Every urban subculture has its most feared actors. In South Baltimore, in the 1980s, it was Duncan, a former Navy jet mechanic who worked as a bouncer, and as a bodyguard for strippers.

#46-01 to 46-06: night, minutes, first-person

This is from an interview with Duncan. He was highly intelligent, stood six foot four, weighed in at 240, had piercing—almost possessed—eyes, and a thick black beard that grew nearly to his eyes. He could definitely play the heavy in a Rob Zombie film.

“I like violence. Its fun, and is usually over before you’re tired. This is my favorite.

I was young—perhaps thirty—and was bouncing at this bar. It’s pretty crowded, and this PCP freak—a short stocky guy—starts with this chick and punches her in the jaw. I’m headed across the room. By the time I get there he had punched the girl’s boyfriend and the owner.

“I put him in a full-nelson, walked him over to the door, and opened it with his face. Then somebody pushed me out the door. I turned around and this guy’s friend was coming out behind me, unhitching his chain belt. I’m between these two, deciding who I’m going to kill first, and my friend—who is a lot bigger than me and just happened to be riding by—stopped his car in the middle of the street and got out. He basically disposed of the twerp with the chain. I don’t know what he did because I was busy with the freak.

“As this guy rushes me I punched him in the face (right cross), grabbed him, picked him up, slammed him, and kicked him in the face (with toe of shoe). I also kicked him while he was getting up to charge me again. He kept getting up and charging me. He obviously wasn’t feeling a thing. (This sequence was repeated numerous, but uncounted, times.)

I started to get tired, so I got low with a [shoulder] butt, putting it into his chest for a scoop. I feel something and look down and this freak is biting me, trying to tear off a piece. (The resulting sunken scar on Duncan’s left shoulder is the size of a silver dollar.)

I’m thinking, ‘What the fuck is this?’

Well, two people can play that game, pal. This guy is munching away. I’m going to take something from him too. I look [down] over my shoulder and all I see is this ear. So I bit it and ripped it off. It stayed in my mouth—didn’t spit out.

The cops pull up, saw the blood, and took us to the hospital, with the girl he [had] punched. I wasn’t hurt but there was blood everywhere. The funniest thing was the ear. It was stuck between my teeth and I couldn’t get it out. I wiggled it and worked it and couldn’t pull it loose until we got to the hospital. I was treated and released. Of course, the girl was there, and she was real happy with me—real grateful.

[Later] I was charged with maiming and disfiguring. I didn’t know there was even a law for that. I just about shit when I found out I was facing twenty years. When I got into court, and saw that the judge was a lady, I thought it was all over.

The guy who lost the ear—a real dirt bag—said his piece. Then it was my turn. I had witnesses, and I told the judge that I had been working as a bouncer, that this guy was hitting patrons and employees. When I ejected him he wanted to fight, and he took the first bite. I said, ‘Your Honor, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Just like the Bible says, hon.’

She was getting sick. She threw up her hands and said, ‘This is disgusting. Everybody just get out of my courtroom.’

She threw it out. I beat the rap and I was sweating it too. Overall I would have to say it was a positive experience; had a great fight, got paid, got laid, beat the charges, and got a souvenir. What’s not to like?

I kept it [the ear]. It was about half the ear. A lot more than Tyson got! I put it in a baby food jar, and kept it on the back of the kitchen sink for about a year. Eventually it got really funky so I threw it out.

A couple of years later we met this nice older guy and he said, ‘You probably know my son. You’re about his age. It was the guy’s dad. I said, ‘Yeah, probably.’

I didn’t have the heart to tell him how well we were acquainted.”