Many people have had extremely interesting stories and experiences throughout their lives, and love to embellish them, and that is a good thing. But for me, not so much. However writing an “About” page is necessary as people want to know the background of the person who writes the story, book, or blog they are reading. While I find it easy to write about subjects I’m interested in, or helping other people write their bio or create an ad for their business, I find it awkward to write about myself, as I don’t want to come off as glorifying or bragging about the things I did in my past life, some of which are better left unsaid.

I’ve been on a perpetual learning curve for as long as I can remember. And even though I think I know a thing or two about a thing or two, not a week goes by that I don’t learn of some extraordinary history of the world, the founding of America, or the deep wisdom from the Bible, that I’m compelled to stop and marvel at my ignorance.

The following is a short synopsis of my last 50 trips around the sun and what led to the creation of the Outlawed Am3rican.

Much is passed over, but out of respect for your time, I’ll try be as brief as possible so as not to bore you with lengthy commentary.

 I was born in Los Angeles, California, in 1948 to Ray and Helen Vigil, an WWII Iwo Jima veteran and a rural farm girl from Derry, New Mexico. Two young, impoverished, hard-working  people with both uncertainty, and great optimism for what the American dream offered them.

At the age of 7, Diamond Walnut Co (now Sun-Diamond) transferred my father north to Stockton, where we settled in what was then “the  country”. My parents, sisters, and I attended St. Linus Catholic Church as a family, and my most inspiring memory of my father was that I never heard him utter a word of profanity.

Early on, I developed a love for art and became the resident “Artist of Cool” at Franklin High School during the age of Hot Rods, Choppers, Surfers, and Rock’n Roll music. After graduating in ’66, I taught myself to airbrush t-shirts, painted murals on automobiles and motorcycles and learned hand lettering, pin stripping, and gold leafing from Louie Federico, my brother, from another mother. (Louie was a VERY talented sign artist and hated that people referred to him as the Mad Striper when in his deadpan sense of humor thought more of himself as just being pissed off). Lou worked for Gene Winfield and designed his logo for him. Lou introduced me to c eliberities of the early Hot Rod scene, one of therm being Ed “Big Daddy” Roth, who sold us giant posters of Hells Angel members for $.50 each, that we in turn sold for a $1.00.

I applied my God-given artistic skills primarily to the Hot Rod-Biker culture throughout the San Joaquin Valley. As a sideline, I distributed large quantities of vegetable matter that put illegal smiles on long faces. This led to the “Outlaw Biker” lifestyle and future life-altering encounters with international drug smugglers that stripped me of any innocence I may have thought I had… had I the sense to stop and think about it. But hey, this is what the “’60s were all about, Freedom Baby! “Do your own thang bro!”.

In ’68, I began living outside man’s law, and more importantly, God’s law. That freedom from conscience allowed me to embrace the lifestyle necessary to reach the “Top” of the subculture. I rose through the ranks of the area’s 1%’er Outlaw clubs, becoming acquainted with members of the Hells Angels and forming a close friendship with a Nomads member Earl “SKID” Layton, who later asked me to help him start a club charter in Stockton.

As a conscience free non-conformist, the Outlaw life came naturally, and being “Outlawed” by the status quo for beliefs about our rights and freedoms being suppressed by the man, I fearlessly opposed big government, rebelling against the system, or as Orwell described it, “Big Brother”.

During the dry seasons in the San Joaquin Valley, I worked for the Operating Engineers. When the winter of 1970 arrived, I was hired to operate a road grader at the newly opened Bear Valley Ski Resort, alongside a friend whose father held the snow removal contract. We sarcastically referred to ourselves as  “Snow Pilots”,  as I would grade the snow into rows for the loader operators, who would scoop it up and “pile it here, and pile it there”. 

I became good friends with many of the locals, including a nuclear  physicist (who retired after selling his invention for a  missile guidence syatem to the Russian government), a former CIA agent, an heir to the Wells Fargo Bank, and actors Clint Eastwood, Robert Conrad, the Bridges brothers Jeff and Bo, and a few other well-known celebrities. Locals were mostly affluent kids from wealthy families who worked as waiters, busboys, cooks, etc, during weekends just so they could ski during the week. It was a party for them, a perpetual spring break.

One cool-quirky individual I grew close to could have been a twin brother to actor James Colburn. I nicknamed him Riley after the character in the 50’s TV sitcom “The Life of Riley”. He was an outlaw of a different tribe, and in his world, trust wasn’t earned easily.  We hit it off. He trusted me. That meant something. He became a key player in the future of my outlaw career, as I ended up moving a lot of “Snow” for him. His best friend’s father was a well-known judge in California, and I reffered to the two of them as “Riley and the Judge” a left-handed term of endearment. 

In ’74, I met Diane Pratt, who became my best friend and the love of my life. We married in August of ’76, the bicentennial year, and I became a father in August of ’77.

Riley was an international drug smuggler, a vocation that complimented my outlaw lifestyle. One night, while shooting a game of pool, he asked me if I knew anybody who worked at the port (The Port of Stockton, a natural outlet and deepwater “inland” seaport that connects the Pacific Ocean to the waters of the Central Valley). I paused for a moment knowing exactly what he meant, then continued my shot without a word.

When we came back “down from the hill” I set out to find an answer to Riley’s question. Eighteen months later, we smuggled four tons of hash from Afghanistan into the Port of Stockton, and then, we had to steal it back out of the Port of Stockton.

