Every day of my first week working at Len's, at about 5:25 PM, everybody along Big Basin Way (Saratoga's main drag) was "treated" to the un-muffled racket from the exhaust of a passing '55 Jaguar XK 140 coupe that apparently found it's destination a couple of blocks from the station, judging by the sudden quiet.
The car was driven by a not-unattractive young woman. (just my opinion)
On Friday, instead of blasting past Len's, she pulled into the station and stopped
under the canopy.
" 'Evenin' Ma'am, fill it with Premium? "
"Oh, no thanks, l have a problem with my brakes."
" l'm happy to check 'em out for you. If you'd like, there are chairs in the office.
You could wait there".
l followed her into the office and told Len what was up.
"Take it for a little spin and let me know what's happening"
l jump into the car and start it and wait for a hole in the passing line of cars.
Before l was able to move into the traffic, l heard a baby's voice say "Are you going to be my Daddy?" Honest to God. l had been so focused on the space to the car's left, trying to join the traffic on Big Basin, that l hadn't even looked to the right. When l did look right, sure enough, a little girl, not two years old is strapped into the right-side bucket seat. My first thought was that the lady driving the car was probably a baby-sitter. Surely, a mother would have taken
the baby inside with her. But, on second thought, l figured that she might be a regular customer who trusted Len and those that worked for him.
Like most people who grow up in loving homes, l always thought favorably about someday becoming a parent. But while Dulce and l were together, despite
the fact that we "invested" many hour over many weeks (months) trying to
propagate, our efforts were without good results. Since Dulce was very anxious to be a mother, and was making it as easy for my part to do it's thing, it was obvious that our failure was really my failure. When we broke up it was on the
phone. l was in Alaska, she was still at Mills College. We didn't talk on the phone often; l couldn,t afford that much long distance and Dulce didn't like to flaunt her family's wealth. But, on that day (about seven months since our most recent
time together) we had a very short visit: "Hello".
" Hi, Gid."
"Oh, Dulce, how you doin'?"
"Pretty good.....l'm......pregnant."
........."l guess that pretty much says it all, huh?
"Yes."
"l wish you had been able to say that a year ago".
"l really don't want to talk about it".
"Yeah, l don't either, bye, Dulce'.
l thought it interesting that the guy who accomplished Dulce's pregnancy, (with a child that was her first of two sons, was named Bob Wright.
So, at some point, and without much thought about it or any attempt to reverse
the situation, l pretty much accepted that if l was ever to be someone's dad, it
would be as a step-dad. But it wasn't a big deal. Some people, maybe myself,
even avoid being part of a couple and are no worse for it.
Given all that, one sees how it might be possible that l was "hearing things".
First, the baby was about twenty-or-so months old then and probably not able
to speak that phrase completely and correctly, (as it seemed). But then, my
imagination could make it perfect. What finally convinced me that l actually heard the child speak the whole question, as l heard it, was spending time with
the mother and child, soon after our initial meeting. lt turned out that the baby (named Reyann) was 21 months old, at the time and talked better than any
baby(toddler really) l ever knew. She was obviously the child of very literate
parent(s).
l drove the Jaguar around some back streets, on the brake, off the brake, in the straight-a-way and round the curves.Back up and brake, then ahead again. l
could find no problem with the brakes. When l returned to Len's l asked him to
double-check the brakes, just to be safe.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Start E12 P1 at "l apologize" on next lineXXXX...
l apologize for there being so much time between recent episodes. This time of year, there is much yard work to do. This year, the tractor has, so far, has
completed next to nothing in the way of cutting grass, despite the labor and other expense we've put into it. Also, we're working on making changes to our house which must be completed within the next very few months. My hope is that, when the yardwork is caught up, l will be able to write for two-or-so
hours a day. Thank you for your patience and thank you for reading Real
Gideon.
