l told Vinney that l had to take a long walk and do some thinking. l'd get back to his folks' house later. On San Gabrial Blvd., a highly-lit, very busy artery serving the San Gabrial Valley and environs. As l walked, l first did a personal situation
inventory: Black suit, dry-cleaned the day before, fresh, this morning shirt, shoes need only a little dusting, wallet has $28. cash, checkbook with sixteen
checks still un-written (un-forged). Mental Attitude: un-bending. That is to say that my thoughts were of continued flight; l had no thought of surrender and l
would not hear advice to the contrary.
At about a mile and a half, l came to a place called "the Cove Dinner House". The building was set back from the street about a hundred feet, providing parking for fifty plus cars between building and street. The sidewalk and adjacent parking area were at the same level and cars in the row nearest the
sidewalk actually encroached on the sidewalk. Parking was valet only. l stood
for a couple of minutes in front of the business next door and observed the operation (the front parking was full, so the valets' work was to the lot in back
and there was no "key shed", so keys were most likely in the cars' ignitions.
When both valets took cars to the back simultaneously, l walked, quickly and directly to the car l had chosen, saw the keys in the ignition, jumped in,started
it and immediately, calmly and deliberately drove across the sidewalk, over the
curb, onto the pavement and, turning right joined the flow of traffic on San
Gabrial Valley Blvd., North-bound.
When l was approaching Santa Barbara,(about a hundred miles from San Gabrial) something made me think to look at the odometer, which l hadn't done
before. lt read 142 miles! So it really was a brand new car, purhaps purchased
that very day. For the owner, that must be very demoralizing. l could only hope
he had a back-up car.
Just south of Santa Maria, l saw a liquor store that had an all-glass front. (doors
and windows, floor to ceiling), which facilitated my next little plan for adding to my cash resources. As l pulled off the hiway l drove right up close to the window area which gave the man at the cash register his best view of the metallic pink,
1960 Caddy coupe that l parked for his benefit and would put it and me in his view as l walked from the car to his counter.
l'm talking, going in the door,"How you guys, tonite?, okay! My old lady never
gets enough booze for our get-togethers, so l get to go shopping in the middle
of the party. There's no damn justice!" This, as l'm gathering a case of beer,two
fifths of Ballentine Scotch, two fifths of Four Roses. One of the guys at the counter comes with a box to help get the stuff to the counter."You have cigars?
Oh yeah,right. Give me six of those". And, as l start writing the check,"OK to
to make this for $50 change?" (Cashier nods) "Thanks guys, have a nice nite.
ln the next weeks l repeated that little scenario (or something much like it) a
number of times in order to keep cash on hand. $50 went a long way,then:
when l reached San Jose, the Caddy's 22-gallon gas tank was almost empty,
but the fill-up cost only $6.75. l only needed to do the liquor store check
cashing about once a week to have enough cash, though there were a couple
of times l made checks with a hundred dollars change, just to see if l could. l
have to admit that while l was doing it, the liquor store act was fun to do, it was only while l spent it that l felt ashamed. l also loved the rush during the car theft and immediately after, up to an hour later but something about driving around
in a near-new Caddy (Especially the '59 Fleetwood Sixty-Special sedan (dark
burgendy w/creme trim that l wanted for my own)failed to provoke shame at
any time. Possibly on my day of judgement?
Returning to Dad and Teri's (Gobbler's Knob) l didn't say anything about the FBI being close behind, (or at least had been) l explained the new pink Caddy, telling them that l took a part-time job as an independent contractor for a vehicle transfer service in L.A. They were pleased for me to have any work and
didn't ask questions.
By the end of December,'59, though it appeared that the FBI was not far behind (or,at least, had been) l had a method for easily taking posession of near-new
Cadillacs (l decided to make them my specialty) and an easy way to get cash. But, l was having no success with finding a way to sell the cars. l knew that so-
called "chop shops" existed which dis-assemble cars and sell their parts, but l
wasn't about to canvas auto repair shops or parts stores to find one that fit my needs.
The personal situation inventory l did on New Year's Day, 1960 found my wallet
holding $870. cash, most of it taken with forged checks from liquor stores, but
some from the glove-boxes of stolen cars. At that time l had five Caddys (not
counting the pink coupe, which became my personal car.) which l involved in
a constant game of musical parking lots: every day, every car was moved to another spot. But l lucked into a temporary storage spot, where the cars could
sit for a week or two at a time. l had stopped by the offices of the Saratoga citizen to visit with Carl. He was with a gentleman whom he introduced as
Bob Culomb. Bob was a building contractor and had come in to place his weekly
ads. For some reason, Bob and l hit it off from the start. We left the Citizen together and Bob offered to buy lunch. He told me that sales of his new housing tract were way off. lt was all but completely un-sold. During our talk, he shared information that alarmed me at first, but then seemed to fit my needs at the time.According to Bob, his family Don, was also the south bay Mafia Don. Before
our lunch was finished, l had revealed myself as an unauthorized Cadillac dealer.
