One of the blessings of my life' was a man named Samuel Lincoln Feinhandler.
"Sammy" to anyone who knew him or knew of him. He met my single mom about the same time she met my stepdad. They were contestants for her hand.
Put another way; they both wanted to be her third husband. l was a toddler at our first meet and l don't remember that, but my mom told me that we were good buddies before she chose my stepdad. One day, when l was about ten, mom and l were on a shopping trip in Elko when we encountered Sammy at one of our stops. She handled it like the reunion of two old friends and that seems to have bonded us. He became my go-to guy when l had a problem which l might not want to share with parents. l now think that my mom, who probably knew
him as well as anyone, also knew he would become something like a guardian
angel. That is maybe a little overstated, but, growing up l never asked his help
without getting it. Sammy and stepdad had much in common; Born within a couple years of each other, both were civic leaders in their respective home towns, both were known and loved by nearly all their fellow citizens. l used to think it would have been great id my mom had married both of them both. No,
even then l knew that not only is it not within the law, it would have to be considered hogging resources. Besides, if l were in need of his help, he could,
most days, be found at the Commercial Hotel, where it seemed he did most of
his business. So, who ya gonna call? l was pretty sure l had seen him in the
Commercial the nite before, though l didn't remember talking with him. l asked
the jailer to try to reach Sammy for me. (l didn't have dime one.) Honest to
Pete (his name) this jailer was just like "Mama Knolles" at Prince George's t
County Jail in Maryland. He said he'd try to reach Sammy right away. Before he
left, he asked, could you use a cigarette?
When l entered the cell at Elko County Jail it was about 7AM. lt was just after 8
when Pete went to call Sammy. lt was 1:30PM when Sammy still hadn't shown.
Or called. Pete is all "don't worry, he'll be here. He might be on a job and hasn't
got my message yet, you'll see, he won't let you down". And he didn't; At about
2PM, there he was, looking glad to see me, if not so happy about our location.
He was a little late, it first seemed, but, by the time he arrived, he had already,
totally done everything necessary for me to be released.l had only to put my signature on the judge's decision: Pay for the bad checks,(Sammy had done that) Leave Elko immediately and don't return before one calendar year. So, l
was out of there. " 'Bye, Pete. Thanks for your help. And the Camels! Much
appreciated!" Sammy drove me to a good hitch-hiking pick-up spot on the west edge of Elko. Before we parted, he said he was moved by our vis it the night before, when he says l wanted to give him a pile of the winnings to give back some of what he had done for me over the years. l did, vaguely sort of remem
ber throwing money around, giving some away but l had no specific memory
of any details. l had never had an alcohol black-out before that and l havn't
had any since. Nor do l intend to in future.
By dark that day, l was at Golconda, Nv. AKA " the actual effing middle of
nowhere." The best thing about it is the presence of railroad tracks, suggesting
that escape from there might be possible. l was wondering how fast l'd have to run to board a passing freight-train when headlights came into view. l waved
my bags and the car came to a stop. lt was a guy named Wayne Deaver, a
dis-barred lawyer from Roseburg, Oregon. When l got in the car, Wayne recog-
nized me: l was the guy that helped him out and gave him $200 of our winnings the night before, at the Commercial. l had no recollection of him or what he
told me, but l was just a little pleased with myself. He had told me his tale of woe and l helped him. Probably as drunk and as assinine as l've ever been,
before or since and l was sympathetic with his plight and helped him. Now he was glad to see me and happy to provide me with transportation. He also
welcomed me as a relief-driver. From Golconda, we each drove three hours and
found ourselves in San Francisco, checked into the St. Francis Hotel.
Wayne was a convincing talker and he set out to convince the desk clerk that
we were in SFO on business. Our reservations wer confirmed a week ago and must have been mis-handled by staff. lt was the night before November 11
(Armistice Day) and there were a lot of visitors in town and the only available
unit was one of the "alphabet" suites. Namely, suite M, one of three presidential
suites at that hotel. l'm temped to describe this nearly unbelievable accomoda-
tion, but l don't want to advertise Westin Hotels and those details are really not relevant to our story.
We stayed the night in suite M, but were awakened early (without a wake-up call) and told that hotel management had found us a nice room at the Drake
Hotel, a property owned by the same company that owned the St.Francis. l
have no memory of Wayne, during and after that move. l told management, at
the time of the move (into the Drake) that l had been sent to SanFrancisco
by my employer, who was to send my check in the previous week but it had
yet to show at General Delivery. l ran my bill up, taking all my meals in the
hotel restaurant, charging them (and my generous gratuities) to my room.
The restaurant staff liked me. Actually, the manager was pretty nice to me,
too.
l tried to buy the same ad l'd used in D.C. to attract "investors", but neither the
morning Chronicle nor the evening Examiner would publish it. When l offered to
re-write the ad, l was told that wouldn't work. State Law did not allow investment ad of that general format. l would really have to submit any investment ad thru an agency which understands State Investment Law.
l scratched my head and wondered what to do. l called a friend who had been
a classmate at Army Language School and asked his help. He drove to the City
from his home on the Peninsula and helped me run out on my hotel bill. He
parked his car in an alley, almost directly below my room's window. l crawled
out with my carpet bag and laundry bag and went down the very noisy fire
escape and my friend and l went south. Another Al's alumnus, who lived only
a block away from my friend and was also a friend of mine, offered a spare
bedroom in his folk's home, where he also lived. lt was understood that l couldn't stay long since l needed to continue the search for my biodad.
l enjoyed being with my hosts but was anxious to be on my way. l searched
the newspapers for something l might do to earn some money. A couple of days
passed without any kind of gain. My friends suggested that l borrow enough
from him to get to Sunnyvale on the bus and take up the search. l probably had
less than $10. then, so my friend's twenty was welcomed.
So, l got on a bus in San Mateo and rode down the Peninsula to the town of
Sunnyvale. When l put the dime in the phone, it occured to me that l could have made the call from anywhere. Of course, if l connected with my biodad from
the phone in Sunnyvale, we'd probably be in the same town and we'll have less
waiting for reunion. My first call was to 411 in Sunnyvale. l told the operator
that l'd been told that my dad's wife was an information operator in Sunnyvale.
Could she connect me with Mrs. Gideon? She said Mrs. Gideon didn't work
there anymore, but she was able to give me the Gideon's present phone
number. l kept her for a minute or two with my profuse thanks. By then,l had
almost certainly located biodad, and on the first call, to boot. l called the number she had given me. A lady with a very nice voice answered "Sunnyvale
Mountain Park, May l help you?"
"Yes, thank you. l'm looking for my dad, Leon Gideon. l was told that he could be reached at this (your) number."
"You must be Lanny".
"l am. Are you Mrs Gideon?"
"Yes, l'm Teri. Your dad is here, but he's out on the "back 40". l'll go get him , if you'll hang on a few minutes...Oh God,he'll be soooo happy. And surprised. You are probably the last person on earth he ever expected to see again".
When he came to the phone, l knew in a minute that he really would be as happy to see me as l would to see him. lnside an hour later, we(dad, Teri, their
five-year-old son, Gorden and l) had great Chinese at Sunnyvale's famed
Mandarin Palace. After that, they took me to their home on Gobbler's knob.
f
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