Club Culture

Phillip "Little Phil" King

As the web master I get all kinds of emails and guest book entries. Some of the inquiries are interested in how to become a member while others are former members who reminisce about the old times and ask about members they knew decades ago. In March I received an email from a fellow named “Aceman”. It seems his wife’s uncle was an early member of the Gypsy Motorcycle Club. I began communicating with Aceman and learned some very interesting things about his wife’s uncle and the early history of the Gypsy MC. If you’ve got an interest, like I do, in Gypsy MC history, you may find this an intriguing story.

The member in question was Phillip “Little Phil” King. Aceman told me that Phil was killed in June 1976 while riding his bike in Ingleside, near the VFW. A drunk driver pulled out in front of him and Phil wasn’t able to avoid the collision. He sent me a photo of Phil’s colors that piqued my interest (insert pic of black rockers). The colors had an early Gypsy patch and, to my surprise, the Gypsy, MC and USA patches were all black. This signified that Little Phil was a member of our founder, Papa Jack’s Chapter that was established in 1972. I sent Aceman a return email giving him some basic information about the Club and the status of “black rocker”. Aceman returned my email with a photo of the front of Phil’s colors. By current standards Phil’s colors were sparse. There was a Harley Davidson #1 patch on the right side of his colors and, on the left was an AMA patch and two officer’s patches: a “National Sgt at Arms” and an “International Sgt at Arms” patch. The plot certainly started to thicken for me at this point. The early patch, the black rockers and now the national and international sgt at arms patches began to tell a very interesting story.

I Am Fallen Brother by Gyspy Truck

I Am Fallen Brother
I was sitting on a concrete table outside the dealership when Mouthpiece called. "You goin' on a run this weekend?" he asked. I told him that I was not planning on it, but what did he have in mind? After we hashed out a couple of ideas and options, we settled on making a 24-hour turnaround to the Pickle Party, which is exactly what we did.

I went to work after the oil change at the dealership, finished what I had to get done, and then went home to pack my little tail bag with the essentials: pillow, blanket, t-shirt, toothbrush, and cigars. The excitement built as I anticipated the road, and eventually being with my Gypsy family that night. You know exactly what I mean, right? If you go on runs, O faithful reader, you know that feeling. A mini-vacation. A family reunion with family you actually like. A party with non-judgmental people. Those feelings were still fresh from the previous run.

Just a few weeks before the Pickle Party, a pack of us left from Big EZ's house to ride to Fallen Brother. Another fast turnaround trip. But that ride was for much different reasons than most of the others. This year's Fallen Brother was specific for me, and the rest of my chapter for that matter.

As many members of the Gypsy nation know, our Houston Prospect J2 went down at the end of 2012 in an accident that came very close to killing him. As I sit here writing at the beginning of springtime, he is still in the hospital, slowly healing day by day. I go see him, and every time I have this fantasy about him being all better and back out on the road. Some days I imagine that the accident never happened. He should still be riding with us. And that hurts.


Gypsy MC Good Samaritans

2013-02-09 Massacre FNNB
I received the following letter written by Ron Andersen from Gypsy MC Int'l Secretary Elite. Elite had received the email from Ron who had sent it to the Alamo City Chapter. I did a little checking and found that a former New Braunfels member and then Alamo City prospect, Joshua (tragically killed on his bike in March) had been our guys who had initially stopped to assist. They called Area C SA Zero, his wife PowWow and Parachute who brought a trailer to the scene of the crash and rescued the bikes. Although we never like to hear a story of an injury accident involving a motorcycle it's great to know that our members are always ready to help with "Good Samaritan" actions.

What follows is Ron Andersen's email of gratitude to members of the Gypsy Motorcycle Club (the photo is of me, Raoul, with several New Braunfels members at Alamo City's Massacre):

On September 28, 2012, in Selma on IH35 I was behind my son. We were on a bike ride to Temple and back. Nearly home the traffic started to slow. One car cut in front of another etc. My son washed out his bike at 60 MPH. This was a very serious accident. 