When he learned of my five stolen cars being moved from one parking lot to
another, he offered me the use of some of the garages in his un-sold houses. l
offered him half the proceeds of the sale of "my" cars when l learned how to sell
them. Before that day came to an end, the five cars in my possession were locked in garages at Bob's latest tract of homes. So that either Bob or myself
could access (or move) the cars, if necessary,the keys were kept under a rock
as close to the garage door as possible. By mid-January the number of stored cars had grown to twelve. l stopped thieving cars then, planning to resume when l had successfully sold most of the dozen in storage.
One nite in mid-February l did my liquor store danceand for the first time
(since l had started doing that particular kind of forgery "ok to make this for fifty over?" the cashier said "No". lt was,(how they say) just as well. Only
three or four checks remained of the fresh book of l don't know how many.
l had a little more than $900 cash then, too. And l needed a new source of spending money. Maybe if l started dismantling the Caddys , one by one. lt's
a joke.
Just a few days later, Rita called and said her appearance on Jack Paar was
moved to a week later but she would be at her mom's place in Cypress the
whole week unless her agent gets her a gig in Vegas at one of the Strip hotel
casinos. l'd been thinking to visit cousin Vinney and maybe visit to the KUTY
station manager who had hired me that Friday in December '59. l should
label that one a joke, too. lt's sure not going to happen and didn't.
After a few changes, a newest schedule for Rita's performance was set for
l forget when, exactly in late February. l was there, then but it wasn't happening
while l blew three days.
Returning North, l was about 100 miles from LA when l stopped for a hitch-hiker named Greg. He was going to Salinas and my route would take us thru there. Greg seemed a nice guy and our talking made it easier for me to stay awake. l had had no real sleep for two days. We stopped at an all-night diner
in Greenfield. l parked the metellic pink coupe de ville next to a Greenfield
Police black and white like l owned the thing and Greg and l go in and sit down
within a couple of stools from the officer and order pie and coffee. The officer leaves about ten minutes after we arrived. We weren't long eating the pie and
got on our way in about 15 or 20 minutes. As we resumed the ride north, Greg
(a really good talker, bordering on story-teller). He was speculating about the
love-life of the red-haired, middle-aged woman who was our waitress in Green-
field. lt was all about red. Her red hair,and her skin was bright pink with red
accents. Boils, pimples and bruises all bright red. So, at that moment, the front
of my mind was red. Greg poured it on; "her boyfriend is probably red-on-red
as well....About here is where l made my customary, hourly check of the rear-
view mirror. lt's all full of red,too but in there it takes the form of flashing red
lights. l pull over.
gabrial
Monday, February 15, 2016
Thursday, February 4, 2016
Employed 10 Part 4
Sunnyvale Mountain Park was a 250 acre property, located on the east side of
Skyline Boulevard about 15 miles west of the city of Sunnyvale, whose city
council had purchased in the mid-50s for use by Sunnyvale residents. My dad was employed there as the resident custodian. Why he called it Gobblers Knob,
l don't know. (l never saw Tom Turkeys,or hens, anywhere on the place). l
think it had more to do with the parks aerie location. (2,000' above the adjacent
Santa Clara Valley floor). l do know that Gobbler's Knob is the part of Punxataunie, Pennsylvania,the site where the annual ground hog viewing is done. My dad and his family lived there in a very nice two-story,four bedroom
house with all the regular utilities, just like downtown, owing to it's creek-fed
water system (with a 26000-gallon storage facility) and a back-up electric
generator. A large leach-field provided a place for sewage. An enormous propane cylinder held enough to cook the meals and heat the house for 2or3
months. ln the mid-80s, Santa Clara County purchased the 250 acre property
and combined it with surrounding properties (owned by the County)to form the
new, and much larger "Sanbourn Skyline Regional Park" My dad retired then,
having worked there from Autumn '59, thru Summer '85. He said that it was his
favorite job in the most beautiful working environment of his life. When he died, in '88, his ashes were strewn over his favorite place in the park
My dad introduced Theresa (aka Teri) as "your mean old stepmother". ln fact,
she was not nearly old at 32, certainly nothing like mean (nor has she ever been) and she was the only woman l'd ever seen in person, that came close to being as pretty as my mom, or maybe even more so. My dad was 45 then.
