“Jimmy then was a hero in Ricky’s eyes,” Dick Kasso later told the New York Daily News. “He was an eighth grader playing football and wrestling; an outstanding athlete.”
He was a hero to Ricky for another reason—Jimmy Troiano was one of the few Northport Junior High athletes who, like himself, smoked pot and dropped acid.
“Jimmy was nuts,” Ricky’s friend Dave Johnson recalls. “I was on the football team with him and Ricky. He wasn’t scared of anything. You could say to him, ‘I want you to put your head down and go run through that wall as fast as you can—left foot first,’ and he would do it. I remember Coach Harper yelling at him, saying, ‘Take that center and carry him down the field if you have to!’ Jimmy went out there and carried this big-ass center thirty yards. He and Ricky used to play hard.”
Some of Ricky’s drug friends from the loading docks started turning on him around this time. They saw Ricky engaging in conservative activities like football, basketball, and wrestling as a betrayal of their more carefree lifestyle. A few even turned up at games just to heckle him from the bleachers, hollering, “Nice play, Ricky, you jock!” Ricky would look at Jimmy, shake his head, and say, “I hate this game. . . . I hate this game. . . .”
During one game, Ricky became so frustrated that he deliberately knocked out the other team’s quarterback.
“It was an illegal hit, but he did it,” Jimmy later told an interviewer. “He got kicked out of the game for it. He hated football. I remember his dad was on the sideline, pissed.”
Ricky’s coach, David Harper, took pity on the scrawny kid, who was able enough to play as both an offensive and defense end. Still, Harper could not reconcile Ricky’s talents with the castaways he chose as his friends. He clearly saw the tug-of-war happening in Ricky’s life. On one end, there was the life Dick Kasso wanted for his only son—a life of athletic achievement. On the other, there was the life Ricky wanted for himself—an existence devoid of pressure, but filled with music, drugs, and good times.
Any teacher with half a brain could see which side was going to win.
As their friendship blossomed, Ricky and Jimmy often rushed off the football field after practice to smoke a joint or drop acid together. Eventually, Ricky’s constant drug use began to affect his athletic performance and his grades. During a wrestling meet, Ricky was badly beaten by an opponent. Incensed, Dick Kasso started berating the referee for allegedly making unfair calls. Finally, Dick’s screaming got him ejected from the gymnasium.
“Can you imagine how embarrassing it was to be Ricky that night?” Wendy Kasso says.
Trying to cope with their troubles, Ricky and Jimmy continued to bond through smoke and chemicals. Their respective family squabbles, coupled with athletic and academic pressures, soon resulted in the two running away to the Kasso family’s cabin up in Argyle during the winter of 1980, not long after Ricky’s burglary arrest. It was far from Northport, but it had a roof, heat, and furniture, which made being separated from home considerably easier. However, their stay did not last long. Ricky and Jimmy were soon picked up by the police, who called Dick Kasso, telling him to retrieve his son. The boys returned to the village, but the fractures within their families failed to mend.
A period of intermittent homelessness that would last nearly four years had just begun.
Chapter 8
LACES ROLLER RINK ON ROUTE 25A was, for a time, the place to be if you were a Northport teenager. With great music, a good skate floor, and decent food, Laces offered a fun and seemingly safe environment for kids in the village. So safe, in fact, that dozens of local parents didn’t think twice when their children asked to be dropped off for an overnight skate party. What they didn’t know was how easy it was for their kids to sneak out, grab a bottle of liquor, and reenter the building during one of these skate-a-thons.
Johnny Hayward was one of the many teens smuggling booze into Laces. Hayward would often bring bottles of whiskey and rum through the back door and skate into the bathroom to chug them down with friends before returning to the skate floor. Hayward had a natural talent for roller skating, sober or drunk. He considered himself one of the best—if not the best—out of everyone at the rink.
One night in 1981, a short blond teenager walked into Laces, threw on a pair of skates, and proved that Johnny Hayward was not without competition. For the first time, Johnny saw someone on the floor with as much speed, grace, and skill as himself. Instead of giving in to jealousy, Johnny made his way over to the boy and introduced himself.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m Johnny.”
