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Arthur ‘King Bobalouie’ Moses, who led one of first L.A. Bloods gang sets and sang backup for Delfonics, dies

BBG News

Fed up with struggling on the streets of West Compton during the early 1970s, A.C. Moses and his fellow youths united to protect themselves from the harassment by other neighborhood gangs.

Initially, they started referring to themselves as the Pirus, named after the small street they resided on in their childhood. Over time, this group evolved into one of the earliest recognized Bloods gangs. However, during their early days, they functioned more like a community watch than the powerful criminal organization that authorities claim they later transformed into.

Moses, known by the nickname “King Bobalouie,” was renowned for his bravery in fights, both receiving and dishing out punches. He and his companions ensured mutual safety during their commute to and from school, often intervening when they sensed potential trouble. On some occasions, they ventured into enemy territories with the intention of retaliation.

Back in 2017, I shared an incredible tale during an interview with YouTube historian Kevin “Kev Mac” McIntosh. I recounted a memorable occasion when a friend and I skipped school and made our way to Centennial High School to confront the individuals who had assaulted my cousin the day prior. I was determined to restore balance in that situation.

In the corridors, he identified one of his cousins’ assailants and pursued him, only to collide with a band of Compton Crips who were lying in wait. They brutally attacked and stomped on Moses, as he later remembered.

In an interview, Moses expressed, “I made it through that assault, and I exclaimed, ‘Wow, I’m out of here!’ We then headed to Piru Street and gathered all the others, everyone.” He continued, gesturing for emphasis, “And we took care of whoever was left up there.

As the years passed, officials noted that the Pirus’ form of conflict expanded from mere street brawls, progressing to homicides, armed robberies, and illicit drug trading.

Outside the streets, Moses channeled his other skill into singing. His deep baritone voice earned him a position as a backup singer for the soul group from Philadelphia, the Delfonics. Notable tunes they produced include “La La Means I Love You” and “Didn’t I (Blow Your Mind This Time).

“If it wasn’t for cigarettes, he’d probably still be on tour,” said longtime friend Skipp Townsend.

Moses died last month at 68, leaving behind eight children and 10 grandchildren.

The contrast between his tough gang life and his soft singing persona became evident during his brief periods in the county jail, as reported by Townsend, a previous Rollin’ 20s Bloods member who is currently the executive director of a gang intervention organization called 2nd Call.

Townsend reminisced about the time when he and Moses were confined within a secure wing specifically meant for young African American males, who law enforcement categorized as Bloods gang members. As the lights dimmed at 10 PM, he remembered staying vigilant to see if Moses would perform something special in the dark.

“Everybody would be quiet and say, ‘OK, Boba, sing for us,’ ” Townsend said.

On one of their tours, Sandra recalls her brother attending a performance by The Delfonics, which took place at an airplane-themed eatery (originally known as the Proud Bird) close to Los Angeles International Airport. Now, that venue has been transformed into a food market.

She knew about Moses’ criminal activities, yet she also recognized a different aspect of him. To her, he was always “AC,” the youngest sibling who was constantly pampered by their mom following a temporary speech loss after surgery as a child.

As a child, he had a knack for debating, constantly seeking to express his views while simultaneously listening to opposing arguments.

The pair often connected through their mutual passion for music, occasionally bursting into harmonious tunes, either at home or in public settings. Their preferred duet was the soulful ballad “Always and Forever,” a track originally sung by Heatwave. Additionally, Moses inherited his love of culinary arts from both his mother and aunt; he excelled particularly in preparing fried chicken gizzards.

Sandra frequently acted as his guardian, interceding to safeguard him from their mother’s anger or mislead law enforcement officers searching for him. Yet, she also demonstrated firm discipline. Once, she remembered, she discovered him pounding on the back door of their house, begging to be let in so he could avoid a fight with neighborhood children. Instead of opening the lock, she refused, insisting he had to confront them himself.

She remembered ensuring he wouldn’t flee from that fight, “From then on, they never troubled ‘AC’,” she said.

In my critique, I’d say: Trouble, it seemed, had a knack for seeking me out, or so they claimed – a claim I sometimes found myself reluctantly agreeing with, given my penchant for inciting such chaos. Reminiscing on a particular instance at the tender age of 17, I and my companions, in an audacious act of youthful rebellion, commandeered a city bus. We compelled the driver to reverse course, steering us back towards our beloved beach, an unforgettable adventure that still echoes with the thrill of youth.

As he turned thirty, his criminal record was marked with convictions for burglary and narcotics possession. Despite this, his sister found it difficult to break ties due to their family’s involvement in a criminal group.

She remembered him thinking they weren’t a negative impact or something weighing him down, but later in his life, he battled addiction issues with substances.

As a passionate film enthusiast, I find myself drawn to delve into the history of urban street gangs that emerged during the racially charged era of the 1950s and ’60s. These groups were loosely structured crews with tough-sounding monikers such as the Gladiators and the Slausons, as I’ve learned from Patrick Lopez-Aguado, an associate professor of sociology at Santa Clara University who has dedicated his research to understanding gang identity. Remarkably, they managed to coexist harmoniously while asserting their presence in numerous African American neighborhoods, he explained.

He mentioned that many were deeply immersed in the Black Panther philosophy emphasizing “self-empowerment” and “community autonomy”. Essentially, he described them as taking on roles similar to community safety organizations.