Physically, we were much alike. The same height, much the same build,though
he probably was ten pounds heavier. We semed of similar disposition (though
he wasn't hiding any pertinent information from me as l was from him. l had
been with them only a couple of days when l realized that, as much as l would have liked to spend a bunch of time with them, l really had to be on my way if
l were to avoid the consequences of my mis-deeds. l told them that i intended
to settle somewhere in the Bay Area, hopefully, near them but l needed to find
work soon, since my money was real low. Of course, dad said l was welcome to
stay indefinitely but he understood that l, like anyone, needed to work and he had an idea that someone he knew might br able to help. The person he turn-
ed me onto first, was the owner of Larry Hopkin's Pontiac Oldsmobile.
Larry and l talked for only about ten minutes when he decided l would be a good car salesman. l agreed. At that point, considering my recent "sales" work, which
obviously couldn't be included in the resume, l figured l'd be a good car salesman, too. But when l got into the application, l knew l wouldn't be able to
sell cars. One copy of the car salesman application goes to the California Dept.
of Motor Vehicles, which licenses car salesmen. A background investigation is
done on all applicants. l told Larry's Sales Mgr. that l needed to consult my records to complete the application and would returnthe app when finished.
When we returned home, dad and Teri got the whole story. From being expelled
from UNR, thru the combat-avoiding Army history, the hoked-up speeding tick-
et that took all my money at a crucial moment. And my sale of "investments" to
a defensless old man. The forged checks written on my stepdad's account and
strung between Elko and San Francisco, after Sammy had picked up the $600
bunch l'd written in Elko. They were visibly moved, but not angry or openly
disappointed. The thought the situation was not so bad that it couldn't be worked out. A good job, over a given period of time, could pay back what was owed. They would help as much as they could. And, if their house was convenient to my work,l could stay with them 'til l got my own place.
The next day, l answered an ad for a job selling ads for "The Saratoga Citizen",
(a popular, local, weekly free newspaper.) Saratoga, being the closest town to
Gobbler's Knob, made it a good place to look for work. l got an appointment
with the publisher, Carl Danner. As l was arriving there, Carl was bidding goodbye to an attractive young lady, who was apparently eight or more months
pregnant. Alone with Carl, l said "Wow". He said "Yeah, and her husband left
her a couple of months ago". l had a strange feeling that l would encounter this
woman, again.
l admit that from the time l left D.C., l was so focused on finding my dad that l
rarely (if ever) gave one thought to the burden l was to bring to him and his family. But while l regret whatever shock l caused, l think it might have taken
half-a-lifetime, or never happened if l had really thought thru what l was doing.
Of course, l've been thankful, in the extreme most of my life, to know them.
Before Rita and l parted in Elko, l agreed to call her at a number in Cyprus,Ca.
at her mom's house, during the second week in December ('59). When l did we had a nice talk w/some reminisments and "let's get together soon"s. ln the near
future (l think it was two weeks), she was to sing on the Jack Paar Tonite Show
and maybe even be interviewed by Jack. The Magnetics would accompany her.
She hoped l could be there "for good luck- don't ask. Though l was in no condition(in many ways) to go travelling to Burbank. But l really would have
liked to be in Rita's audience at the Tonite Show. L may have this a bit garbled
but l think l remember that in those years, the Tonite Show's home was New York City but for 2 or 4 weeks in the winter the show came from "hollywood"
(Burbank?) Even though l was in no financial way that might allow a thousand
mile trip, l felt pushed in that direction.
l called my cousin "Vinny"who worke for L.A. County in the Building and Maintenance Dept. At that time his work was in North county and his residence
was in Lancaster. He invited me to stay at his house while l looked for a job in North county, where a growth-uptake was underway. That sounded good. l'd
never been there' so it's not a place to which l might return. l might be able to
disappear in a place like that, indefinitely. And new residents are arriving every day. So, a few days later,on a Friday evening l got a ride from Dad and Teri's to
down town San Jose and walked around looking for a road-house with a lot of parked cars present. Only a few minutes after l found such a place, l found a
nice little '56 Chevy sedan with the keys in the ignition (and the driver's window
rolled down. No, there was not a "take Me" sign on a sheet of paper left under a windshield wiper, but l had to look to be sure. l reached Vinny's place about dawn Saturday and after a short "hello" visit, l crashed 'til mid-afternoon. When
l got up, Vinny suggested that l park the Chevy at a spot outside town. l followed him to a spot where the road winds into hilly country, making it possible to leave a car with reduced chance of being seen and possibly connected to the car. l hadn't given any thought to how and where to dump
it so was happy for Vinny's input. On friday of that week, l walked in Palmdale,
which is the town just east of Lancaster. l didn't see any business that l thought l might like to work for until l saw the building labeled "Radio KUTY" it's real call
letters. l don't know if it's still there today, and if so whether the call letters are the same. l went in, introduced myself to the only person there, the station
manager. l told him l'd like to have a life in radio, but l was without any exper-
ience. Well, he said, let's see if you have any talent. He had me sit at a table,
put a mic. in front of me and handed me copy containing the morning news.
