3. Good kid bad kid

Let me share with you some of the things I learned as a juvenile delinquent, and later a police officer while working with young people with problems. Why do so many kids become problem young people? Well, just bear with me for a few minutes, because I have the answer to a lot of the questions many people have about "troubled" kids. Let's start by comparing what being a "good kid" has to offer, over what the "bad kid" lives for. We realize that there are a lot of things young people need in their life, but most certainly, young people WANT attention, excitement, and praise. If a "smart" kid gets attention by being an honor student, how does the average or poor student get attention? By being a "jock" on the football team, or being a star basketball player? That will get the attention desired, and sports is also exciting and sometimes dangerous. "Good kids" usually get a considerable amount of praise.

How do bad kids get praise? Their other "bad" friends will praise them for doing bad things well! Many kids have friends and family that take them canoeing down rivers, climbing hills and camping in the wilderness. That's exciting and bordering on danger. (I use the term danger because danger breeds' excitement, one of the ingredients young people have a craving for.)

Now look at the delinquent who doesn't do well in school, and doesn't get attention for having good grades. Maybe he or she is not physically capable of being proficient at sports. How do they get the attention? Bad grades get attention, getting into trouble gets attention, and if they need danger or excitement; shoplifting, stealing and being in a gang will do just that. These kids get attention, praise, excitement, and are finally recognized as being "good at something"… being bad.

If you know of a teenager that is not capable of achieving good grades in school and is not active in sports, you must give them something else to excel in. Like playing a musical instrument, a business venture, raising animals, working or repairing motors may be something they would be good at. Keep in mind that they still need some excitement. Depending on the individual, fishing with dad or camping with the family may offer excitement. Exploring a cave, climbing a mountain, going to stock car races, what ever it takes, FIND IT.

 4. Miracle Salve?

At the end of the first week, I must have sold at least 27 cans of salve and I was happy as hell. This was going to be my vocation in life. I thought I was the only kid in Kansas City selling it, the stuff was good, and I was going to be rich. Then it happened! Sales slumped… people turned against the world's greatest healing medicine of all time. What was going wrong? The people I sold it to weren't using it fast enough. The people who didn't know me (down the block) and in other neighborhoods bought it from someone else. Yes, there was someone else selling the same stuff I was. After realizing that I had to sell several hundred cans of salve to get the guitar or B-B gun… I made the first job change of my life.

I may forget a lot of things in my middle age mode, but I never forgot the education and training I accumulated from a job experience. The salve sales gig taught me that you will never get everything you expect from an employer and there will ALWAYS be someone doing the same thing you are. (And in your neighborhood too.)

Well, over 40 years have passed by, and you may find this hard to believe, but I recently worked for one of the largest vitamin and health product companies in the country, and I spent a lot of time helping one of my clients sell his product… named Miracle salve. A couple of weeks ago I enjoyed reminiscing, as I watched an old episode of Andy of Mayberry… Opie was selling Miracle Salve, and he was having the same success and failures I had experienced. You just can't believe how many people don't want to buy salve.

5. The BIG Donut Heist

Ray and I did everything together, including the great donut caper. Back then; there was a company that delivered donuts to kids all over Kansas City. Lots of kids like Ray and I would sell their donuts, making a profit for the company and a small profit for the young people selling them. We decided to try it. We ordered 12 dozen donuts, ate a couple dozen and sold the rest. For some reason, we didn't seem to come out ahead, but we had fun and kept busy. We needed to make more profit, though. So, I devised a plan to do just that. We ordered 12 dozen donuts, and had them delivered to a neighbor's house. (We knew no one was home, but told them to leave the donuts on the porch, and "we'd" be back shortly.) Surprisingly, they did deliver the prize donuts. (We staked the place out from a garage across the street.) We were in the ideal business; I'm talking 100% profit and then some. We ate a tons of donuts, gave some away to our friends, sold what was left, and had a great time!

Let me tell you something I learned about happiness and worldly possessions from Julius Granfor. Julius was a real likable guy and he had a pretty nice place up around Perley Minnesota, and I had visited him a time or two. He had a lot of nice things, and I made a comment to him about how "rough it must be" to have so many things. He turned to me and said, "Wanting can be more enjoyable than having." I thought to myself, "That's easy to say… this guy's GOT it all." Then he explained to me what he was trying to tell me. (I filed it away in a small spot in the corner of my undeveloped brain, and went on with life.) Years later, it popped out… and he was right! If you want a new car, you work, save, and plan for that new car. All that time you'll get a lot of enjoyment, contentment, and fun while you're looking forward to that new car.

 6. Discipline…Yuk!

I won't spend much time talking about this subject, but I must lay a foundation so I'll appear to be a credible source to you. Otherwise, you may not enjoy or learn from these adventures we are about to embark upon.

My mom and dad always wanted me to have the best. Dad was an honest, hard working laborer who graduated from 7th grade but could figure algebra in his head. Mom had very little education either, but she was naturally shrewd at business deals. She even traveled around the United States trouble-shooting for a big dress company while hiring and firing people and getting stores out of the red. Both of them knew the importance of a good education, even though they had very little.

They decided to send me to a private Military School. I was just hanging on with my fingernails and trying to survive in a public school. I flunked the 7th grade, and I had a hard time with many subjects. How in the hell was I going to exist in a tough academic environment?

7. Life at the Military Academy

It was discipline all the way, as the Christian Brothers taught most of the classes, and a real Army sergeant was the head of Military. We called the Christian Brothers…"Brother", and we called the army sergeant "Sir." We were all issued a US rifle caliber 30, M1's. (Referred to as a gas operated, air-cooled, clip loaded, clip fed, semi-automatic, self-ejecting, shoulder weapon.) You learned pretty fast, and as you can see… you remember what you are taught. I hated wearing a hat; it messed up my hair.

I hit the wall flat, slithered down to my buns, and shook my head and regrouped. (That really messed up my hair.) When I told my dad about it, (expecting some sympathy) he said, "I guess you damn well better wear your hat huh?" I followed the hat rule the remainder of the time I was there.

I hated math in high school, but I ended up taking 2 years of algebra, 2 years of geometry, and even two years of Spanish.

I remember Mr. Grantham always had a chunk of chalk tied on a string, and if you weren't paying attention in class, he'd whip a "Thump" on the top of your head and immediately gain your attention. Just a couple knots on the head, and you quickly learned to stay awake in his class.