Gypsy Holiday Wind Therapy by Wango Tango

So the holiday season is here again with all its activities for Christmas, Hanuka, Kwanzaa, Mayan calendar planning, etc. This time of the year also brings about undue stress in people causing an assortment of maladies such as melancholy, depression, Mad Hatters syndrome, and football game addiction that usually result in you having low feelings of self-worth or thinking that somewhere there is a Gypsy dartboard with your picture on it.

This is totally not true…Only the Big D Chapter plays darts. Just kidding… Hey come on Gypsy brothers and sisters and really cool independent people who are enjoying this article, you are loved; always remember that you are loved. I don’t care who you are: Someone somewhere loves you. Thank You Mom I promise I’ll call you Sunday… Ahem… Okay if you ride you know the best thing for the blues is “Wind Therapy”… Can I hear it again brothers and sisters? Feeling blue and wanna feel brand new? “WIND THERAPY.” That’s right. Nothing clears the head better than a two lane back road on two wheels at cruising speed. Breathing in that fresh air, wind blowing through your hair, farm animals everywhere… BUG! BAM! Ewww… squishy… tastes like Grandma’s boiled squash.


A Golden Life by Hill Country Gypsy Goldeloxxx

An opportunity for a Golden life is not given to many. If you’re presented with the opportunity, make certain that it’s valued. Treat it like a treasure and know that, if this treasure is lost, your life will never be the same. If it’s truly yours, it will stay with you as long as you live; through the ups and the downs. Stand strong. Stay true. Set value to those things that matter: Honesty, Loyalty, Undying faith in your Family that they will be there when you need them and a complete understanding that you will do the same.

Your words and actions are the only gift you can give back to this Golden life. Make sure that they always represent truthfully, as those who have gone before us would respect. Treasure the past, but build upon it for the future so that those following in our footsteps will also have an opportunity to live as we live. Stand strong against those who question all that our life represents. Think twice…speak once. Don’t tear down but find the opportunity to build up your Family. Remember that each and every spoken word can blossom like a flower or fester like a weed.


Caution, Breezy Riders Ahead by Alduro

For those of you who don’t know Alduro, he patched into the Grapevine (now Justin) chapter in July 2010. He seems to be a bright young member (the kind we need in this club) with old school values and an appreciation of what an MC should be. I’ve not spent nearly enough time with Alduro and always look forward to seeing him at club events. He’s a kindred spirit as we both struggle to translate our experiences into the written word. Check out his blog site, “The Wandering Gypsy”, at:

When I saw Alduro at our annual mandatory event last month (May 2012) we talked for a short time and I noticed he had his camera with him. I suggested he take some pics for the Int’l website and he agreed. You can see his work and that of others in the photo gallery if you’d like. Anyway, Alduro not only took a lot of great pictures but also wrote this, rather humorous tale, of his adventure.

Alduro, thanks from Raoul


"One Percenter Encyclopedia" a Book Review by Raoul

This maybe the first book review written for the Gypsy MC website. I say “maybe” because it may not turn out to be a book review. Let’s backup a minute - what I’m hoping will be a book review probably won’t be a traditional review. It’ll still contain observations about the book and what value I gained from it as a reader. It may be more of a record of the events resulting from my contribution to Bill Hayes’ new book: One Percenter Encyclopedia (OPE). However you view it, it’s as much of a back story of how an offer was translated into a product as it is about a book that you might want in your library.