"Here, just read this", he said. And l did. l can (and could then) Read fast, talk good and project a pleasant personna. When l finished, he said "Pretty good for having no experience. ln fact, it's good enough for starters. When can you start?
"ls Monday ok? l'd like to start now but l have to be in San Gabrial this evening
and this weekend."
"Monday's fine. ls 6AM ok?"
"Ok, and thank you".
Vinny left work early, to be a little ahead of the commute and maybe on-time
for dinner. We weren't late and Aunt Emma made a dinner, not to be missed.
lt really was great, and being at the same table with Uncle Burle turned out to
be tolerable. After dinner Vinny and l went cruising and he told me that, while l had been in the bathroom, washing up for dinner, his parents told him that two agents of the FBI had been at their house, looking for me. l left D.C. on Sept. 1
'59. The Friday that KUTY hired me was Dec.11 '59. About a hundred days out
and the FBI all but had me caught. l needed to make a big move.
Skyline Boulevard about 15 miles west of the city of Sunnyvale, whose city
council had purchased in the mid-50s for use by Sunnyvale residents. My dad was employed there as the resident custodian. Why he called it Gobblers Knob,
l don't know. (l never saw Tom Turkeys,or hens, anywhere on the place). l
think it had more to do with the parks aerie location. (2,000' above the adjacent
Santa Clara Valley floor). l do know that Gobbler's Knob is the part of Punxataunie, Pennsylvania,the site where the annual ground hog viewing is done. My dad and his family lived there in a very nice two-story,four bedroom
house with all the regular utilities, just like downtown, owing to it's creek-fed
water system (with a 26000-gallon storage facility) and a back-up electric
generator. A large leach-field provided a place for sewage. An enormous propane cylinder held enough to cook the meals and heat the house for 2or3
months. ln the mid-80s, Santa Clara County purchased the 250 acre property
and combined it with surrounding properties (owned by the County)to form the
new, and much larger "Sanbourn Skyline Regional Park" My dad retired then,
having worked there from Autumn '59, thru Summer '85. He said that it was his
favorite job in the most beautiful working environment of his life. When he died, in '88, his ashes were strewn over his favorite place in the park
My dad introduced Theresa (aka Teri) as "your mean old stepmother". ln fact,
she was not nearly old at 32, certainly nothing like mean (nor has she ever been) and she was the only woman l'd ever seen in person, that came close to being as pretty as my mom, or maybe even more so. My dad was 45 then.
Physically, we were much alike. The same height, much the same build,though
he probably was ten pounds heavier. We semed of similar disposition (though
he wasn't hiding any pertinent information from me as l was from him. l had
been with them only a couple of days when l realized that, as much as l would have liked to spend a bunch of time with them, l really had to be on my way if
l were to avoid the consequences of my mis-deeds. l told them that i intended
to settle somewhere in the Bay Area, hopefully, near them but l needed to find
work soon, since my money was real low. Of course, dad said l was welcome to
stay indefinitely but he understood that l, like anyone, needed to work and he had an idea that someone he knew might br able to help. The person he turn-
ed me onto first, was the owner of Larry Hopkin's Pontiac Oldsmobile.
Larry and l talked for only about ten minutes when he decided l would be a good car salesman. l agreed. At that point, considering my recent "sales" work, which
obviously couldn't be included in the resume, l figured l'd be a good car salesman, too. But when l got into the application, l knew l wouldn't be able to
sell cars. One copy of the car salesman application goes to the California Dept.
of Motor Vehicles, which licenses car salesmen. A background investigation is
done on all applicants. l told Larry's Sales Mgr. that l needed to consult my records to complete the application and would returnthe app when finished.