The things that were done in those days would have been called "child abuse" by today's standards, but they worked. I learned, it didn't leave scars, and just like most of my experiences, I benefited a great deal from it. Why don't we give teachers the power to have total control over their students again? I remember in public school getting "swats" for screwing up (of course there is always one teacher who will abuse the power), but in general I believe that teachers who are allowed to employ discipline get respect and have students that learn.

I kept saying to myself, "I MUST learn, or I won't get to live in a $30,000 house someday. " When I was a kid dad always said, "If you don't "Git" a good education, you'll never live in one of them $30,000 homes." Today most $30,000 homes are occupied by people making a lot less than $30,000 a year.

I eventually got kicked out of De La Salle for being rebellious, but when I moved over to a public school (my senior year) I couldn't believe how smart I had become. Math was now easy, English was a snap, and I never took a book home the whole year. I got good grades too! You get better at what you do, if you do it with people that are better than you.

 8. FLYING PINS

One job I held for a short while, while in high school, was being a pin setter in a bowling alley. (Another profession gone by the wayside, thanks to computers and automation... thank you.)

You'll find 2 couples on alley one, going at a good fast pace. Mom, dad, and two little kids on alley two (bowling at a totally erratic pace), and alley 3 were occupied by two contemptuous macho-muscle drunk (hell bent on seeing who could shatter the most pins). All of these customers are bowling at different intervals and speeds. You are jumping from one alley to the other, picking up pins, ducking pins (and sometimes balls), while trying to keep track of who's turn it is, what frame it is, while bending over picking up a 16 LB ball hundreds of times a night.

Some of the bowler's actually get pissed if you didn't "rack em up" fast enough, or didn't know when it was the 10th frame. If you stayed with it long enough, you could grow up to have huge ugly stretched-out bulging knuckles (from picking up those pins 6 or 8 at a time), no teeth, splinters from ankles to knees, and be called the "Hunchback From Notre Lane!" No thanks...I'll try something else. (Ray did better than me at it, as usual)

 9. Vending Machines

One of the better jobs I had, while in high school, was working for a vending company. This experience later became a stepping-stone into the pinball, juke box and amusement machine repair business. Delivering vending machines, filling cigarette machines and handling money was my first lesson in responsibility. Working in a business where you meet a lot of people is a good thing for any young person, as it rounds out a personality...a very important asset in any vocation.

 10. Boxcars!

 11. Put me in Coach

I probably could have played professional baseball. I remember as a kid, I loved baseball, saved cards by the bucketful (sure wish I had them now), and Ray and I played baseball from sun up to sun down. I had a buddy named Harvey (nicknamed "Boots"), who was the batboy for the Kansas City A's.

He was also the co-writer of my first recorded song our band produced. Boots saved every broken bat, ball, and paraphernalia he could get his hands on, and a few years back he told me his collection was for sale (worth about a MILLION bucks I guess). Last I heard, Boots was retired and living down around the Ozarks. (He must have sold them baseball doo-dads huh?)

Boots was a great pitcher, and probably could have made it to the majors as a relief pitcher. He really wanted to be a starter. The guy had so much "junk" on the ball, if I didn't know what pitch was coming… it was hard to hang on to. My brother Ray was a super shortstop, long ball hitter, made spectacular catches, had reflexes like a cat and an arm like a rifle. (Even liked to throw the bullet over the 1^st baseman’s head regularly) But after a bout with rheumatic heart problems… he was never the same. I was the catcher behind the plate you couldn't throw a ball past.

My arm wasn't developed enough to get the ball down to 2nd base, fast like a pro, but somehow I managed to lob it into centerfield. I was a hitter (not home runs, just a lot of singles, but rarely a strike out). Baseball scouts were looking at us and we probably could have had a few years in baseball, but we just didn't work at it like we should have. Now my Brother While Ray was the natural at baseball, I had to "Work" at it to become good.

Anything you want to do well you MUST work hard and "study" to become a professional (that includes any sport or profession).

12. A's Baseball Camp

When I was about 18 years old, I tried out for the Kansas City A's baseball team. Having been a player in the 3 & 2 League as a kid, playing for De La Salle Military Academy I was a pretty good catcher. My Dad really wanted me to be a Pro ball player, while my Mom wanted me to me a "Star" of ANY kind. (No matter what it took)

They had all of us bat, throw, run and hit. If you struck out, they might have you go to first base anyway. And when you got there… you were told to steal the next base. That way they could see how everyone reacted to different situations.

Needless to say, I didn't make the majors, but I did get an opportunity to go to Florida and play ball, but turned it down…as I had a chance to go on the road playing music instead. (Less work and more fun) Besides, they told me my arm hadn't developed enough to play semi-pro ball yet…and I wasn't waiting around for an arm to develop. (I wanted to play music, chase girls, drink booze and go on the road.)

When I left the stadium, they handed me my birth certificate, as a birth certificate was needed to document that you were really who you were, and old enough to try out. After NOT being picked by the A's to go into professional baseball, I went home and decided to do something else with my life.

 13. Adoption, Abuse & Booze

I had never seen my birth certificate, as it had been sent ahead by my parents before the tryouts, so When I got home, I decided to look at it, out of curiosity. Whoa! It wasn't mine… "They gave me the WRONG birth certificate." I thought. And it sure was strange; whomever it belonged to had the same first and middle name as me, but a different last name. He even had the same date of birth. (unbelievable!)

When my folks came home, I told them about bringing home the wrong certificate. They looked at it, and then I saw a strange look come over their faces. I was 18 years old, and about to find out that I wasn't who I thought I was. "What's the deal?" I asked. They began explaining to me how I came into their life. "You are really not our son" they said, but quickly announced, "But we love you just as much as if you were our own." (Whether you have or haven't been adopted, examine what they said, and see if you can understand what those words felt like) It was really a major shock in my life.

They told me how I was abandoned as a baby and somehow ended up with a girl named Nellie. (Whom I thought had always been my Mom.) She married a guy named Tex (Who I will never forget beating the hell out of mom and me)

Tex was another one of those people who was "A wonderful person when sober." In 1965, I saw Tex, and he really did seem like a nice guy and he had quit drinking. (He has since died) Mom later divorced him and married Ralph Blair. (A childhood romance re-kindled) She later divorced Ralph Blair and married Brownie; my x-uncle had lost his wife (My mom's sister) to cancer earlier.

They say the first few years of a child's life form a pattern for the rest of their life. I believe it does have some effect, because I can remember things when I was just a toddler. But most of all I remember Tex and the spankings. Why in the hell he had to make them hurt so bad and make them last so long is beyond me.