At first blush you might ask, why a review of the One Percenter Encyclopedia? Here’s the answer - first, the book is written by Bill Hayes, who I’ve found to be a friend of the Gypsy Motorcycle Club. Second, I wrote the section on our club and a literature review that actually ended up in Bill’s book and third, as Bill writes in his introduction, “The clubs on the list are not only the clubs that wear the diamond 1% patch. And they’re not necessarily the clubs that embrace either the one percenter file heading or the outlaw persona. But they are indeed part of it.” The Gypsy MC is definitely part of this culture - we not only wear a three-piece patch but we also once straddled the fence between a couple of labels that are used to describe elements of this phenomenon we know as MC. The Gypsy Motorcycle Club, even though we are a family club, is included because we’re part of a larger population of all motorcycle clubs (all wearing the “MC” patch) and because we’ve been characterized by the author as a “pioneer” club.


Goliad Gypsy MC Hobo Run by Raoul

01 - P1020868
Goliad President Jester first shared their plans for the Hobo Run during a ride we took to Oklahoma and Arkansas last September. His ideas for the Hobo Run was to make it truly an “old school” event. Where we stayed at a historic hotel during the Papa Jack Memorial Run, Jester planned for Hobo riders to tent camp. That’s taking the old-school approach back to its roots.

The First Annual Hobo Run, sponsored by the Goliad Chapter, was held over the New Year’s Day weekend that marked the end of 2011 and the beginning of 2012. No cars, no trucks, no RV’s, no bike trailers - just what you could pack on your bike. Riders, about thirty of us, left Goliad Friday morning and rode two hundred twenty-five miles to an “undisclosed” location. We rode back roads through towns like Cuero and Gonzales and Meyersville and Shiner and Nixon as well as through Palmetto State Park with it’s impressive scenic overlook. We stopped for beer and pizza in Shiner and finished the first day’s ride in Union Valley, a ghost town the Texas folk hero and cold blooded murdered John Wesley Hardin is credited for creating. It seems that Wes murdered a County Sheriff in downtown Union Valley and terrorized the good folk of that town so much that they picked up stakes and relocated the town six miles down the road, thus establishing the community of Nixon, Texas. So much for Texas history.

Snuffy's "Gypsy Roadkill Cookbook"

Retired Area C Vice President and Lifer Brad “Snuffy” Lamberth was diagnosed with cancer in 2008 and has been treated continuously ever since. Expenses continue to grow and he needs the help of the Gypsy MC Nation for travel and living expenses. We need to all pull together to help Snuffy develop recipes for what he’s calling a “Gypsy Roadkill Cookbook”.

You can help by sending your best recipes to Snuffy ( Please put the words “Gypsy Cookbook” in the subject line so Snuffy won’t overlook any submittals.

The recipe book will be divided into main categories that will include.

  1. Appetizer
  2. Beverage
  3. Bread
  4. Breakfast
  5. Candy
  6. Cajun Cooking
  7. Canning
  8. Dessert
  9. Jam/Jelly
  10. Main Dish
  11. On the Grill
  12. Salad
  13. Sauce
  14. Soup
  15. Vegetable

To make the project more interesting and to add a bit of competition you can submit your ideas and art for the cookbook cover. Your submittal must be received by February 1, 2012 to be considered. Cover art must be in color and can be submitted either electronically or in hard copy. The winner will be given a copy of the cookbook and their name will appear on the cover.

Recipes should be submitted with a photo of the submitter. The entire project will be complete from concept through publication so the cookbooks can be distributed at Mandatory 2012 (Memorial Day weekend). This is a pretty tight schedule so please begin selecting your recipes and submitting them as soon as possible.

Additionally, Snuffy is considering using color photos of Gypsy MC members on each main category page. There will also be a table of contents, an introduction and a list of acknowledgements.

If you have questions or comments please email Snuffy or call him at 210-865-9732.

Thank you for participating in this project - Raoul

The Road to Becoming a Gypsy (Part 2 - Starting Over) by Wild Bill

Gypsy Wild Bill in tug o war KIB rally 2007
"I think I am going to buy a motorcycle". I said one day as my wife and I sat at the the kitchen table.

"What?" she said, looking up from her plate.

"I said, I think I am going to buy a motorcycle." I repeated. "I have been thinking about it a lot lately, and I think I am ready to own another bike."

