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Our Guys Bernard Lefkowitz Pdf Free

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14. One of the questions posed by this book is: "Is it worth ruining so many lives to punish guys who got carried away for an hour?" [p. 284]. What is your own answer? If it is "no," do you believe that such leniency should apply in all similar cases?


Lefkowitz's sweeping narrative, informed by more than 200 interviews and six years of research, recreates a murky adolescent world that parents didn't - or wouldn't - see: a high school dominated by a band of predatory athletes; a teenage culture where girls were frequently abused and humiliated at sybaritic and destructive parties; and a town that continued to embrace its celebrity athletes-despite the havoc they created-as "our guys". The clash of cultures and values that divided Glen Ridge, Lefkowitz writes, still divides the country.



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Lefkowitz, Bernard. Our Guys: The Glen Ridge Rape and the Secret Life of the Perfect Suburb. University of California Press, 1997. Reprint New York: Notable Trials Library, 1998. Introduction by Alan M. Dershowitz. xi, 443 pp. pp. Quarter-calf, gilt, raised bands, marbled endpapers, edges gilt, ribbon marker. Fine. $35. * It was a crime that captured national attention. In the idyllic suburb of Glen Ridge, New Jersey, four of the town's most popular high school athletes were accused of raping a retarded young woman while nine of their teammates watched. Everyone was riveted by the question: What went wrong in this seemingly flawless American town? In search of the answer, Bernard Lefkowitz takes the reader behind Glen Ridge's manicured facade into the shadowy basement that was the scene of the rape, into the mansions on "Millionaire's Row," into the All-American high school, and finally into the courtroom where justice itself was on trial. Lefkowitz's sweeping narrative, informed by more than 200 interviews and six years of research, recreates a murky adolescent world that parents didn't-or wouldn't-see: a high school dominated by a band of predatory athletes; a teenage culture where girls were frequently abused and humiliated at sybaritic and destructive parties, and a town that continued to embrace its celebrity athletes-despite the havoc they created-as "our guys." But that was not only true of Glen Ridge; Lefkowitz found that the unqualified adulation the athletes received in their town was echoed in communities throughout the nation. Glen Ridge was not an aberration. The clash of cultures and values that divided Glen Ridge, Lefkowitz writes, still divides the country. Parents, teachers, and anyone concerned with how children are raised, how their characters are formed, how boys and girls learn to treat each other, will want to read this important book.


Parties could turn ugly when the adolescent partygoers decided they would use the party as a vehicle to hurt, one way or another, the party-giver, who in almost every case was a young woman. These scenes became known among the youth of Glen Ridge as "revenge" parties. The specific reason for the punishment seemed less important than the opportunity to hurt the girl. "If you're a girl and they don't respect you and they don't like you, forget it," said one of Chris Archer's wrestling teammates. This wrestler and other Jocks described what had happened to one of the Jocks' Little Mothers when she drank too much at a party. Like a bag of garbage, the girl was dumped in a closet as the party wound down; the guys locked the closet door and left her confined in the dark to gag on her vomit. Again, the Jocks noted the incident in the yearbook as one of the bright moments of their school years.


Kids who weren't in the cafeteria when Mary Ryan issued her invitation heard about it soon enough, and word traveled swiftly to students in other communities. February was the wrestling season, and high school wrestlers for miles around were told of the impending party. That's how it worked. Wrestlers told wrestlers; cheerleaders told cheerleaders in other towns. Why so much excitement? Parties with parents absent were not uncommon. But this one had the makings of something special. For Glen Ridge kids, the big attraction was that Mary Ryan, a tuition student, lived just across the town border in East Orange. They thought that if the cops busted the party, the guys' parents were less likely to find out. "When you got out of Glen Ridge, you go crazy," one of the athletes recalled. "There are no neighbors to stop you or tell your mother."


Instead of on Saturday, the party began spontaneously on Friday, February 13. By sundown every parking space for three blocks around the Ryans' house was taken. There were kids from Caldwell, Montclair, Bloomfield and Verona. From private schools and public schools, from middle school and high school. There were older guys who had graduated three or four years ago. There were even kids from East Side High School in Newark. There were Jocks and Guidos and Giggers, cheerleaders and majorettes, and even a few "band fags." There were girls who looked too young to get into a movie alone and some who seemed old enough to be married and have kids. There were kids who brought bottles, and kids who lugged cases of beer on their shoulders, and some who rolled kegs up the front steps into the kitchen.


They started taking the furniture apart. Within an hour the legs had been broken off everything that was standing -- coffee tables, kitchen chairs and table, side tables. A couple of guys got the idea of using a leg from the kitchen table as a battering ram. One-two-three -- charge. The leg smashed through the plasterboard, leaving a hole the size of a saucer. Back up and start all over. The hold got bigger and bigger, maybe two, three feet in diameter. Okay, let's start on the other wall.


One wall was covered floor to ceiling with a bamboo stand to hold decorative objects. The stand had been attached to the wall. "Betcha can't break that in half," one Jock challenged another. As if he were working out in the school exercise room, the other Jock stood with his back to the bamboo, his arms raised behind his shoulders. A deep breath and pull. The entire bamboo stand, with everything that rested on it, came crashing to the floor. A few minutes later some guys were breaking pieces of the bamboo over their heads and using them as swords in make-believe duels.


Chris Archer took the basement. People who were there remembered him rushing down the stairs with a can of spray paint in his hand and spraying every wall with painted graffiti. Another Jock, partygoers recalled, charged upstairs, followed by a pack of football players and wrestlers. First thing they did was dismantle Mary's parents' bed. One kid had the idea of setting the mattress on fire, but another thought that was a stupid idea since it was a waterbed. Let's puncture it, one guy suggested, and start a flood. Some guys began stabbing it with a screwdriver and a kitchen knife.






Other kids carried the bed frame to the top of the landing and, using it as a makeshift toboggan, tried to slide down the stairs. But the frame was too wide to make for a level ride. The kids smashed all the balusters that held up the stair rail. Now there was enough room. The guys sat on the frame, their legs straddling the sides, and slid down the slope.

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