“Gary,” the boy replied. “Gary Lauwers.”
The two left the floor and joined their mutual friend Danny for a drink in the boys’ bathroom. In between swigs of Wild Turkey, the three made small talk, leading Johnny and Gary to realize they had a lot in common. From that moment on, the two became a staple at Laces.
“We were the guys who everyone at the rink wanted to be,” Hayward declares. “We had all the girls and could skate better than anyone. We skated every day for two years.”
Gary’s newfound friendship with Johnny certainly came with a bonus—Johnny was a brawler.
“I was so crazy when I was a kid,” Hayward recalls. “I went out every night to get drunk, get laid, and get into a fight—and it didn’t matter what order. If I didn’t get all three, I woke up in a bad mood the next day—and that is not a joke.”
As soon as Johnny found out bullies were tormenting Gary at school, he put the word out: “If you fuck with Gary Lauwers, I’m gonna fuck with you.”
It wasn’t long before Johnny Hayward got a chance to prove his loyalty.
One night, after a shift waiting tables at a local restaurant, Johnny went straight to Laces to blow off some steam. Still in his work clothes, he walked through the door and was immediately told by a few friends that Gary was being jumped behind Foodtown. Without skipping a beat, Johnny burst back outside and raced across 25A straight to the supermarket. Not wanting to soil his work clothes with blood and dirt, Johnny stripped down to his underwear and lunged at the two kids pummeling Gary. To his own surprise, Johnny single-handedly fended off his friend’s attackers.
“I think it may have been the shock of seeing me come out of nowhere in my underwear,” Hayward muses, “but it didn’t matter—I beat the shit out of them both.”
The two assailants fled into the night, leaving a bruised Gary and a nearly-nude Johnny standing behind Foodtown. The two looked at each other and burst into a fit of laughter that could be heard for blocks.
“We’re either gonna be dead or in jail by the time we’re eighteen,” Gary quipped as they walked away.
One night, after a double date in Greenlawn, Gary and Johnny found themselves at a railroad station near Harborfields High School, trying to get back to Northport. While they waited, Gary and Johnny lit cigarettes and talked about how well their night had gone. At one point, Gary looked Johnny in the eye and said, “Hey, man, we’ll be brothers forever.”
“Sure,” Johnny replied, almost dismissively.
Gary hopped down from the rail he was perched on, removed the cigarette from his lips, and said, “Put your cigarette out on your arm. I’ll put one out in the same exact spot on my arm, and we’ll have the same exact scar all our lives!”
Johnny smiled, and as insects danced around the light hanging above them, the two closed their eyes, braced themselves, and pressed the cigarettes against their flesh. The smoldering embers left small, circular burns that soon faded into dark scars.
“To this day, I still got my scar,” Johnny now says with a hint of wistful pride.
Around this time, Gary started hanging out with two older kids named Timmy and Edwin. One night in 1982, they both asked Gary to join them for a drug deal in Huntington, where they knew someone selling purple microdots in large quantities. Hoping to make another drug connection, Gary agreed.
When the trio arrived at the meeting place, a dead-end street at the top of a hill, Timmy
and Edwin told Gary to walk up to the dealer, collect a bag of one hundred purple microdots, and run. When the man handed the drugs to Gary, Timmy and Edwin leaped out from the shadows. The tall, imposing teenagers stood in front of the dealer, looked him in the eye, and said, “What do you think you’re gonna do about it?” as Gary raced off into the night.
After getting his share of the microdots from Timmy and Edwin, Gary, still bursting with adrenaline, put a few into his mouth and swallowed. Within a few minutes he was uncontrollably giggling at a barrage of mild hallucinations. The feeling was incredible—more intense than any pot high he had ever experienced. He needed to tell someone. Someone had to know how great a trip this was. Gary raced toward the Hayward house on Tanager Lane.
Gary fought hard to keep his composure as he navigated past Mr. and Mrs. Hayward, but once he got to Johnny’s bedroom, he let loose.
“Johnny! Johnny! Johnny!” he shouted, extending his hand. “Here! Here!”