"You don't need a motorcycle. You'll kill yourself." she said.

"I used to own one, years ago. I sold mine back in '86."

"I remember you telling me that a while back. Why do you think you need a motorcycle now?" she said.

"I don't know, I just want to start riding again. I always planned on getting another one, I just kinda got side tracked over the years." I replied.

"You don't have any business buying a motorcycle. You'll get hurt."


2010 Ride to Papa Jack's Grave by Wango Tango

Last year, after Big “D”s Lifer Appreciation Party Raoul, Super Pickle, Eyeball and I struck out for Arkansas. We were following Raoul, and not really knowing where we were going. It was a wonderful “destination unknown” ride through the Ouachita, Boston and Ozark Mountains.

On the second day of our journey we found ourselves in the small town of Westville, Oklahoma. Just outside the town, we turned down a little country road and pulled up in front of a farmhouse for sale. Eyeball and I followed Raoul and Super Pickle into the property. We watched as they searched through the tall grass in an open field south of the farmhouse. Soon Eyeball and I were signaled to come over to a spot where they were standing.

They pulled the grass back and there was Papa Jack and Jaynie's headstone with the Gypsy logo and the inscription “Together for Eternity” on it. Raoul and Super Pickle had been to the gravesite before and probably knew what to expect, but Eyeball and I hadn't and I was moved, even awestruck, by this sight. Papa Jack was the man who established the Gypsy MC in Texas, and the club as we now know it today. I had no idea he and his wife Jaynie were buried in Oklahoma, actually I had no idea where they were buried. We cleared the weeds from the gravesite with our hands and took some pictures. Super Pickle told us that Papa Jack and Jaynie had lived in the farmhouse on the property, and Papa Jack had suffered a fatal heart attack while tending to his horse in the barn. His wife Jaynie had passed away  in 2001, and they were both buried here, with their infant son and Jack’s dog Pistol Pete. Their home was left vacant and had burned. It was torn down in 2007.

The Road to Becoming a Gypsy (Part 1 - My First Bike) by Wild Bill

In 1983, I bought my first real motorcycle, a brand spanking new Yamaha 400. I had a friend who had recently bought a new Yamaha with a loan from our company credit union, and after talking to him about how easy it was to get a loan, I decided that I would finally be able to fulfill a childhood dream of owning my own motorcycle. I sent off my $25 membership fee, along with the paperwork to have $25 each month direct deposited into a savings account in my name.

After receiving verification of my membership status, I quickly made a trip to our local Yamaha-Harley Davidson joint dealership known as the Texas Cycle Barn. This being my first time ever in a real motorcycle shop, I spent quite some time just admiring the shiny new bikes all lined up in rows on the sales floor. The Harleys were all chrome and steel, and expensive, so with a longing in my heart I drifted over to the Yamaha side of the show room. I really knew nothing about bikes back then, only that I "needed" one badly for some reason that to this day escapes me.

A sales man, most likely afraid that I was lost, came over and introduced himself. We talked for a while and, realizing I was a newbie, steered me to a little black and chrome Yamaha sitting at the end of the line of bikes. While I am sure he described all the finer points to me, I honestly can't remember anything he said. All I could do was stare in wonder at this beautiful machine sitting in front of me. I think the only question I managed to ask him was if I could sit on it. After receiving a "Sure, go ahead," from the sales man, I carefully swung my leg over the seat and sat down on my first "real" motorcycle.

Suddenly, visions of myself cruising down the highway, with people looking at me as I rode by jumped into my mind.

"How much?" I asked.

"Well, this is last years model," he said "I think we can knock of a little on this one. Let me check the list."

I remained on the bike, twiddling the control buttons and leaning over to see the engine while he went to the sales counter and checked. He walked back and said, "I can let you have this one for $1200, tax, tittle and license, out the door."

"Can I use your phone to call my bank?" I said.