Dad picked me up at the bus station in San Jose. He was a bit torqued over the
two-hour wait, but he was very happy that l was safely out of a place that he thought could be very dangerous. ln fact, while l was at SNF there were just four inmate fatalities; two stabbings, one suicide (by hanging) and one attempt-
ing to go over a 16 foot fence, shot by a guard. Ofc. Hermans and Ofc. Knight
had a standing wager; if either of them was on duty at the time some inmate hit the fence and the guard on duty hit the inmate, he won a case of his favorite
beer, paid for by the other guard. Those two officers had originated their bet
(l'm told) a few years before. Both had won the case several times in the intervening years. After the one that took place during my time there, Knight
led Hermans 5 successful shots to 3. What a fun job,huh?
On the way to Gobbler's Knob, we stopped at Len's Richfield and confirmed that
l would start the following Monday, October 9th. My shift would be from 1pm to
9pm. So l would count the day's receipts, set up the register for the next day and put the balance of the receipts in the current hiding place for the opening shift to take to the bank. This job was not called "manager", but actually was
manager work. On the fourth day of the job, Len took me aside and told me that the check l would receive the next day (Friday) would reflect a 100% increase in my hourly pay, retroactive to my start day. He had started me at a lower hourly
rate in case l wasn't so good. But, he said, in the four days l'd worked,l was as good as anyone he'd ever employed. He especially liked how knowledgeable l
was and that the customers spoke well of me.
Dad and Teri and their son Gordon, as well as a few of their friends attended the
party celebrating my release. lt was great to spend that particular evening with
well-wishers, including some new friends.
Len's Richfield was the only service station l ever worked in that wasn't owned by my stepdad. lt was much busier than my step-dad's stations and also offered
more mechanical services. Len had many Commercial Vehicle Maintenance
contracts, including two U.S. Post Office contracts:Los Gatos and Saratoga.l
very much broadened my Auto Mechanical experience. And Len was just a truly great guy to work for. He was so smart. Particularly concerning his business and the knowledge he needed to do the mechanics involved. l learned a lot there and put it to good use there.My parole officer visited Len and l at the station in the first week of the job. He didn't think it a good idea to have me close the station and to be in charge of directing the proceeds to where they belonged.He
thought that the temptation would eventually overcome good intention. He all
but ordered Len to employ me from six or eight in the morning, to two or four in the afternoon, but Len stiffened his back and said "that won't work for me and the way l see it, my way makes more sense; first, even if he did decide to re-
claim his life of crime, don't you think he'd try a place where he was unknown
and not suspected, for starters? The P.O. put up a pretty good fight, but Len
finally convinced him to, at least, try it his way.
.
Thursday, April 21, 2016
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
Employed 11 Part 4
Every inmate in California's prison system is assigned a staff counselor, whom we see on our request or at the counselor's order. (lf the inmate has not requested a visit or if the counselor thinks he needs some guidance). l was assigned to Bill Holt's caseload. l found him to be knowledgeable and caring; a very likable guy. At our first meeting, which l requested less than a week after being assigned to him. He got right down to it. After we talked for only ten or fifteen minutes, he said he knew what my problem was; he said l could talk my way out of any corner and was not likely to listen to advise. The good news was that if l were to apply my persuasive abilities to a career in sales, big success could be mine. ln the months that he was available to me (l saw him about once in two weeks). l took full advantage of him. Of course, l had already done pretty well, working various entry-level sales positions: cold-call sales of magazine subscriptions and the services of Home Optical. The sale of my painting output
in D.C. and, of course, some years of retail sales while in the employ of my step-dad. And don't forget Art Warren, the old guy that "invested" $12K in my
"Oil paintings of customers' favorite cars" idea. When l told my counselor (let's
call him Bill) about ripping off Art for $12K "And what a piece of selling that was,
huh? Bill disagreed. l hadn't sold Art on my deal; He thought that Art had had a serious need for money and would have bought any deal that offered the high rate of return that l advertised. After l thought about it some, l was swayed. Art
really was too easy. l remember, at the time, thinking "What, exactly, did l do to
close this guy? lf l knew that, l'd be rich". Now, l'm thinking it was another instance of "Lucky Lanny syndrome". By the time l was paroled, Bill said that l was ready to seek sales-management positions as well as salesman.