At that time, Afghanistan was being invaded by the Soviet Union. The Mujahideen Freedom Fighters needed weapons to resist the Russian invasion. I felt a patriotic duty to help, and for me selling hashish was a twofer: the profits would buy arms for the Freedom Fighters, and as a proud American Patriot, I would make a lot of money. After eighteen months of planning, I left my house the morning we had planned for. I knew I was either going  to prison, would die, or make a lot of money. I made a lot of money, but quickly learned what greed and “the love of money” can do to people who you trusted as partners, and more importantly as Brothers.

Back at home with Diane, our two lifestyles meshed in her kitchen, where dinner was always on the table, and club members were frequent guests. However, I kept her and our family separate from my activities and club involvement.

In March of ’83, my lifelong friend Ben Britt invited me to accompany him to “meeting” his inlaws had been pressuring him to attend, and having run out of excuses, promised them he would go to “a”  meeting, and coaxed me to tagalong, thinking it a clever ruse to use me as his excuse to “cut-out” early.

The “meeting” turned out to be a four-day revival service scheduled at a large Pentecostal church that unexpectedly lasted six months. Hindsight revealed that the joke was on us, for after feeling compelled to attend ten continuous nightly services, “where I heard answers to questions I didn’t know to ask,“ Ben and I accepted Christ and made a one-eighty-degree turn from our wayward lifestyles. But behind the scenes, it was an answer to Diane’s prayers that brought me to my knees.

In October of ‘83, I opened up a one-man sign shop where my clients ranged from corporate enterprises, Hospitals, farmers, and mom-and-pop businesses. I fabricated commercial signage and worked to a brand that includes meaning and symbolism in most, if not all of my projects. I mostly applied my hand lettering, pinstriping, gold leaf, and airbrushing skills to Hot Rods, Motorcycles, and Big Rig trucks.

Stockton being an agribusiness community, was ground zero for the Heavy-Haul Trailer manufacturing industry. I was fortunate to have had a personal relationship with the sons of the 3 companies that produced them, and they contracted me to apply my pinstriping skills to some of the most giant Monster trailers of the day. Also, the Peterbilt dealership was just down the street from my shop, which was the old Highway 99, and I was fortunate that they thought enough of my work that they sent their customers’ brand-new trucks (mainly the independent owner-operators) for me to apply my skills on them.

I built many relationships with the Truckers, and it was out of our conversations that I came to recognize how they were being “Outlawed“ through State and Federal regulations on their trucking equipment, permits for traveling across state lines, insurance, fuel costs, and unjust taxation. I saw the  ripple effect this was having on small businesses across the country, and it painted a picture of things to come.

The sobering facts of what I learned became the impetus that formulated a vision for a unique symbol to serve as a clarion call for those who still believe in the principles that built this great nation. A symbol to represent America’s Western culture, heritage, and the Judaeo-Christian faith it was founded on.

After much research and Godly inspiration, I settled on the name “Outlawed Am3rican”, a movement started over two hundred forty-five years ago by 56 men who pledged their Lives, Fortunes, and Sacred Honor by signing a parchment of paper that became known as the Declaration of Independence… and became their death warrant. These men who held a deep conviction that God created men to be free, were the 1st Outlawed Am3ricans.

I have employed my God-given talents to empower individuals with a profound awareness that no American is exempt from defending our history and our Constitution. This mandate represents a sacred and inalienable duty that can only be fulfilled by remaining ever vigilant, diligently contending for our nation’s Christian Faith and Heritage, and therefore preserving our culture and traditions.

 No brag… Just fact.

Having the experience of living a life outside the law and coming face-to-face with war between good and evil,  I learned firsthand what can happen with a changed heart and mind.

Called to be a “Watchman”, I have passion for helping men become the Godly leaders they were intended to be, and co-founded and hosted a monthly “All City Men’s Breakfast” that ministered to over eighty men.

I was also a bored member of a committee that hosted an annual Mens conference: San Joaquin Valley Men’s Ministry, with an annual attendance that drew over a thousand men. Donating my time and expertise, I created their brand, logo, produced promotional videos, and printed materials. I  also designed their t-shirts and built a reusable backdrop for their annual conferences.

At the same time, I served an organization that hosted one of the most esteemed events in San Joaquin County, and worked to model it after the annual Presidential Prayer Breakfast. Orginally it was designed as a marketplace ministry to reach the civic and business community and was well attended by more than 1000 leaders from around the county.

I also developed their logo and created a brand that was inspired by the Great Seal of the Office of the President of the United States. Those closest to me know the extent of my involvement and how dedicated I was to making an impact to help usher God’s presence into our community. I believed that by changing the hearts of our community leaders, we could change the hearts of the community, but after twenty 25 years, I was Outlawed (Out Bad) from that organization by a clique of milktoast “good ‘ol boys” who collectively lacked a biblical worldview, a vision for the future, as well as a backbone to stand alone for their convictions.

That said, the most rewarding accomplishment is having been married for forty-eight years to the same woman. Diane and I, both “God-fearing Americans, have raised three daughters, a son, seven granddaughters, one grandson, and three great Sons-In-Laws.

I taught them that you can have anything you want in life as long as your willing to help others get theirs. That Freedom is a birthright that comes from God and not government, and it is a blessing to have been born in America. That standing for Faith, Family, and our Republic is our inalienable duty as Patriots, and as Am3ricans.

Next to a relationship with Yeshua (Jesus the Christ ), They are our greatest blessings.

More to come…

Blessings,

Outlaw Ed