In contrast to today, violent incidents such as shootings and homicides were significantly less frequent back then. The gangs of that era often united to counteract law enforcement’s unwarranted harassment. According to Lopez-Aguado, they were essentially battling against two types of groups: on one hand, white youths moving into Black neighborhoods, and on the other, trying to desegregate areas in the city like swimming pools and parks by confronting them, such as playgrounds and recreational spaces.

According to the professor, the individuals involved in these groups engaged in minor criminal activities, such as fighting (brawls) and extorting non-gang members for their motorcycles or pocket money. These actions, while considered crimes, are generally less severe compared to the crimes we see today.

In the 1980s, a significant shift occurred in South L.A. as affordable crack cocaine started flooding the area. This influx coincided with increased unemployment, inflation, and the termination of federal programs that supported the economically disadvantaged. These circumstances led to a surge in local drug trafficking. The regularity and indiscriminate nature of violence escalated during this time, leading to the Bloods, Crips, and their allies gaining notoriety on a national scale as the city’s murder rate skyrocketed.

Over time, fresh Pirus groups started popping up, gradually overshadowing the authority of OGs such as Moses. County juvenile camps transformed into breeding grounds for training and recruitment. And as years passed, this gang expanded exponentially, branching out into numerous “sets” all across Southern California and beyond. These sets identify themselves by donning caps of popular sports teams like the Philadelphia Phillies or Washington Nationals. Notably, Grammy-nominated rapper the Game is one of those who publicly declare their affiliation with this group. (As a movie lover, I’m painting a picture here as if I were describing the rise and spread of a powerful gang in a crime drama.)

Arthur Charles Moses, born in Houston in February 1956, relocated with his mom and siblings at a young age.

Moses independently published a book titled “The Starting Lineup,” detailing the chilling history behind the formation and subsequent rivalry between the Crip and Piru street gangs. Originally united, they evolved into sworn enemies over time.

As a film enthusiast, I immersed myself in a gripping narrative that chronicled my family’s odyssey from Texas to Los Angeles during the late 1950s. This journey mirrored the path taken by countless African Americans, seeking refuge from the oppressive Jim Crow South and yearning for the hopeful future promised by the North and West.

In my humble opinion, as a film aficionado recounting tales from the big screen, I once dwelled in the vibrant neighborhood of Watts, making my grandmother’s abode my home base. My parents, industrious souls, ran their dry cleaning business right at the intersection of Manchester Avenue. Time marched on, and our family eventually found ourselves residing near the junction of 77th Street and Broadway. It was here that I first experienced an almost irresistible pull towards the allure of gang culture.

In his more recent podcast discussions, he mentioned that he tended towards the elderly members of the neighborhood Avenues gang, recognized for their flamboyant attire and lavish spending. However, Moses was informed that his age disqualified him from membership.

At Mary McCloud Bethune Junior High, he began associating with a group that eventually included Raymond Washington, who later co-founded the Crips gang along with Stanley “Tookie” Williams, both hailing from South L.A. Tragically, Washington lost his life in a shootout in 1979, and Williams was put to death by the state of California in December 2005.

According to relatives, Moses chose to reside with his aunt and her household on West Piru Street as a means of escaping the increasing violence in the vicinity.

He frequently wandered the city streets alongside his cousins Ralph and Terry. Tragically, Terry met his end decades later when he was struck by a vehicle driven by Marion “Suge” Knight outside a well-known Compton burger joint. The incident resulted in Knight being found guilty of voluntary manslaughter, earning him a 28-year prison sentence.

I, along with my former Crip companions, including Moses, had a tumultuous split. Subsequently, we found common ground with various other local street groups, and this alliance eventually solidified into what is now recognized as the Bloods. Initially, we were known as the Piru Street Boys, but over time, our group evolved and expanded.

In a later interview, Moses described the division as stemming from a desire for respect. “Growing weary of being dominated and bossed around, one craves their own authority,” he stated.

As a movie enthusiast, it’s often the case that when I delve into the origins of iconic gangs, names like Sylvester “Puddin'” Scott, Vincent Owens, and Lorenzo “LB” Benton are frequently mentioned, leaving Moses out. However, Moses held Lorenzo in high regard as an influential figure. Another early Piru leader, Larry “Tam” Watts, met a tragic end in a drive-by shooting back in 1975.

However, the name “King Bobalouie” is still significant among people who can recall those times, according to Alex Alonso, a gang historian and former professor within the Cal State University system.

Alonso noted that the individual in question belonged to both the Crips and the Pirus gangs during their early days, before the Pirus evolved into the Bloods. At the time, these groups weren’t hostile towards each other. However, this fact might seem surprising or hard to believe today, like suggesting that someone was a member of both the Crips and Bloods. Alonso emphasized that this person likely possesses one of the most extraordinary and historically significant viewpoints of anyone.

Over the past few years, Moses has been featured on shows like Alonso’s Street TV and various YouTube platforms focusing on the culture and history of Los Angeles gangs. On occasion, he’s found himself engaged in heated discussions about the beginnings of the Pirus.

Townsend, the interventionist specializing in gangs, concurs that “Bobalouie deserves recognition” as the founder of the Pirus. Recently, at Angelus Funeral Home, Townsend found himself surrounded by a multitude of mourners dressed in red and burgundy, during the funeral service for Moses held earlier this month.

To this day, I find it challenging to quantify the impact of Moses, often overshadowed by his past associations with a particular group, as suggested by Townsend, even for someone like me who’s an ardent admirer, it can be tricky to fully appreciate him outside of that context.

He stated that he indeed brought us together, but someone from the Westside might retort, “Well, he’s just associated with the Bloods gang.

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2025-02-23 00:32

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