I can remember when he would start, it only took a few minutes of pain to realize I had learned my lesson, and was sorry for what ever it was I had done wrong, but he would just keep hitting me. He left marks that would last days too. (But he did the same thing to my mom.) Mom tried to hide it, but that didn't always work. I remember hearing Tex yelling at mom from the bedroom. I walked in to see what was happening. Tex was screaming at mom for taking money out of his billfold. (For groceries) Tex yelled at me to leave, but I was scared for mom… so I threw my dog (Rex) at him and ran out of the room.

I felt that I had protected mom, but I don't remember what happened after I threw the dog and ran. It made me feel like a hero for stepping in, but my mind blocked out the rest of the story. (Probably because I knew that he went ahead and beat mom up. (I wasn't even old enough to go to school yet)

Tex played the guitar and sang too, Him and mom always had big musical get-to-gathers every weekend. Tex would play music, sing and then get drunk and start a fight. (He had scars all over his face from injures) I remember mom telling me her favorite scar was the one where she hit him in the forehead with an ashtray. I remember seeing Tex holding a guy down, (blood all over the guys face and Tex's too)

Tex had a whiskey bottle in his hand, and was drawing back to hit the guy in the face with it. Everybody was screaming at him to stop, but Tex hit him anyway, then he shoved the guy down the basement stairs. (Yeah, we sure had some good times in the old house, on Stark Street) I wonder if that's why I am pushing 60 years old and still chew my fingernails and smoke like a steam engine.

People who have adopted children are sometimes disappointed when their kids grow up and want to find their "Real" parents. For most adopted people there is a magnetic "Pull" or a burning desire to find out what your real parents are like. They want to know where they live, what they do, why they abandoned you and… show them what you are like. (It is also good to know for medical history) 

14. Where's My Pa?

In about 1964, I was reading a magazine, when I spotted a cartoon written by a lady named Ruby Rusque, from Medford Oregon. Since I knew that I was born in Medford, I fired off a letter to her. I didn't have her full address, but she did get the letter anyway. I told her that my name at birth was Kesterson, and explained that I was trying to locate my natural parents. A few weeks later, she responded, saying that the only thing she could find out was that my biological dad's brother lived in Portland Oregon. (She didn't know his first name, but the last name was Kesterson.)

After asking fishermen around the Coos Bay area about Tom Kesterson, it was determined that he had a CB radio in his boat and home, and this was the only way he could be contacted. After several attempts, I finally made contract with my Biological dad. I didn't tell him who I was, but asked him if he would meet me to discuss some business. He was very reluctant, but after some assurance from me that I wasn't a bill collector, cop, or IRS agent, he agreed to meet at noon, by the bank, in Downtown Coos Bay. (Sounds like a western movie gunfight meeting.)

Strange, but the more I thought about this meeting, the more nervous I got. This guy could be a nut. Maybe he doesn't want to meet the son he abandoned, and what if he goes "Whacko" and tries to kill me? I decided to stick my .38 pistol in my back pocket. (Just in case!)

It was noon, my wife and I, (accompanied by my buddy Geno) were standing by the bank, and a man walked up to where we were standing. (Obviously looking around as if he was looking for someone.) I asked him if his name was Tom Kesterson, he said yes and wanted to know who I was and what I wanted. I said, "I think you're my dad" He had a puzzled look on his face, and asked my name. I told him it was Tom Blair, but mentioned I was adopted, and my real name had been Kesterson. He asked me when I was born, and I gave him the date. There was a "Melted" look on his face, followed by, "Well I'll be damned." He took us to his little house, where we met Anna, his second wife. When we got to their house,

Tom Kesterson took a gun out of his pocket and put it away, and commented, "You never know what kind of nuts you're gonna meet out there in the world." (My buddy Gene still talks about that meeting.) We talked at length: He wanted to know all about me, what I was doing, what I had done, and a million other things. (And I wanted information about him too) That afternoon he took us out in his salmon fishing boat for the afternoon. I gave him my business card, and told him I lived in Portland, and to come up for a visit or call, and we'd get together again. (I never saw Tom again.)

 15. I missed my own funeral

A few months' back, I was on the Internet trying to locate my biological dad, when I had contact with a woman named Carla, who had located my biological dad's 2nd wife, Anna. I called her on the phone and we talked for quite a while. She seemed so nice; I wish I had spent more time talking with her when I first met Tom Kesterson.

 16. THREE Moms and Four Dads

17. THE ROCK AND ROLL DAZE

The West Coasters Ray Tom, Owen & Denny

Tom and Ray (Early days)

After getting some good experience from the Armed Forces tours, we put together a high school buddy band, playing hops, and private parties. The band consisted of my adopted brother, Ray Feldman, Denny Garner on sax, Owen Sloan on drums and I played lead guitar and we all sang. The band was called Tommy Blair and the West Coasters; we traveled all over the country, worked nightclubs, ballrooms, radio, TV and fair dates.

I even had a song that was number 1 on the rock and roll charts on a Kansas City radio station for nearly 11 weeks. Of course back then it was a little easier; they had a thing called Payola. A few bucks in the DJ's pocket, or couple of dinners, and in one deal, we had the Radio announcer's picture on the sheet music of the alleged hit record.

One time our trailer came loose from the van we were traveling in, it jerked from side to side, (as the safety chains held) and the out of control van rolled over several times. We had instruments strung all over the highway, Marge, who was singing with us at the time, had some broken bones and the rest of us had a lot of bumps and bruises. Considering the van was a total wreck, and so was the trailer, we came out of that one very lucky.

The fair dates were grandstand shows, and this was back when almost all fair grandstand shows were put together for family entertainment. Like watching the Ed Sullivan show live and on stage. We had a real variety, like Gordon's trained dogs, Doug Hart doing low wire comedy balance act, And Henry LaMonte would dive from a 30 or 40 foot tower in to a couple feet of water. (He made it into the Guinness book of records with that feat.) I must tell you a good one on Henry. Entertainers are always being invited to parties when you get to a new town, Henry, the man who could dive from daring heights, into shallow water and live fell and got hurt at the swimming pool, while being a guest at one of these party's. (I think he even broke a leg.)

What the public didn't know was, the guy had his hand behind the hog, and a firm grip on the old bore's testicles. When he wanted a note, he'd give a little squeeze on the hog, and if he wanted a real high note, a bigger squeeze would certainly raise the pitch and volume of the pig. (Ouch!) The audience bought it.

