The sails filled with a rhythmic commotion As the little ship sailed down A trough in the ocean. I'm not coming back Tacoma, I'm not. Think you know your city? Here's a romp through Tacoma from WWII to fall of Nixon. Here's a tale of a street kid's rise from the pool halls to the halls of congress. Don't be surprised by the guardians of society that pushed him on his way; they could easily have rejected; jailed, or even killed him, but something in him prevailed-held them.