Employed 11 part1

Our arresting officer, one George "call me Wes" Weston, was also one of those friendly cops that treated prisoners like unfortunate humans needing their help. At first, l didn't trust him because, during the arrest his holster was un-snapped, his pistol obviously available to me. (At one point,  he had put his back to me, pistol within a couple feet from my right hand while he bent over  to use the Caddy's tail light, tyhe better to read the papers l had given him (from the car's glove box) when he asked me for the car's registration. l gotta admit 
that, for a moment, l thought to grab the gun and maybe hit him with it, l sure was not even thinking to shoot him, considering the situation that would most surely create. Greg was also held for about half a day, because a pistol was found in his stuff. He was released when they learned that it was legally his. 
Before he was released, we had breakfast together at the same diner where
we had had pie and coffee some hours earlier. Wes said he didn't want to embarress us by taking us into the cafe in handcuffs, not to mention the difficulty of eating with them on. So he removed our cuffs but warned that he would shoot anyone who might attempt escape. After spending a couple of days in his custody, l wasn't so sure that he would shoot one of his prisoners. He was so much like Andy Taylor, fictional chief of police of Mayberry, that while, unlike
Andy, he did wear his gun, he was so nice to me and so considerate of my needs that l really don't think he could shoot me or anyone in his custody,
unless they were also armed. He even had a habitual drunk who would come
in on his own when he thought he was too drunk to be safe. Wes would lock
him up for the night, but let him go without a hearing in the morning. lf you
had a notion to spend some time in jail, l would heartily recommend Green-
field, Ca. City Jail. But since he was about 40 years old, then and that was more
than fifty years ago,he's probably retired by now.

The calendar in my cell reminded me that my arrest had taken place in a leap-
year (1960) as is the case with the current year,(2016). The actual arrest took
place early in the morning of the 29th (leap day). lt was some comfort to realize
that l'd only find myself re-visiting that day every four years. That was the first time, in my life, that l was conscious of that day passing by. When the current day on that calendar was March 3, a couple of cops from San Gabriel showed up
to give me a ride to Los Angeles County Jail. We used the pink Caddy, which l
learned, belonged to the cops' boss, the chief of police of San Gabriel, and he
was anxious for it's return. l'd had it for about ten weeks. the officer who drove the first leg of our trip, covered the first 150 or so miles in gear 3 of a 4-speed
automatic trans. lt shows how quiet Caddys really are, l guess. l was tempted to
bring the situation to his attention but he discovered it for himself before l got
around to it. When he did, he mentioned how quiet the car was, too. We got to
L.A.C.J. about 1:30. l had a late lunch (better than expected) after which l was 
put in a cell by myself and returned there after dinner for the night. ln the morning, l joined the general population. Okay, now we're in real big-city down-
town, full-on JAIL. Crowded? lf the design capacity was X, the actual capacity was 6X. During the day there, we crowded into the too-few cells; at night we
slept on the gangways floors, using 1" "campers mattresses", which worked better than l expected. Another thing l didn't expect was the noise level.
Considering how crowded it was, l expected it to be very noisy. Sometimes it was pretty load in the dominos games area but that was in the far end of the cell block and except for big score outbursts we hardly heard them. l spent a few days more than six weeks in March and April, 1960 at L.A.C.J. ln that time,l was thrice transported to court in San Gabriel (the jurisdiction from which l stole
the pink Caddy.)  Admitting to that theft and all the felonies l had committed since Sept. '59. The beauty in that, l couldn't believe at first:All jurisdictions in
which l had committed crimes were notified of my capture and of my confessions to all that l had done. California assumes the responsibility to
prosecute and imprison me for all the crimes involved. The other states are in-
vited to drop their charges (and avoid their costs to prosecute me.) So l would 
serve one sentence for California (probably somewhat extended) and pay for
all the rest in the bargain. l cooperated with the court: Plead guilty for everything and did my best to give a complete list of everyone that l'd made a
victim. l won't deny that, as l went thru my list of victims, stacking one stupid,
thoughtless deed atop another l hoped the judge wouldn't just lock me up and throw away the key. lndeterminate sentencing was the way,then. My three trips to court brought me a sentence of "six months to five years"

L.A.C.J. had a great library whose librarian visited every cell in our block, every
day. Once he learned what you liked, he'd have something, on his cart just for you, every day. Before they shipped me off to prison, Earl (our librarian) had
brought me 28 books authored by pop psychologists of that era. l had chosen
one such paperback the day l first met Earl. After that he always had at least
one psych for me. Only twice did l choose something else: biographies of FDR
and Eisenhower. My nose was so into the books that l spent very little time in
conversation with my fellow inmates. Mostly, l talked with cellmate James, a
heroin addict with a great, wry sense of humor. So when l'd put a book down for a little break, James would entertain me with excerpts from his yet-to-be-
written auto biography titled "The trials and tribulations of the dedicated dope
fiend" or "Finding a fix on short notice in hostel environs". One story he told me,
found him and his friend Cotter cruising the seamier parts of Hollywood, looking
for a quick and easy rip-off that might pay for their next high. Passing a dry cleaner on their side of the street, on the counter of the place could be seen a small, electric cash register. James suggested they circle the block with right turns and stop just outside the cleaner. They do it. Then James jumps out, runs
into the place, grabs the register and goes for the door. He is brought up short by the cord, but grabs a scissors from atop the counter and cuts the cord,which
overloads a circuit and outs the lights. James runs back to the car and jumps in with the register in his lap. The lady from the cleaner is instantly at the door of the car, raising a big fuss. James realizes that the car is not starting and  pushes her out of his way as he exits the car, hearing, sirens already.He walks out of the neighborhood and slips into a park and kicks back for a couple of hours. a little later he figures Cotter is in jail by then so he goes to a pay phone and calls Cotter's home, thinking Cotter's  mom would know where
they had him and how much his bail was. He was very surprised when Cotter
answered the phone.
"You already bailed out?"James asked.
"No, they never had me ,man. l was sitting there crankin' that damn Chevy, about to jump out and follow you on foot, when a citizen stopped behind me,
then proceeded to give me a push-start. l came straight home from there.
Never saw a cop. And, there was $180 in the cash register.

In mid-April l was moved to the Southern California Adjustment Center at
Chino, Ca. Northern California convictees do their adjustment at a facility in
Vacaville, Ca. Some weeks are spent at those facilities aimed at determining
which prison will best fit which prisoner. lt was like school except there was very little instruction. lt was mostly questions; Every question you can imagine,
touching every aspect of our lives. This was also about reducing recidivism.  




The state was actually willing to go the extra mile toward a better life for former
perpetrators and many fewer victims. ln late May l completed adjustment and was assigned to do my time at Soledad prison in Monterey County. lt's just eight
miles south of Greenfield, the town in which l had been arrested by George Weston, the officer that reminded me so much of Andy Taylor. Soledad North,
where l was assigned, was the newest part of Soledad Prison. lt was a medium
security facility. Soledad main facility was maximum security andSoledad Farm
was minimum security. North facility was only about half full when l arrived there. But even when it was full, one cell contained only one inmate.Cells were
quite nice; about 8 feet wide and 12 feet deep, with a very comfortable bed, a
toilet/sink combination,and a table/desk w/attached swivel stool. Doors were
unlocked on a schedule during the day so inmates could attend to school or work schedules. The first job offered me was dictation secretary for the prison
psychiatrist. l was puzzled by the offer of that job; could it be that they somehow knew of my reading habits at L.A.C.J.? Whatever, l found that job to be most interesting and l did it for about three months.

.