 18. Working with Stars

Sometimes there were more notable people headlining the fair shows, or working at the same ballroom we were playing at, and I was fortunate enough to work with or meet many of them.

People like: The Wilburn Brothers, Pat Boone, "Little" Jimmy Dickens, Tex Ritter, The Ink Spots, Anita Bryant, Conway Twitty, Fats Domino, Dion, Homer and Jethro, Carl Perkins, Faron Young, The Coasters, The Crystals, Gene Chandler, Davy Jones (The Monkees) Johnny Tillotson, Bobby Vee, (Who I still talk to occasionally) Buddy Knox, and many others.

For those of you who know how much equipment needs to be set up for today's shows would marvel at the simplicity of what used to be considered "Normal" for a traveling show. We usually traveled in one car or station wagon, pulling a small trailer behind. Our musical gear consisted of 2 Fender Baseman Amps, one guitar, one bass, a small set of drums, and a sax. We didn't have a P.A. system, as the places we played were required to furnish the sound system. In those days you had to entertain people with talent, and talent alone. We didn't have a light show, digital effects to create an orchestra in the background, smoke, pyrotechnics, wireless mics, monitors, and videos.

19. Booking Agent

Sometimes in between tours, I worked in the office for Tom Drake, booking talent. I liked that, and it was certainly something I knew about. I did find out one thing, there was always something to sell, even if you didn't have it! Tom Drake always had one band to cover any occasion… Billy Jolly.

If someone wanted to book a rock and roll band, I would tell the caller, "I think I can get The West Coasters." (My Band) If they wanted an orchestra, I'd book Billy Jolly, He was always available. He didn't even exist! But when I sold the Billy Jolly orchestra, I'd get on the phone, call some guy with a band, tell him to scrape up 3  more musicians, and go to the gig as… Billy Jolly. You want a trio, sell them the Billy Jolly Trio, call a bandleader, and tell him to go as Billy. (After all, it's show business.)

20. The Not-So-Funny farm

Been There too, but it was a cool con-job on my part. It was in the Rock and roll nightclub days in Kansas City. Lots of drinking, love affairs by the wayside, plenty of money in the pocket and not much planning for the future. I was driving down a back street of Kansas City, (about 70 miles per hour) in a 30-mile zone, when the red lights appeared in the rear view mirror. "Damn" I couldn't afford to get another ticket; I'd loose my license for sure. I slammed on the brakes, pulled to the side, and sunk my head on to the steering wheel. (What was going to happen now? Jail? Loose my license? Big Fine?)

When the officer approached my rolled down window, he kindly asked me in a soft voice, "Do you feel violent or depressed sir?" I mumbled "yes" (As I wondered why I hadn't been jerked from the car, spread-eagled and handcuffed) the officer asked me if I would like to get some help for my problem. I'm thinking, maybe if I go along with whatever he talking about, I'd get out of a ticket. I played the game. He gently handcuffed me, placed me into his patrol car and away we went. I found myself being admitted to the psychiatric receiving center, (funny farm) 3rd floor. That's where they weed out the real "Dingbats" from the ones who might have a chance. (But everyone starts out on the 3rd floor.)

I could look around and see that I really didn't belong here, but it beat the hell out of jail. I couldn't even find anyone I felt comfortable talking to, but after a couple of days, managed to get to drop down to the next floor. There I got to at least talk to the doctors, and begin my recovery period, whatever that meant. I could see 2-way mirrors all over the place and I knew that we were being watched. There were mirrors in the room where I slept, in the shower and in the halls. When are they watching? What are they looking for? And most important, HOW do I act normal?

Take a minute and put yourself in that position, it's like a movie, you are trapped, and the only way out is to convince the doctors and nurses that you are "Normal". The only way to do it is to "ACT" normal. Try acting normal in front of a bunch of peeping tom doctors and nurses, you'll soon become paranoid if you aren't already. I did manage to get down to the main floor, where there was a pool table. Now I didn't have to act normal, just shoot pool and talk to the doctors and tell them how I wanted to turn my life around, quit drinking and start making some plans for the future. I was soon free. (All I had to do was come back for some follow-up out patient treatment.) No careless driving ticket and I didn't loose my driver's (until the next paragraph).

21. Thirty DAYS IN the "Slammer"

Damn...I lost my driver's license my driver's license, I believe it was the ticket for 105 miles an hour in Blackwell Oklahoma that did the trick. Like so many of my escapades, this adventure occurred while traveling around the country "picking and grinning"

I was in Watertown South Dakota in the early 60's playing at a nightclub and was driving a 55 ford  with straight pipes, and stick shift. (Lost my other cars by then) I pulled up to the stop sign, slowed down a little, and then kicked the Ford in the ass and lit up the tires. I didn't even make the next block and the cop had me.

When we went to court, I figured I'd pay the fine and be on my way. I didn't have a driver's license; cause it had been suspended, but there was a real nice guy in the courtroom to help me. (He was an attorney) He told me it would be best to just plead guilty and it would be easier on me, so I did. The judge said "30 days at hard labor" as he slammed the gavel down. "Now what?" I asked that nice attorney. He said "You go to jail for 30 days" "But I'd rather pay a fine" I stated, as they hauled my butt into the county jail. (What a drag this would be) I found out later, that nice attorney I was talking to was the PROSECUTING attorney and I was an idiot for listening to that slime ball! Lesson: NEVER, NEVER listen to an attorney, unless you know which side he (or she) is on. I was in the "Slammer" with some real hard criminals. One guy sold the sheriff's friend, or grandma, a hearing aid that she thought was too expensive. (And he didn't know how long he was in for.)

Another guy was in for child support, and my 3rd cellmate claimed he didn't have the foggiest idea why he was in there (and I believed him). The Sheriff's wife cooked all the meals, and their home was adjoining the jail. As a matter of fact, there were peepholes to view us jailbirds from their living quarters. They could even watch us on the community toilet if they wanted to. (And did) We used to watch for "Eyeballs" peering through the peep holes, and if we had to "Potty" or do something we were not supposed to, like brew home made tea, We'd wet down paper and put it over the holes. The sheriff didn't like that a bit! For excitement, we'd climb up to the bars (Overhead) tie a sheet around our waist, (like a window washer) and watch the people in the streets.

