A TALE OF TWO CITIES: A BRIEF BUT BLOODY HISTORY OF VAMPIRES IN RIVER CITY

As anyone who was out of short pants at the time can attest (and anyone younger who made it through 11th grade history should know), 1963 marks the watershed year in vampire American history. This was the year the first barges carrying vampire refugees arrived at the port of River City, this after being refused docking at every other major port further south on the River. The moment the refugees set foot on dry land marked the dividing line between the past and present of our city.

Not that it appeared so cut and dry at the time. Just as in the port cities that refused the refugees, there was a sizable River City contingent that were adamant opposed to allowing the boat entry. Indeed, the National Guard had to be deployed to escort the refugees to their temporary shelters as state authorities did not trust the local police to do the job. As the refugees’ numbers mounted even their local sponsors became wary. The original arrangement had been for the influx to be divided into three camps, only one of which was to be located in River City. But after the other cities reneged on their agreements, the entirety of the refugee population had been funneled to River City.

River City had always been viewed as the best destination for the vampires for several reasons. The first of these was the expansive and recently shuttered naval base – soon to be known as the Red Zone – that offered ready shelter (though not, as would become important, food and supplies) for nearly 10,000 individuals. Second, River City was thought to be more welcoming to vampires due to the presence of the nearby Duma Sanatorium, which had successfully weathered the blowback after the “uncloaking” of its founder and director Dr. Duma and retained its place as a respectable local institution. Finally, because of the strong vein of anti-communism and support for the Romanian War among the River City populace, it was hoped that the city would be more welcoming to our vampire allies, themselves fugitives from a tyrannical communist regime.

Unfortunately, much of this reasoning went out the window upon arrival. The Red Zone would have been almost sufficient for the initial negotiated number of 6,000 vampires and their 12,000 hemotypical countrymen known as taranii, but it proved tragically inadequate for the actual numbers: over 20,000 vampires and 60,000 taranii. The terribly cramped conditions were worsened by the refusals of other sheltering agencies to lend their support, under the pressure of groups who hoped that a rapidly deteriorating situation would lead to an expulsion of the refugees.

The Duma Sanatorium did its best to alleviate the crowding problems by negotiating new settlements outside the city limits in the foothills of Tigris County and opening its blood reservoirs to the needy. But the rough and underpopulated foothills only drew the few vamps with the resources to build their own home, not to mention provide housing for the hemotypical countrymen that furnished their supply. That left the vast majority packed into the Red Zone like sardines, their needs far outpacing Duma’s capacity to supply them from afar.

The problems of crowding and hunger led to outbreaks of violent unrest, on the part of the desperate refugees trying to break out of the ghettoized Red Zone and the intolerant River City residents fighting to keep them out of their neighborhoods. It took federal intervention, in the form of airlifted blood supply and National Guard servicemen on the ground, to avert a city-wide riot and restore order. But both sides were merely frustrated in their ambitions – to “get out” and “get them out” respectively – and the mutual hostility continued to fester.

It should then be unsurprising that the first fifteen years of the vampires’ history in River City were fraught with hardship, violence and struggle, culminating in the Blood Moon Riots of 1977. It is true that there were many stories of successful assimilation and integration during this time, most notably the pharmacological breakthroughs achieved by vampire and hemotypical scientists working together at Orion Laboratories. But these bright points were, rightfully or wrongfully, overshadowed by the emergence of organized crime within the Red Zone.

The most notorious of the vampire crimelords to emerge during this period was Emil Dan, a legendary general during the anti-communist struggle who lost his baronial estate and all his possessions after the communists regained control. Arriving in the Red Zone virtually penniless, with a young family to care for, he threw all of his considerable organizational genius and personal charisma into building a new fortune via River City’s long dormant vice trade. Within a few years, Dan built a criminal empire that exceeded the notorious outfits that dominated the city during Prohibition. Encompassing everything from drugs and prostitution to counterfeiting rings and insurance fraud, the Dan organization rose as quickly as the new towers elevating the once modest River City skyline. 

