“Stand with me here upon the terrace, for it may be the last quiet talk that we shall ever have."
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Chapter 9 - Alone
School started and we quickly became immersed in electric circuits and
the power calculations of Ohm’s law, P=IE, where P is the Power measured in
watts, I is the current measured in amperes, and E is the voltage. We
learned about broadcasting circuits, antennas, FCC rules and regulations,
the technical issues of television and radio broadcasts, how stations were
organized.
We had a thick technical textbook to master, as well as the memorization of
various rules and laws. There were twelve of us in the class, everyone had
their own story, and it was an interesting group. Most days the three of us
rode to the class in Hollywood together in Gerry’s car, sometimes I took my
bike.
We fell into the routine of reviewing the day’s lecture back at the room, it
was important to clear up a tough concept in a timely matter and one of us
usually was on top of things. We also would read the practice quizzes
together and then discuss the answers between us. The weeks of study went
by.
For Thanksgiving, we treated ourselves to dinner at a local restaurant. One
could not help but notice that so many people are alone during the holidays.
My mom sent me a couple of hundred dollars from Connecticut to help; I
definitely needed it. Gerry got a job at a fast-food hamburger place where
he worked two or three nights a week to generate some cash. We had a monthly
stipend coming in from the Veterans Administration, but we were not living
too high on the hog. Christmas was coming up and we were all low on spending
money. We needed to keep the vehicles going, eat, drink, as well as go out
and enjoy some of the many events happening in the southland.
We continued to visit Griffith Park to walk the trails and meet people. It
was not hard to find places where the homeless or runaways had fashioned
crude living arrangements in the underbrush. It was frightful to ponder such
a life. I made a few longer trips on the bike as well, to Mojave in the high
desert and up into Ojai and the Los Padres. Returning to Los Angeles from
Ojai I followed the coast road along the Pacific and through Malibu. The
land was so beautiful and so distinct; the West had such a striking
diversity of landscapes.
One Saturday there was a knock at the door, it was Danny West from Fort
Bragg! He had driven a car across country for cash and was just saying hello
before dropping the car off and flying back. What a pleasure to see a
friend. We all went down to the beach in the car with Danny and watched the
sunset. The next day Danny and I stopped at a house where a friend of
Danny’s was having a party; we had a few drinks and mingled with the
southern Californian crowd. I remember asking who was playing the haunting
guitar that I heard on the stereo; Harvey Mandel was the answer. I had grown
close to Danny and it was wonderful to see and talk with him again. When
Danny left, we promised to stay in touch.
Near Christmas, we got a nasty double-whammy as a holiday present. First, an
armed robber held up the fast-food joint where Gerry worked. Gerry was angry and physically upset by
the robbery and, in short order, quit his job; he did not figure his life
was worth minimum wage. His boss, a young manager, came by with a couple of
pies as a gesture of goodwill, and to ask Gerry to return to work. Gerry
declined, but we sure enjoyed the pies.
The next event was the worst. One night, someone stole Gerry’s VW. We walked
around all the streets just in case we put it somewhere different, but to no
avail. The police came, took a statement, and supplied Gerry with the forms
and information that his insurance company would require. They told Gerry
that the chances of recovery were not good; VW beetles became desert play
cars. The best hope was that someone had stolen it for a joyride, and maybe
the person who stole it would later abandon it. Regardless, you could not
really do anything until thirty days went by, that is what insurance
companies require before settling up, just in case it shows up abandoned
somewhere.
This really depressed us all, and really cramped our style. On fair weather
days, I took one person to school with me on the bike, and the other went on
the bus. We rotated taking the bus to spread out the aggravation and the
cost of paying for the bus ticket. On poor weather days, we walked to the
bus stop together and made the round trip into Hollywood.
It was during this period in early January that we realized our great
adventure together was coming to its end. We would soon make our first
attempt at the FCC test, and we would know the results within a week. Gerry
said if he passed, he was flying back to his hometown of Chicago soon after.
Dave said that, if he passed, he would take a bus back to Phoenix.
I had never really thought about being in Los Angeles alone in the winter
with my motorcycle and no money or job, but the reality of that situation
was here before me. I stopped at a couple of Honda dealers to inquire about
selling it, what they offered was just as insulting as offering nothing. It
had fifteen thousand miles on it but ran like a top. Heading for my parents
in Connecticut was out of the question, I did not want to die out there. I
called Danny and asked him if I could make his house in North Carolina my
destination. I had no idea what would be next, or when. That plan was fine
with him, so at least I had options. However, even that could be a tough
ride in January or February, and this time I would be alone.
In mid-January, we took our FCC tests. In a week we had the results, we had
all passed. What a relief, if one failed that would leave him in a tough
spot seeing that the other two would be soon leaving. There was also relief
in regards to the Army, the obligation we incurred by getting out early to
attend school had been fulfilled by our successful completion of the
training course.
We packed up everything we were taking and shipped it or trashed it. I did
not have much in the way of personal possessions, but Gerry and Dave shipped
a few boxes before their departure. Gerry left first; he took a cab to the
airport. We said our goodbyes slowly and with emotion, we had been such a
part of each other’s lives for a long time. It was a sad moment to stand on
the sidewalk with Dave and watch Gerry and the cab disappear in traffic.
Later, Dave left for the bus station and his trip back home. I would leave
the following morning and see him in Phoenix later that night, and spend a
night or two at his mom’s house before moving on.
Here it was, my last night in Los Angeles. I spent it alone, no TV or radio,
just the quiet and the melancholy of all things completed. I had my clothes
and travel gear jammed in a large pack that I could tie on the seat behind
me.
Aside from completing the class, I thought about all the things we had
experienced in the last three months. There were the Jesus freaks, out in the
streets, that Elton John sang about in ‘Tiny Dancer’, “handing tickets out
for god.” We went to the Troubadour and saw some great acts, including John Prine and Dan Hicks. Gerry and I saw guitarist Leo Kotke and Country Joe
McDonald in Royce Hall at UCLA. The three of us went to a midnight world
premier of the Frank Zappa movie ‘200 Motels’, and we saw the movie ‘A Clockwork
Orange’ in a special LA showing. We also caught Cheech and Chong, and saw
their act at the Troubadour when they were fresh and young. Occasionally we
stopped in late at Barney's Beanery to take in the scene and have a
hamburger. I fell asleep to the recent memories of a
time now slipping away.
For the first time in many years, I awoke alone in a room with nobody else
sharing my life, no fellow soldiers or roommates. It was a strange feeling;
it was winter and I had a few hundred dollars in my pocket and a long cold
way to go on my bike. I packed my bag, grabbed my helmet and headed for the
door. I stood there and took one last look around; my cracked Honda gas tank
still lay on the floor, the only sign that I had ever been here. It was also
a reminder of the trip the three of us had made together in October. As I
stood there alone it seemed like such a long time ago. “Let them throw it
out,” I thought. “No old baggage today”.
I locked the door and left the keys with the super. I was gone.