Where's the hard labor? I didn't get in on that, but I heard that some of the guys had to paint the sheriff's barn, or some similar task. I was lucky enough to get out of jail at night, (Under the Huber law) to play music. I ended up being kind of a hero in the jail, as I would smuggle fried chicken into the cell late at night in my guitar. (I also brought in sugar for that miserable black coffee.) It was boring to say the least, but you soon learned about every joke that ever existed, every card game invented and hear some unbelievable stories from people as they would come and go. Actually, every young man should have to do 30 days in a slammer like the one I was in… It would be a lesson in what you DON'T want to be when you grow up, a crook! (So I decided to be a cop someday)

 22. Family Tradition

I always told my Son, "Don't go on the road with a band son, it's a life of hell" When he'd ask "why?" I'd jokingly say, "Nice places to stay, beautiful country to see, traveling all over the country, different women chasing after you every night, great food, playing music and having fun all the time…. Its such a lonely life" He'd laugh and roll his eyes around. I did give him some real advice, "If you do go on the road, don't get serious with any ONE girl, don't drink much, don't smoke, eat right, save all the money you can and you will be a successful musician" (All the things I didn't do right)

Having the love and respect my son has for me… he followed in my footsteps. (Missing few prints) My son Danny drove a truck, played in several rock and roll bands, traveled around the country! Chased to women, drank like a fish, smokes like a steam engine and worked at the Northern Topless Club that I worked at. (And later owned). He hasn't spent the two 30 days in the slammer or funny farm yet... but but who knows huh?

Danny (Tom's Son)

There were fun times and lean times. I remember when we hit Wichita Kansas in my baby blue 55 Cadillac, broke, no credit cards, a flat spare tire, and the left rear was leaking badly. Club Dearmores, (where we were going to play that week) wasn't going to open till noon lunch, and we had to keep airing our rear tire up.

For entertainment, we kept talking about what we were going to eat when the club opened up and I started a bar tab for the band. Being resourceful young guys, we pooled our money, bought a big jar of Skippy peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and a jug of tap water from the service station, and that was our breakfast. It was horrible enough filling an empty stomach with peanut butter, but washing it down with hose-flavored water is NOT a delightful after dinner drink.

I remember lying on my back, throwing up, into the air, not being able to move and watching it come down. There was always plenty of free booze, as bar patrons don't mind buying the band drinks… especially if it's a birthday for a band member. (And it's always a birthday for someone in the band)

I probably shouldn't tell you this secret, but every night, in every town, someone has a turn at having a birthday. (As the bandleader announces over the P.A….the people buy the drinks, it works!) The only drugs we used, were legal diet pills. I say legal, because we would go to a doctor and say we wanted to loose weight, and he'd prescribe Benzedrine or Dexedrine. We used them for driving on those long jumps from one gig to another.

If a house didn't have termites, some exterminators brought along their own. After inspecting a home, if it was termite free, the termites brought along could always be pulled from the pocket, to show the owner what was found under the house. Then there were the "Mortar Mites" HUH? That's right, these were little (Non-existent) creatures that would lurk under your house, lie on their backs and kick the concrete loose on the footings and sidewalks of your home. (Turning the foundation to dust) Spraying for them was relatively inexpensive;

One of the poisons we often used was called 10-80. (It had a real long scientific name, let's give it a try: Sodiumonoflouricitate? I understand it was developed during World War Two for poisoning water supplies, and what a nightmare it would have been. It is odorless, tasteless, leaves no real trace in your system… but it just keeps killing. The dust on the head of a pin could kill a rat in a minute, kill the cat that ate the rat, and a year later… the dead cats carcass could kill a critter that munched on the remains. I understand it was used to kill hundreds and hundreds of wolves in the United States, and the stuff is still being used for killing purposes.

(Fortunately, most of today's pest control people have training and certification.) You wouldn't believe how chemicals were used back in those days, I can remember spraying chemicals right in to the cupboards with the dishes. We were told it was harmless. I look at the warning labels of some of the same products now, and wonder why I am alive and my kids don't have 3 legs and 2 heads.

 24. Nashville or Busted

I did have an offer from a man who wanted to sell me bootleg whiskey to haul back and forth from Nashville to Springfield Missouri. (He did promise some darn good profit) At $8 a gallon, he said I'd be rich and famous in short time with his "Fine" Tennessee whiskey. I only had $16 left to get me back home, and that wasn't enough to get started.

I did make a stop at a rural farm home, and helped myself to some gas for my old Ford. It was risky, but I was desperate. And to add to the stupidity, I ended up putting in diesel fuel. I had to keep the pedal all the way to the floor, and still all I could get was 40 M.P.H. for top speed. When I finally pulled in to a gas station, I had to hold the foot-feed to the floor, while the attendant put some gas into the tank. He didn't even ask what happened. (He knew what I had done, he just didn't know where)

Like everything else, I learned from the Nashville trip. It isn't that easy to become a star just because you are where the stars are. I guess it sometimes takes years for someone to become an "Overnight" success. And never put anything into your car, that comes from a green tank.

 25. The Pin-ball WIZARD

While salmon fishing with my uncle Lynn in Astoria Oregon, a friend of his, named porter, asked me if I would be interested in working for a company repairing juke boxes, pinball machines and pool tables. Shazaam! You bet, that sounded like a breeze after my brief logging career. Porter worked for a company called Canteen in Portland Oregon.

They had a division called Automatic cigarette service, which I worked for. I didn't know much about repairing pinball machines, jukeboxes, or pool tables, but when I was in High school and on the road in my band… I was very good at putting money in a jukebox, playing a pinball machine, and shot a mean game of pool.

Back in Kansas City, when I was a kid, my brother and I used to skip church on Sunday mornings, and Dad gave us for the collection plate to shoot pool. (At 10 cents a cue on a snooker table, we could last quite a while)

Jukeboxes were fairly simple in those days, if there wasn't any sound; you had to change every tube until it started working again. Of course the new ones may be simple too, you just pull the amp out, put a new one in, and take it back to the shop for repair. The pinball machines of my generation were not so simple. Miles of wire, switches and solenoids.

Do you remember shuffleboards? (Long boards that look like a little bowling alley lane and you slide little silver pucks down to the end to knock off your opponent's puck.) Fun and simple to play and was really popular at one time. Every little bar had one, and if it was an American Legion club on the 3rd floor… it had one. Talk about fun installing on of those puppies. They don't come apart, and the board alone must weigh 2 or 3 hundreds pounds. (Moving pool tables can be agonizing experience too).

