I, Leonard Bilski, now fifty years old am writing memories of parts of my life that I remember. I don’t recommend any thing I did with my life to other people. Crime always comes to an end. It was not worth the outcome. People who know me may have other opinions of my life. I lived it. Here it is.
My memory of ages four to ten years old include my father, Leonard Bilski, Sr. living as a functional schizophrenic. How could he be functional you think. I’ll explain. My parents divorced when I was five. My Dad had index cards on the bed; he would be studying zip codes for hours as I watched. He worked for the US Postal Service. When he went to work, if I was at his house visiting, his mother would watch me. When my Dad came home he would watch TV and mumble a bit here and there. He would tell me men don’t cry, men don’t feel pain, men are tough.
Over the years he drank more and more at night on Fridays and Saturdays. He would take me to the bar in the seventies. Drinking and bars were not a big deal. Neither was driving and drinking. At the bars, I played pinball for hours. For some reason my Dad would get into fights a lot, beating people up or getting beat up. Driving home my Dad would say people are chasing us. Do I see them? I would be scared. Usually my Dad would hand me a gun or a knife and drive fast saying they’re coming. This was normal to me. Some times he would chop wood barehanded and set little pieces for me to chop with my hands. Remember men feel no pain. Never back out of a fight. He always spoke of girlfriends I never met. Men don’t feel pain. I guess it was schizophrenic thinking.
My mother remarried and my stepfather was a New Jersey bus driver. We moved when I was five till I was twelve to Sunrise Florida and Fort Lauderdale and two parts of Jersey City, NJ. Then we went to Long Island, NY. We were poor. We received cheese and food stamps from the state. Kids made fun of me. I was fat and had greasy hair, cheap clothes and cheap sneakers. In fifth grade I began to street fight when kids made fun of me. I began to be a hustler. I would sell the most candy bars at St. Nick’s grammar school in Jersey City. I won bicycles, radios, recorders. I got the most baseball donations. If you went to the bars or the malls, I always sold a lot of whatever I sold or received a lot of donations.
My Dad still drove, so he would pick me up every two weeks or when we lived in Florida I would fly up alone every two months for vacations. Men don’t feel pain, chopping wood, punching rocks in a bucket, that was training as a child.
My mother and stepfather would argue hours and hours over money. They were broke all the time.
When I was twelve we moved to Long Island. My parents somehow bought a house for $37,000.00, I remember. Have a laugh, I now bought and live in that house, now at $350,000.00.
I began walking and hitchhiking two or three miles to the mall. I played video games. I also worked in a carnival. I met a guy and started smoking pot. Then I started selling pot, rolling joints to sell in school, in the mall, wherever I could. I had cash. My Mom did not agree but I had cash and I always gave her some. At fourteen I sold fireworks. Then I was arrested for the first time. I sold to a friend and he told on me. I received an ACOD – a dismissal.
At sixteen we would go to Beefsteak Charlie’s for all you can eat and drink for $7.99. Once I was so drunk I spent twenty minutes trying to rip a three foot tree out of the ground in the parking lot. The second I pulled it out, I was arrested as a police officer watched. Next arrest, my 18th birthday at Ground Round Restaurant. I was in the semi-finals of NYS Golden Gloves, so I was a tough guy, as my boxing coach and Dad would say.. a rare breed. So I walked past the band and said you stink. The drummer jumps up and says he is a 3rd degree black belt and to shut up. I walked into the bathroom and my friends asked if I was afraid of him and why I walked away. So I walked towards him as he was standing there. He kicks me 3 times, not hard but to show his skills. I walk away again. Now my friends are yelling at me so I walk to him again and he shifts his leg like a round house. I just get out of the way with my head then threw a right hand punch as he was in motion. I broke his nose and he went in to a coma for 5 days. So now I am arrested again and now facing 5 to 15 years. I went on trial for 14 days and won on self defense, also I started dating a juror from my trial. What a scare, 15 to life. I faced Judges and D.A.s screaming at me over and over. So back to life again... years go by.
So I’m selling pot, making money. I have money, drugs, a new 1986 convertible Corvette. I went to the next level – cocaine. It was insane. I had friends, women, girlfriends, sex. It was unbelievable. I was gambling. I was making over $3,000.00 weekly, still in my twenties. I bet $10,000.00 on a playoff football game. I lost, and then bet $20,000.00 on a second game. I lost and bet $30,000 on the third game.