Escorted by the police who once pursued them, motorcycle gang members wearing black leather and gray ponytails gathered to remember one of their elder statesmen and recall a rowdier past.

More than 150 bikers roared to a cemetery outside this small south Texas town Wednesday to pay their final respects to Grandpa Bob, a founding member of the Bandidos motorcycle gang whose real name was Robert Shields.Shields died of throat cancer a week ago at age 78 at his home in Corpus Christi, where he retired after years as a Houston ironworker.

"I've done good and I've done bad, but the good far outweighs the bad," he said in a farewell note.

About 400 mourners showed up, including aging Bandidos, members of once-rival gangs, friends and "hang-arounds."

"Everybody loved him and we're here to put him away right," said Benny Brulloths, president of the Bandidos chapter in nearby Corpus Christi.

In his later years, the 6-foot-4, 250-pound Shields was a peaceful man who put antlers on his Harley-Davidson every Christmas and rode through town on a toy drive. But "the happiest years of my life were being a Bandido," he said.

"Not many can say that," he wrote. "I don't want no preacher ranting and raving. My brothers can say a few words."

The Bandidos formed in Houston in 1965. As membership grew, it attracted many Vietnam War veterans who had trouble returning to life back in the United States.

Swapping tales around his grave, Bandidos cheered when someone said that Shields, in his early 70s, had used one punch to knock out a man who teased him.

They also laughed about the inscription on his key chain: "The devil don't want me. He's afraid I'll take over."

Many swilled beer outside the funeral home and at the cemetery. Their black leather jackets were adorned with patches reading "Expect No Mercy" and "God Forgives, Bandidos Don't." The flower arrangements spelled out "1 percent" - matching another patch that many Bandidos wear.

Bob Dumas, a Bandido for 23 of his 60 years, explained that the patch represents the fraction of motorcycle gang members said to be well-behaved. "We look at it the other way. Only 1 percent is good enough to wear a patch," he said.

But the cooperation with police and lack of trouble with once-rival gangs showed how time has sanded down some of the rough edges of Bandido life.

"As they have gotten older, they just didn't want to go to jail," said Lyn Huff, an analyst in the Corpus Christi Police Department's organized crime unit.

The Bandidos emerged as one of the nation's largest motorcycle gangs, operating in 14 states, Australia, France and Denmark. Members became known for drug dealing, deadly clashes with rivals and abuse of women hangers-on.

"They seemed to have a propensity for violence," said Huff, who has tracked the Bandidos for 14 years. "They were above all very hedonistic. They believed if it felt good, do it."

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In 1985, the FBI conducted a nationwide sweep with arrest warrants for more than 90 Bandidos on drug, weapons and organized crime charges.

Huff said the gang lowered its profile after 1988, when several leaders were convicted of planting bombs aimed at members of the rival Banshees.

Shields was seen as an exception to the violent, drug-dealing image, Huff said. Gang members likewise credited Grandpa Bob with being one of the first gang members to recognize the need to obey the law and avoid confrontation.

"I think people are just getting older and smarter. We're not in the '60s. We're in the '90s," Brulloths said. "Things change, and you have to change with the times."

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