When we moved from Oregon to Missouri, I took a job as a pinball mechanic in Kansas City. Then I found out, that the guy I was working, for not only had pinball machines… he had slot machines in several locations in Kansas. I got to see how they operated and spent some time on service calls too.

I remember one time a slot was out of coins, and when I got there, I didn't have my keys, so I had to put a ton of coins in (one at a time) through the coin slot. They must be much more liberal than the new slot machines, because it took me a hell of a long time to get all the coins dumped in. The dang thing kept paying me back. I guess if you kept track off all the coins you get back, they consider that "Payback."

We also had other multiple coin machines that paid off. I don't see them anymore, but you could line up the balls in a row, and win games. (Later cashing them in for money) The more coins you put in, the higher the odds would go and the bigger the payback if you got 3,4, or 5 balls in a row. There was some degree of skill in playing these machines, because if you would shake the machine "Just right" you could get the ball to drop in the right hole.

There was another way to cheat, using a condom. You put a B-B in it, and place the condom near the bottom of the playfield glass. Pull the rubber (With the B-B enclosed) like a slingshot, and let go. This would make a perfect little hole in the glass down by the numbers 23, 24 and 25.Whenever you needed any one of these 3 numbers, you just stuck a wire through the hole and held the center pin in the hole down, till it racked up the credits. After the win, you just placed your drink on top of the hole to cover it up till after you got paid for the credits. (You didn't come back to this business after you collected) It was illegal to pay out on one of these machines, and it was against the law to get a pay out on one of these machines. At least in Multnomah County Oregon, I got caught getting a pay out in a bowling alley there.

 26. The assembly line

As were most jobs in that part of the country, we were Union, and that meant when it was time for a break… we took it. If you had your wrench on a nut, had three turns left to get it tight… you stopped and took the break. If Quitting time was 4 P.M. that meant you had everything cleaned up, your coveralls hanging by your toolbox, hands washed, lunch box in hand and when the whistle blew… you were out the door.

When we filled the tires on these monster machines, we were told not to leave the air hose unattended, because if the tire exploded from over-inflation, it would be the equivalent of several sticks of dynamite. There was a poster on the wall demonstrating that such an accident would have enough force to blow a 200-LB man as high as the Empire State Building. Working in the assembly line environment has it merits, as long as it isn't the fast-paced, high-pressure production line work.

 27. RENT-A-COP

Being a security guard, sometimes called "Rent-a-cops" or "Play Cops," is a job that requires a good deal of responsibility. Watching for fires, administrating first aid, looking for safety hazards in the work place, thwarting pilferage, and theft from places of employment, and seeking out potential break-in areas. There are some that view it as an easy job to work, while you read, study, or sleep till your shift is finished.

One very interesting assignment I had while working for a Security company in Vancouver Washington, was watching detainees. These are people from foreign countries who are working for a steamship line, but are not allowed to leave the ship while in US ports. Not only did I have to watch the gangway plank; I had to go aboard the ship and check to see if the detainees were still on board. This required the use of a photo, and a visual check of the detainee's quarters on a regular basis. (Including pulling down the covers to see if he was there) You wouldn't believe the filthy conditions that exist aboard some of those freighter ships that visit our ports. This was NOT an enjoyable assignment to get.

28. Being a private detective

She pulled into a clinic parking lot, left her car and took the elevator up to the 3rd or 4th floor. I know because I went up the stairs, checking every floor the elevator stopped at. She had an appointment with a doctor; this was really going to be boring. I waited for over an hour just down the hall from the waiting room. After her doctor's appointment, she returned to her car, drove home, and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon.

My mission had failed; I didn't catch her doing anything illegal or immoral. I called Rusty, the boss and told him everything she did. He said he wanted a full written report on his desk the next morning. I wrote everything down, and handed it to him the next day. "Good work, this is what we wanted," he said. "What?" "She didn't do nothing" I replied. Well, It seemed she had been spending a great deal of time at the doctor's office, and the husband became suspicious when there were no bills from the doctor. She had been carrying on an affair with the doctor for nearly a year, as I later found out, when the doctor began taking his lunch at the same time she was taking hers, and they went to a motel to eat.

Very clever this lady, after lunch, he'd walk up the stairs to the third floor, and then walk down to the second floor, room 206, she'd take the elevator up to the first floor, then get off and walk up to the second floor… room 206. It took Rusty and I both to get that surveillance gig down to a fine art. (Trade secret)

Radio Shack always had some cheap transmitters that were short range, but you could listen on AM or FM radio frequencies. I would certainly question the legal use of any of these devices I have mentioned, but then I would never have used any of them. (Being a "Real" detective and all) Maybe later in this book, I'll have the plans for a shot-gun-style listening device that will pick up your neighbors TV across the street from your front porch.

29.  Got Fired?

30. ANIMALS

I have had just about every unusual pet you can have, including a couple different monkeys, snakes, fox, raccoons, rabbits, and even raised a few skunks in my day. (Buffalo Bob taught me to de-scent a skunk.

There are drawbacks to most exotic pets, but in general… ya can't beat a well-disciplined dog for a good all around pet. You don't have to have a pedigreed politically correct dog either. I have owned two Lab-Shepherd cross dogs, that were great police dogs, and family pets as well.

Why do people get "Hung-up" on this PURE bred pet thing… look around you, how many people do you know who are "Pure" anything. I had a cop buddy, who was Norwegian/Italian, (What a combination huh?) But he insisted that his dogs be Purebreds. (If you just want a good pet, and you're not planning to do shows… What's the difference?)

 31. Love @ first sight

It was during that summer I met Darlene, the same Darlene I have married to over 35 years. Do you believe in love at first sight? Well, I proposed to Darlene the first day I met her that summer of 65. She said, "You propose to every girl you meet don't you?" I said no, but really I must admit, I had proposed to quite a few… but THIS TIME I really meant it! She told me she would be interested in marriage only after I quit traveling and playing.

I couldn't believe it; I was ready to quit at that moment. Actually my mom had told me years earlier, "When you find that girl who WON'T sleep with you, that's the one to marry, and I did. I finished that summer tour, broke up the band, and went out West to live with my Uncle Curly, (he lived just North of Longview Washington) and settle down and began to prepare for a life of marriage. (I'll head down to the employment office.)