"Sure, it's right over here." he replied, walking over to the counter.

I fished the card out of my wallet and dialed the number. The lady who answered asked me my account info, then the price of the bike. When I told her $1200, she said " We have a $1500 limit on loans.

I said I would call her back, and turned to the salesman and said, "They have to make the loan for $1500 at least.

"Well," he said, "maybe we can get the price up a little. You will need a helmet, and you might want a windshield or luggage rack."

By the time we finished talking, we had added two helmets, a windshield, a luggage rack, and an adjustable backrest to the bill, bringing the total to $1497. I called the lady back with the new figure, and she agreed to the new number. I gave the phone to the salesman and paced around in front of the desk while he talked to the lady, occasionally writing down notes on a pad. He hung up and said, "I think we got you all fixed up, come back to my office and we will get the paper work finished. On the way back to his office, he yelled at a mechanic in the back to pull my motorcycle off the floor.

In his office, we finished up the paper work and he told me that I could come back the next afternoon to pick up the bike.

I honestly don't think I slept that night, I was so excited. My wife, tired of listening to me, went to bed early, and I sat up until after midnight before retiring to the bed, still thinking of my "new" motorcycle.

The next day at work, the day seemed to stretch out forever. Finally 5:00pm arrived, and a buddy dropped me off at the dealership. It was at this time I realized I had forgotten one very important thing. I had no idea how to ride my new prize!

Sure, I had owned a mini bike back when I was 12, and a friend had allowed my to ride his Honda 90 trail bike when I was 14, but this was a "real" motorcycle. Gears had to be shifted and clutches engaged and disengaged.

As I walked in the door, the salesman said, "We got you ready to go, come on back to the shop!"

We walked into the shop, and I didn't see my bike anywhere. The salesman walked over, slapped the seat on a bike and said, "Here ya' go, we filled the tank too. She's ready to go." I didn't recognize my bike with all the accessories bolted on. It looked much larger than the day before with the windshield and luggage rack and backrest.

"I know this sounds stupid,"I said," but can you kinda go over the controls with me?"

"You never rode a motorcycle before?" he asked.

"Well, not one like this. I have ridden a Honda trail 90, but they’re automatic. I have never shifted gears before on a bike. I know how to drive a manual transmission car, though."

He laughed and said,"well, sit down on it and I will go over it with you."

He showed me the clutch lever, explaining how it needed to be pulled in, and how the gears shifted, with a one down and three up pattern, and where the starter button and kill switch were.

After about ten minutes, I said, "Ok, I think I got it now."

I turned the key on, checked that the bike was in neutral by looking at the little green indicator light and hit the start button. The little vertical twin engine turned over several times but didn't crank.

"Pull the choke out and try it again," he said. "The engines just cold."

I pulled the choke out and thumbed the starter again, and the motor came to life beneath me. My excitement returned, and I pulled in the clutch lever, toed the bike down into first, let out on the clutch, and the bike lurched and died.

"Let the clutch out a little slower, and give it a little gas this time." he said.

I reached up and hit the starter again, and the bike lurched forward, taking me with it about a foot.

"You have to pull the clutch in or put it in neutral." my new found mentor said.

To shorten a long story, I made it out of the shop on the fourth (or was it the fifth?) try.
By this time a couple of mechanics and the salesman had followed me out to the parking lot to watch. I am sure they were taking bets on whether I would make it out of the parking lot.

Well, I fooled them! It only took me three tries to achieve the street in front of the shop, and I was on my way home!

Cruising down the street toward the highway that would carry me home, I easily made the turn onto the on ramp and managed to shift up through the gears till I was flying down the highway at over 40 miles an hour! I was so proud, looking to make sure all the people in their cars were looking at me as they went by, some honking their horns and waving, at least thats how I remember it now.

As I approached the turn off to my street, I realized I didn't know where my brakes were. I found the clutch, and as the motor revved up because I had not remembered to let off the throttle, my turn off loomed.