ln the month before my co-worker, Chuck C went out on parole, there was an up-surge in work orders to repair open-door detection systems. We decided to
make an attempt to eliminate the problem altogether. We talked to Lt. Reynolds
about getting permission to leave one cover-panel off, so we could have easy access to the mechanism, for observation and to try our ideas for a permanent
fix, and to test them. They gave us everything we asked for and then some. As
Chuck and l went about our day's work, we were always accompanied by a
guard, usually a different one every day. That made it kind of repetitive for us,
having to re-explain what we were doing for every guard. But we were now to
be joined by a "free person".(works a job in the prison but is not a guard). He
would be with us 9to5, Monday thru Friday. Chuck and l also worked no week-
ends except for emergencies, which were almost non-existent. The new man,
(also our new boss) was Lewis Scandrett, who had recently moved to California
when his job as a telegrapher in Canada ceased to exist. He would train with us
so he could run the department after both Chuck and l were gone. A couple of weeks later, Chuck was out on parole and Lew and l were left to work the locks.
We became friends when Lew was convinced that l wouldn't attempt to enlist him in some wrongfull conduct, which all new employees were warned about in
their orientation. He was a great friend to have: thoughtful, intelligent, compassionate, very quick to learn and a good innovator.
lt didn't take long for Chuck and l to understand why the open door detection
system failed so often. With very little observation it was clear the we needed
to reduce the speed of the moving parts of the entire lock/unlock mechanism.
We knew that on the day of our first observation; what we might do to foster
that speed reduction, without adding to the energy the guard must use to move
it, is what we didn't know. Until one day, after Chuck had left on parole, Lew and
l had finished our last work order of the day before lunch and bumped into my
buddy Omar, also an inmate maintenance worker. He was a true genius and
was assigned to all maintenance departments, because he knew it all; All
departments could request his help when needed. lt occurred to me that my buddy Omar (who had taught me to weld (acetylene/oxygen) could probably
solve our problem in the lock-boxes. Sure enough, l explained what we needed to accomplish and he, without hesitation said " You need a worn out automobile
shock absorber. Or maybe half worn out. You want enough resistance to slow the bar, but not too much". It turned out that pretty much everyone working in maintenance was aware of our problem, Omar among them. So he had already figured it out before l had asked him about it. Anyway, it made sense to me.Omar had even gone thru his collection of junk and found an old, worn out
shock absorber that seemed to be just what was needed. Lew and l went direct-
ly to the tier in Lassen hall where we had obtained permission to leave one of the cover plates off. lt took about a half-hour to put the shock absorber in place.
We enlisted the help of the guard on duty to try a few open/close cycles to see how easy (or difficult) it was for the guard to operate. lt was officer Giles that helped us. After opening and closing the doors a dozen or so times, he pronounced it "smooth and easy". We were stoked that the very first worn out
shock absorber that we tried worked perfectly, from the start. We replaced the
cover plate and asked Ofc. Holt to tell the other officers working in Lassen Hall
what we had done. Lew wrote a letter to Price, the maintenance Supt. and to
Warden Myers, detailing our experience w/open door detection systems including our discovery of an easy fix for the problem. He told of the part Omar
and l played in that fix and recommended that letters of recognition be placed
in our files. Each housing unit at SNF held 12 tiers, each with a door control mechanism. Multiply by four housing units and we get forty-eight mechanisms
to update. Lew and l planned to do as many as possible, as soon as possible.