Tom’s Dream Wife of over 40 yrs Darlene. (One cool woman)

Click Here the Published Extra magazine Story of their Meeting & Marriage

32. Apartment Manager

Shortly after Darlene and I were first married, and were living in an apartment, the manager asked us if we'd like to manage the apartment building. (As she was planning to leave the area) So why not? We got free rent, and it really didn't involve much work. It wasn't that bad, but your life is in a constant interruption. (Being newlyweds this had a definite disadvantage) It does require collecting rent, calling the plumber, clean-up service, painter etc. every time someone trashes an apartment or moves out. My wife did most of the apartment showing while I was at work. Nowadays, with so many weirdoes, rapists, and murderers running around, you might want to give it careful consideration before taking on an apartment management job.

 33. Logging St. Helen's Mountain

I did have to prepare somewhat for this adventure: You must have cork-boots, heavy spiked work boots with steel toes and laced up the front. You can always tell a rookie logger, because he has the "Walk-on-yourself" look. The Spikes make holes where you step on your own boots… not professional, but it happens. You can't wear a belt, because a belt can catch on something and pull you to your death. (You have to wear suspenders) You make sure there are no seams on trouser bottoms and shirts, because seems catch on things, (Like branches, cables and tools) and of course a hard hat.

A hard hat is what the other loggers "Rap" you on the head with, if you try to sleep on the crummy on the way to the logging camp. You DON'T sleep on the bus on the way to the camp. You talk, joke, and swap MAN stories. If you do sleep, you will wake up to someone hitting you on the top of your hard-hat with his or her (But there were no "Hers") hard-hat, your shoelaces will be tied together, or your suspenders may be tied to the bus seat.

34.  Iron Worker

Before owning a pool hall and working for the telephone company, My Brother-in-Law Allen told me he could get me on as an ironworker. I don't remember what it paid, but I remember it was excellent pay. "Why not?" was my thought, After all, ironworkers get paid well, they're full of muscles, and I am sure it will be a rewarding experience.

35. Pool Hall Hustler

 I was looking for an easy fun job, and decided to open a teen center. Having worked for amusement and vending companies, I new I could get the machines for a percentage of the take, all I needed to do was find a location for my pool hall. Besides, all those years working in the vending business, shooting pool in about every bar in Portland and Vancouver... This would be fun. It wouldn't be $10 & $20 a game 9 ball, just being around the tables again

Since I had in-laws in the Twin Valley Minnesota area and rental property was reasonable. I found a building that had been a restaurant for many years, and was empty. The price? $100 a month, and the brother of the former owner had a house to rent with it for another $50 a month. (Can you imagine trying to find a house and business today for $150)? I contacted a vending company in Fargo; they set me up with 3 pool tables and several pinball machines. (For 50% of the take)

I got a soda pop set up from the Coke Company, (I just had to buy my pop from them) bought some chips, candy bars, etc. and I was in business. All I had to do was promote it a little. I'd throw a free game on each machine everyday about the time school was out; the first ones in got a free play. I got a $7.00 airplane and a few other prizes to set on top of each machine for the high score for the month. Kids will put a lot of money in a pinball machine to win a prize. I have found that a trophy will get more interest, be highly prized, and is something that will NEVER be thrown away.

As a matter of fact, give an employee or co-worker a trophy for outstanding work and it will mean more than bonus money and they'll keep it forever. (And show it to everyone) During the day when school was going, business was near nothing, So I served coffee and bought a few decks of cards and all the old geezers would come in and play cards, drink coffee and have a great time. (I could make money at 10 cents a cup, with a free refill.) Of course around noon, everyone would leave to go to a café or home to eat, so… let's have some food. I didn't have any restaurant equipment, so my wife brought down a couple skillets, a toaster, and some food to cook.

We'd have bacon and eggs, Toast, hash browns and jelly. Then at lunchtime I'd cook up some barbecue, tacos, or some kind of a hot dish. Sometimes when 4 or 5 people ordered at the same time, it would get pretty hectic, but Darlene held things together for me. Competition was fierce; The Twin Valley population was only 1,000, and had two other places the kids could hang out. It was really a lot of fun! Since I didn't have much overhead or big payments… we survived for a while. At least until the next job opportunity came along… and it did. I went to work for the Felton Telephone Company as a lineman/repairman.

 36. The Telephone Man

I worked for Vern at the Telephone Company in Felton Minnesota. (My Boss Vern was a nice guy, didn't even smoke.) He used to give us a rough time about smoking and lung cancer. Vern hadn't smoked for many years but chewed toothpicks all the time. We told him, he'd probably die of Dutch elm disease. (In later years, I was told he died of Lung Cancer… go figure.)

Working for a smaller, independent telephone company has some advantages over working for a giant. In a small company you do just about everything that has to be done. It's pretty well that way in any company, if it's smaller, you have more tasks to do… and that helps you gain more knowledge. Cable splicing, installation of equipment, pole climbing, trenching, locating and digging up faulty cable, you learn it all.

 37. Fixing Shorts

Once, while being in between various jobs, (A regular scene with me) I stumbled into a job as an electrician apprentice. An electrical company in Fargo needed someone, and I did some wiring for Vern, at the telephone company. (He had an electrical business too) This is a good field to get into. Sometimes it is pretty hard work, but most of the time… not bad. It doesn't require a LOT of knowledge to be an apprentice, because the journeyman will tell you what kind of wire to run. You just figure out how and where to run it. If you look in any basement, the wire usually runs the shortest distance from an outlet, to the main electrical panel.

Ask a few questions of the journeyman… and you're running wire. I started out at over $9 and something an hour, and in Fargo that's respectable. Of course as a rookie, you will be carrying a lot of wire and tools from the shop to the truck, and out on the job. Once and a while you'll be in an attic with dust, insulation and sweat rolling down every crease and crack of your body. But there will be times you'll freeze your butt off in the basement of a new home with no heat in it yet. But remember, if you take notes, read the codebook, ask questions, and watch how things are done, and in a few short years, you could be journeyman yourself. I found out my 56-year-old body just wasn't ready to take off on a career as an electrician.

38. Village Marshal

I must tell you the truth, you may have to lie occasionally to get a new job, or get ahead at the one you have. (Now that statement alone could destroy this writer's creditability… but I will point out examples as we go along.)

Shortly after I landed my first police job, I realized the importance of deceiving myself as well as others. I told myself I knew what I was getting into. (1st lie) The first confrontation I had with tough dude, had me telling myself, "If you think I am scared of you…think again" (2nd lie) my knees were shaking and so was my confidence.

