Employed 9 Part 4

In the end,Art would not put up $14K, but he did go for $12K. For  that, the agreement l wrote paid him 83% of our proceeds and paid me 17%. At least,
that's how it would have been, if l hadn't decided to become an intentional crook. Really though, l knew it was crooked to tell the guy that got my rubber check to re-deposit it since l knew it would bounce again, l just didn't realize it could mean a three-year sentence. Sure, l wound up with one year probation
but l had a feeling l'd probably screw that up too. So l figured my best bet was 
to get Art's money and get the hell out of the Eastern U.S.

Before the teller at Art's bank started counting the 12K, (120 C notes!!!) he
asked Art "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Don't you worry" Art said,"this young man's idea is going to make us a lot of
money". After Art dropped me at home, l took a cab to a used-car lot l had 
recently noticed that stocked late-model cars in like-new condition. l chose a
silver and black 1957 Chevy station wagon with 23,000 miles on the odometer.
(The better to carry all my stuff and also have a comfortable place to sleep.)
By the time my housemates got home from work that day, l was all packed and ready to go. Goldstein agreed to take over for me as manager and rent-collector. He , like the rest of the group, was surprised that l was leaving, since
they all knew that l was on probation. l told them that l was just going to visit
my family in Nevada for a few days. l'd have plenty of time to return for my next monthly meeting with my probation officer. (Our first visit had been on the
day after l was released from jail. Ray wondered why, if l was planning to return soon, would l take my finished paintings and all the painting materials and tools.
l told him that if the paintings are with me, l can sell them if l get a chance and
l need the tools and materials in case l'm inspired to paint something. He, and the rest seemed un-convinced and probably thought l intended skip out on the
court. l applaud their reasoning powers.

l left Riverdale about 9 AM the next day, Tuesday, Sept. 1,'59. By noon the next day l was at the south end of the Appalachians in Knoxville, Tennessee and there joined US Route 66. Since l wanted to visit relatives living in the Las Vegas area, mostly to gather info that l hoped would help me to locate my bio-
dad, of whom l had no memory, since my mom took me and left him before l
was a year old. l got off Rt 66 and onto US 93 a few miles west of Kingman, Az
passed the little town of Chloride Az, where my parents lived before l was born
then on to Vegas by mid-day Sept 7th which was labor day and six days since l left DC. lt was monday, last day of the long weekend and most non-resident
celebrants had left town. There was still a lot of out-bound traffic, much of it
(most really) was cars with California plates. On my way into a bar, to use the phone, l passed a newspaper peddler pushing his stuff: "Read all about it" he
said "Read all about it, white man marries prune picker" l hadn't heard that
expression for a long time. l havn't visited Vegas much since the 60s and when 
it's necessary to visit there, l spend most of the time in a hotel room or in the
country around Vegas. in those days, prune picker is what Nevadans called
visitors from California. As a kid growing up in Nevada l heard Californians
referred to as prune pickers pretty regularly. Having learned,early-on that l was a trans planted California native, l wasn't really comfortable with that phrase.
Why would anyone dis-respect a person making a living picking fruit?

l've been telling you how l have near totally avoided casinos (at least since
early 1960) but before that it was different and that Labor Day in Vegas was
one of my worst encounters with casino gambling. The tuesday morning count
of available resources found me a little shorter than what might be imaginable.
The C note count was 48. Loose change was $13. OK, the Chevy wagon took
about $2,400 of it, but all other expenses couldn't have taken more than $150
to $200, so it was obvious that my drunken gambling was definitely not helping me to get ahead.

L spent a couple of days at my aunt Marie's place. She insisted on doing my
laundry and cleaning and pressing my only two suits with her steam iron.(That
worked great, l might add). She also told me everything she knew about my
dad's location and situation: He and his wife lived in Sunnyvale Ca. She wasn't sure where my dad worked, but his wife was an information operator for the phone company there. l was totally stoked. Her information was a couple months old but l figured it was going to lead me to finding him. To celebrate
the good news, l went back to the tables, figuring l'd have to do well on a nite
that followed such a happy day. Starting at the Thunderbird's cabaret bar with
two double scotch and sodas and a half-hour of Jenny Leigh, then moved right
over to the nearest craps table. lt's amazing how fast those guys can make C-notes disappear; The next morning's resources count (God, l hated that part)
revealed a persistent leakage; present were 21 C notes and $7. change. No problem; l figured l'd just sell the wagon, buy a big suitcase for my stuff, leave my finished paintings with aunt Marie and ride the train to my next two stops:
visit with my dad's younger brother in Salt Lake City and Elko County,Nv to
spend some time with mom and dad and brothers and sister, before continuing
to Sunnyvale, Ca.

Uncle Dick was very interesting and interested. He knew a lot of stuff and could be very funny. He had a way of telling a serious story with a message but
leaving you laughing at the end. After we had a nice dinner and an evening of
TV, he retired, leaving me to watch some late-nite TV. Before he crashed, he
called me to the kitchen to show me how he avoided spilling his first glass of wine in the morning, due to having the shakes in the morning. He simply
poured a glass at bed-time (when the shakes were absent) and put it in the cupboard above the sink for easy morning access.

A couple of hours after l fell asleep, Uncle Dick awakened me. He was near
hysterical " They've done it again, Lanny. Those Goddam Japs are bombing 
Pearl Harbor right now".

"What?, no way!"

"lt's on the TV, come on!"

Sure enough, Kamakazi Dive-bombers sinking big ships,etc. But of course the film we saw had been shot on Dec.7,1941, not the middle of Sept. '59. At first
Uncle Dick insisted it was happening at that moment and stuck by his guns until
l switched the TV through the other available channels and found none of the others carrying the attack. When we went back to the first channel he'd had on
and saw FDR addressing the nation on the Monday following the "day that will live in infamy" it became obvious to uncle Dick that we were watching a documentary about WWll. When he finally got it, he was so relieved,so happy
that he fell into a laughing jag that must have taken ten minutes to stop.

Next morning he gave me a ride to the train and in just a few hours we arrived
in that little town in Elko County Nevada, which l never mention by name, to
avoid embarassing anyone unfortunate enough to reside there. 











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