mesa swap meet on a hot summer day. Terry was surrounded by members of the green machine, but the patchholder from the Monks motorcycle club approached the boss and asked for a minute of his time.
Bondo explained the situation. Clubs had become the focal point for increased police harassment and Bondo believed the clubs needed to band together to find a solution. He was preaching to the boss of the choir; this was a message that Terry had long been trying to get across to anyone who would listen. Hearing a similar message from a like-minded member of a different club piqued Terry’s interest. Terry knew Bondo, knew his club, and respected his desire to find a solution to increased club harassment. He knew the power of numbers, but a joint effort on the part of the various clubs would only work if club rivalries were set aside and the patchholders could communicate openly. So Terry offered to discuss the notion with his club and afterwards meet with Bondo for further discussion. Surrounded by club members and garage vendors selling their dented chrome and rusting wares, Bondo and Terry opened a dialogue that would eventually benefit members of motorcycle clubs around the world.
A meeting was set for a couple of weeks out, at a conference room at the West Covina Holiday Inn. Prior to the meeting Terry contacted several clubs in his Southern California region, spread the word, and asked for leadership attendance. That warm evening, brothers from the Righteous Ones, The Monks, the Sundowners, the Tribe, the Hessians, the Nuggets, the Humpers, Set Free, and the Vietnam Vets MC rolled into the parking lot just off Interstate 10. Some of the clubs in attendance didn’t get along, but they were guaranteed safe passage to and from the meeting.
“For the first time, I met Richard Lester,” Terry said. “I quickly determined that he was an ambulance-chasing attorney and called him on it.”
Richard, with rough features and a graying beard, was shorter than Terry. He didn’t look like an attorney or a biker. It was as if he didn’t fit either mold, and his ability to carry on a conversation was equally disconnected. His stumbling discourse didn’t fit anyone’s idea of slick lawyer’s banter, nor did he strike anyone as a down-to-earth biker. His verbal communication skills were rough, but he made a vital point.
“We all listened,” Terry said. “It didn’t sound too bad.” But the key was linked to whether Richard would keep his word.
“All the chickenshit was put aside while we discussed forming the Confederation of Clubs,” Terry recalled. “We had to give it a shot. We needed the representation.”
“All the chickenshit was put aside while we discussed forming the Confederation of Clubs,” Terry recalled. “We had to give it a shot. We needed the representation.”
Terry worked with Quaff Dave and Bondo of the Monks MC, Tombstone from the Hessians, and Lester to establish the Confederation of Clubs and to enhance communication and working relations between clubs.
“Richard provided the vehicle,” said Pepper Massey, “and the club members were keen to effect changes. They didn’t want to sit around; they wanted to make things happen.”
“Quaff Dave understood,” Pepper said. “He was the peacemaker and knew if clubs worked together, they could accomplish a lot.”
Popeye, the big, tough Vietnam vet, understood the vision. “He was built like a brick shithouse,” Pepper said. “But he was well-respected and got it. He knew there was a lot of equity out there with the clubs if harnessed properly.”
“With broader travel, the strong motorcycle rights effort, heightened communication, reliable motorcycles, more proactive attorneys, the will and synergy of the patch holder grew,” said Pepper. “They were no longer forced to succumb to discrimination, no-colors rules, or harassment.”
“When we first started the confederation,” said Richard Lester, “Terry the Tramp was a forward-thinking member. He thought way out in front of most one-percenters.”
“Terry the Tramp was a forward-thinking member. He thought way out in front of mostone-percenters.”
At first, they would attend the meetings out of curiosity to see who would survive. Some were fearful to be in the same room with so many patches, but Southern California was the perfect proving ground. They slowly realized that this was a comfortable place, where all members could share their feelings and issues openly. They also quickly learned their collective strengths. Together they could effect change.”
“For months my phone bill ran over $500,” said Bondo. He was the Monks MC’s political activist and was determined to grow this organization and protect his brothers from being harassed in the streets. Initially the dues were $100 per year per club, which afforded two representatives from each patch a position in the confederation.
The bylaws were simple. “No cops allowed, and you couldn’t be a member if you were affiliated with law enforcement in any way,” said Rusty, an active Hells Angel. “At one point, forest rangers were not allowed to join.”
“Club politics were not discussed during these meetings,” said Terry, “There was a neutral rule. One club could not fuck with another club before, after, or during a Confederation meeting. After the meeting, if a club had a problem with another patch, they could roll to a nearby coffee shop and discuss the issue. The notion was that this was a time of discussion and getting along.”
“Unfortunately,” said Bondo, “each meeting contained law enforcement spies. If an event was discussed, we knew the cops would be there.”
Through the Confederation meetings club members learned how legislation was passed.
“They learned to kill bills in committee,” Bondo continued. “With the help of A.I.M. attorneys (Aid to Injured Motorcyclists, the subgroup of NCOM that organized the attorneys), we learned search and seizure laws. We learned what we could and could not say to law enforcement. We learned the rights of motorcycle passengers.”
It was not difficult for creative civil attorneys to depict practically any wrong doing as mail or wire fraud, enabling law enforcement to use RICO as a tool against any organization it didn’t particularly like.