Now, this is a four lane divided highway I was traveling on known as Loop 286 that runs all the way around my town of Paris, Tx. I was headed south and needed to turn east, which required that I turn into a crossover lane, check for oncoming traffic, then cross over the two westbound lanes of traffic.

I quickly realized that there was no way I was going to make my turn at my present speed, and without the aid of brakes I could not slow down. Thinking fast, as it were, I decided to make my own crossover. I turned before the crossover, went down into and across the grass median, up into the opposing lanes of traffic, narrowly missing an oncoming car, or rather it narrowly missed me as I careened across the highway at about 25 miles an hour.

Suddenly I was on my road, headed in the right direction! I swerved to the right to miss another car that was blowing it's horn at me, probably because I was in his lane instead of mine, and leveled out, with heart racing and soiled underwear, towards home. At the leisurely pace of 20 miles an hour, I looked for and found the front brake lever, and practiced using it several times in the last mile before my next turn. I made that turn fine, and managed to make that last mile without any more incidents. I spent the next two weeks riding up and down the street in front of my house, learning how to start and stop so that I could take the test for my motorcycle license.

I rode that little bike for the next three years, finally trading it to a friend for $300 and two pistols.
It would be 13 years before I owned another motorcycle, even though I kept my motorcycle license that whole time, always with plans to buy another "someday".

The Serious Relationship Between a Biker and His Motorcycle: Observations According to Goldfinger

Here’s another article from Goldfinger that describes the relationship between the biker and the bike – after all, it’s a motorcycle club and that little patch on the back of your colors, the one that says “MC” is one of the most important patches you wear. It means MOTORCYCLE CLUB and it’s a patch that’s worn by a lot of guys and gals throughout the world … it means that the club revolves around motorcycles. When other clubs look at you and your colors and your bike and your demeanor and how you handle yourself in public, do they think you’re a part of the MC society? Do you deserve to wear that little patch? …. Think about it! Raoul

Here’s Goldfinger’s thoughts:

During a phone call a couple of days ago Red Rocker Raoul, the heart of the new electronic Gypsy age, suggested a topic for my next article. I believe he said something like “It would be interesting to have an article on the relationship between the rider and his bike.” That’s at least what I heard, so this is my attempt at that answer. This article probably isn’t what he was thinking about at the time, but it is what I thought it should be about. So here goes.

Building Chapter Tradition and Culture by Gold Finger

League City secretary, Goldfinger, has put together a great article and photos that focus on the importance of tradition and culture within a motorcycle club. He makes analogies to the similarities of MC and military culture and correctly attributes the link from clubs formed following World War II. I think he’s made some excellent points and I always appreciate his contributions ... Raoul

Here’s Goldfinger’s Thoughts:

Many of today’s motorcycle clubs were formed by members who had left the military and were looking for something similar in their civilian life. Today, most motorcycle clubs are set up like military units with a heavy family influence. This article is my attempt to express my feelings about how I think traditions influence clubs and chapters and how traditions further influence the overall culture of a motorcycle club.


Friends vs Bike Friends - Author Unknown


The Fallen Brother Project

The 2010 “Fallen Brother Run” was held on Saturday, February 27th in Rossville, Texas. The run is hosted by the Gypsy MC River City chapter and came about through the combined vision of Lifer Patchless and River City members Bounce! and Popeye. The run was originally called the “Splinter Memorial Run” held in memory of River City member Jason “Splinter” Villanueva who was killed with his girlfriend in a tragic motorcycle accident in 2002. The run is typically held on the last weekend in February to remember Splinter’s birthday on February 22nd. The run was renamed Fallen Brother when Retired Lifer and River City member Charlie “Little Charlie” Settles died in 2005. The realization that, as a club, we lose as many as a dozen members each year has really driven home the fact the we need an organized approach to supporting both members and non-members that need, and deserve, our help. The Fallen Brother project has done just that for the last five years. Read More...