When we returned home, dad and Teri got the whole story. From being expelled
from UNR, thru the combat-avoiding Army history, the hoked-up speeding tick-
et that took all my money at a crucial moment. And my sale of "investments" to
a defensless old man. The forged checks written on my stepdad's account and
strung between Elko and San Francisco, after Sammy had picked up the $600
bunch l'd written in Elko. They were visibly moved, but not angry or openly
disappointed. The thought the situation was not so bad that it couldn't be worked out. A good job, over a given period of time, could pay back what was owed. They would help as much as they could. And, if their house was convenient to my work,l could stay with them 'til l got my own place.
The next day, l answered an ad for a job selling ads for "The Saratoga Citizen",
(a popular, local, weekly free newspaper.) Saratoga, being the closest town to
Gobbler's Knob, made it a good place to look for work. l got an appointment
with the publisher, Carl Danner. As l was arriving there, Carl was bidding goodbye to an attractive young lady, who was apparently eight or more months
pregnant. Alone with Carl, l said "Wow". He said "Yeah, and her husband left
her a couple of months ago". l had a strange feeling that l would encounter this
woman, again.
l admit that from the time l left D.C., l was so focused on finding my dad that l
rarely (if ever) gave one thought to the burden l was to bring to him and his family. But while l regret whatever shock l caused, l think it might have taken
half-a-lifetime, or never happened if l had really thought thru what l was doing.
Of course, l've been thankful, in the extreme most of my life, to know them.
Before Rita and l parted in Elko, l agreed to call her at a number in Cyprus,Ca.
at her mom's house, during the second week in December ('59). When l did we had a nice talk w/some reminisments and "let's get together soon"s. ln the near
future (l think it was two weeks), she was to sing on the Jack Paar Tonite Show
and maybe even be interviewed by Jack. The Magnetics would accompany her.
She hoped l could be there "for good luck- don't ask. Though l was in no condition(in many ways) to go travelling to Burbank. But l really would have
liked to be in Rita's audience at the Tonite Show. L may have this a bit garbled
but l think l remember that in those years, the Tonite Show's home was New York City but for 2 or 4 weeks in the winter the show came from "hollywood"
(Burbank?) Even though l was in no financial way that might allow a thousand
mile trip, l felt pushed in that direction.
l called my cousin "Vinny"who worke for L.A. County in the Building and Maintenance Dept. At that time his work was in North county and his residence
was in Lancaster. He invited me to stay at his house while l looked for a job in North county, where a growth-uptake was underway. That sounded good. l'd
never been there' so it's not a place to which l might return. l might be able to
disappear in a place like that, indefinitely. And new residents are arriving every day. So, a few days later,on a Friday evening l got a ride from Dad and Teri's to
down town San Jose and walked around looking for a road-house with a lot of parked cars present. Only a few minutes after l found such a place, l found a
nice little '56 Chevy sedan with the keys in the ignition (and the driver's window
rolled down. No, there was not a "take Me" sign on a sheet of paper left under a windshield wiper, but l had to look to be sure. l reached Vinny's place about dawn Saturday and after a short "hello" visit, l crashed 'til mid-afternoon. When
l got up, Vinny suggested that l park the Chevy at a spot outside town. l followed him to a spot where the road winds into hilly country, making it possible to leave a car with reduced chance of being seen and possibly connected to the car. l hadn't given any thought to how and where to dump
it so was happy for Vinny's input. On friday of that week, l walked in Palmdale,
which is the town just east of Lancaster. l didn't see any business that l thought l might like to work for until l saw the building labeled "Radio KUTY" it's real call
letters. l don't know if it's still there today, and if so whether the call letters are the same. l went in, introduced myself to the only person there, the station
manager. l told him l'd like to have a life in radio, but l was without any exper-
ience. Well, he said, let's see if you have any talent. He had me sit at a table,
put a mic. in front of me and handed me copy containing the morning news.
"Here, just read this", he said. And l did. l can (and could then) Read fast, talk good and project a pleasant personna. When l finished, he said "Pretty good for having no experience. ln fact, it's good enough for starters. When can you start?
"ls Monday ok? l'd like to start now but l have to be in San Gabrial this evening
and this weekend."
"Monday's fine. ls 6AM ok?"
"Ok, and thank you".
Vinny left work early, to be a little ahead of the commute and maybe on-time
for dinner. We weren't late and Aunt Emma made a dinner, not to be missed.
lt really was great, and being at the same table with Uncle Burle turned out to
be tolerable. After dinner Vinny and l went cruising and he told me that, while l had been in the bathroom, washing up for dinner, his parents told him that two agents of the FBI had been at their house, looking for me. l left D.C. on Sept. 1
'59. The Friday that KUTY hired me was Dec.11 '59. About a hundred days out
and the FBI all but had me caught. l needed to make a big move.
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