At the time, Felton was THE place for young people to have a good time and congregate. Young folks would drink beer as they stood around their cars and talking and laughing into the wee hours. (Can you imagine that?) They'd even race around town and screech their tires. (Making black marks on the streets the city fathers called "Shit-hooks.") Then of course there was the endless string of cars going up and down the main drag, hour after hour playing their stereos. None of this really sounds like "Heavy" crime by today's standards, but it was irritating to some residents, and they wanted something done.

One day, while I was working for Felton Telephone company, I was standing by Pete's service station, a young kid climbed into his machine, came sideways up the street, cut 2 shit-hooks and roared out of town. I told the guy standing beside me, "I'd like to be cop-for-a-day in this town." (Just making casual small-town conversation, but it did piss me off, as there were little kids riding tricycles and bikes on and around the street.)

 39. OMNIPOTENCE 

This guy was as tough as a bear turd wrapped in barbwire and knew how to fight. If he had made the decision to wipe that spilled drink up with this instant cop's smart-ass body… he could have. I hadn't thought about a defensive move, because I was "the man," "the law," the omnipotent one. (Who would challenge that?)

I found out later, that Larry had a couple cracked ribs from an earlier altercation, and just wasn't in the mood to risk further injury, by taking a chance on me. (Besides, even though my knees were shaking somewhat, I displayed confidence.) Later on in my police career, as a real chief of police, and deputy sheriff, I'll learned more about having confidence

The lesson here is this: You don't have to BE confident, but you must learn to APPEAR confident. Think about it, how can you be confident about going into any job or situation where you really don't know what you're getting in to? HOW can you BE confident? You don't have to be confident… just learn to appear confident. (And it will help your confidence level.)

40. A Cop Attitude

When you are a stranger, and you walk up to a cop, and start talking, the first thing the police officer must do is analyze what you are, who you are, what you want and listen to what you are saying. Are you a citizen with a complaint, a diversion for a crime, could you be a threat? We are talking about a lot of thought here, not to mention, whatever the officer was thinking about before you approached.

  am sure Lawyers and doctors get a lot of the same things, although are not expected to maintain as high of standards as a cop. (I'll get some arguments on that!)

Another thing that has an effect on a police officers attitude, is the people he or she is in contact with from day to day. Most of the people a cop deals with during a shift, are under a great deal of stress, injured, intoxicated or on drugs, criminals, victims of crimes, emotionally unstable or angry about something. Think about that awhile, it WILL have an effect on your attitude.

When I "Thought" I was Cool!

41. Buffalo Bob's Wisdom

Darlene & I with my 1^st Squad car Yep, just like Andy's car

I made a trip to Fargo North Dakota, (yes the same place as the movie Fargo) and visited the local car parts store. They didn't have a red revolving light at the time, so we installed a luggage rack, with two big flashing red turn signal lights on top of it. We took a siren off an old fire truck, (Must have weighed 75 lbs. or more) and bolted it on the fender. When Pete hit the switch, the headlights went dim; the radio volume dropped as it began to wind up. RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR, louder and louder. (The whole damn car vibrated from this monster.) When I shut off the switch, it took about 8 minutes for it to slowly wind down. Pete found another wire coming out of the thing; we discovered it was a brake to get the siren stopped.

 42. SPEED TRAP

Back to technology: One day, between the times of writing tickets and fighting crime (and or evil) on the streets of Felton, I was reading my wife's Enquirer magazine, and a headline with a picture struck my attention. There was a picture of Chuck Ross, an old musician buddy of mine from Kansas City. The headline read, "Son of disabled coal miner becomes a multimillionaire." Unbelievable, I'll give Chuck a call. He was always making amplifiers, P. A. systems and stuff like that for bands; I guess he hit the mother load. The other night I watched John Foggerty doing a concert and he was using a Kustom Amplifier made by Chuck Ross. (Last I heard Chuck sold his company, and who knows what he's doing now)

The City Fathers didn't mind, it was a way to help pay for our newly implemented police department…and it did. Number 9 highway was 65 M.P.H. till you entered Felton, the speed limit, (as you grazed the edge of Felton) dropped to 45 miles per hour. Nobody slowed down especially me. I was writing tickets for speeders on Highway 9 in the daytime, and chasing careless or reckless drivers and underage drinkers out of town at night.

One thing I didn't have was a police radio. I used a CB radio to call my wife, I'd give her a license number, and she would then call the sheriff's office by phone 25 miles away. When she would get the information back, or if I had a call, she'd call me back on the CB radio with the information. (She put in some wicked long hours at times.)

I lost my job at the telephone company, most of the hell-raisers had one ticket to go to loose their license, and it got pretty quiet around Felton. It was time to move on. With the city's help and a grant from the State of Minnesota, I had the opportunity to attend police school. (Run by the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension)

After graduating from formal police training, I accepted a position as Chief of Police in Kenyon Minnesota, (Southeast of Minneapolis area) then Later on became Deputy Sheriff of Pine County, (Between Duluth and Minneapolis) and ended up in a town called Dilworth (Next to Fargo North Dakota) for my closing job as a police officer.

Later I'll tell you stories involving some wild arrests, drugs, dead bodies, suicides, escaped prisoners, stories about cops I've known and the side of police work you may have missed.

If you want to read the Fargo Forum News Story on the Felton Cop in 1971, click HERE

43. "Doggy Gate" 

44. CHIEF of Police

Being Chief of Police in Kenyon Minnesota was my first, full-time, REAL cop job, and I took it seriously. I remembered Buffalo Bob's advice and lived by it. The previous chief was a nice old guy, but more of a "night watchman" than a police officer. He helped the kids cross the street on their way to school, and in the winter, he'd park where everyone could see him, and plug a little heater in the pole socket by the Standard station. (So he wouldn't have to run the police car and burn up too much gas) He'd roll the awnings down on some of the merchants stores for them, Turn the Christmas lights on and off at the appropriate times, and walk around being seen by everyone in the daytime. By some small town standards… the perfect cop.

I was still a bloodthirsty rookie, hell-bent on fighting crime, writing tickets and changing the world. There were lives to be saved, criminals to lock up, and burglars to catch. (They did have a pretty high fender-bender rate in the city limits) They wouldn't trust me with a radar unit, so I bought a stopwatch, painted up some white lines on the streets and began writing up those speeders.

I was writing "Too many tickets," according to the mayor, and was ordered to "back off a little." That's the wrong thing to say to an overzealous young rookie. I was even starting to bust some