Club members had a lot to learn, and a lot at stake because of the RICO gang act. In 1970, Congress passed the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations (RICO) Act, Title 18, United States Code, Sections 1961-1968. The act defined “racketeering activity” as any act or threat involving murder, kidnapping, gambling, arson, robbery, bribery, extortion, dealing in obscene matter, or dealing in a controlled substance or listed chemical chargeable under state law; or any act that was indictable relating to bribery, counterfeiting, theft from interstate shipment, embezzlement from pension and welfare funds, extortion, fraud and related activity in connection with identification documents, section 1029 relating to fraud, gambling, mail fraud, wire fraud, financial institution fraud, obstruction of justice, obstruction of criminal investigations, obstruction of state or local law enforcement, tampering with a witness, victim, or an informant, peonage, slavery, and trafficking in persons, among other things.
Congress’ stated goal was to eliminate the ill effects of organized crime on the nation’s economy. In other words, RICO was intended to destroy the Mafia. Throughout the 1970s, RICO’s intended purpose and its actual use didn’t exactly match. Initially RICO was rarely used except in the prosecution of the Mafia, but that would change. Because of RICO’s broad powers—the result of Congress’ inclusion of mail and wire fraud as two crimes upon which a RICO claim could be brought—the law was ripe for potential abuse. Because of the breadth of activities that had historically been criminally prosecuted under the mail and wire fraud statutes, it was not difficult for creative civil attorneys to depict practically any wrongdoing as mail or wire fraud, enabling law enforcement to use RICO as a tool against any organization it didn’t particularly like.
By the 1980s, law enforcement had discovered that the RICO act could be used as a tool to prosecute virtually any group, such as street gangs or motorcycle clubs. Instead of being used as a tool to prosecute the Mafia, RICO was used to prosecute individuals, businesses, clubs, gangs, political protest groups, and terrorist organizations. It was easy for law enforcement to get outrageous sentences for members of motorcycle clubs by prosecuting them under the RICO Act in virtually any context. Law enforcement used the RICO Act to take down entire clubs. To make matters worse, the RICO Act allowed law enforcement to take any member’s funding, which prevented him from obtaining valid defense. The law states:
It shall be unlawful for any person who has received any income derived, directly or indirectly, from a pattern of racketeering activity or through collection of an unlawful debt in which such person has participated as a principal within the meaning of section 2, title 18, United States Code, to use or invest, directly or indirectly, any part of such income, or the proceeds of such income, in acquisition of any interest in, or the establishment or operation of, any enterprise which is engaged in, or the activities of which affect, interstate or foreign commerce.
This meant that law enforcement officials could confiscate defendant’s families’ businesses, and any kind of asset they could lay their hands on, virtually ensuring that the member was unable to defend himself, regardless of how weak the case against him.
At first the club members were like blind kittens playing on running table saw. Many of them had their lives completely destroyed because of trumped-up RICO charges. “They didn’t have a clue,” Bondo said, “but they learned.”
During Confederation meetings in the garage at Bondo’s corner-lot stucco home, club representatives shared information that would help them avoid walking into the RICO buzz saw. Richard Lester and Terry the Tramp always attended.
During Confederation meetings in the garage at Bondo’s corner lot stucco home, club representatives shared information that would help them avoid walking into the RICO buzz saw.
“Club wars diminished significantly,” Terry said. “The Confederation gave club brothers an open platform.”
After two years, Bondo stepped down as the chairman and Hessian Tombstone became active. Tombstone was followed by Popeye, a Vietnam Vet MC member. He was still the active chairman in southern California in 2010.
“It was touch and go in the beginning,” said Lester. “At the first meeting, I didn’t know who was going to shoot whom.”
At the first Arizona meeting, members of the Dirty Dozen came to the meeting wearing bandoliers of ammunition and carrying Uzis. It took forward-thinking leaders like Terry the Tramp and James Bondo to carry the movement forward. Leaders like Tombstone from the Hessians MC, Junior, the international President of the Sons of Silence, Bandido George, and Jesse from the Outlaws ultimately encouraged their brothers to step up and get involved.
Here are the goals that the Confederation of Clubs put forth:
Since the inception of the Confederation of Clubs of Southern California back in 1988, patch holders throughout North America have realized that they have mutual goals that can be achieved by combining their manpower and brainpower. Today, the Confederation of Clubs has become the fastest growing segment of the bikers’ rights community, with patch holders forming or in the process of organizing 55 Confederations in 35 States and three Canadian Provinces. Their unifying focus is to fight biker discrimination through the courts and the legislatures. All Confederations are members of the National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM) and support their state legislative motorcyclists’ rights organizations. A.I.M. Attorneys serve as Legal Counsel. Confederations of Clubs in various states have successfully fought “No Bikers Allowed” and “No Colors” signs in restaurants, bars, and hotels/motels; stopped harassment by specific law enforcement agencies or agents; lobbied for passage of biker anti-discrimination legislation; fought helmet tickets and assisted in the fight against mandatory helmet laws; as well as put together charity runs to raise money and gifts for the needy.
In 2007, Terry the Tramp was awarded a plaque for his efforts with the Confederation. It read:
Terry ‘The Tramp’ Orendorff is hereby awarded this plaque of appreciation, for being a dedicated and tenacious pioneer in the development of the first Confederation of Clubs, thus starting the legal rights movement for patch holders.
Whereas your tenacious dedication and continual support of our legal rights.
Whereas your outstanding leadership, continual effort and support in our fight to preserve our lifestyle.
Whereas your vision as a pioneer in bringing patch holders together, a tribute to us all, and this accomplishment is of great value to the entire motorcycle community.
—Richard Lester
Terry and the Vagos entered a new era, with expanded resources and knowledge, but the treachery didn’t subside. Through the Confederation of Clubs, their awareness and knowledge were heightened.
Times were changing.