In his palm were two purple microdots.
“Eat these, man! You’re gonna love ’em! Eat ’em!”
Johnny stood there, bemused. Here was his best friend, jumping around his bedroom like a lunatic, asking him to eat some strange tablets. In the end, this was not enough to weaken his trust in Gary. Johnny took the microdots and tossed them into his mouth.
“I gotta go!” Gary said unexpectedly. “Whatever you do, don’t scream, and you’ll be fine tomorrow morning! Nothing will be real!”
Before Johnny could reply, Gary ran out of his room and back into the street. At first Johnny felt extreme anxiety. He was virtually trapped in his bedroom, waiting for a drug he had never ingested before to take effect.
The dread didn’t last long.
Johnny lay down on his bed, staring at the model warplanes hanging from his ceiling by fishing line. To his amazement, the planes came alive and started flying around his room. Then suddenly Johnny’s closet door slammed open, and a whole platoon of soldiers marched out. He quickly pulled the bedsheets over his head, laughing wildly as the soldiers marched on top of him. By the time the hallucinations faded, it was time for Johnny to go to class at Northport High School.
As soon as he got there, he found Gary and said, “I need eighteen more hits. . . .”
Chapter 9
LONG BEFORE GARY AND JOHNNY began their love affair with hallucinogens, Ricky Kasso had already turned them into his cash crop. Even after his parents found his bong, Ricky still hung around the loading docks to sell pot, LSD, and purple microdots. For a time, he successfully kept these activities a secret from his mother and father, who had recently allowed him back home. After all, in Dick Kasso’s mind, as long as Ricky performed well on the football team and kept his grades above a C average, he was succeeding as a parent.
That all came crashing down the moment Ricky told his father he planned to quit playing sports.
“You have to be on something, Ricky!” Dick ordered. “Football! Wrestling! Anything!”
“But I don’t want to do any of that!” his son replied.
Wendy Kasso overheard the argument from the hallway. She walked into Ricky’s bedroom and asked, “Why does he have to if he doesn’t want to?”
Dick and Ricky turned to face Wendy. Both were shocked by her standing up to her father. For Dick, the surprise quickly turned to anger. Gritting his teeth, he screamed, “GET OUT!” to his youngest child, who ran off. Ricky realized he would have to keep his head down and comply if he wanted to avoid his father’s wrath. Denied a say in his own life, a rage seethed inside him.
After the fight, Dick walked downstairs and into the kitchen, where Wendy was sitting. He turned toward a small shelf on the wall featuring a display of five porcelain ducks—a mama duck and her four babies following in a row. Dick took the last baby duck on the end and turned it away from the mother and the three other ducklings. Looking Wendy square in the eye, Dick told her, “That one is Ricky. . . .”
* * *
When eighth grade ended for Ricky in the spring of 1981, the fourteen-year-old had spent most of the year avoiding his family. He continued to smoke pot and trip on LSD with friends, selling both when he needed cash, but made sure to stay below his father’s radar. His reputation as a drug dealer might have been steadily solidifying in Northport, but as long as Dick Kasso heard no word of it, he was safe at home.
On the last day of school that year, the Kassos packed up their cars and headed upstate for another summer of relaxation in Argyle. Kelly and Jody rode with Dick, while Ricky opted to ride with Wendy and his mother. As soon as they hit I-87, Lynn would let Ricky pop a cassette tape into the car stereo. The Who’s The Kids Are Alright soundtrack was a favorite of Ricky’s, along with Joe’s Garage by Frank Zappa. Counting down the miles, Ricky would sing along with the tape. Zappa’s nostalgic song about teenagers forming their first rock band spoke to Ricky’s soul. He had a cheap acoustic guitar he would strum in his bedroom, surrounded by the Led Zeppelin and Yes posters he had taped to the wall. He hoped to one day leave Northport for California, and maybe even make it as a musician there. But for now, he was stuck in New York with a family he was growing to hate and friends he feared were only using him for his drugs. Coasting up the highway on this hot June afternoon, Ricky Kasso let the music and his dreams carry him up to Argyle.