That weekend Lew went to several auto service businesses and picked up a gang of worn shock absorbers from their refuse cans and the following Monday
we started installing them in their new application. ln that first full day on the
project, we installed the remaining eleven upgrades in Lassen Hall. Our work
on the open door detection systems, once we had updated all the systems in
every housing unit, we just about put ourselves out of business. Maintenance
workers who had no work orders on a given day were free to take the day off
and use it for our own needs; that's why l spent most of my last few months
at SNF in the paint shed.
My second appearance before the Parole Board took place in early September
1961. This time l was granted parole and given a very early release date,Oc-
tober 6. l was concerned that l wouldn't have enough time to find a job before my release date and l wrote my Dad and asked his help. He talked to the owner
of the Richfield station in Saratoga, where he was a regular customer. They were
already friends but my Dad thought Len (Len Sullivan, owner of the station)
reached his decision to hire me awfully fast and asked him what if he doesn't do
a good job? Len said "l have an idea he will do well, but if he doesn't, it's simple,
l just fire him".That worked for me. Actually, l would have two bosses on that job:Len and my parole officer. Yes the parole officer would stay in touch until l
complete parole. ln April ,63.
My Dad's help made my last days at SNF a breeze. No writing letters to prospective employers who l don't know but who would know all the worst of me from my first begging letter. l know about that part of it from talks with other
about-to-be-parolees who were writing such letters. No, l would spend my last
days there, walking the yard with my good friends in the inmate population and
visiting my friends among the staff. lt didn't occur to me at the time, but except
for two persons, l never again saw any of the people l knew there. Those two were Chuck C and Phil L, fellow inmates whom we will encounter again.
ln the 19 months l was in custody, there was only one untoward incident. That was on the bus to San Jose: A confused lady driver drove her car into the side of the bus. No one was hurt, but we were two hours late into San Jose.
in D.C. and, of course, some years of retail sales while in the employ of my step-dad. And don't forget Art Warren, the old guy that "invested" $12K in my
"Oil paintings of customers' favorite cars" idea. When l told my counselor (let's
call him Bill) about ripping off Art for $12K "And what a piece of selling that was,
huh? Bill disagreed. l hadn't sold Art on my deal; He thought that Art had had a serious need for money and would have bought any deal that offered the high rate of return that l advertised. After l thought about it some, l was swayed. Art
really was too easy. l remember, at the time, thinking "What, exactly, did l do to
close this guy? lf l knew that, l'd be rich". Now, l'm thinking it was another instance of "Lucky Lanny syndrome". By the time l was paroled, Bill said that l was ready to seek sales-management positions as well as salesman.
ln the month before my co-worker, Chuck C went out on parole, there was an up-surge in work orders to repair open-door detection systems. We decided to
make an attempt to eliminate the problem altogether. We talked to Lt. Reynolds
about getting permission to leave one cover-panel off, so we could have easy access to the mechanism, for observation and to try our ideas for a permanent
fix, and to test them. They gave us everything we asked for and then some. As
Chuck and l went about our day's work, we were always accompanied by a
guard, usually a different one every day. That made it kind of repetitive for us,
having to re-explain what we were doing for every guard. But we were now to
be joined by a "free person".(works a job in the prison but is not a guard). He
would be with us 9to5, Monday thru Friday. Chuck and l also worked no week-
ends except for emergencies, which were almost non-existent. The new man,
(also our new boss) was Lewis Scandrett, who had recently moved to California
when his job as a telegrapher in Canada ceased to exist. He would train with us
so he could run the department after both Chuck and l were gone. A couple of weeks later, Chuck was out on parole and Lew and l were left to work the locks.
We became friends when Lew was convinced that l wouldn't attempt to enlist him in some wrongfull conduct, which all new employees were warned about in
their orientation. He was a great friend to have: thoughtful, intelligent, compassionate, very quick to learn and a good innovator.
lt didn't take long for Chuck and l to understand why the open door detection
system failed so often. With very little observation it was clear the we needed
to reduce the speed of the moving parts of the entire lock/unlock mechanism.
