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TOM HANLEY

By Edward Damato

I hadn't thought about Tom Hanley until I read about his death in the Daily News. On page two it read, "Astoria G.I. Dies In Vietnam." This was big news in 1965. I couldn't believe that Tom was dead. It seemed like we were just in high school. The article said Tom, a cook, was killed by mortar fire. I could picture him slinging hash and daring soldiers to take seconds. The article said Tom was an honors student. This was not the Tom I knew.

I had seen Tom in school over the years, but never knew him. That changed when he was assigned to the seat next to me in a commercial art class. It was my last year in high school and I needed a few credits to graduate, so I took this easy course. I think Tom took it because it might be fun. When he sat next to me I felt a little nervous because Tom had a reputation as a tough guy.

"Hi," he said. "We're going to have fun here."

"I sure hope so," I responded.

"Don't worry, we will."

We did. Tom kept me laughing all the time. He never carried books. He said he didn't need them. He had a way of opening his eyes so wide that the whites surrounded his steel-blue irises. It had the effect of making you think twice about whether he was serious. I think that's how he got his reputation as a tough guy. You could never quite tell if he was going to laugh or beat your brains in. I never saw him in a fight, although he almost single-handedly destroyed a gang that had just formed in the school. They called themselves the Chancellors and they wore purple sweaters with their names on the back. I think Tom found it an affront to the school and he set about to get rid of it.

"Ed, we have to do something about the Chancellors," he said as he sat down at our desk.

"Forget it," I said. "They're jerks."

"No, we have to get rid of them," he said, his eyes opening wider than I had ever seen them.

He came up with a plan to start a counter-gang that would scare them out of the school. He decided that there should be a founding meeting in the first floor boy's room at three o'clock that afternoon. He decided that the name of the group should be the Bug Jitters and that he would be the leader. By lunch time everyone in the school was talking about the meeting.

At three I went to the boy's room. The hallway was mobbed. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air. I pushed through the crowd and inched my way into the bathroom. It was crowded with guys smoking and laughing. Tom was standing near the window victoriously proclaiming, "The Chancellors are history." He was right. We never saw the Chancellor sweaters again. In fact, I don't remember seeing any of the gang in school either.

The next day, as I was looking out of the window of my ceramics class, I saw Tom standing on the sidewalk at the rear door of the school.

"Hey, Tom, don't you have a class?"

"I need some fresh air."

"You sure took care of the Chancellors."

"We took care of the Chancellors," he said as he gave me the wide-eyed look. I laughed.

Now Tom Hanley was dead in Vietnam. The paper said he was an honors student. I wondered if it made his death more tragic. Tom was funny, and he was a loyal friend once he let you into his confidence. He was an unforgettable person but he wasn't an honors student.

Later on I would go to Vietnam. Later on I would learn about My Lai and Tonkin. I would try to understand the light at the end of the tunnel and destroying villages in order to save them. That was later on. For me, the first lie about Vietnam was the report on Tom Hanley, about how he was an honors student.

Ed Damato is a former Chapter, East Coast and National Coordinator of VVAW. He lives in New York City and works as a cook. He served in the 9th Division in Vietnam.

VVAW's Operation RAW, 1970. Ed Damato, far left