Once there, the summer of 1981 began like the previous ones. The Kassos reunited with the Sterlings and the Mallorys, and their kids split off to have fun. On most days, the Kasso and Sterling kids would all flock to the edge of Lake Cossayuna to catch turtles. One afternoon, Ricky grabbed his fishing pole and went down alone. To his surprise, he caught a northern copperhead—a mildly poisonous species of snake. Ricky brought it back to the cabin to show his friends. When his sisters saw the snake, they ran inside to tell their father. Dick—who had always made a point not to lose his temper in the company of the other Argyle families—went through the roof, screaming at his son for being so careless. While Ricky, Bruce, and Sue stood on the lawn, stunned, Dick grabbed his shotgun and blasted the snake’s head off. The kids all moved closer to get a better look, but Dick brushed them aside.
“Stay away from it!” he warned. “The head is still alive. It won’t die until after the sun goes down. Then it won’t be able to bite you. . . .”
Once tensions died down, Ricky went outside to confide in Sue.
“My dad wants me to do this and wants me to do that,” he told her. “I just don’t like it. I don’t know why my dad wants me to do these things, because I’m not that type of person.”
Sue was still shocked by Dick’s behavior.
“Dick and Lynn had to have their reputations on a pedestal,” Sue recalls. “They were both schoolteachers. He was a football coach. They didn’t want anybody to think they weren’t a perfect family. He was just like any other normal kid, ya know? He wanted to go swimming and hang with his friends.”
That summer proved to be another turning point in Ricky’s short life. He now realized that even in upstate Argyle, far away from the pot and LSD of Northport, he still could do no right in his father’s eyes. Kelly and Jody were becoming outstanding athletes, and with Ricky now showing zero interest in Dick’s dreams for him, he stood little chance of regaining the affection his father had once shown him. The burglary arrest and discovery of his bong only further cemented Dick’s growing opinion of his son as a perpetual fuck-up.
“That was the root of Ricky’s major insecurities and him beginning to look for attention in other places,” recalls Ricky’s childhood friend Grant Koerner. “There was a sternness displayed toward Ricky at a young age. He just had different interests than what his parents expected, unfortunately, and they started throwing him out very early. That’s when we noticed Kelly and Jody playing sports in the neighborhood instead of Ricky. I would hate to say it all stemmed from there, but it definitely did. His sisters—who had a very antagonistic relationship with Ricky—then started getting all the attention.”
“Kelly an
d Jody didn’t like Ricky because they feared their father,” Dave Johnson adds. “They knew Ricky was on their father’s shit list. That was programmed into them—‘Don’t be a fuck-up like your brother; he’s a piece of shit!’ He was drilling that into their heads.”
“They were athletes and Dick could relate to them,” Koerner continues. “He was a tough father and part of that 1950s man generation. I stayed away from Mr. Kasso because, as a kid, why would I want to be around that?”
Sue Sterling agrees.
“Ricky wanted his father’s approval and he did not get it,” she says. “Dick wanted him to be a whole different type of person.”
The person Ricky Kasso was about to become could not have been any further from what his father wanted.
Part Three
CHILDHOOD’S END
Heard of some grave sites, out by the highway
A place where nobody knows . . .
—Talking Heads,
“Life During Wartime”
Chapter 10
NORTHPORT’S COW HARBOR PARK SITS just south of where Main Street ends and Woodbine Avenue begins. Directly adjacent to the marina, the park features a basketball court, a children’s playground, and a small wooden gazebo covering two stone chess tables. The park was constructed by the town of Huntington in late 1976 as a proud addition to downtown Northport—despite the village board of trustees objecting to it. As far as they were concerned, there already was a wonderful place for outdoor recreational activity: Northport Village Park on Bayview Avenue, only two hundred feet from the planned location of the new park. Huntington, however, was not fazed.
“The new Park is potentially one of the most successful and beautiful the Town has to offer,” Huntington Town Supervisor Kenneth C. Butterfield boasted during an October 1976 interview with the Long-Islander newspaper. “It will combine a gazebo, paths, and many other playground facilities with the scenic beauty of the harbor.”
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