We knew that on the day of our first observation; what we might do to foster
that speed reduction, without adding to the energy the guard must use to move
it, is what we didn't know. Until one day, after Chuck had left on parole, Lew and
l had finished our last work order of the day before lunch and bumped into my
buddy Omar, also an inmate maintenance worker. He was a true genius and
was assigned to all maintenance departments, because he knew it all; All
departments could request his help when needed. lt occurred to me that my buddy Omar (who had taught me to weld (acetylene/oxygen) could probably
solve our problem in the lock-boxes. Sure enough, l explained what we needed to accomplish and he, without hesitation said " You need a worn out automobile
shock absorber. Or maybe half worn out. You want enough resistance to slow the bar, but not too much". It turned out that pretty much everyone working in maintenance was aware of our problem, Omar among them. So he had already figured it out before l had asked him about it. Anyway, it made sense to me.Omar had even gone thru his collection of junk and found an old, worn out
shock absorber that seemed to be just what was needed. Lew and l went direct-
ly to the tier in Lassen hall where we had obtained permission to leave one of the cover plates off. lt took about a half-hour to put the shock absorber in place.
We enlisted the help of the guard on duty to try a few open/close cycles to see how easy (or difficult) it was for the guard to operate. lt was officer Giles that helped us. After opening and closing the doors a dozen or so times, he pronounced it "smooth and easy". We were stoked that the very first worn out
shock absorber that we tried worked perfectly, from the start. We replaced the
cover plate and asked Ofc. Holt to tell the other officers working in Lassen Hall
what we had done. Lew wrote a letter to Price, the maintenance Supt. and to
Warden Myers, detailing our experience w/open door detection systems including our discovery of an easy fix for the problem. He told of the part Omar
and l played in that fix and recommended that letters of recognition be placed
in our files. Each housing unit at SNF held 12 tiers, each with a door control mechanism. Multiply by four housing units and we get forty-eight mechanisms
to update. Lew and l planned to do as many as possible, as soon as possible.
That weekend Lew went to several auto service businesses and picked up a gang of worn shock absorbers from their refuse cans and the following Monday
we started installing them in their new application. ln that first full day on the
project, we installed the remaining eleven upgrades in Lassen Hall. Our work
on the open door detection systems, once we had updated all the systems in
every housing unit, we just about put ourselves out of business. Maintenance
workers who had no work orders on a given day were free to take the day off
and use it for our own needs; that's why l spent most of my last few months
at SNF in the paint shed.
My second appearance before the Parole Board took place in early September
1961. This time l was granted parole and given a very early release date,Oc-
tober 6. l was concerned that l wouldn't have enough time to find a job before my release date and l wrote my Dad and asked his help. He talked to the owner
of the Richfield station in Saratoga, where he was a regular customer. They were
already friends but my Dad thought Len (Len Sullivan, owner of the station)
reached his decision to hire me awfully fast and asked him what if he doesn't do
a good job? Len said "l have an idea he will do well, but if he doesn't, it's simple,
l just fire him".That worked for me. Actually, l would have two bosses on that job:Len and my parole officer. Yes the parole officer would stay in touch until l
complete parole. ln April ,63.
My Dad's help made my last days at SNF a breeze. No writing letters to prospective employers who l don't know but who would know all the worst of me from my first begging letter. l know about that part of it from talks with other
about-to-be-parolees who were writing such letters. No, l would spend my last
days there, walking the yard with my good friends in the inmate population and
visiting my friends among the staff. lt didn't occur to me at the time, but except
for two persons, l never again saw any of the people l knew there. Those two were Chuck C and Phil L, fellow inmates whom we will encounter again.
ln the 19 months l was in custody, there was only one untoward incident. That was on the bus to San Jose: A confused lady driver drove her car into the side of the bus. No one was hurt, but we were two hours late into San Jose.
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