It was unfortunate though perhaps inevitable that the reactionary element of River City society would ignore the towers raised by vamp ingenuity and hold up Dan as the symbol of vampire “success” in America. But even if we allow for a small role for organized crime in the rise of the community, would that be any different than the “crooked ladders” used by earlier immigrant groups to climb out of the American cellar? Sadly, a majority of River City residents in the 1970s did not take this into consideration when they held the entire community responsible for Dan’s crimes, and elected Mayor Harold Danvers, dubbed “Dirty Harry” for his implicit support of the anti-vamp vigilantism that crested in the second half of the 1970s. 

The Danvers regime witnessed the worst outbreak of anti-vamp violence in the city’s history, as both native toughs and cops were given leeway to fight vamp criminal organizations in whatever manner they saw fit. In practice, this meant widespread harassment and victimization of all vampires venturing outside the Red Zone, the vast majority being regular, law-abiding citizens. When vampire citizens turned to the police and the Mayor’s office for help in stopping the violence, they were met with sneers and shrugs. Desperate, they formed their own community watch group, known as the Protection League, and struggled to protect their own. 

In October of 1977, when one of these League members, a young college student named Dinu Codrescu, intervened in support of a friend who had been jumped by a native gang at a bus stop, a deadly fight broke out, one that sent Codrescu to the hospital and several of his assailants to the morgue. That the incident occurred under a blood moon fed the worst sorts of interpretations of the incident.  When the tabloids painted the incident as a native massacre at the hands of a bloodthirsty vamp, the native backlash was immediate and violent. 

Gangs of natives gathered outside the Red Zone, demanding the discharge of Codrescu from the small medical facility that served as the only hospital inside the restricted area. When the hospital staff refused, the gangs broke through the gates, unhindered by the police called to the scene, and stormed the hospital. After driving the staff and other patients from the building, they dragged Codrescu onto the streets, beating him to death in front of the television cameras that had rushed to the scene. This murder set off a night of rioting and arson that left much of the Red Zone in flames. When the gangs returned the next day, the League was there to meet them and the street fighting that ensued generated over 100 casualties.  The bloodshed had finally reached a level to prompt city hall to intervene and on the third day, a massive police presence brought an end to the Blood Moon Riots.

As grim as conditions appeared in the immediate aftermath, the Riots represented a turning point in native-vamp relations. The live telecast of the destruction, especially the brutal beating of the helpless Codrescu, captured the attention and the moral indignation of the nation. The enormous weight of shame that descended on the city had a powerful purgative effect, driving the Danvers regime from power and ushering in an age of enlightened reform under the statesmanlike leadership of Mayor Jim Pierce.  The informal restrictions on vamp habitation outside the Red Zone were lifted and public education campaigns spearheaded by future Mayor Sally Cohn helped to dispel many of the more backward misconceptions about the community.

Among the more meaningful outcomes of the reform agenda was a dramatic increase in vamp participation in local institutions and politics. The Gleaner’s Club, a charitable board made up of vamp community leaders, took a leading role in rebuilding the Red Zone and building new bridges with native civic leadership. A new generation of vamp community organizers, including Dinu Codrescu’s cousin and future city councilman Simion, rose rapidly in visibility and influence. Even the stubborn reactionary elements at the police department flexed under pressure and commissioned their first vampire officer, Vladimir Paler.

As opportunities for vamp civic participation increased, the relative importance of criminal organizations like Dan’s decreased. Indeed, the 1980s saw the rapid deconstruction of the Dan criminal enterprise, including the shuttering of the entire riverboat gambling sector, and 1989 saw his indictment and arrest. That this arrest was based largely on the inspired detective work of Vladimir Paler testified to the immense benefits of the decade’s reforms and the capacity of the community to contribute to a vibrant future for River City.

As of today, when we celebrate the 30th anniversary of the arrival of the refugees in River City, we can look back on this history with both reprobation for our crimes against humanity, for which the scars are still fresh, and appreciation for the rapid adoption of tolerance and equanimity after such violent beginnings. There remains much work to be done, the progress of the last decade gives cause to the optimism that colors our hopes for our future.