It’s dark outside, and the scene is ripe for a fight. Two men—one tall, slender and middle-aged; the other short, gruff and 73—appear ready to duke it out. Well, at least the older man—a Texan named Jim Lightner, who sports a brown cowboy hat and a thick mustache—seems ready.
That is, until he sees that I’m recording the whole scene with a camera.
“Could you turn that camera off?” he asks.
“NO!” yells the other man, a California transplant named Gershon Siegel
, before I can respond.
“This guy’s gonna hit me and I’m gonna sue his ass.”
Siegel turns back to Lightner, daring him to fight.
“I’m gonna take that house of yours,” Siegel says. “Go ahead, hit me.”
Bystanders tell Siegel to back off, that he’s arguing with the wrong neighbor. Lightner glares at him.
“Sorry, Jimbo,” Siegel says, mockingly offering a hand.
“Let’s shake hands and say goodnight. Kiss and make up?”
Lightner refuses and slowly walks away.