White American Youth by Christian Picciolini

Author:Christian Picciolini
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hachette Books
Published: 2017-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

Christian Picciolini and the Marietta, Georgia, crew, 1990

13

SICK SOCIETY

NOW THAT I WAS SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD and had my driver’s license, I found lots of opportunities to go on road trips to meet skinheads from around the country whom I’d corresponded with. A new part-time job working at a pizza parlor in Beverly gave me the financial means, and some friends and I drove down to Georgia to hang out and network. One of the guys in my crew who’d recently been discharged from the army was dating a skinhead girl who lived there, and we stayed at a house in Marietta, Georgia, owned by a veteran Nazi skin named Teddy Dalrymple.

Marietta was one of the hottest places in the country for recruiting skinheads. It was almost child’s play. White supremacy had been part of Marietta history ever since the Reconstruction-era Ku Klux Klan began immediately after the Civil War ended. It grew in popularity and remained ingrained as part of the local culture.

Dalrymple lived in a dilapidated wood-framed shanty at the end of Blanche Drive in Marietta that served as a bustling hub for Nazi youth activity throughout the Atlanta metropolitan area. At any given time you’d find dozens of kids hanging around for meetings, parties, rallies, and any number of other dubious activities. White-power skinheads passing through Georgia were always welcome to crash there, and Dalrymple made us feel right at home. He treated me as an equal and gave me tips on scaling our recruiting efforts outside of Chicago. He was a down-home Southern good ol’ boy through and through, a funny guy with a round potbelly and giant muttonchops covering his cheeks. A redneck maverick, he had the line on every pro-white group in the country and was involved in organizing large-scale marches and protests in support of our cause.

It was at Dalrymple’s house where I met Clay Wallaby, drummer for the legendary English skinhead band Condemned 84—one of my favorite Oi! bands, next to Skrewdriver. A great guy, he was an old-school British skin who had abandoned his home country and was building a new life with an American skinhead girl in Marietta. We hung out together some, drank lots of beer. I admired his musical ability and long-standing dedication to the skinhead scene. He was about more than getting into brawls and kicking ass.

“In order for the white race to prosper, mate,” he warbled in his cockney accent, “for the next one hundred years we need to find ways to stick together and fight in a unified way to keep other races from pulling us apart or taking what is rightfully ours. Blacks and Third-World immigrants come to England and America in droves to leech from our resources, leaving little to nothing for us native blokes.”

Clay was right. It was hard enough for the average American white family to keep their head above water without other races punching holes in our buckets and drawing from the same limited water well. After pausing to sip from

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